#so I'm not sure where it is or if it exists

[crazy-pages]

A study published in 2017 in the BMJ found that 3% of people hit by rubber bullets died of the injury. Fifteen percent of the 1,984 people studied were permanently injured by the rubber bullets, also known as “kinetic impact projectiles.”

So I'm a safety coordinator head at my workplace. That means I'm in charge of making sure we're all inspecting labs correctly and that any safety concerns get followed up on. And there's a key safety concept I'd like to introduce you to, called "administrative controls" vs. "engineering controls".

"Administrative controls" are anything where safety is enforced by a behavioral expectation. This is anything from "don't enter this room while the laser safety light is on" to "yeah that machine is a giant whirling maw of death, but just don't put your hands in it".

"Engineering controls" are things which make the unsafe behavior impossible, or more difficult to occur. So instead of just telling people not to enter the laser room when the light is on, you make it so that the door locks when the laser light goes on. Or you put an enclosure around the death machine that automatically shuts the machine off (and keeps it off!) when you open it.

And the lesson we get drilled into our heads over and over and over is that administrative controls are only for when no equivalent engineering control exists. You never use an administrative control as a replacement for an engineering control. That's a paper safety measure, meant only to make things look safe and not be safe.

I see no reason why this principle shouldn't apply to police use of force.

Cops shooting rubber bullets at an angle is an administrative control, and it's trash. Not giving them rubber bullets in the first place is an engineering control. And when you think of it in that context, you realize how the very concept of shooting rubber bullets off the ground was never really a true safety measure in the first place.

Also, step 0, the ur-safety measure above engineering controls, is "don't include unnecessary hazards in the first place". You know. Don't use police to suppress protests at all, and then there's no hazard at all.

[twinkling-moonlillie]

"You said you remember every timeline, right? Like...every reincarnation of us?"

Satoru shuffled, chin tightly pressed against your neck and shoulder. He lets out a breath, sounding more like a soft chuckle. "Mmm yeah. You still doubting me, sweets?"

"No, I mean, I was just..." You hesitated, voice dwindling.

"I was just..." You could feel his lazy grin against your skin, his voice a poor imitation of your own. "Come onnn, don't get shy on me."

Satoru, curse his long ass arms, pulls you to face him. His eyes hold centuries of softness, of reverence. Lifetimes of loving you, of being able to grieve you. How could you have gotten so lucky to be loved this dearly? How could you have been so cursed to not recall?

"Was just wondering what the worst timeline we lived in was," You mumbled quietly, already regretting the words that slithered their way out.

It takes Satoru a minute to register the question, his head cocking up slightly. He hums and his adam's apple bobs.

"Well, there are many lives where you die in my arms, or I die before we could actually get married or start a family" He pauses. "But our love was always there, yknow? I always made sure of it."

That made you snort. "Always dramatic, I'm sure too."

"You love it. Anyways," He emphasized with a scoff, "There has only been one timeline where I was unable to do that. It was really fucking awful and weird."

"We were both stuck in different universes. I was like, a fictional character in an anime and you were a fan of my character" He continued.

You blinked. "huh?"

"Like I said, it was awful." He sinks further into the bed, gesturing randomly as he spoke. "Existing in a world without you, only able to be with you in shitty fanfics and dreams you manifested while sleeping."

Silence settles into the room. Your mind jumps and twists into hurdles trying to understand something that sounds so fundamentally impossible. It took you approximately five seconds before you gave up on attempting to understand the humor of the universe.

"Well at least we are together in this one, right?"

Satoru stares at you again, something mixed between melancholy and tenderness; he kisses your forehead. "Of course, sweetheart."

[spiddermen]

deltarune - world egg theory

anyone else think it's weird that we never see anything outside of hometown? there's no pictures of the outside world, the camera never pans out, and the sole road outside of town is blocked. the obvious reason for this is that we never need to leave the town, but i think there might be more to it than that. what if the reason we can't leave is because there's actually nothing outside of hometown?

so. we all know deltarune isn't real. as such, the world of deltarune isn't real - there's nothing to it outside of the parts we see. this is true for every game, of course, but i think in deltarune, it might be true in-universe as well. think about it - nobody can use the internet, we don't see anybody enter or leave the town, and we can't contact asriel. what if the reason for this is because there's literally nothing outside of hometown? if there's nothing there, there'd be no roads to follow, no internet to connect to, no phones to call. but why?

in the universe of deltarune, gaster is a stand-in for the game's devs. he's the one who revealed it on twitter, posts about it every time a new chapter comes out, and even calls it "my deltarune". it's likely that this world is literally his creation - a small, fictional world, an experiment that he's created. the entire world seems to be designed around his story, seeing as the religion the town follows is literally the story of deltarune; and in the church, one of the prophecy screens says "THE STORY OF THIS WORLD. <DELTARUNE.>", explicitly calling the entire world deltarune. if he made this world, why would he waste time and effort making pointless, extraneous content that nobody will ever see? why make anything outside of hometown at all?

i think this is how dess disappeared. normally, nobody inside the town perceives that anything's wrong. (if you've watched utena or the madoka movie, you'll know what i mean.) kris, dess, noelle, and asriel liked to go exploring in the forest around the graveyard and the bunker, but they shouldn't have been able to break out of bounds and escape hometown. that is... until they followed the pointed tail.

in a secret room in the second church world, you can find an organ philosopher that says a bunch of scrambled text. once unscrambled, it reads "lost where the forest would grow, the children followed the pointed tail." in another prophecy room and the game files, you can find this pointed tail, and see that it's made of circles - much like the cats in noelle's cat petterz game. this circular, pointed tail likely belongs to the FRIEND cat, an enigmatic entity that rarely appears in the game, yet seems to exist on the same layer as the title screen UI and the gonermaker. it's a creature that, by that virtue, would know that deltarune is just a game, and that the world of hometown is fake. it would be able to guide dess, kris, and noelle to the true end of the world, where dess would be able to get "lost where the forest would grow" - the place it would have grown, if the world was real.

but why? well, we know that gaster sees this world as his experiment, something he has control over. there might be something he's trying to find here, something he wants to discover. i think that thing he's researching is probably hope, and determination. by making a fake world with a emotional story and lovable characters, he'll make us all get attached to it. we'll defeat the enemies, progress the story, and hope for the character's well being. when he sees us trying to defeat the knight, he cheers us on, because he sees that hope shining in us, and knows that his theory might just be right. once we're invested enough, determined enough, hopeful enough, that's when his deltarune will be complete, and he'll achieve... well, i'm not really sure! i think it's a little too early to predict his real plan, but i think that our hope and determination are a big part of it. like he said in the chapter 2 release teaser, deltarune glows brightly from our hope.

what about asriel? isn't he at college? yeah, but... how do we know that's real? in the game files, that college and asriel both don't exist. i think that in-universe, he probably isn't being "rendered", in a manner of speaking. if he needs to show up in the story, files related to him will be added, and he'll be there just when he's needed. in the meantime, his personal story only exists in our minds, and that's good enough for the world of deltarune.

isn't that a really depressing ending? being told that everyone isn't real? maybe! i feel like there's a few different ways this could resolve, but i've got no clue what toby dreamed up that made him so determined to make this game. but i've got two opinions on possible outcomes, one for the normal route and one for the alt route.

on the normal route - i think the resolution will revolve around the idea that in your mind, fictional characters are just as real as you treat them. sure, they're not "real" so to speak, but we care about them! we're emotionally impacted by them, we cry and laugh and hope for their future. they might not be real, but their emotions and feelings are real through us, the players. the world of deltarune doesn't end just because the code stops running - it keeps existing in the mind of everyone who's played it. gerson says that the next pages are blank, ready to be filled in by the youth, and we just need to pick up the pen of hope and keep making it. susie's hoped-for eternity will live on in our hearts - as long as we don't forget.

on the alt route - the alt route is reached by completely disregarding the idea that these characters are real. we don't care about their feelings - sure, we do a little bit, but all we want is to find everything. in mantle, we become strong by destroying everything and everyone, and once we've reached our full power, we're able to destroy the trees. in the second area of mantle, you destroy some very hometown-colored trees, progress down a path for a little bit, and then find a door... that leads to an endless, empty black abyss. i think this is foreshadowing the alt route's eventual message - if you treat the characters as fake, disregard their emotions and what they want, and just treat the game as something to find content in, you'll be faced with the fact that it really is fake. you've stopped yourself from being immersed by allowing yourself to treat the characters as nothing more than sprites and dialogue, and in response, that's all the game becomes - a fake world with nothing on the other side.

[anamericangirl]

"Science is not able to classify things as living organisms."

I'm not even going to entertain that idea until you definitively prove otherwise. On what authority do you say that and how do things get classified as living organisms if not through science?

That's interesting about the word organic but that's not what we're talking about.

"Your opposition to reading literature on the philosophy of what it means to be human or what it means to be a species highlights your arrogance. You aren't prepared to be wrong so you refuse to learn."

I have no opposition to reading literature on the philosophy of anything. I have read literature on the topic and will continue to do so.

I caution you not to inflate your ego to the point where you associate a person not taking a reading assignment from you as opposition to reading literature. Not reading a paper you link is not refusal to learn or opposition to reading literature and it is comically absurd that thought even entered your head.

"If you don't like any of that and want me to boil it down to a single question it is this: at what point do gametes stop being gametes and become a fetus? How do you know? I think you'll find this impossible because a fetus is just the sum and fusion of two gametes."

This is a ridiculous question. Gametes stop being gametes during the process of fertilization where they fuse together and create a zygote. It's impossible to pinpoint the exact moment of conception or identify the exact second the gametes fused. A fetus is the sum and fusion of two gametes but the sum and fusion of two gametes is the creation of new human life, which is the fetus. Perhaps you should look up the word fetus to understand what has been created at this point.

We know what happens during this time even if we can't observe it happen and once it's confirmed a woman is pregnant that process has already taken place. The gametes have already stopped being gametes and a fetus is there. What difference do you think identifying the moment the conception occurred makes here?

"Underneath all this I can respect your healthy fear that we are killing people. But your understanding of killing, death, life, and people is elementary."

It is not elementary lol. It is objective fact. And I can appreciate that the further you delve into it the more complex it gets but there is literally none of that complexity surrounding the question on whether the fetus is human or alive. You can add philosophy into the mix and all that if you like but the simple question of whether or not a fetus is objectively alive and human by the current standards used to measure life and humanity is settled. If you deny that or try to make it a grey area by bringing up philosophy or anomalies you are denying science.

It is an objective fact that abortion kills a human being. Just like it is objective fact that you are alive and killing you would be killing a human being.

Unless you're not a life or a person? I mean the issue is so complex there's no way to know for sure and my understanding of life, death, killing and people is elementary. So are you alive? How do you know? Would killing you be killing a person? How can you know for sure?

"I will not spoon feed you. This issue is more complicated than you make it out to be and you refuse to read and educate yourself on the fact that these things are multidimensional."

lmao asking you to summarize what you want to know from me instead of assigning me the task of reading papers you found is hardly spoon feeding. Sounds like you're just lazy.

I don't deny the issue can be complicated, but it's not always complicated to answer. Some things we definitely know are alive and are human. A human fetus is one of those things and you have failed to even make a case for why we can't know those things about the fetus.

Bringing up the fact that there are philosophical questions and maybe even some biological grey areas that exist the more you dive into the question of life does not negate the things we do know about it. Like some things we can be sure are alive even if those issues exist. Human beings we are sure are alive. And we are sure human fetuses are human beings.

But this is what's wrong with pro-aborts. You throw out a bunch of philosophy and anomalies as if that disproves or throws into the question the humanity or life of the fetus when it does not. Not that the things you brought up aren't worth discussing or are questions that we may or not be able to answer, but you put them out there as if they refute what we know to be true about life in the womb but it doesn't any more than it refutes what we know about the life of humans outside of the womb. Because you're just looking for reasons to justify abortion no matter what ridiculous lengths you have to go to.

What could people possibly mean by "I support abortion only in extreme cases"?

If something is growing inside of you that you don't want there, that's pretty damn extreme.

[honeyhonest]

Waaait requests are still open right??

I'm pretty sure you've already talked about it but just in case you'd wanna expand on the subject, since it's bleeding out time for those of us who've aligned; nsfw period headcanons with whoever you'd wanna? I think it'd be very funny to not tell Crowley and just let him screech when he pulls down reader's underwear, headmage of a boys' school who's never touched a woman and talks to one maybe once every 5 five years at best, if he ever knew periods exist he's probably forgotten about it centuries ago

who am I to deny a little period headcanon post...

minors get blocked, 18+ only

✧˖°. period thoughts

warnings: gn afab!reader (you/yours pronouns), reader is not specified to be yuu, both fluff AND smut, established relationship, mentions of blood, fingering, cunnilingus, and penetrative sex

characters: all staff + fellow + dylla 💞 + lilia FOR YOU!!!

length: short headcanons!

✧˖°.Dire Crowley

the mental image of him screaming and passing out upon seeing a Blood is good, but he just awkwardly dances around the matter until he can make an escape- period? what period! he didn't notice anything, he just remembered he left the coffee machine on in the staff room! and Crewel had asked him for a... a thing... yes! those papers! so he'd better deliver those right away! and then do his school rounds one more time, can never be too safe at Night Raven! (if he ever gets over the awkwardness, he would like period sex; but let him figure that out on his own) Mr. Dire Crowley, however, is never one to turn away a chance to manipulate your emotions! he might coerce you into extra cuddles by bringing you cheap chocolate or wine or whatever it is he's got sitting around unopened- and he thinks he's quite brilliant for playing your period to his advantage, while you're thinking you're rather clever for luring him into giving you free food and attention (this is just what dating him is like, I'm afraid) he may also be persuaded to massage your sore spots, if only because the cool metal of his dull talons with the warmth of his hands is Peak Period Comfort

✧˖°.Mozus Trein

DOES NOT CARE!!! he's not some fickle teenage boy or a man with a fetish, he's just an adult who was married for several years and has daughters- periods are perfectly normal. granted, he hasn't had a partner to tend to in years, but he handles you with grace- that is, not pissing you off and you can expect him to stock up on pads in his apartment and on campus without being asked, and he's always got the finest dark chocolates, cheese boards, and rich wines to satisfy your cravings, no matter what they are sex neither picks up nor is avoided during your monthly; if it happens, it happens, and if it doesn't, it doesn't. your period doesn't bother him, but he'd still be willing to lend a hand if it would alleviate some of your pain- "Better than having to hear your whining", as he likes to say (LOVINGLY)

✧˖°.Divus Crewel

blood is hot and that's all there is to it, doesn't matter where it's coming from! okay now get on the floor, these sheets were six thousand thaumarks JOKING, Crewel isn't afraid of a little mess- nor is he of getting his hands dirty, which, trust me, he will. he'll be knuckle deep in the pussy, enjoying how much more sensitive and wet you are <3 orgasms help period cramps, he swears by it! he won't let you go to bed without a healthy dose of dick to help you sleep he insists on doing your nightly routine for you (as if his micromanaging problem couldn't get any WORSE) so you don't get too greasy or look too tired come morning, and as much as you'd like to complain, he does a really good job- you never look as vibrant as you do when he's had you in some fancy face mask and fed you egg white omelettes all week. can't have his favorite pet feeling unwell, after all <3

✧˖°.Sam

Sam is the sort of man to always carry pain meds on him in case your cramps start acting up. he'll happily stay up with you, deep into the night when you can't sleep, laughing with you and making tasty drinks to pass the time. he's no horny beast, but a true romantic when you're not feeling yourself. he's always on call for you, definitely reminds you how good you look even when you're bloated and exhausted and breaking out (speaking of which, there's always just something about you when you're hormonal and moody that just makes him melt. maybe it's how human it is, maybe it's because he likes being relied on, but he can hardly keep his hands to himself, expect a lot of sneak-attack kisses all over your neck and shoulders)

✧˖°.Ashton Vargas

as much as you don't want to (and for as many pillows you've thrown at him when he's tried to pull you outside), Vargas INSISTS that the only proper treatment for period pains is a good workout. the first time he saw you hunched over and whining about being hungry, he dragged you into the great outdoors for a four-hour hike... you can imagine how that went over since then, he's found a much more comfortable remedy for at-home period relief: annoying amounts of sex!!! it's a full-body workout, it stretches all the important muscles, and it affects the problem area directly- he'll put you in all kinds of weird positions to take the pressure off your uterus (and to tire you out so you don't start trying to bite his fingers off again)

✧˖°.Fellow Honest

Fellow had heard of periods, but they've never really impacted his life until he met you. at first, he didn't really get it: you're obviously very horny and bothered by it, but you don't want to fuck? is he getting that right? what is he supposed to do, magic it away? ...it took a few days of him getting kicked out of bed before he learned to watch it with the snide remarks. and then he understood that you felt bad. and not just ate-dumpster-food bad, but gross, unattractive, unfuckable. and though he thinks that's insane, because you're never too gross for him to fuck, he knew he had to be more delicate with you: praising you, complimenting you, telling you how sexy you look (and smell- period blood's got a little something to it that his sensitive nose picks up just right), and THEN he gets to fuck the pain out. imagine his delight upon realizing that you're more sensitive on your period! and afterwards, he lies over your stomach and works as a very satisfied heating pad. (also enjoys massaging your tummy- soft and warm and good)

✧˖°.Dylla Spade

my wife... I just KNOW she's got the full period package at home; the nice cotton pads, hot water bottles, snacks, enough pain medication to fill the Epcot Ball, and every season of her favorite reality TV show, taped and ready to rewatch while she fingers you on the couch. this is as luxurious as it gets on this list, she Gets It one must also imagine taking care of Dylla on HER period, too. she insists you don't have to do anything for her, she's fine "toughing it on her own" (it's what she's always done, after all), but I can't imagine she'd be anything but horny at the slightest provocations. one must imagine eating her out and making her cum three, four, five times, until she's gotten all of it out of her system, or outercourse, grinding on each other through your pajamas in bed...

✧˖°.Lilia Vanrouge

at this point, Lilia and period sex are basically synonymous with each other, he is in the blood like thoseferatu, he is eating period pussy like his life depends on it. also hot for him? outercourse! rubbing your hips or lower back through your pajamas to work out the soreness, his hand ~magically~ slips between your legs to work out the tension there, too. finds you completely irresistible, crawling all over you all week on the fluffy side, he'd... well, he'd still be crawling all over you all week, but like, cutely! hanging off your side and lovingly asking if you'd like him to make you a snack (SAY NO) or if you'd like more kissies (you don't get a choice with this one). takes you everywhere with him- you're his poor sick beloved angel OKAY!!! unfortunately the kind of guy to point at your uterus and say "stop hurting my partner!!! >:("

[bewitched-hours]

Hi again, i hope you don't mind me requesting a polyship, if so can i please ask for a...

Yan! Alien! Paycheck x Astronomer! Human! Reader

Maybe some Angst and Fluff in the end.

Plot: where the reader is lonely at home and has a pet cat and works as a scientist of discovering and looking out for stuff in outer space.

But one night, a ufo crashes down containing alien chance and elliot, so the reader helps them fix their ship and not tell anyone about their existence.

they return back to their planet, but in another day they both decide to bring the reader along as a thank you, but they both want them to stay so they tried to but refuses and tries to escape but is knocked out.

and the reader turns into a alien too along with their cat because of Chance's gun and Elliot's Pizza.

I am not sure if this is extreme, so yeah its okay if you don't want to.

Bye! Ty!

I love polyship asks! Especially ones like this! Also, I'm gonna assume you're talking about their Alien skins but if that wasn't what you wanted I'm sorry- Also also- I was genuinely confused on the "reader turns into a alien too along with their cat because of Chance's gun and Elliot's Pizza" bit so I decided to change it, so sorry again-

Reader's pronouns are She/They!

You truly were too kind for your own good...

Ever since you were a child, you had such an odd fascination with the galaxy, it's why you became an astronomer.

You were practically working overtime on your studies day in and day out. Most were pretty concerned but you brushed them off, considering you still had your cat, Gubby, at home.

Was it weird to name her Gubby? Yeah. But do you regret it? Not in the slightest.

And Gubby was always such a loving companion, even reminding you to take care of yourself through habits you formed with her early on.

You had initially found her behind your workplace, crying in pain with a twisted leg. And you spared no expense in helping her get better.

It was in your nature to care for others, no matter if they were human or not.

So really, who were you to be blamed when you've had actual aliens crash in your yard and were so quick to help them out?

You may not have understood them but they looked pretty adorable with their outfits. One reminded you of a pizza place you used to visit as a kid that always had a space vibe. The other reminded you more of old-timey mafia movies which was pretty funny but you tried your best to communicate with them while you had worked on their otherworldly technology.

It was the most interesting time of your life but you decided not to tell anyone about it. Ever.

You knew humanity wasn't ready to receive them. You would take this to your grave before allowing any of those old sci-fi movies to turn into reality.

Little did you know that they had been watching you ever since...

Your routines, habits, even your social circles...

And they were preparing their plan for quite some time...

You awoke in the middle of the night to noises outside your bedroom door. Grumbling, you figured it was just Gubby trying to get in.

"Doggy door, Gubby..." You called out with a tired sigh as you rolled over to continue sleeping.

... But then you noticed Gubby staring at the door in alarm...

... Laying right next to you...

Meaning whatever you heard...

You had little time to panic as the door to your bedroom had already opened and two shadowy figures quickly held onto you and Gubby, making sure not a sound slipped out as a strange liquid was forced into your mouth.

You didn't even have to swallow it for it to take effect. It tasted sweet but your body quickly went weak despite your efforts to fight whoever was holding onto you...

By the time you've awaken again, you found yourself inhaling a strange scent. It was similar to air but felt thicker in your lungs and somehow reminded you of... Apple pie??

Groaning, you tried to get ahold of your senses and weakly glanced around.

The room felt strangely sci-fi. Some unusual geometry, decorations that you've never seen from any store...

And Gubby was right beside you, albeit looking a little different.

She had strange markings all over her fur, making you worry. Did you have those markings too? You couldn't entirely tell without a mirror while you were still tied up in some weird fabric blanket.

Luckily, you wouldn't be without answers for long when you heard the doors open. As expected, they opened just like those sliding doors in alien movies...

The ones where... People end up... On different plan-

Oh you've gotta be kidding...

"You're finally awake! I was worried the transmutant wouldn't accept humans as compatible vessels..." Hold on now-

Not only were you kidnapped by the same two aliens that you had helped just a few months prior... But now you could understand them...?

... You definitely had those markings like Gubby's...

"Well, you're probably really confused and we're sorry we had to take you so suddenly but luckily you're okay! I'm Elliot, you can call him Chance." The two began their introduction with you still as confused as ever. "We've been... Observing-"

"Elliot, we can't talk our way outta this so let my charm carry us both~" Chance suddenly piped up and began untying you as he cleared his throat.

"Yes, we've been stalking you. We were fascinated with your kindness and secrecy and since we couldn't understand humans, we decided to develop a transmutant liquid with which we could help you become more like us and show you a life you could've only dreamt of~" He made it sound almost heavenly to your ears...

"Although, we know better than to interfere with pack bonds so we decided to bring along your pet and help you feel less lonely when we aren't home." Elliot seemed nervous. But you couldn't be sure anymore since you weren't even talking or being human anymore...

Attempting to keep calm, you picked up Gubby and were relieved when she began purring in your arms. You were both covered in a strange substance that felt more like skin than your actual skin but she still recognized your scent... Clever kitty...

"Wait, so I can't even go out or explore?" You asked, thinking about what your options even were anymore. You weren't human anymore so trying to return home would be useless, especially with your entire language being changed. You couldn't speak 'normally' even if you wanted to.

The two of them shook their head, Elliot seeming more nervous about it while Chance just grinned. "Not for a long time! We gotta make sure you stay safe like you did for us and that requires waiting for you to be fully turned. We've luckily got different schedules so you'll be able to spend time with at least one of us anytime!"

... He sounded a little too excited there... You had a lot to learn about expressions with... Whatever this Alien race called itself...

Regardless, you decided to just sigh and nod, seeming to be received positively by them both as they held you in a group hug. "Then from today on, you'll be our mate until we can officially make you ours!"

You were what-

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

[wheelie-sick]

How to protect your identity at protests 101

aka how to do black bloc.

1. Read these 3 zines

Blocing up

Blocs, Black and Otherwise

Cover your forehead

these 3 zines cover a lot of basics that you need to know. some of this information will be repeated, some of it won't be.

2. Get your gear

You need:

Some shoes that are comfortable for walking and that you're able to run in

Some baggy¹ pants

A baggy² t-shirt or light hoodie (remember it is June! don't wear something that will give you heatstroke)

A balaclava that covers your forehead or a neck gaiter + a hat. wear these over a KN95 mask. just the mask works too but more of your body is visible.

Polarized sunglasses (that go over your existing glasses, if relevant. No contacts!)

Gloves (particularly if you plan on touching anything incriminating)

A bag that you can fit all of this in

¹ Cops can do gait analysis to track you. baggy pants make this harder

² The more your form is visible the easier it is to create a description and the harder it is to blend in. hide it through baggy clothes

Optional but strongly suggested:

Goggles (for pepper spray and tear gas) make sure they seal (vented goggles are better than nothing but will allow tear gas in)

A respirator - a KN95 with a good seal does a lot of filtering, so does a wet bandana, but a respirator is best

A helmet - helps if you get knocked down by a pig/you get hit by a rubber bullet or debris

Things that are expensive but are also strongly suggested

An IFAK. even if you don't know how to use it in the event of a mass shooting street medics will run out of supplies

Bulletproof armor - anything is better than nothing but ideally you want IIIa or better

All of this needs to be

Solid black

Labelless

Without patterns/designs or other distinctive features

All of this preferably is

Purchased in cash

Not part of your everyday wardrobe

Blocing up 🥷

I cannot emphasize this enough, change after leaving your car/house. Wear a different, not black outfit to a second location where you change

It's a good idea to have a different bag covering your bloc bag too

Good places to change:

Are tucked away

Are hidden from roads (or that have an object hiding you from roads such as a dumpster)

Have a different entrance and exit

And don't have security cameras (watch for ring doorbells in residential areas!)

Walk in one direction and out the other after changing. Do not reuse the same spot to "De-bloc" (change out of your bloc)

When leaving the protest leave in a pair (one of the most likely spots to be arrested after a protest is walking away from it!) and de-bloc before getting back to your car/house.

might add more to this tomorrow because I'm sure I'm forgetting things but this is the gist of it

[seewetter]

I would say that looking at AI artwork and calling it a stolen good or perceiving the training or generating of generative AI as a process of theft is incorrect. The models don't steal anything, per se. Even the concept of "collage" isn't really applicable. The problem with AI art isn't that the artist or the company where thieves. The output isn't in any meaningful way "stolen".

Neither is the generation process theft. Nor is the use of the final product the use of a stolen good. Nor is display of the final product the display of a stolen good. The artist is not a thief. The AI itself is a statistical model so not only is it not a thief but also...it didn't steal anything.

The only part of the process that can be likened to theft is taking data without permission and repurposing it commercially. Take for example "This Person Does Not Exist", a generator for fake human faces. I'm fairly sure it was made by taking hundreds of millions of personal photographs without permission to make a image generation tool. The output isn't stolen at all and the process that generates the fake faces isn't a process of theft. But the way these photos were collected is, to my mind, equivalent of finding every publicly available source of images, regardless of the ethics of their collection and just feeding my machine all these images without asking. You could say that this cleverly skirts around the problem of being theft by only using what is shared publicly (and everything online is public in some sense), but technically the web crawlers used to create these models ignore requests to not take these images and the crawlers tend to try and circumvent security and safety measures to keep the images from the public eye. A similar thing happens with people using AI to rewrite existing fanfictions and publish them as YouTube videos: the technology isn't theft, the process isn't entirely theft, but theft is clearly involved when person A's fanfic is cheaply and without permission turned into a different medium for benefit. This is an exploitative process, where a person's painstaking and time-consuming creative efforts are used as a harvest-able resource to make money. It is the equivalent of finding a loophole in local bylaws to steal bricks from a brick road that doesn't technically belong to the municipality or the private owner -- who suddenly has to deal with a big gap in the road which can't be patched because someone will drive by to legally nab any available bricks. Just because technically no one "owns" something doesn't mean that person A isn't taking something from person B which inconveniences person B and wasn't agreed on. And if, after unsuccessfully trying to negotiate with person A, it becomes clear that person A will always take advantage of this "free stuff", then person B has every right, in my opinion, to employ the concept of theft. But that doesn't mean that using the innovative brick-grabbing tool is tantamount to theft and if the thief uses these bricks as a template to create new art and doesn't really look at or care for the stolen bricks, then the new art isn't stolen. Also if what is happening is less like "taking bricks" and more like driving by and creating a copy of each brick every day then perhaps this has more in common with harassment than theft...but I think the people could still have a point that this comes across as someone stealing the unique designs of their bricks.

the framing of generative ai as "theft" in popular discourse has really set us back so far like not only should we not consider copyright infringement theft we shouldn't even consider generative ai copyright infringement

[mcrdvcks]

Hi! Sorry, I just woke up and saw the 2000 followers challenge (timezones are a bitch). I love your writing so, so much and I wanted to send in an ask if it's okay.

Could you write headcanons for Logan with a very shy/insecure reader and how he'd reassure her that she isn't annoying him and he loves her and to stop apologizing for existing?

Thank you!

i might've veered slightly off what you wanted, but i tried to stick to it! i took a little inspiration from myself, because i'm the type of person who apologizes to my desk when i bump into it. or my dresser. or my chair. or my bed. or-

*clears throat* anyways, i'll never get tired of writing shy!reader and logan, it's a perfect combo imo

send an ask for my 2,000 followers celebration!

warnings/tags: insecure/shy!reader, feelings of inadequacy, slight emotional!reader, protective logan, soft logan

You weren’t used to people noticing you. Though, most of that was your own doing. You never liked attention or people, preferring solitude.

You were the kind of person who apologized when someone else bumped into you. The kind who quietly cleaned up after everyone without being asked, then apologized for cleaning up.

Logan noticed.

At first, you figured he only tolerated your presence. You didn’t speak much, barely made noise, and tended to shrink away when conversations got too loud. But he started sitting next to you. Close. Like he was comfortable there.

You flinched once when someone shouted across the room—and you swore you saw Logan’s jaw clench before he slowly, casually moved to block your line of sight. Just stood there. Solid. Like a wall. “Ain’t nothin’ gonna hurt you while I’m around,” he said once. You nodded. Tried not to overthink it.

You apologized a lot. For asking questions. For needing help. For existing in a space where someone else might need to walk by. “Sorry,” you’d whisper as you scooted aside.

Logan looked at you sharply. “Stop sayin’ that.”

You blinked, startled. “S-sorry—”

“There. You did it again.” His tone was gruff but not mean. “You don’t gotta apologize for bein’ alive, darlin’. Not to me.”

You started bringing him coffee sometimes—black, always hot. You’d leave it on the counter and vanish before he could say anything. One day he caught you. Took the cup, nodded, and said, “that’s real nice of you.”

You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted it. I can stop if it’s annoying—”

He set the coffee down and stepped closer, gently hooking one finger under your chin to tilt your face up.

“You don’t annoy me,” he said, low and steady. “Not even a little.”

You whispered, “You sure?”

“Sweetheart, if I didn’t want you around, you’d know.”

You’d gotten used to flinching when people raised their voice—even if it wasn’t at you. Logan started talking softer around you. Not because he was embarrassed of you—because he noticed.

You once cried over something stupid—burnt toast, a hard day, some mean comment—and kept trying to apologize between tears.

Logan pulled you close, rough hand cradling the back of your head. “You don’t gotta earn space, alright? You already got it. Right here.”

You sniffled, still trying to apologize, but his grip didn’t loosen. “None’a that,” he murmured. “You feel somethin’, you feel it. That’s it. Nothin’ wrong with that.”

After that, he started noticing more. The way you held your breath before speaking. How you always sat on the edge of a chair like you weren’t sure if you were allowed to get comfortable.

Logan would nudge you gently until your shoulders relaxed. Sometimes he’d pull you into his lap and mutter, “there. Better.”

If someone talked over you in a group, Logan would pause—let them finish—and then turn to you. “What were you sayin’, sweetheart?” Like your voice mattered more. Because to him, it did.

You had a habit of saying, “I don’t know if this makes sense, sorry—” every time you tried to explain something. Logan would stop whatever he was doing, look at you dead-on, and say, “it makes sense. I’m listenin’. Don’t talk down on yourself like that.”

After that, he’d quietly echo your ideas later in conversations—“like you said the other day…”—just to prove he was listening. That what you said stuck.

You once made a self-deprecating joke in front of someone else. Logan didn’t laugh. He just looked at you, all quiet and serious, and said, “ain’t funny when it’s about you.” Then reached over and brushed your pinky with his, gentle as anything.

The first time you said, “You don’t have to stay with me,” after a bad anxiety day, he looked you dead in the eyes and said, “ain’t about ‘have to.’ I want to.” Then pulled you into his chest so tight you could barely breathe through the warmth.

Logan wasn’t great with words—but he always showed up. Your favorite snack in the cabinet without asking. A soft shirt he thought you’d like tossed onto your bed. A warm hand on your thigh when your knee bounced too much. Soft, deep murmurs: “You’re alright. I got you.”

You worried about being clingy. Logan—who healed from bullet wounds but not abandonment—told you, “you wanna be close? Be close. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

When you struggled to accept compliments, he started slipping them in casual: “You’re real smart, y’know that?” or “you looked cute this morning. Just thought you should know.”

If you tried to brush them off or make a face, he’d raise an eyebrow and say, “didn’t ask for your opinion on it. Just sayin’ facts.”

You once mumbled, “You’re just saying that ‘cause you love me,” and he leaned in, pressed a kiss to your cheek, and whispered, “damn right I love you. That don’t mean I’m lyin’.”

[sparrows4bats]

Wayne Farm AU Part 2

The Unicorn Incident starts like any other day. Bruce is trying to convince his son to leave his state of the art farm to go to school. He is failing.

Damian had been up all night with his pet tiger, Bianca. She was apparently feeling sad, and cuddles were the only solution.

Bruce had a heart attack when he got back from patrol to see Damians room empty and had Zeta Tubed to the farm.

(He had relented and outfitted the Cave at the farm with a zeta tube, bat computer, and small arsenal of emergency supplies. He's still not sure how Talia built an actual underground cave and then filled it with bats. He's a little upset that she bought the farm in the first place, but there is now another safe place for his children to go in case of emergency, so it's fine! Really! Also, Talia refuses to take it back)

He has a further heart attack when he finds him asleep with a fully grown tiger tucked firmly around him like a living blanket.

When he goes to wake his child up, he gets judgemental looks from the Tiger! She even growls at him when he dares to gently shake Damian awake.

His sleepy youngest son refuses to leave his tiger or his farm, and Bruce feels himself start to give in due to his pout and drowsy cuteness.

It does not help that Damian could have a PhD. by now if Bruce hadn't wanted him to socialise with people his own age who aren't superheros.

He considers getting Alfred to come and intervene, but Alfred takes great joy in Bruce dealing with his children's stubbornness as payback for the many tantrums and grey hairs Bruce caused the butler as a child.

Damian is debating the ethics and effectiveness of the American school system and how it has not been meaningfully innovated since the industrial revolution when something catches Bruce's eye.

Behind Damian and the judgemental tiger, there is a flash of white just outside the boundary of the enclosure.

Damian notices his gaze shift and stops arguing to turn around.

"Is that a unicorn?"

Bruce feels any hope he had for the day leave his body. "I think so." He looks at his transfixed child and dreads his next question."Is it yours?"

"No."

"Damian."

"Father."

"Did you get a unicorn and fail to inform me?"

"No, father, but I do have space in the stable if they require a home."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because we know nothing about it or where it even came from."

Damian looks over at the unicorn, who is happily munching on the wildflowers that Damian had grown around the farm to encourage the bee population. "They seem content."

"No. I am calling Constantine, and I'm sure we can find out where they belong and return them to their natural habitat." Bruce reasons.

Something in his wording must get through to his son because Damian nods and starts to leave the enclosure with Bruce following behind.

Bruce manages to get through to Constantine on the fourth try while he watches Damian inch closer and closer to the unicorn.

The warlock sounds like he just woke up, but after a few terse orders, a portal opens and a dishevelled John Constantine walks through, smoking a cigarette and glaring.

"Good morning to you." He grunts.

"Thank you for coming." Batman bites outs.

"Didn't give much of a choice now, did you? I expect a favour for waking me up, by the way."

Bruce glares harder and grunts.

"What can I do for you Batsy?"

"Get rid of it."

"What?"

"The unicorn, get rid of it. Now."

They are interrupted by said unicorn walking forward to Damians outstretched hand.

The boy gasps in delight when the mythical beast allows him to pet it. Its large head bent towards the child like an oversized dog.

"Shite. Well, no can do, I'm afraid."

"Explain." Bruce fights the urge to yank Damian back, away from the potential threat.

"Unicorns are stubborn, annoying, bastards. They keep themselves hidden from most of the world and usually have to be summoned through some heavy duty rituals to appear in this realm of existence."

"Then how did it end up here?" Bruce grits his teeth as his son leads the unicorn towards the stable to get it some food. It follows him happily.

The warlock is suddenly grinning at him. "The unicorn appears and basically chooses a person, someone they feel a connection to. Some think it's linked to purity of heart, but that's bullshit made up to sell t-shirts."

"Is it dangerous?!"

"No, not especially. It's like having a large magical stray cat. You can try to separate them, but Unicorns will just teleport back to their chosen person. Treat it well, and it looks like your little Robin will have a friend for life."

"No, get rid of it!"

"You try to convince an extradimensional horse with an attitude problem to leave his new human pet and then come talk to me." John Constantine looks delighted now. Bruce resists the urge to strangle him. Barely.

"It's looks like you have the space, at least," the sorcerer indicates to the meadows that surround them. "I thought you lived in a gothic castle or something. This doesn't really feel like your scen- is that a tiger?" The English man stops to stare at Bianca.

"It's not mine, it's robins."

"The kid has a farm? and a tiger?"

"They were a gift from his mother."

John looks at the Batman frown and starts laughing uncontrollably. "You mean to tell me that in the game of divorced parents, the great Batman is losing!"

"Shut it!" Bruce's order but that seems to make the man laugh harder.

"Father! The unicorn has requested to stay here, I have accepted this honour and, as such, need to acquire a few materials to ensure his care."

"Robin, that's not a good idea." Bruce tries to reason only to get interrupted by Damian stomping his foot.

"Fine, then I shall ask Mother. She is quite adept at finding magical items. She did so with Goliath ."

"Do not call your mother!"

John is looking between them like it's a tennis match. Bruce wants to wipe the grin off his face, badly.

Damian looks him imploringly. "So I can keep her?" The unicorn is standing behind his son using him as a scratching post.

Bruce wants to say no, force John Constantine to banish the damn unicorn away from Gotham but Damian is smiling as he pets his new friend.

He looks so happy and at peace that Bruce knows he is going to cave soon.

The unicorn takes the opportunity to mess up Damian hair while he giggles.

Bruce has never heard his son giggle before.

"Fine. But you have to go to school, no arguments."

"Thank you!" Damian actually separates from the magic horse to hug him, Bruce embraces him as enjoys the rare moment of affection.

Until John Constantine buts in. "Aww now isn't this lovely. So touching, huh Bats."

"Leave if youre not going to be helpful." Bruce orders over his sons head.

The warlock has a shit eating as he addresses Damian. "But I can help Unicorns prefer certain food and plants. I can get you a few books Robin."

"That would be much appreciated, Mr Constantine. As I have you here, is there anything you know about Dragons?"

"Dragons?"

"I have a Dragon and a Dragon bat both seem content, but I wish to provide them with more stimulation."

"Alright then, can I see them? Can't promise I'll be any help though ' John looks genuinely intrigued as Damian leads him on a tour of his farm, Bruce has a bad feeling about how quickly Damian takes to the magic user.

He is proved correct when a few weeks later, after John Constantine starts dropping off magical Strays, much to Damians delight.

Bruce is sure he is doing it to annoy him, and it is unfortunately working. He loses it after the gryphon shows up and starts racing with Goliath and Wiggles through the sky.

The Justice League is very confused why Batman is so murderous and John is so gleeful.

Luckily for the Hellblazer, Jon Kent replaces him on the top of Bruce's shit list soon enough.

[followthebluebell]

Hello! I was wanting to hear more about non-purebred brachycephaly in cats. This is my seven year old tuxedo girl, Miss Morgie, (shes biologically male but the rescue agency mislabled her). She was a rescue from Kuwait. I have no info on where she was found or if she was the product of a kitty mill or backyard breeder there. Do cats like this breed freely anywhere? I wouldn't say that her smushed snout impairs her as much as other cats that I've seen. She will make a honking noise when upse (it's extremely cute) but I've never seen her grow tired or wheeze when playing. She was active when she was young. She still play fights with our other cat.

Im also not sure if this is a "breed" characteristic linked to the mutation or nurture but she seems more... docile and even-tempered than other rescue cats I've had. She will let strangers pet her belly, she tolerates my gf's mom's hyperactive pom puppy and used to let the little doggy /h*mp/ her when we used to dog sit (I cut that out DW). I've also noticed she has next to no practical hunting instincts! Our other rescue who is just A Normal Kitty Guy chatters and gets murder crazy about birds while she just windmills her gigantic paws and meows. 😭😭 it's entirely possible that she's just a special lil gal, but I've heard the mutation affects intellect...? I wouldn't say she is a dumb cat by any stretch, she understand some basic commands and I've inadvertently trained her to recognize when I'm having panic attacks. She also seems to intuitively pick up on creative ways to get her humans to do her bidding (like slamming cabinets open and shut precisely when we are on zoom calls).

I included photos so you can see the extent of her brachycephaly. We call her a half-smush. I wanted to write a lot in defense of my girl's intellect because people said she looks "wall eyed" and like she has "no thoughts" and thar just made me really sad!!!!

I want to dedicate my cat ownership from now on to rescuing abandoned cats with brachycephaly bc of how much I adore her. I even adore brushing and washing her and all the other nonsense we cursed these poor, cute critters to need. She's just a joy. Ty ty ty for reading !! 😭😭

1. Picture of her at 2 years old 2. Her and her "prey" (my socks) 3. Tino (my gf's cat) and our dame 4-5. Mlem.

Aww, what a beauty!! She's gorgeous!

"Do cats like this breed everywhere?"

Yes, absolutely! tbh, every trait exhibited by a specific breed is naturally occurring within feral cat populations. By this, I mean someone, some hundred years ago, picked up a squishy faced cat from a naturally occurring cat litter and went, "oh, wow, I want more of this :)" and then set out to breed that particular trait consistently. But the squishy faced trait still exists within that original cat population, and cats are spread widely.

In addition, cats are beloved pets all over the world. They are present in EVERY continent except Antarctica (and probably some islands). I think Kuwait in particular has hosted a few cat shows.

While many cats are very beloved in Kuwait, it also has very... non-existent animal protection laws. Many cats are abandoned. It's entirely possible your girl is a Fancy Girl who was abandoned or got lost.

it's entirely possible that she's just a special lil gal, but I've heard the mutation affects intellect…?

To an extent, yes. It's a bit complicated. The mutation that gives brachy cats their unique look also affects their skull. Their skull shape puts pressure on the mesencephalon portion of their brain and this can cause issues with sensory, motor controls, reflexes, and impulse control. As a result, many owners believe their brachy cats are a bit slow to react to things, extremely tolerant of nonsense, and tend to fall off of furniture.

I can't say if this affects your cat.

This doesn't affect a cat's emotional intelligence, for lack of a better phrase. They are still very much in tune with their owners.

Thank you very much for loving her. Her coat is absolutely immaculate. It's clear how much you care and love this cat. It's reflected in everything she is. Thank you for sharing her too.

[lexus-k4]

Batman going to read over the documents phantom had put on his desk before disappearing before he could get a word in.

Later that day-

Batman: Constantine. Can you confirm that the names writer here are legitimate or reliable. I cannot find any records in human databases.

Constantine: *slightly frazzled after just escaping talking with Wonder Woman about conduct* huh? Oh yeah sure?

*reads through the paper multiple times.*

Constantine: is there anywhere I can refill my flask? It's empty. And I am too fakin' tired for this shit. Goodbye Battsy.

Batman stands there concern growing, looking down at the paper Constantine had shoved back into his hands.

Again later that day -

Batman: phantom.

Danny: oh hey bats. What can I do for you?

Batman: I want you to explain who these are. They aren't humans and Constantine didn't answer.

*Danny noticing the paper in his hands and sees clockworks name instantly realizing what he's asking.*

Danny: oh well. You asked for emergency contacts, but I don't exactly have anyone, do next best thing I guess like mentors and parental figures- if you could call em that -but they aren't alive so they don't exactly have numbers. Ergo summoning circles.

Batman: hmm.

Danny: I- uhh. I can't tell if that's a happy grunt, a dissatisfied grunt or just a grunt...

Half Jordan just passing by with a bag of chips in his hands: yeah none of us can. Let me know once you've deciphered it because the ones who have won't share.

Danny looks a Hal then to Batman, then back to Hal as he stares at him eating his chips: where did you even get those?

Hal: the kitchen.

Danny:...

Danny:There's a kitchen here?!?!

Batman: your going off topic.

Danny: I don't know what you want me to say!!!

Batman: I want to meet at least one of your emergency contacts.

Danny:... R You sure bout that?

Batman: hm.

Later during the summoning of his first emergency contact, clockwork, with wonder woman, flash, Hal, and a few of the bat kids now being present along with Constantine to do the summoning.

Hal: soooo. This clockwork dude. Is he like made of clocks?

Flash: yeah I was wondering that too. Like what's with the name.

Danny: the name is because he's a master of time. His existence started when time did...

JL: ...

Constantine in the back chanting finally finished as the circle glows.

Danny: also a warning, he hats you flash. You've made a lot of paradoxes he has to fix.

Flash: WHAT?! Why are you only telling me this now?!

Clockwork appears from the circle in a middle aged man form wearing his usual theme but this time as a suit and with legs as if he's at an interview: because I paid him to not tell you until the last second so that I can catch you. I'm gonna have a nice word with you once I've finished with the Bay's questions.

Flash now frozen still letting out a sheepish chuckle folowed by a panicked whine as he realises he can't move. Clockwork answers all of Batman's questions and a few of the others, some before fully being asked and others without even needing to be asked.

Idk where to take this but I feel like a good idea would be like either bats being paranoid and summoning the others but it turns out well, like Pandora friends with WW or frostbite smothering Danny with praise, or nocturn becoming quick friends with Superman because I'd like to think with his golden boy energy he's the only one out of everyone who is present has the most consistently normal sleep schedule.

Or even like clockwork and the others passively saying stuff that makes the JL severely concerned for Danny.

Phantom's emergency contact form, particularly in a no one knows AU

At first, Danny tried to reject doing an emergency contact form and pushed it off for as long as possible. 

He had some great points on his side: He was already dead, he didn't even know If he could die again, Ghosts don't have families (to his knowledge) and he really didn't want anyone to find out just how long he's secretly been pretending to be alive.

The other members of the Justice League asked gently if he really wanted to leave his loved ones wondering should he suddenly disappear one day.

And he hesitated.

That made the other JL members realize he definitely had loved ones that-- for whatever reason-- he didn’t want to know he was a member of the Justice League.

While they understood protecting their loved ones from their enemies, it was also important to protect them from being hurt by their friend disappearing without warning.

Flash wouldn’t shut up about it, Wonder Woman made stupidly good points. Batman kept pushing to put in the paperwork.

Finally, Batman handed Phantom a folder of all his blank paperwork and insisted Phantom finish it that day, or else he would be pulled from his missions.

Phantom really didn’t want to stop investigating the crime syndicate he was working on with Robin, so he took the papers with a sigh.

Danny agonized over the emergency contact form in a private room of the Justice League headquarters.

A singular piece of paper to be set in a box that would self-destruct at any attempts to open it without at least three personalized passwords from different members of the league after the League’s internal systems recognized Phantom as deceased or missing for longer than 48 hours.

It was as thorough as Batman could get, albeit not flawless.

Danny is already aware his friends and family are concerned about him. Their constant attempts to reconnect only to be met with radio silence on his end was a sign enough.

He tried to imagine to how Batman would react to having to call the “Fenton Hotline” and tell them their teenage son died on a mission for the Justice League… that is, if they even pick up.

[nullicaput]

firsts, seconds, and thirds. III (final)

Pairings: Geum Seong-je x Reader, Wolf Keum x Reader

Tags: Minor College AU, Soulmates, Canon-Typical Violence, Language and Profanities, Seong-je being mentally unstable

Summary: In a world where soulmates exist, you found yourself rejecting yours when you learned who it was.

Word count: 3877

previous chapter.

You did not know how long you were waiting outside the door of your neighbor Hwangmo. Curled up with your head on top of your folded knees, you patiently sat on the dusty floor of the hallway.

"Yo." 

"Senior," the guy you were waiting for said, causing your terrified heart a bit of relief. "What are you doing outside?" 

You lifted your head and made a sushing gesture. 

"Hwangmo."

He knelt in front of you and carefully pulled you up. With him present, the tears that you were keeping from spilling poured like a dam breaking. Your hearing stopped working due to your brain being to concentrated at the threat that was hiding inside your home—you did not notice that it was not just Hwangmo with you. 

"You cryin'?" Wolf teased. "Oh, fuck, you are."

"What happened?" the orange-haired male asked, concern evident in his face. 

"Someone's inside," you muttered, too scared to be heard. "The doorknob's busted."

"Amateur," Wolf interjected.

As if you were not even aware of his existence, you simply kept holding his underling's hands tightly. To Wolf's irritation, you even pulled his subordinate into an embrace, searching for comfort and asking for help. 

"Hwangmo," you sobbed. 

That almost drove Wolf over the edge. 

His eyes darkened at the sight of you confiding to his right-hand man instead of him, when he was the first one to approach you and not Hwangmo. The same man he was always with when he was doing errands from the big boss, assisting him with sweeping the garbage, having the same face and knuckle wounds—Hwangmo was a violent guy like him, and yet, you do not appear to fear him the way you did with Wolf. In a way, he envied Hwangmo and desired to switch places with him. For a reason he knew too well, he was frustrated that even Hwangmo could be capable of softness—and you even let that softness in. 

He craved your attention as though it was a necessity, as though it was his right—as though it was right. Perhaps, it was. After all, you were his, as he was yours.

Vexed, he went inside in your stead. The reason was unknown, even for him. He was uncertain if it was due to your display of clinging onto someone else, him just caring for your sake, or him wanting to be praised for his heroism—he was unsure. Hell, this was his first time feeling this way. No less for a person who seemed would hate the idea of being his. 

"Where's he going?" you panicked—again, not addressing him directly. 

"Seongje's got this," Hwangmo assured you. 

"Who?" 

"Wolf."

Inside your unit, Wolf switched the lights on and wore your plush indoor slippers. Light on his feet, he attempted to walk the pace you have and located the rat that made your door useless. He checked every nook and cranny, practically turning your flat upside down just to find his target. Not so long, he heard a rustling under your bed.

"Idiotic fuck."

From outside, you heard a sharp scream followed by a bone-chilling crack. The main door was opened, and you watched Wolf dragging a person by the hair.

Your stalker.

"Didn't I tell you that this is my turf?" He scowled, taking his glasses off and giving it to his right-hand man uncharacteristically gentle. "Specs."

You closed your eyes and covered your ears, but the sound of his fist hitting the man against the railings of the apartment reached you. 

"I'll tell the police!" your stalker threatened. 

"That you stalked and broke in in someone's flat then got pulverized?" He laughed. "Sure, you will."

You heard something hard hit the metal rails. Your stalker grunted each time it did.

"I'm sure you can survive the fall," Wolf exclaimed with mirth dripping from each word. "This is the third floor, you know?"

"I...won't," the rat pleaded. "I won't come here again! I won't bother her again!"

With Wolf's last punch, your stalker passed out, his head hanging limply. You soulmate let his victim fall onto the floor without any ounce of care. Instead, he scanned his bruised knuckles drip with blood.

Removing your hands from your ears, you ran straight to your unit with urgency. 

"Not even a verbal thanks?" Wolf teased. "You're cruel, Senior."

"Senior, where are you going?" 

"I'm checking for cameras."

Hwangmo exhaled, feeling the tension, which almost grew but did not.

"We can lend her one of the empty units," he suggested, returning his superior's eyewear. 

"Those shits are dusty. Can't have her gagging again after a display of charity, can we?" Wolf wiped his glasses with a portion of his shirt that did not have any blood. "Just guard her door tonight. We'll buy a replacement knob tomorrow."

You woke up to your lungs dry and heavy.

You opened your eyes to see light passing through the small gap of your bedroom door. 

"Why are the lights on?" you whispered. 

"Ah, yes," you talked to yourself as you went out. "Hwangmo's sleeping here because the doorknob's ruined."

You were walking to get yourself a glass of water when you saw a familiar purple hair through your peripheral vision. 

"Seongje?" you said, still half-awake. 

"Seongje?" He took his jacket off and fixed his sitting posture. "Where'd you learn that name from?"

Did he notice? 

"It was a slip of his tongue. Hwangmo's."

"Yeah?"

There was silence that hung thick as you took a step back away to reach the kitchenette of your apartment. It was a clumsy attempt to distract him from the fact that you uttered a word—your first word as his soulmate—directly to him, and you were hesitant if you could actually pull it off. You were not even sure why you were trying to grab a knife from the few pieces you had, but your gut was telling you to have something that could protect you. The small of your back made contact with the sink, while he remained sitting on the couch—he was not physically blocking the exit but could grab you easily if you were ever to attempt to make a dash for it—and yet, there was a shift in the air. It was malicious, territorial, famished—predatory. 

The seriousness that he typically had returned to his face; he was far from being entertained, which he usually was when he was messing around with you against your wishes. He appeared to be calm, like he was calculating the time he must take to close the distance between the two of you, which was not difficult considering how small this apartment was. 

"Since when have you known?" he said, his head tilting to the side—a habit of yours he adapted.

He has speculations that you did know all along, especially since you have been acting so avoidant with him whenever he was around, but there was something that told him that you knew the truth a lot earlier.

"Since when did you know?" he repeated, placing his glasses onto your coffee table. 

Your breath has been caught in your throat; you knew that this was the end of your year-long, one-sided masquerade.

"Why are you here in my unit?" you pathetically inquired.

"I asked you first."

"Thank you for dealing with him, but you can go now." 

"One more bullshit, and I'll knee you." With few steps, he closed the distance between the two of you to a single meter. "Don't think of grabbing that knife."

You did not listen to him and blindly picked one of the knives. It was the thinnest yet longest one. You pointed it at him, gripping the handle so hard your knuckles have turned lighter.

"Leave," you said. 

"Not before you tell me why the fuck would you hide this from me."

"Leave, Wolf." 

He hissed in pain and grunted, "How the hell are you not feeling hot?"

You were.

All this time, you were.

You were just hiding it, because having this pain was better than having him. 

"I don't want you."

People with sadistic tendencies experience enjoyment when seeing others react to the pain or violence they inflicted them, while those who are masochistic in nature find pleasure in receiving actions that are typically considered as violent and derogatory. 

Wolf was not a clueless young man who was oblivious to his sadomasochism. If anything, he knows himself so well he actively seek indulgement to satisfy it. As his journey to search for anything to give him the appropriate stimulation, he has heard insults after insults after insults that they have stopped affecting him the way he intended. After a few years of constant fighting, verbal arguments do not feel enough—they do not feel like anything anymore. 

Still, he knew all too well how to distinguish insults from the otherwise. 

What you said was not an insult at all.

So why did it feel like one?

"Say that again." 

"I didn't tell you, because I don't want you." You sighed to calm your nerves, you fingers tensing around the handle. "You won't get any merit from doing this. Just stop." 

"Where is the mark?"

"I'm not telling you," you insisted. 

"I'm losing all the patience I saved just for you."

"Why do you think I don't want you? Why do you think I would want you?"

You wished your words of rejection stung him—they did.

"Keep running your mouth, and I'll close it for you." 

"How? Are you going to beat me up the way you do with those people unprovoked?"

"Keep testing me," he warned.

"Even if you hit me, it wouldn't even be a shock to me." 

He stepped close to you.

You changed your initial grip and swung your dominant hand to stab him with the knife.

"Crazy bitch—"

He grabbed you by the wrist. You did not let go of the blade. Your nails dug deep into the flesh of your palm. You kept pushing. He kept holding you back. You used your other hand to increase the force. The wedge approached his eye; only an inch remained before it punctured him.

"Hah," he exhaled.

Wolf Keum has been known by those like him to have a three-second rule, which states that anyone who holds eye-contact with him for three seconds or more will be kissing his fist. Of course, not everyone was aware of that—and he adored the fact that there are individuals who do not—and they unfortunately get obliterated before they could even realize that they have broken that unsaid rule. 

Those who have mentored you and watched you speak in front of the crowd have known your own three-second rule. It refers to your habit of staring at a particular person in the audience for no more that three seconds before looking away to glance at the other ones. 

Right now, you have broken your own rule. Right now, he was not punishing you for breaking his rule, too.

From his position, he could clearly see the fullness of your intention to rob him of his ability to see with both his eyes. He cackled at the view of your fear vanishing ang becoming replaced with something more brave, of something more dangerous. For such a stupid reason, you were so prepared to take him down just so he would not be able to touch you and to claim what the divine beings have given to him. He never assumed that you could ever be more beautiful now that you were glaring at him with eyes filled with resentment and adrenaline than when you were smiling peacefully as though there were no threats in this world that could ever make you feel afraid for your life.

If it were anyone else, they would have been cowering in fear in front of him and begging for his forgiveness, and yet, there you were, staring at him straight in the eye as though it was the rightest thing in the world.

"[Name]," he said so quietly you could mistake it for a purr. 

His free hand moved to your neck and grasped the soft flesh that filled the hollowness of your airway. He could feel your pulse against his thumb, beating, throbbing, telling him to let go. However, he did none of the sort. He did not take his hand off, nor did he loosen the grip he had around your wrist.

"Senior."

He smiled, and then, he punched you straight to the gut.

"You—ack!" 

The knife fell from your hands, while you fell onto him. You coughed. You wheezed. You cried in pain.

"Bastard," you gasped, your breathing ragged. "You lunatic!"

"You kept blabbering about me being violent and shit, and yet you almost took my eye out."

You clawed his shirt in order to gain some stability, and he could feel your nails digging into his skin despite his thick shirt. He kicked the blade away while you latched onto him. Your vision swam due to the impact of his punch against your body, and you could only assume that the moment you let go will be the moment you would fall onto the floor. He did not stop you, but he pushed you away just a tad bit so he could still see your face. Your head hung behind while your back was now supported by his left forearm. He lifted your shirt up just below your chest, and he saw the letters peak through the waistband of your bottoms and undergarments—he tugged them down. 

Just low enough to see. 

Just low enough to feel. 

Just low enough to make you feel.

"Don't," you threatened. 

Wolf—Seongje—Geum was not kind.

He was not going to stop just because you told him to.

"Hm? What are you gonna do about it?"

He used his thumb to trace the words on your stomach, internally laughing that his firsts were nothing graceful, just like he was.

"So you knew a year ago."

He grinned, but all it seemed to you was an animal baring its teeth.

"I said, don't." 

"And I asked you, what are you gonna do about it?"

Before he could touch the last syllable and end the process, you slapped his hand away from you skin. Using the heel of your palm, you hit the bottom part of his jaw with all your might. Without any missing beat, you bolted to the door, not paying any mind to your still bare feet. You bit the inner flesh of your cheek as your vision darkened; you would not possibly stop your escape just because you were still nauseous from the hit.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Just an arm away from your door, your feet were then lifted from the ground. Before your mind could register it, you were thrown onto the couch with such force that could knock you out. He moved on top of you and placed himself between your legs. Horror has enveloped your whole figure, yet you did not let it petrify you. Even with your vulnerable position, you mustered all your courage and kicked him on the side. Not letting him recover, you curled your fist and hit him with the back of your hand. You pulled yourself together and attempted to get away, but Wolf pulled you by the ankle. He locked his arms around you from behind, and even when you elbowed him so many times, he did not set you free.

"You little shit, let me go!"

You inhaled a lungful of air—

You headbutted him.

"Fuck!" Wolf shouted, his arms losing strength. 

"Senior!" The door was kicked open to Hwangmo's horrified expression. "What the hell's happening here?"

"Help me get up," you said. "Quick!"

He complied to your request without asking any unnecessary questions first. He guided you to your divider furniture, and you leaned your whole body weight onto it for support. The adrenaline that kept you standing has dispersed, and the initial rush you had has left you. You panted as you pulled your bottoms, eyes squeezed shut while you felt the aftermath of your squabble with the infamous rabid dog himself. 

"That thing's my soulmate," you answered without being asked.

"Oh," Hwangmo said, pitying you. 

"Shouldn't you be rejoicing that I'm yours?" Wolf huffed, finally regaining his full consciousness after your attack. 

You did not reply to his mocking and fixed your appearance. You massaged your hands, their first time being used to fight and all. While him, he gazed at you as if you were the most ethereal being in the universe. He looked so drunk, his liquor being your rage and disgust.

"So what's your plan?" Hwangmo voiced out, not wanting to further fuel your impending wrath. "I mean, you two are not exactly the most compatible pair." 

You nodded, agreeing fully. 

"We'll trace each other's first words." For the first time, you looked at him calmly. "After this, let's just pretend not to know each other."

"Nah."

As fast as the word left his mouth, you picked up a picture frame from the displays and threw it straight to your other half's forehead. Lucky for him, he dodged, and the frame landed onto the couch with a thump. 

"Then what's the point of you asking me where my mark is if you didn't even want us to trace it?"

You clicked your tongue. 

This is why you never liked being angry. You automatically throw everything you put your hands on before you could even rationalize your feelings.

"I never said anything about us not tracing each other's marks, sweet." He even had the gal to shrug. "I just don't want to pretend that we don't know each other after this."

The vein on your forehead bulged and on the verge of popping.

"What are you, a romantic?" you hissed. "Just burn yourself to death, would you?"

"I'm burning, alright?"

Hwangmo sweatdropped, feeling awkward that he was there with the two of you, like a child watching his old, divorced parents argue for the nth time today.

"When are we gonna buy the doorknob?" your underclassman shifted the conversation. "Wolf." 

"Maybe tomorrow," he replied. 

"I'm buying it myself, so don't bother." You pinched your nose bridge in annoyance. "And give me back my first aid kit, Wolf."

He wore his eyes glasses before shooting you a cheeky wink.

"Call me Seongje."

It did nothing to appease your negative feelings. In fact, it only made you more furious. However, you were too tired to deal with any of this any longer. 

"Hwangmo, return my kit at the morning."

"Will do."

Extra:

There was a young man who was sitting at the students' lounge with his eyes watering in fatigue. His purple hair was being secured back by a wire headband, and his glasses, which he usually wore, was neatly folded along his uniform collar. He had a lollipop stick in between his teeth, the candy already melted not too long ago, and his right hand, still bruised, was holding a mechanical pencil. If one were to check his upper arm, they would see a nicotine patch plastered against his skin. He yawned, exhausted from doing all the duties he had for the union and having no complete rest for a week now. To top it all off, he just finished a fight an hour or two ago with a guy whose name he did not even know but managed to tick him off.

"Hey," he tried catching the attention of the personsitting across from him—you. "Hey." 

"What?" you snapped.

"What's this mean?"

Without even looking up from your notebook, you pushed his own back to him. 

"That's for you to figure out, dumbass."

Normally, he would punch the person who has insulted him, but he just zipped his mouth since he was aware that you could just ignore him for a year without feeling any guilt. He did not want another surge of nagging from you, knowing how accurately your words could hit him as if there was a target drawn on his back. Maybe it was his influence rubbing on you, or maybe this was your real personality all along, but you really had the knack on making him feel ashamed for not being a good citizen. Yes, you never actively tried to convert him into a kind person altogether, yet being around you makes him doubt if he really was as unbothered as he claimed himself to be since his middle school years.

"I will, damn."

You popped a soft candy in your mouth and quietly chew it. You then heard Wolf grunting before saying something incoherent under his breath.

"What now?" 

"I've been reading this shit for thirty minutes," he complained. 

"And? Is your program mine?"

Defeated, he rolled his eyes—again, a habit he learned from you.

"You know, you should act a little sweeter with me." 

"Why? Because we're soulmates?" You flipped though your own notes. "You knew that If I had the choice, I would ask for a smarter other half, but here I am. I get what I get, and you get what you get, no?"

At this point, he knew that opening his mouth would be a self-trap that would lead him to a knock-out. 

"If you can't figure these out, drop out," you said, not realizing that this was the same thing he told you some time ago. "I'm not helping you with your studies, especially when I didn't even force you to transfer here."

A year has passed after the revelation, and it has been months after this guy has switched programs and colleges just for you—or whatever he meant by that. The two of you never acted the way soulmates would, being loving and all, but that connection would be obvious in moments where Seongje would glare at those people you call friends whenever they linger too long. You never touched him after the time you traced each other's marks, and he never did, too, yet the space he maintained when he sat beside you would be too close for comfort, if it were not for the fact that the two of you were technically made for one another. Anyone with eyes could see that although you do not see Wolf as someone important the same level he sees you, he still stayed and even changed slightly for the better because of you. One could argue that it was because he was growing older that was why he has become more tamer compared to how he used to be in the past, but that would be untrue. No other viable reason could explain the change in his overall behavior except the soulmate link.

"[Name]."

From under the desk you both shared, he nudged your leg with his right foot. When you did not glance at him, he lightly kicked you again; this time, on your thigh. 

"[Name], let's go on a date after this."

"I'm not your girlfriend."

"You could be." 

"No."

He stood up, his demeanor undergoing a whole one-eighty-degree switch. Before he could take another step, you rose from your seat and pulled him back. 

"Fucking hell, Seongje." you seethed. "Are you serious?" 

"Date?" 

"Finish your activities first."

With that, he grinned deviously, enjoying his victory over you.

tag section.

@pookynknowntranger @hoshzz @wagawana @iquietone @yuuuumii @ruruyiin @kunikei

[bubblestree]

Limited

Part 1

"Want another slice?"

You looked up from your phone--trying to respond to Ijichi’s frantic messages of you and Gojo being gone from the expected pickup zone. Gojo had a section of cheek stuffed with some slice of chocolate cake that was able to fit in his giant mouth.

"No thanks."

The place he was so eager to drag you into was some konbini that had a space for indoor seating. You guessed he was right, they did sell sweets and mochi here as per his earlier statements. However, unlike the Strongest Sorcerer and apparently the strongest sweet tooth, you had met your end. "Ijichi is looking for us." You continued on. Gojo's eyes darted over to you where your eyes were still looking at the texts popping up. "I thought you were going to tell him the location?"

"I guess it slipped my hand." He swallowed his cake slice and leaned into his arms, folded up on the tables, "Sorry." He pouted while his eyebrows were irked. You took notice.

"It's fine. We never really had that discussion." You hadn't meant to come off as scolding but to hear him apologize as sincerely as he did was quite a shock for you. Especially with his usual 'sorries' were met in teases or exaggerations of sarcasm and excuses (always to his coworkers and even more to specific superiors).

"I'll just send him the--" You felt your train of thought and voice stop from something lightly brushing against your leg. It was Gojo's foot. You looked over to see him looking deeply into your eyes again. His pout was gone into a more simple press of his lips, his head still resting in his arms. His foot was still brushing up and down against your leg. Light and almost non-existent.

"I prefer if you didn't."

"Why is that?"

"Because..." He froze before sighing and broke his gaze to star out the window, "I like it being just the two of us." His voice was unusually soft and almost felt scared just for the last sentence he muttered out. Any confidence or sense of tease from him was nowhere to be found.

"Are you aware you have a meeting in 5 minutes."

"I'm always late."

"It's with the higher-ups."

That got him to sigh in annoyance and roll his eyes. He let out a simple 'tch before going on,

"Please all they want to do is harp on something I'm doing wrong and push forward for the execution of Sukuna's Vessel." He rubbed his hand into his hair.

"You mean Yuji Itadori?"

"Hm, yea. Sorry most people use Sukuna Vessel for professional terms."

"That makes him sound like an object."

"I know right! It's so irritating and honestly they just make me want to rewrite the entire system and remove their damn arrogance from the whole equation."

You kept your focus on him as he kept moving his head around in his arms, likely trying to vent but also maintain some level of comfort as well due to the fact he replaced his blindfold for his glasses. You looked back to your phone to see Ijichi begging politely asking for you and Gojo's location.

"They might complain about you being late."

"Like I said. I always am."

"Not when it comes to your meetups or our dual missions." You tried to tease back but you said it so fast you worried it came out as some way of critique.

Gojo turned his head to look back at you and smirked,

"Awww are you keeping track of me? Want to make sure I'm a good boy for you?" He smiled and the pouted at you while blinking rapidly.

"I guess I was just confused on your selectiveness of time management." You tried again at a tease, this one to you sounding much better however it caused Gojo's pout to falter and he looked back to the street from inside the konbini. You gulped and leaned over to him, "Listen I was just trying to joke--" Your attempt at an apology was interrupted by Gojo's fingers fiddling with your own.

His fingers brushed over yours and eventually lead to occasionally entangling them together. This was going on for quite a while and during this, his eyes were drifting from the street over to your hand and eventually back up to you while your eyes stayed focused on him the entire time.

"So--" You tried to start things back up before he interrupted you once more,

"I like being around you." It was soft and felt more like a whisper. "You never say no to spending time with me. Barely even takes you convincing." He stopped for moment and looked back down to semi entertained hands--more so fingers. He moved to hold your ringer finger. "You also let me talk freely." He looked back up to you, "Wish you did more. Wanna hear your voice too."

You felt yourself tense up as his sudden proclamation yet you didn't try to move your hand away nor did you feel the need to interrupt his broken rambles. The tenseness was less of fear or misunderstanding but rather shock at being such a main discussion and overall someone's general enjoyment.

"The world is quiet with you." He felt his voice waver and he ended up looking away into the street. "I can be just Satoru with you. Not this stupid 'honor one' and 'strongest sorcerer' bullshit everyone else needs to use."

You felt your breath go still and you finally broke your eye contact from him to look back at your phone, Ijichi's unanswered messages glowing into your eyes.

Your fingers were still intertwined.

"Meh, I guess call him now. Before we give him a heart attack." He laughed while pushing himself up from his seat and moved his hand farther up to where it finally enclosed yours and he lead you out into the slightly cold night sky, wind blowing at a moderately light level.

You texted Ijichi and eventually placed your phone back into your uniform pocket.

A few minutes pass and you still feel his gaze on you. It wasn't quite as intense as right after the mission concluded but it still had some level of seriousness and hidden passion that you couldn't decipher as admiration or just curiosity. At this point you ignored the fact both your hands were still intertwined. Your hand had closed a lot quicker than it did when he first sprung it on you.

You felt your phone buzz and you reach back down to see Ijichi texting a simple thumbs up and ETA of around 3 minutes. You smile and look up to Gojo to inform him but the words fall flat as you see him still staring at you, glasses tucked into his sweater, with a gaze that looks like you just hung the moon and stars for him. You looked away embarrassed and try to reform your words in your head.

That was until you felt his free hand go up to your cheek and rest it there. His infinity was still off. His hand was a bit colder than usual but with your cold skin it didn't really cause any issues for you. He leaned his lips closer to you, his eyes nearly shutting but he then stopped near you to whisper out,

"Can I kiss you? Please." It didn't sound desperate and not much like a plead but more like a hope. Like a little kid making a wish on a star. You simply nodded and said,

"Yes Gojo."

He broke your hand holding to cup your face with both of his hands and placed his lips against yours. It was soft and he would break it slightly just to kiss you again. You felt your hands go up and grab his wrists, softly as well. As if to keep his hands where they were. You both weren't sure how long the kiss lasted for but he broke it, hands still cupping your face to whisper,

"Satoru. Call me Satoru." His eyes still looking at you with deep adoration and hope that he wasn't going to wake up all tucked up in his room--the cruel twist being that this was all a dream.

You felt your thumbs brush against the tops of his hand and nodded.

"Ok... Satoru." The name rolling of your lips with some hesitance yet still smooth enough.

All he could do to that was smile with a slight show of his teeth and a small chuckle.

"Perfect"

[madgastronomer]

The usual claim that's countering is that in medieval Europe, it was common for women to marry that young. And this perception is due to noblewomen being contracted to marry very young. But regular people mostly didn't, by the records we have.

You seem to be trying to counter a claim about one time period and continent with information about a completely different time period and continent. Now, I'm all for responding to the phrase "in the past" with "what past? where? when?" and nailing it down to make a point. I like precision of language.

But a lot of those posts and comments and what-have-you do make it clear when and where they're talking about. And your post exists in the context of those posts, as well.

Child brides absolutely have been and sometimes still are a thing in Appalachia (the state of marriage laws in some states are appalling). And also in some non-Appalachian US states. I'm sure if I could be bothered to go digging through my family's genealogy I'd find several, because a lot of them were Appalachian.

And, it must be said, calling attention to places and periods other than fucking medieval Europe is a noble quest. So go you! Thank you for that part!

But like. There is also a mismatch here.

“people didn’t actually get married at 15 in the past” maybe not where you’re from but in the rural US that is a persistent trend I witness in the historical record.

[magicaldice]

Synopsis: Y/n goes to a party with her bestfriend without telling her toxic boyfriend. She unexpectedly meets Chris sturniolo & things start to unravel overtime.

⚠︎ : read at your own leisure.

any feedback, likes, comments or shares, are appreciated!

pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 part 5

I had waken up to an empty bed. Which is alarming because I was in Chris's bed and had fell asleep with him in it. I grab my phone off of the nightstand and check my messages.

Jackson hadn't even crossed my mind until now, when I read his message asking where I was at. I don't answer because I'm more curious of where Chris was.

I get up and walk out to the living room hoping to see him out there. And when I realize he's not at the house I get even more confused and curious. He didn't mention last night anything about having to leave early.

I text Madi to ask if she's awake and I hear footsteps coming down the hallway shortly after. "Hey girl good morning" she says. "Hey have you seen Chris?" I ask. Her body language changes, becoming almost unsettled.

"Yeah, he left. But he didn't really say much before leaving" she said kind of hesitantly. "Oh" I responded quietly. "When did he leave?" I questioned. "Like 2 hours ago I think" she said uncertain.

She watches me, noticing my energy change quickly. "He'll be back girl don't overthink" she said. I nod my head and sit down on the couch. "I actually need to leave I have some stuff to do" I said. "You sure you don't want to stay for breakfast?" She asks. And I declined the offer feeling to anxious to eat.

"Well I can have Matt give you a ride home" she voiced. "No it's okay" I said. "He can take you he has to go to the store anyways" she insisted. And a few seconds later she disappeared down the hallway.

Shortly after she came back out to the living room, followed by Matt. I give Madi a hug and head out to Matt's car.

"You okay?" he asked as we got into his vehicle. I shake my head. "You don't look to sure" he said. "I'm okay I just- I don't know" I respond. "It's Chris isn't it" Matt assumed, very much correctly. "Yeah" I responded quietly.

Matt let out a deep breath. "He disappears sometimes. It's just something he does" Matt explained. "Why?" I questioned. "Did he say what he was doing or going?" I continued to ask. Matt shakes his head. "He'll come around, don't worry about it too much" Matt says trying to reassure me.

"Listen I know you and him are friends and all, but I just want you to be cautious" Matt says continuing to keep his eyes on the road. "What do you mean by that?" I asked. "I love my brother, I really do. It's just he can be complicated in certain aspects. All I'm saying is to be careful" Matt spoke.

And after him telling me that I stayed silent the rest of the ride. When I got home I finally texted Jackson back. I told him I spent the night at my friends house and hoped he wouldn't be mad about it. I waited for a couple hours hoping Chris would text me and he never did.

Jackson had texted me asking why I was staying at my friends house so much recently. And I couldn't come up with a good enough reason other than the fact that I wanted to be around Chris. So I didn't respond, I went to sleep instead.

The next day went by slowly. I had hungout with Jackson just to be ignored as he scrolled on his phone for endless hours. It was either his phone or he would play video games on his Xbox. And with Jackson barely acknowledging my existence despite being in the same room as him, it led me to anxiously thinking about Chris for hours.

I think back to when me and Chris were on his bed, when he had caressed my face. My body had almost felt like it was floating.I dont even know how to describe it. I don't know if it was some type of tension between us but it had me me think way too much.

It had made me feel confused. It was like I had been so affected by Chris in a way that I had never been by Jackson. And it made me wonder if that was wrong.

And as much as I felt confused by it, I felt like I wanted it to happen again. I felt close to Chris, like we had a genuine bond. He was my friend, and I cared about him. I wanted to be around him, in his presence.

And when I was thinking about the moment on his bed with him, I felt guilty. Not because we crossed a line or did anything, but because a part of me deep down almost felt as if I wanted something to happen.

And right then and there, when that thought had crossed my mind I felt ashamed. I was in a relationship with Jackson. And I cared about Jackson. I would never cheat on him, ever.

I had got tired of thinking so much so I had scrolled on my phone for hours and listened to music. Anything to make sure I couldn't form a single thought.

It had now been 2 days since I heard from Chris and I had started to worry so much that I felt sick. It was about 6 pm when I had got tired of feeling like shit so I fell asleep.

2 hours later I wake up to Katie shaking me out of my sleep. "Y/n wake the fuck up" she said urgently. As soon as I gained consciousness my body went into fight or flight mode.

'What! Whats going on!" I yelled, heart beating fast. "There's a man at the door asking to see you" she said. "I don't know who it is but he's cute, hurry I told him I was gonna come get you" she said rushing me to get up.

I walked quickly to the front door and opened it. "Chris?". He looked at me with a sorry look on his face. "You can come in if you want" I offered, hoping he would come inside. After a few seconds he followed me inside and into my room.

Him and I sat on my bed. "Im sorry" he immediately said. "I don't know what happened I just needed time to think" he explained. "Time to think about what?" I asked. "Nothing, im just sorry" he said.

"You had me so worried, I didn't know where you went. I didn't know if you were okay" I said clearly still concerned. "I am I just- I'm sorry but I don't really want to talk about it" he expressed. "Why? Did I do something?" I asked, not understanding why he wouldn't open up to me. "No, you didn't do anything I promise" he said looking away from me before grabbing onto my hand and squeezing it lightly.

Thick silence fell between us. "I missed you" he said quietly with my hand still in his. "I missed you too" I replied quietly, still concerned and confused. But I didn't want to push it, if he didn't want to tell me what was wrong I wasn't gonna force him to.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but was holding back. I couldn't really read his energy even when I so badly wanted to. "Can I hug you?' he asked. I nodded and he pulled my body into his. The hug lasted longer than what it normally would, as if he was trying to tell me something without using his words.

He had finally let go, and looked back at my face as if he was relieved. "You able to hangout for awhile?" I asked him. "Yeah".

We had sat and talked for a bit. And when he told me we should go on a walk I agreed. Fresh air sounded good.

Chris's POV:

I had ran, doing the one thing I told myself not to do. When I had waken up to y/n sleeping in my bed that morning it scared me. It hurt me. Because I knew that even though she was in my bed, she would have to wake up and go back home and see Jackson.

I wanted nothing more than to stay in that bed with her. But I had fallen so deeply into my own thoughts, which caused me to run. I had went and stayed at my friend Nate's house for 2 days before convincing myself to come back and talk to her.

Me and y/n that night had stayed up talking for hours about a variety of things. I had never sat and talked about childhood stories or about my family with a girl. I had never opened up like that to anyone before. It fucking frightened me.

And I knew she was probably worried and confused on why I had left. But I knew that it was getting harder to pretend. To pretend like I was okay with her going back to Jackson. To pretend that I could only feel for her as a friend. To pretend that what I felt for her was deeper than what I had expected to feel.

I wanted to tell her so bad. That I hated feeling things for people because I couldn't regulate my emotions properly. I didn't know how to control them at times, even when I needed to the most. I hated being vulnerable, but it was different with her.

Feeling things in general was hard enough, but feeling what I felt for her was scary. It was so risky for me. And I know I was selfish for ghosting her for those 2 days. But it was like a habit of mine that was hard to break free from.

I knew that leaving her was wrong. It made me feel extremely guilty. I was scared of losing her when she wasn't even mine to begin with. But I couldn't bring myself to just give up on being friends with her. I had talked myself into showing up at her house.

We talked for a bit before I asked if she wanted to go on a walk. She had agreed and we proceeded to walk around with no destination in mind. And I didn't care as long as she was next to me.

Y/n POV:

The walk was quiet. But I didn't care, as long as he was next to me. "You okay?" he asked out of the blue. "Yeah. Just thinking" I responded. "About what?" he had asked curiously. "I don't know to be honest. My mind has kind of been all over the place recently" I admitted.

"Well if you want to talk about anything I'm here" Chris said reassuring me. I didn't respond as we kept walking next to each other.

I had gasped at the sight of a beautiful cat that was walking towards us. "Come here kitty" I said excitedly. The cat walked right up to us and I bent down to pet it. "Your such pretty baby" I said softly to the cat.

Chris had started to rub my head as I was bent over petting the cat. It felt like a sweet moment. "The cat is almost as pretty as you" Chris said continuing to stroke my hair. His words made me shiver. "the cat is almost as pretty as you".

After a bit the cat had wandered off and we had ended up walking back to my house.

I was laying on my bed, Chris sitting next to me staring off into space. "Chris" I said. He looked over at me with tired eyes. "Yeah?" He asked.

My phone started buzzing, Jackson's calling. I look at the phone and then at Chris who looks as if he's trying mask disappointment. Or maybe defeat.

And before I grab my phone, Chris reaches for it quickly. "Give it back" I demanded. With my phone in his hands he puts it has high as he can in the air. He smiles and shakes his head. I crawl over to him, reaching for my phone. "Chris this isn't funny give it back" I complained.

He laughs watching me struggle to reach the phone in his hands as he holds it in the air as high as he can. I crawl on top of him, reaching for the phone. I finally was able to grab it but not before the phone stopped ringing.

I didn't realize the way I was practically straddled onto Chris’s lap until now. He grabs onto my hips softly, and looks down at how our bodies are so close together.

My heart fastened as his hands are still placed on my hips. He looks back up at me, and he swallowed hard while looking uneasy. I can feel my face heat up, a pink tint coming across my cheeks.

"Sorry I wasn't really paying attention I was just trying to get my phone" I said, feeling his hands still placed on my hips. "It's okay" he says quietly, his eyes flicking between my eyes and lips.

A few seconds of silence and staring into eachothers eyes pass before I hear my phone ding. I quickly get off of Chris's lap and check my message.

Jackson's upset I didn't answer his phone call. I would have answered if Chris hadn't snatched my phone from me. I text Jackson back and make up some dumb excuse of why I didn't respond.

Chris gets up off the bed and grabs his phone that's on my nightstand. "I should go it's getting late" he said. Chris's energy has shifted, I'm not entirely sure to what but he seems to be masking how he's really feeling.

"Don't leave" I blurt out without thinking. Chris looks at me as if he's confused. "Just stay the night" I said letting out a deep breath. Chris is still standing there, almost as if he's frozen. "Please" I said desperately.

"And your boyfriend- he's okay with me being here?" Chris asked, already knowing the answer to his own question. "If you don't want to stay you don't have to" I said.

A few seconds pass before Chris sits down back on my bed. Every time I was around him, I felt like I never had enough time.

And yeah, I know it could seem bad to want Chris to stay with me, putting my phone on silent so that way I couldn't hear Jackson blowing up my phone. But I didn't care at the moment.

I wanted to be around Chris, maybe a little too much. But he was my friend, the closest friend I had since I met Katie. The friendship I had with Chris was secure, and comforting.

Jackson would throw a fit if he knew Chris and I were friends. He would throw an even bigger fit if he knew how many times I've hungout with Chris, or that I had stayed the night with Chris. Or that Chris was about to stay the night with me.

And maybe I should feel guilty, or ashamed. I should feel upset at myself for not getting off Chris's lap more quickly earlier. I should feel bad for liking when I feel a weird slight tension between me and Chris.

And maybe I am reading too far into things. Maybe when Chris compliments me he's just being friendly. Maybe him placing his hands on my hips, seemingly wanting to hold me in place as if he didn't want me to get off of him, was just him being friendly.

I knew Chris was my friend. I knew that I would never cheat on Jackson. But I also knew I felt more like myself around Chris more than I ever did with Jackson. And that weighed on my mind more times than I could count.

And as me and Chris sit on my bed, staring at each other nothing else mattered. All that mattered was that Chris was here with me. And as long as he was next to me I could be content. I could be myself, and I could breathe without feeling guilty for existing.

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