#some of the shit they say after supposedly watching their own streamer is so

[isa-ghost]

Nah, the Tubblings talking shit are also the mfs from the dsmp Phil Bad Dad days. Or the weirdos who just hate Phil period even though he's literally just always staying in his lane doing his thing.

I think a lot of them also get butthurt that their perception of ""Dadza"" is entirely made up by themselves and he has never been a father figure to begin with so they're salty that he doesn't fit the mould they're trying to force on him. And they don't like that Phil has no filter.

And there's also the fact that a lot of them are ageist teenagers who think you're genuinely on your way to the grave or at the very least inherently creepy and predatory once you hit 21 years old.

AND and there are some of them who are idiots who are just discriminatory towards northern Brits, which is a Whole Thing that I don't entirely understand myself bc I'm not British but I have heard A Lot about it from my friends who Are from the north of the UK.

There's a lot to it tbh. But most of it is along the lines of they hate Phil bc he's an adult that doesn't baby and woobify Tubbo like they do bc he recognizes Tubbo is a grown ass man. And something about the fact that Phil is "not conventionally attractive" too. They can't woobify and baby him, they can't simp over him, and he doesn't lay down and just ignore/tolerate their bullshit so they hate him for it.

(English not my first language)

About the whole "Chayanne is the glass child" thing...I feel that most of the people trying to force this theory had very bad experience in their childhoods and are trying to cope by projecting their trauma onto the pixelated egg played by the adult role player...instead ,you know...going to therapy.

On the other hand I'm not suprised at all to see that great number of "glass child theory" supporters are Tubbo's fans. They worship Chayanne for being the Tubbo's godchild but they genuinely despise Phil (both the character and the CC) and are always ready to talk s**t about him (both the character and the CC).

Honestly, the only Tubblings I've seen that DON'T seem to talk shit are the ones that have been here since way before the QSMP and know how Phil and Tubbo interact, and how they won't put up a character just to talk on a server

And what's sad is, this isn't the first time people have pushed their projections against Phil in this way...

[griavian]

the 36 questions that lead to love

x <- read on ao3

dream finds a list of questions that can supposedly lead to two people falling in love, so him and george try it out on stream. turns out, they don't really need all 36.

“Come on, George. It’s just a couple of questions.” Dream pleaded into the call, making George roll his eyes. He’s been trying to end stream for the past 15 minutes, but Dream always convinces him to go “just a little longer!”.

“36 questions is not just a couple of questions, Dream.” George glances at his second monitor to make sure his green screen was still black and to check a few discord messages. He had no intention to fall into Dream’s trap for another hour of streaming.

“But it says it’ll lead to love!” Dream says, exasperated. He googled ‘questions to ask your friend’ earlier and found a list of them that apparently lead to falling in love. To George, it was bullshit.

“That’s such bullshit.” He expresses.

“You’re no fun.” Dream’s voice lowered, and George can feel the pout Dream has plastered on his face. He can already predict what the next 12 hours would be like with Dream: silent treatment and being a general dickhead. George was used to it when they lived an ocean apart, and even found it amusing, but it was a totally different experience living with him. Dream would mope around, go into George’s room randomly just to not talk to him, and go as far as to blast sad music from his own room across the hall while George was trying to finish up some editing. Sure, it was all light-hearted jokes, and Dream would stop his act in a heartbeat if George was truly annoyed by it, but George still dreaded it.

“Fine.”

Dream immediately cheers up and starts typing on his keyboard while George watches his chat fly by, seeing a lot of emotes and positive messages.

“Okay, um- first question. Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom,” Dream mocks the formality, “would you want as a dinner guest?”

George’s nose crinkles. “How is that gonna make me fall in love with you?”

“Just answer the question.”

“I don’t know! The queen?”

“That’s a stupid answer.”

“What!” George screeches and Dream barks out a laugh. “You’re so dumb.”

“You gotta give me a better answer than that, or else we won’t fall in love with each other.”

George rolls his eyes, but decides to think about his answer. Truthfully, he wouldn’t want anyone special as a dinner guest. “Um. My mum.”

George eyes his chat as it’s filled with “aw”s. He almost scoffs.

“See? That wasn’t so hard.” George wants to punt Dream into another universe.

“Alright, who would you want as a guest?”

“Tom Brady.”

“That’s the stupidest answer ever!” George yells, his eyes wide, perhaps offended that Dream picked Tom Brady out of anyone else in the world.

“Question two!” Dream ignores, “This one is kinda dumb, but would you like to be famous and if you do, what for?”

George hums. “Probably don’t want to be famous-famous. Maybe being well-known for being the first person to invent IRL-VR. I want my body to be submerged in the Minecraft universe.”

“That’s sick. I dunno what I’d want-”

“You’re already famous.”

“Shut up. I don’t even- I don’t even want to be famous, really. I just want to make whoever knows me smile.”

“Aww, isn’t that sweet, Dream.” George teases and he knows Dream waved him off. George has his habits practically memorized.

“Whatever. How about you ask some questions?” Dream sends a link on discord and George reads through them.

“There’s no way these can make people fall in love. What even is this question? Before making a telephone call, do you rehearse what you’re going to say and why?”

“Trust the process. I mean, I do that. I don’t want my brain all jumbled up, I guess. Words are hard.” Dream answers.

“I don’t think I’ve ever done that. I wing it.”

“That’s very you. Next question.” Something about Dream saying that made George smile the tiniest bit, made the serotonin flow through his brain.

“What’s a ‘perfect day’ for you?” George reads. It’s quiet for a moment.

“Hanging out with you,” his voice is sincere, “You and Sapnap. Recording, streaming, anything like that. What about you?”

“Hm. Me too.”

George isn’t one to show his feelings often. He remembers being asked if he did, and he answered with “not ones that matter”. It still rings true to this day. His walls are still built up and that’s okay to George. Mushy feelings aren’t important, but he’d be damned if he didn’t say his heartstrings were playing a beautiful melody during this moment.

The questions and answers fall easily after that. George knows it’s around 1 am, and he should go to sleep, but answering the questions was kind of addicting.

“Do you have a hunch on how you’ll die?” Dream reads the question with a chuckle. “That’s such a weird question to ask someone you wanna fall in love with.”

George tries not to read in between the lines.

“Heart failure. For both of us.”

“You know how I’ll die?”

“We’re Minecraft streamers, Dream. We’ll probably die at 40.” They share jokes and giggles of scenarios where they die and what they’d do, and something about it feels a bit too honest.

“I’ll die the day you die, George. Emotionally and physically.” Dream says, dramatic as ever. George only huffs, and they leave it there.

“Name three things you and your partner have in common. Dream, do you have a secret girlfriend?” They start to bicker back and forth, because of course they do.

“It doesn’t mean romantic partner, you dumbass. Like- it’s like a science partner,” Dream sighs, “Well, we do have a lot in common. We have the same job, we care about the same things, and we love each other! Easy.” Dream answers.

“Who said I loved you?”

“You literally did last night.” George had closed chat a while ago, already prepared for what was to come. He can only imagine what they’re saying.

“They’ll never believe you.” George says with a sadistic grin.

“Ugh. Okay, what are you grateful for in life? You have to answer this.” George can hear Dream get a little closer to his mic, almost anticipating George’s answer. Dream knows how much he doesn’t like to express any feelings, and probably expects him to skip the question overall. George prevails.

“You. Obviously,” and before Dream can get out an aww, George says, “You made my career, dummy, and I’m grateful for that. And my friends, family, all the normal things. Chat! I’m even grateful for chat.”

“Well, I’m incredibly grateful for you especially.” Dream’s voice is soft, almost loving. George rolls his eyes. He could’ve guessed Dream’s answer, but it weirdly hurts him when it was spoken aloud. He doesn’t know whether it hurts because it might be a fun little joke or if it’s because someone might care about him that much. George decides to stop thinking.

They answer more questions, from taking four minutes to tell each other their life stories (“There was no reason to add that detail; you’re so gross, Dream.”) to what significant quality they would want to wake up and suddenly have (“You’re already good at code shit, George. That’s the saddest answer ever.”). They move onto section two of the list, which are deeper questions.

“Is there something you’ve dreamed of doing but haven’t yet, and why haven’t you?” George asks. He knows about Dream’s unfinished projects. There’s probably a million answers to the question, and George would listen to every single one.

“Uh, well. You know I was writing a book, yeah? I was halfway done with it, and I can’t make myself finish it. It’s probably writer’s block, but I don’t think I’ll be able to do it.” George frowned.

“You can’t finish it with that attitude, silly. You’re annoyingly amazing at everything.” George says with a snort, “I don’t have an answer to this. What did you say that one time? Your future is my future? Well, your dreams are my dreams, then.”

George cringes a little at what he said. He doesn’t know his viewer count, but knows that at least a million people will watch that clip out of context. Dream doesn’t say anything back and moves on to the next question.

“What is your most treasured memory?” Dream asks, and George immediately laughs.

“I definitely know your’s.”

“Do tell, George.”

“Our first Christmas together. Sapnap insisted on getting a real Christmas tree, and when we started decorating the stupid thing, Sapnap sees a spider and screeches. Then, our neighbors come knocking on the front door and you had to explain to them that nobody was being murdered, it was just your roommate being a big baby. And as if it could get any worse, I got tree-sap all on my fingers and clothes and you couldn’t help me because you were laughing too hard.”

“Pretty sure I almost choked on my own spit.” Dream adds, and George scoffs. “But no, that’s not my treasured memory.”

George sputters. “What? You’re telling me I told that to thousands of people for nothing?”

“To be fair, you were all soft on Christmas morning, so our first Christmas might be your treasured memory. Anyways, remember the first time you helped me with a code?” George stays silent, giving Dream the answer. “Well, that was the first time we had a real conversation. I made you laugh, then I started to laugh because you laughed, and we didn’t get the code done. It sounds dumb, but I always smile whenever I think about it.”

George’s face falters a bit. God, he just wants to hug Dream; he wants to make a beeline for his room and attack him with affection and make sure he knows that George loves him, platonically or romantically, George wants him to know.

He just can’t express it with words.

“That… sweet.” George’s eyes travel down the following questions and panics, seeing how personal the questions are. He fakes a yawn. “As mushy and stupid this thing is, I’m really tired.”

Dream doesn’t say anything. It almost scares George, but he deafens on Discord and bids farewell to his viewers, who were completely freaking out. George doesn’t blame them. He’s abruptly leaving after a sweet moment? That’s a recipe for disaster, and George knows better. Yet, he clicks the end stream button.

The door to his office swings open instantly and startles George. It was Sapnap, someone he didn’t particularly want to see.

“What the fuck was that?” His roommate whisper-yells.

George groans and slides deeper into his chair, covering his face. “I don’t know,” he muffles.

“Are you even trying to hide your feelings at this point?” He can hear Sapnap close the door and flop on his office’s couch. “You might as well buy a billboard that says ‘I’m in love with my best friend! His name is Clay!’ with a big ass picture of your dumb face beside it.”

“I know,” George whines. “Do you think he knows?”

“He’s not the one I’m worried about knowing. I’ve told you a million goddamn times that he’s too whipped to notice. I’m worried about the fans. They’re gonna go fucking bonkers because of this stream. Clips are gonna be shared. People are gonna speculate.”

George uncovers his face and narrows his eyes at his friend. “Thanks for the reassurance,” he deadpans.

Sapnap rolls his eyes. “I’m being serious, dude. I know you’re very deeply in love with him in the gayest of ways, but you gotta be careful in front of the fans.”

“Oh my God. I know, Sapnap! I know. I forgot we were even streaming. It felt like it was just the two of us, and I got too comfortable. And it was so nice. I can’t even do anything about it now, so it doesn’t even matter.”

Sapnap sighs and pulls himself from the couch. “You need to talk to him before this gets out of hand. You know I love ya, and that I’m here for you.” George cringes out of habit, but nods. It reads as ‘I love you too, I guess’.

Sapnap leaves without another word, and George is left alone with his thoughts. It’s not long before he sluggishly makes his way back to his bedroom. He opens the closed door, enters, and shuts it. He turns around, only to be greeted by a familiar person in his bed, and yelps.

Dream laughs. He’s wearing blue pajama pants and a white t-shirt. His hair looks messed with, and his cheeks seem to have more color to them. George can’t help but stare.

“Well? Aren’t we gonna finish it?”

George cocks an eyebrow.

“Finish what?”

“The questions, dummy. You don’t… you don’t have to. I mean, it’s kinda stupid that I want to do it in the first place, but…” Dream trails off. George hops on his bed and grins lightly.

“Go for it.”

They answer questions they skipped, like what is your most terrible memory (“My, uh, grandma. She died when I was about 14. It was… hard on me.” “Oh, George…”).

The overhead light was off at this point, the only light coming from a lamp on his desk and the stars shining through the window. The two are on their sides, Dream on the right of the bed and George on the left, facing each other, occasionally looking at their phones to ask the questions.

“What roles do love and affection play in your life?” Dream asks, his voice softer than ever. George can almost not answer. He doesn’t know.

“I’ve never been a super affectionate person, so I don’t know. I’ll give you guys quick hugs of course, but with really close relationships, I don’t know what to do.”

Dream looks as if he’s searching for something in George’s face, and George can’t tell what he’s looking for. His movements are hesitant, George sees.

“Do- um. You wanna maybe,” Dream pauses, closes his eyes,and scrunches up his face. “Try?”

“Try what?”

“Affection.” Dream lets out a breath and opens his eyes. “Affection is my strong suit, afterall.” His mouth forms into a teasing smirk despite his eyes showing nervousness.

“Um. Take the lead.”

It’s slow. So, very slow. Dream’s hand raises up and lands itself on the dip of George’s waist. He’s whispering instructions, and George listens. His hands are hung around Dream’s neck, and their legs are starting to tangle together. They laugh when they realize how far apart they are, and Dream pulls him closer. George can feel his heart beating out of his chest as he lays his head where Dream’s right shoulder meets his neck.

“Do you want me to ask the rest of the questions, sweetheart?” It sounded like a coo, and George is surprised at how effortless the pet name comes out of Dream’s mouth.

“Was that okay?” Dream whispers after a moment of George going still. He perks up.

“Yeah! Yeah.”

“Okay.” Dream pulls George closer and rests his left hand on his back. He starts rubbing up and down in slow motions.

George simply melts.

The questions and answers go by slower, and their voices become gentler. Dream announces that they’re on section three now, and to state three true “we” statements. Dream goes first.

“We… are cuddling?”

“Obviously, idiot.” George chuckles. “We are really tired?” Dream hums.

“We meant everything we’ve said tonight.”

“We are going to mean everything we say tonight.”

“You can’t just steal my answer.”

“Just do your third one.”

“We will be ‘Dream and George’ forever.”

Forever is a long, long time. And yet, Dream’s statement is still true.

“We don’t know what is going to happen tomorrow.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Very vague.”

“Next question, Dream.”

“Alright, alright. Complete this sentence: ‘I wish I had someone whom I could share…’”

Without a second thought, George replies, “My emotions with. Your turn.”

George swears he felt Dream squeeze him.

“My everything with. Every single little thing. Physical, metaphorical, emotional.”

“Even Patches?”

A laugh.

“Yes. Even Patches.”

“Next question.”

“Tell your partner what you like about them and be very honest.”

“Your voice. It’s like… I don’t even know how to describe it.”

“Does it get you going, George?”

“Shut up. I definitely don’t like your smart-assery.” George can feel Dream lean down into George’s shoulder and smile. “I like how you act around people. It’s always different depending on the person. Different with me.”

“I like how you act around people too. You’re almost always bubbly, even though you like to say you aren’t. And, God, your laugh. It’s so overwhelming, but in the best way possible. You have no idea how many times I’ve said the stupidest shit just to hear your little laugh.” George digs his head deeper into Dream’s shoulder. “I also… really like it when you say my name. My real name.”

George raises slightly, gaining the tiniest bit of confidence. “Clay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that.”

“Clay,” George whispers.

“George.” Dream sounds weak. So, very weak. George gets closer to his ear.

“Clay.”

George can’t tell if he’s joking.

“You’re gonna kill me, George.”

George’s lips brush against the outer of Dream’s ear, and his friend shivers. He decides this isn’t a joke anymore. He thinks the invisible line they had drawn in the sand many years ago has been kicked and stomped on to the point where neither of them remembers the line being there. George goes further.

“Clay, Clay, Clay,” George is still whispering, slowly brushing his lips across Dream’s jaw, and the hands around his waist get the littlest bit tighter.

George finally raises his head to meet Dream, who was a mess. His cheeks are glowing and his eyes are almost bloodshot. His breath is labored and his hands are shaky.

“Calm down, love.” George whispers and raises his right hand to meet Dream’s cheek, who leans into the touch.

“Kiss me.” Dream begs quietly, as if saying anything louder would shatter the moment in little pieces.

An adrenaline rush fills George’s veins. “Anything you want,” he says, and closes the gap.

The kiss is soft. Dream is maneuvering their bodies to be more comfortable, meaning George is pulled on top of Dream. Their lips didn’t part once.

They move together in harmony, both in the kiss and their bodies, putting everything they got into it. It was unsaid feelings and years and years of thoughts, and George felt every single one of them. George is straddling Dream’s middle and Dream is leaning up to meet George’s touch. His hands are rubbing up and down and squeezing George’s hips and George’s hands find their way into Dream’s hair. It’s perfect and imperfect and everything George has been waiting for, yearning for.

They part, and Dream pushes their foreheads together. George assumes they look dumb, but how could he care in this moment?

“Beautiful. You’re beautiful.” Dream says, his breath tickling George’s mouth. He lets out a breath and breaks out into a smile. His hands start brushing through Dream’s hair and George backs away to get a good look. Dream is staring back.

George lunges forward and wraps his arms around Dream’s neck, sending him flat on the bed with an “oof”.

“Jesus Christ, George. A warning would be nice.”

“I love you. I-love-you-I-love-you-I-love-you-I-love-you-I-love-you-I-love-you-” George couldn’t get enough of saying it. George’s dam cracked when Dream held him and fucking exploded when they kissed. He doesn’t have to hold back anymore, so he doesn’t.

“Slow down, baby.” Dream says through a chuckle. He makes George lean up with tans hands on pale cheeks and a lot of eye contact. “I love you, too.”

George’s breathing slows down to a normal, less-adrenaline-filled pace, and Dream kisses him again. George forces his head back up.

“What does this mean for us?”

“Isn’t it a little obvious?”

“Not really.”

“Boyfriends, George. We’re dating now.”

“How do you know I wanted to even be your boyfriend.” George narrows his eyebrows in faux-suspicion.

Dream’s stare is blank. “I mean. You’re- well- you know, um-”

George dismisses this shortly and confirms, “I want to be your boyfriend.”

Dream sighs in relief. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Yeah. Whatever.” George slides off Dream’s waist and lays facing him. Dream turns as well. “Was that question the last question?”

“No, actually. There were a few left.” Dream blinks, then muses, “Guess we didn’t need 36 questions after all.”

“That was the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said and I hate you for it.”

“You wound me, George. You wound me.”

George makes up for it by letting himself be engulfed in Dream’s embrace, and feels tiny kisses on the top of his head. George nuzzles closer.

Yeah, everything was going to be fine.

[fizzingwizard]

Frantically playing catch up because I’m gone the rest of the weekend so here’s day 6 after all! Blatantly Takari. This one surprised me by how easy it was to write so it got a bit longer than the others. I’m sure there are many typos, please overlook. Also has two quotes, one in the text and one at the end, from my long-time favorite poet, Walt Whitman. BTW, I don’t really get everything that went down with Ordinemon, but I did my best to fit canon.

One month post-Bokura no Mirai, Takeru and Hikari go on a date and Hikari encounters something unexpected, which leads to a very overdue conversation with her brother.

Warning - there’s mention of the death of sick baby. It’s not huge but it matters to the story. I don’t want to shock anyone.

---

Tri week day 6 - Journeys - Death of a Comet

"How are you?" Takeru asked, watching her carefully.

Hikari only smiled and pretended not to notice. "I thought we'd known each other long enough to skip the niceties, Takeru-kun," she quipped. It was a far cry from her old playfulness, she knew, but she also knew he wasn't going to call her out for it it just yet.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Takeru rolled his eyes with an exaggerated, put-upon sigh. "I didn't realize relationship length was proportionate to amount of shits given."

"It is, at least when the last time we talked was an hour ago over text."

"Duly noted."

"Let's go?"

He nodded. He was wearing another hat she'd never seen before, a dark blue beret that looked about to tip off the side of his head with a light breeze. She wondered if he went out and bought a new hat each time before they went out together. Like how a girl shouldn't be caught in the same outfit twice. He probably did. That was Takashi Takeru, vain as fuck. But there was also something kind of adorable about it.

They'd "officially" been dating for a couple weeks, and Hikari wasn't sure yet how she felt about it. Of course, she'd agreed to it when he asked her. What else could she do? They'd been flirting and toying with each other off and on for years, in a childish way, but she couldn't pretend she didn't know full well what she was doing. She'd even sometimes daydreamed about what dating him would be like. Mostly she imagined it would be a lot of sitting in the bleachers at his basketball games.

She didn't consider Takeru the most mature of the boys in their year, but he wasn't as bad as some. Plus, they'd been through a lot together, so she knew what he was made of. And he really liked her. And she liked him. It seemed unavoidable. She'd said yes because she had no good reason for saying no.

It still felt a bit weird when he reached to hold her hand. Two weeks in, and they had yet to kiss. For the most part, it felt like nothing much had changed between them, except that Takeru no longer tried to hide his excitement when she was near. That was... flattering. And she had no qualms with taking it slow either.

They got on the Yurikamome train and stood together by a window, watching the Odaiba waterfront speed by as they traveled over the Rainbow Bridge. The sky was blue and cloudless. It was the kind of weather Tailmon loved, but Hikari had already talked to her about why she sometimes couldn't come along when she and Takeru went on an "outing." Tailmon had blinked lazily and said that was alright, and given her claws a long, purposeful lick. ”But if he ever hurts you, don't you dare hide it from me.”

Hikari promised, but thought the reverse scenario was far more likely.

Takeru had a more difficult time explaining it to Patamon, she'd heard. Supposedly, after Takeru had given his spiel about how growing up meant needing more time to oneself, Patamon had blurted out, "Are you going to kiss Hikari!? You've got to kiss her, Takeru!" loudly enough that some boys at school had overheard, and as a result everyone knew that they were an item before they'd even been out on a single date.

Such was life with Digimon.

"You know where it is, right?" Hikari asked as they got off the train.

"Yeah, I've come here with my mom for other exhibits," Takeru said, leading her out the exit and onto a busy street. "Mom's really into modern art. We've gone to see Kusama Yayoi's sculptures on Naoshima like four times. I'm pretty sure she goes whenever she breaks up with a boyfriend."

Hikari laughed. "Wait, really?"

"Well, she never introduces them to me, but I can tell when she's seeing someone. She touches up her roots more often."

The art exhibit they were going to see was some sort of interactive light show. Hikari had seen pictures online and thought it looked beautiful. Her father was of the opinion that they only ever put the best pictures on the website, and the rest of the exhibit was probably in some big, white-walled room that smelled like someone had microwaved fish for lunch. Her mom had been more enthusiastic, and added that, if the art did turn out to be a dud, it was as good an excuse as any to sneak off somewhere quiet with her Romeo and, you know, romance him.

Hikari was definitely not going to do that.

She'd timed things with care. Taichi had morning soccer practice until ten. After that he'd come home for lunch. The exhibit opened at eleven, but her concerns about there being a line fell on deaf ears, since Takeru claimed he knew this museum and it was never crowded. (Which didn't do much to mitigate her concerns about the exhibit being any good.) So the earliest she could convince him to catch the train was ten fifteen. So if she left right at ten and headed directly to the station, she ought to be able to miss her brother coming home completely.

It felt like fate was laughing in her face when she ran into him on her way out.

Her shock was mirrored on his face as they both stood in the doorway, staring at each other as if unable to understand why their biological sibling would be there, in their childhood home.

Taichi spoke first, if speech it could be called. "Uh," he said.

"Oniichan," she stammered back, "why - how - you got home fast."

"Yeah... Yamato was having band practice and he gave me a ride on the scooter," Taichi replied.

Hikari kept her mouth shut. Had Yamato orchestrated this? Was Takeru in on it? She knew it wasn't likely in either case, but her hackles were raised. "Oh," she said.

They continued to stand in the doorway. This was, Hikari reflected, the longest conversation they'd managed to keep going in almost a month.

"You... going somewhere?" Taichi asked after a while, tilting his head and looking up and down.

"Museum. With Takeru-kun."

"Oh. Well, have fun."

"Thanks."

As if suddenly realizing he was blocking the exit, Taichi stepped to the side, and Hikari barely restrained herself from running down the hall. The damage was done, though. The minute the elevator door closed, the tears started leaking down her face. Dammit. She'd been so careful.

She'd had to stop off at a nearby convenience store to hide in the restroom. She splashed her face and dabbed her eyes with her hand towel until they were less red, until the evidence of the havoc wreaked just by seeing her brother was hidden under a fresh layer of make-up. She never even wore make-up much before - after all, she was fourteen and blessed with good skin. Dating Takeru had been a convenient excuse to explain to her mom why she suddenly needed extra allowance for concealer, despite having no acne.

She wound up ten minutes late meeting Takeru and still, he could tell right away that something was wrong. She'd managed to deflect, but...

Hikari had never been any good at lying, even to herself. But she was surprised by her own cruelty, dating Takeru because she needed the distraction, an excuse to be anywhere but home. His feelings for her were genuine. She was a monster.

"Hikari-chan?" Takeru gave her a nudge that jolted her into the present. There was, indeed, no line to get in at the art show, and Takeru was trying to hand her a ticket. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

She nodded resolutely. "Yeah, of course."

"It's just, you're being kind of quiet."

"Well, sorry but I'm not a professional entertainer."

He didn't reply to that barb. Hikari felt even more miserable. If only Yamato's stupid motor scooter had broken down on the road...

They handed in their tickets and went through a pair of double doors, into a wide room lit by myriad streamers of blue and purple lights wafting on the air like strange, hypnotic jellyfish. No pictures were allowed, so Hikari kept her camera stowed, but she couldn't bring herself to regret it. Any pictures she tried to take while in such a stormy mood were bound to end up in the trash bin anyway.

They followed the path laid out through fiber-optic tallgrass in silence. Takeru was still gripping her hand, even though her own hung like a dead fish. The next section was a blacklight room with an even more obvious sci-fi vibe, bright cables painted brilliant colors in the impression of sea snakes creating circuitous archs on the walls and ceiling. The heat-sensor flooring lit under their feet as they walked.

Takeru leaned towards her, the blacklight setting his white T-shirt aglow. "This is like some disco-era alien planet," he joked, offering her the olive branch.

Well, she owed it to him not to let this date be a total disaster. "The room before reminded me of the tree in Avatar," she said.

"I bet the next one's gonna be something from Fifth Element."

"No way."

"Could be."

"Completely different aesthetic."

"It's gonna be that giant McDonald's sign made of stained glass. Wait and see."

It wasn't, of course. Takeru continued to insist they'd see the sign in the next room, and the next, until they reached the end of the exhibit, where he finally admitted defeat. At least room four had clearly been lifted from Finding Nemo, he said.

The final room was, in fact, an open space with white walls, but Hikari didn't notice any stomach-turning smells. A combination of 2- and 3D works of art were mounted around the room, and they took their time browsing, continuing to try to outwit each other with their increasingly outlandish, and even somewhat insulting, art critiques. It was a lovely show, Hikari thought. If she'd come to see it in a better frame of mind, she would be raving just now. But though she'd recovered her ability to match Takeru quip for quip, she still felt heavy with gloom. Geez, why did he want to date a rain cloud like her?

"Want to go for lunch?" Takeru asked as they took in the last piece of art, an abstract mosaic made of vibrant, blinking lights laid into a glass frame on a large tabletop. Hikari circled it slowly, watching lights ripple across the frame, stitching the full picture together bit by bit.

"Sure."

"There's a cafe my mom and I go to nearby. It does amazing pancakes."

"Sounds good," she said vaguely, her brow creasing in thought. She took a step back, gazing at the table from what she'd discovered was meant to be the foot, where you could see the picture in full if you craned your neck just so.

It wasn't abstract art. It was Ordinemon.

Her whole body stiffened.

"The orange marmalade pancakes are my favorite - you listening?" With a confused look, Takeru glanced from her unchanging expression to the table. His eyes went wide. "... Let's leave, Hikari-chan."

He gave her arm a tug. She didn't budge.

"Hikari-chan, there's no need to stay here. Come on."

"Why," she said. It came out in a harsh whisper, like a frozen wind. "Why would someone make art of... that."

Takeru didn't answer for a minute. "Because... they saw it," he said after a while. His grip on her arm tightened, as if expecting her to try to break away. "So they want to express what they saw."

"It's an abomination," she choked out. Humiliating tears welled up in her eyes.

Takeru seemed to hesitate. Then he stepped back, and his arms circled round her shoulders, locking her in a tight hug from behind. The warmth of his body flowed into her ice cold one, solid, real. Her mind flashed to another day, with a roiling sky black as night, when she'd come to in an unfamiliar bed with Takeru at her side and known, with a rush of deadly certainty, that she'd destroyed everything she ever cared about.

Her brother. Her beloved partner. Her friends.

By her own will.

She didn't know what she'd done. Or how. That almost made it worse, the not knowing. Her heart broke, watching her brother disappear in the earthquake. That was all. Her heart broke and she... stopped. And when she started again -

It was too late.

Tailmon had told her she didn't regret the fusion with Meicrackmon, that she'd been able to hold poor Meicoomon together, just a little longer. There was nothing for Hikari to regret, she said. Powers beyond her control. Yggrasil and Homeostasis felt they could wage their little war and pick their champions, and dispose of them when they felt like it. No sooner had she shaken off Homeostasis's hold over her that Ordinemon happened.

Hikari hated that once upon a time, she'd believed Homeostasis was a benevolent presence. That she'd willingly let her into her mind.

Now she didn't know what to believe.

Rage flared, hot as ice. Her whole world, none of it made sense anymore. She was adrift, she was unmoored, there was no safe harbor, not even in the brother who she loved like no one else. He could make a choice like that, to kill Meicoomon, to kill their friend's irreplaceable partner. The one person who deserved the most to be saved. And she'd helped, because that was what you did, on a team, at least, if you couldn't come up with a better plan yourself.

She realized she was shaking. Takeru only held her tighter, his nose buried in the crook of her neck.

"Hikari-chan," he said, and he sounded - terrified. "What if - what if it's not, though. What if it's not an abomination. What if..."

"How can you say that," she hissed frostily.

"I mean - I'm not saying it was good. I'm not saying I don't wish none of this had happened. But - I think - Ordinemon, she was created from despair, yours and Meicoomon's. She was used, and it tortured her. We freed her from that. She would have destroyed everything, even though it's not what she wanted, and she was in so much pain -"

"Stop!" Hikari yelled, pushing away from him. There was enough strength behind her need to get away and he was not expecting it, so he toppled to the floor while she raced out the exit. She kept running, hardly aware of dodging people on the sidewalk, and ran until she found herself in a small park with nothing but a two-seater swing set and metal slide. She sank into one of the swings and dropped her head in her arms. And cried.

Cried for Meiko, for Meicoomon. Cried for the future they would never have.

Cried for her brother, who had changed, and she understood why, but she still missed the way he used to be. Her guiding star.

Cried for herself, a lost comet streaking through an unfamiliar galaxy, wondering if she would vaporize shooting too close to an alien sun, or if she'd putter out slowly until she was nothing but lifeless, crumbling stone.

Her phone buzzed in her purse - Takeru, surely, trying to find her. On top of everything else, she'd ditched the boy she was stringing along, who cared about her, and who had tried so hard to let her know she wasn't alone. She didn't deserve Takeru. She would break up with him - she had to. He should be with someone stronger than her, who wasn't going to fall apart at the seams just from a silly piece of art at a museum gallery.

After a while the sobs let up enough that she could see without tears clouding her vision, and she figured she should at least let him know she was okay. She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her messages.

12:35: Takaishi Takeru: i'm so sorry. i didn't mean to upset you.

12:35: Takaishi Takeru: where did you go? someone said you ran past the 7-11 but I have no idea where you went from there

12:37: Takaishi Takeru: please tell me where you are. If you don't want me to come, I won't. I can call someone if you want.

12:38: Takaishi Takeru: I just want to know you're okay

12:40: Takaishi Takeru: hikari-chan PLEASE respond

12:45: Takaishi Takeru: I asked at the 7-11 but they said they didn't see you. am walking around aimlessly now. no idea where to look.

12:48: Takaishi Takeru: hikari-chan if you don't reply soon I'm gonna have to call Taichi-san

12:52: Takaishi Takeru: wound up back at the train station, if you want to meet me here.

12:55: Takaishi Takeru: if you don't respond in five minutes I'm calling Taichi-san, I mean it.

12:58: Takaishi Takeru: I love you, by the way. think I always have. thought you might want to know

Fresh tears pricked her eyes. Leave it to Takeru. How could he pick now to spring that on her?

She should be happy. She wanted to be happy.

13:02: Me: I'm okay. I'm sorry. Go home. I'll talk to you soon.

Her finger hovered uncertainly over the keypad. She typed:

The real abomination is me.

Then she deleted it, and pressed Send.

---

Little though she wanted to go home, Hikari didn't have an excuse for staying out past dinner. She stayed in the little park until it started to get chilly. A couple times, the occasional grandma stopped to ask if she was alright, but she smiled and waved away their concerns. Finally, when twilight fell over the park in a gossamer curtain, she stood and stretched out the kinks in her back before heading back to the station. It felt like she'd been out much longer than a few hours. She thought briefly of asking a friend if she could spend the night, but didn't like the idea of needing to pretend to be peppy and cheerful.

On the ride back, she did a search on the artist who'd made the Ordinemon mosaic. Why, she had no idea. Some self-hating side that wanted her to hurt, she guessed.

The artist's name was Matsuyama Risa, a Tokyo-based sculptor, whose partnership with Fujii Fiber-optics had given birth to the displays they'd seen today. Hikari let her eyes skim the article, categorically uninterested in the number of lights used or how they were installed. What she wanted to know appeared like magic, tacked on at the very end of the article.

Art of Nippon Now: The last room in the showcase features a magical light-up mosaic of a subject that could be disconcerting for some viewers. What led you to recreate the monster that much of Tokyo watched terrorize the sky last month?

Matsuyama: I put that piece together in a feverish rush. Most of these installations took weeks to install, but I insisted on this one, even though it was such short notice. I had to have it. I heard that many people never saw more of her than her massive wings, but I happened to have a very clear view at the time. It made a huge impression on me.

ANN: You said her?

Matsuyama: It was a she. Or, perhaps it's better to say she might not have a gender,  but she deserves better than the pronouns we use for inanimate objects, things without personality.

ANN: Are you saying this monster was a person?

Matsuyama: I don't know if you heard her cries, but they were deafening. They reminded me of how my son wailed in the night when he was first born. We didn't know why he was so colicky. Nothing we did calmed him. I was so afraid that he wasn't getting enough sleep. It turned out he was very sick and we just didn't know. The illness was hidden. We spent many nights in the ICU, holding out hope that he would be alright. I remember thinking, if he wasn't, it would destroy our marriage.

ANN: That sounds like a terrible experience.

Matsuyama: When our son died, it was terrible, but it also came as a relief. At least we knew he was no longer suffering. I was depressed for months. I couldn't make any art. Every day I expected my husband to leave me. The first day I pulled myself together enough to sketch something, he said I should sketch our son sometime.

ANN: So your husband didn't leave?

Matsuyama: No. He stayed by my side. When I cried that he deserved a woman who could make him happy, who would give him healthy babies, he told me I was the strongest woman he knew, and that I'd given him the best son in the world.

ANN: Wow - would that we all meet men like that.

Matsuyama: And women. That's why, although the creature that appeared over Tokyo was very frightening to look at, when I heard her cries all I heard was suffering. I thought, that is a real creature, who wants her pain to be understood. She represents something. Perhaps she was sent to show us the harm we do when we choose not to act to help others. She shouldn't be forgotten.

ANN: So you memorialized her in this mosaic?

Matsuyama: Yes. It was the right moment, even though I had no time. I wanted to recreate her likeness using lights. I set her into a table, because I felt that putting her on a wall would be too imposing, and viewers would only remember the fear she engendered. Lying down, it would seem as if she were in a coffin, finally laid to rest. But she's lit from within, and it's the light of life, desperately clinging on till the final moment, the same as any being with a soul.

ANN: Did you ever complete the sketch of your late son?

Matsuyama: No. I never did. But I think I will soon. I want to lay him to rest in my heart.

ANN: It's interesting that when you say 'lay to rest,' you seem to mean we should remember them.

Matsuyama: Our memories make us who we are. The past is always with us. My son, that creature, they are both part of my journey, as an artist of course, but also as a person in the world. You could say my son is the light of the world and that creature is the darkness, but I hold both light and dark in me, just by existing and being human.

ANN: You added a quote to the piece that said something of that nature.

Matsuyama: Yes, from a Walt Whitman poem, 'Song of Myself.' The quote reads: "I am not the poet of goodness only, I do not decline to be the poet of wickedness also."

ANN: Maybe Whitman never expected his poem to be used in this way.

Matsuyama: That's the nature of art. It is a journey in and of itself. It fluctuates and changes to nourish the times. I hope everyone who sees my art understands that they are on a journey as well, and everything they do creates the work of art called "the future."

ANN: Thank you for your time, Matsuyama-sensei.

---

Her brother was home, but her parents were not. The arrangement of shoes in the entryway said as much. Taichi was seated at the kitchen counter, eating a bowl of noodles and reading something. He looked up when the door opened and pushed his seat back.

"Hikari - you okay?" He peered at her, concerned. "Takeru didn't do something stupid, did he?"

So Takeru hadn't told her brother that she'd run off. Gratitude flooded through her. "No, of course not."

"Good." Taichi's hand rifled through his hair, the other planted on his hip, and he looked perplexed. "Then why do you look like you've been crying all day?"

Hikari walked inside and sank down on the couch. "Because I have been crying all day."

She could feel his hesitance as he wavered in the hall, trying to decide if he should press her for more. If that was still something he was allowed to do. She knew he would try. He wouldn't be Taichi if he didn't.

"You want to talk about it?" he asked, moving to sit on the arm of the couch, but he didn't relax, as if expecting her to tell him to leave her alone.

"No," she replied.

He nodded. "Okay." There was a pause. "You're sure Takeru didn't -"

"No, Oniichan."

"Okay, okay."

She sat there for a few minutes, staring blankly at the black TV screen. Soon Taichi slid off the arm into the seat beside her, allowing several inches of space between them. He didn't try to talk anymore. Didn't even get up to bring his bowl of noodles over, even though it was going to get cold.

Hikari tilted her head ever so slightly to peer at him. Dark circles ringed his eyes. She knew he hadn't been sleeping well. Something about his face looked more defined, less roundness to his jaw, starker cheekbones. Hadn't been eating much either, she guessed. It gave him an oddly grown up look. She would have to call him on losing weight from not taking care of himself, but that could wait for later. She was struck by how little he looked like their father. Everyone always said Hikari was the spitting image of her mom, so it seemed natural that Taichi should take after their dad, but though she searched she couldn't find many similarities. Taichi was just Taichi.

He gave a start when she leaned toward him and settled her head on his shoulder, but didn't say anything.

Hikari thought about many things.

How unbearable it was to feel helpless. How much she wanted everyone who cared about each other to be together, and for no one to suffer who didn't deserve it.  How deeply she loved her friends. How easy it was fall apart.

Maybe all that meant was her worldview had been too delicate to begin with. A painting on a porcelain vase wouldn't stand the test of time unless handled with the best of care. The real world was too chaotic, too disordered. She could wrap her dream in newspaper, cover it in packing peanuts, tape it into a box marked "Fragile," and it would still end up in shards. She would try to put it together again, but the pieces were sharp, and she kept cutting herself on them.

She still wanted it. So, so much.

"You stay that way. You can hate me if you want," her brother had told her. Trying to put everything on his own shoulders, as usual.

"I will probably never forgive you," she'd said, and wouldn't let him. "But that's why I'll fight with you."

"Oniichan," She slipped off his shoulder, buried her face in his chest. She didn't know how she could still have more tears, but they darkened her brother's shirt as her hands hugged him tight. "I'll always fight with you."

Surprised, he didn't move for a moment, but then his arms wrapped around her the same way they always had, ever since she was small. His grip was sure, but not out of naivety. Yes, he'd lost his innocence. It wasn't coming back. But what grew in his place, she realized, was his choice. And she got the feeling he'd already decided.

"That's good to know," he murmured softly, lashes brushing her cheek, and she thought they might be wet as well. "Because I'm never going to stop fighting for you."

They held each other for a long time.

---

The next day, Hikari showed up at Takeru's door with flowers and a box of chocolates. He made a funny face, looking her over.

"Flowers and chocolates? Shouldn't this be reversed?"

"Didn't know you were such a traditionalist," she joked. "But I'll eat these myself if they hurt your manly pride."

A hesitant grin spread over his face. "To hell with convention. Those are my chocolates, keep your paws off them."

It was silly, and cliche, but this was her life. She could be as silly and cliche as she wanted. She pulled his shoulders down and kissed him. It was light and quick, but he still looked flustered when they parted.

"My mom's home," he said with an unmistakable note of regret.

Hikari only nodded. "Figured. Video games and chocolates?"

The grin unfurled for real. "Yeah, that would be great."

Nothing had ended. She hadn't gotten over anything. But she felt, for the first time, that now she could accept it. It was a piece of who she was, and it would be a piece of who she became. But just who that person would be, she intended to decide for herself. Even if her path got buried under mountains of broken shards of glass, that was just a part of being Yagami Hikari.

"Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes)."

[protagonistheavy]

Ughh bro this is why I get so uncomfortable watching streamers. Ya never know what you're going to get... I just gotta rant because it's still popping in my mind a lot.

I had tuned into this twitch streamer before, they play DBD, and she's even one of those Fog Whisperers -- a streamer promoted by the devs. I had watched her a few times, and randomly decided to tune in a couple days ago while she was playing survivor with friends... and wow did I catch her in just a terrible moment. I didn't watch the full game, but she gets MAD about a killer Demogorgon supposedly tunneling her low-rank friend. REAL mad; shitting on the killer for the entire rest of the game, and instantly yelling censored language at him in the post-game chat, which her survivor friends join in on.

So supposedly this guy was tunneling a low-rank player -- "tunneling" means you single out one player to try and kill first, which many consider to be cheesy. But ultimately, there is NOTHING in the game preventing you from "tunneling," and it's in fact one of the more efficient ways of keeping map pressure as a killer. So yeah it's unfun for the survivor, but not really a big deal, it's not even the most effective strategy.

And I go back and rewatch this whole game, just to be sure I have the facts... and yeah, this guy was NOT "tunneling" lmao at least not to any degree that's worth even commenting on really. Yeah he goes out of his way once to drop a chase and go re-hook that person... but who cares? That's the game! This streamer is SO convinced he's a tunneler that she's STILL mad at him, even when he STOPS clearly tunneling!! He hooks her, she's like "ohh man now I'm gonna get tunneled too!" and he just leaves. When she gets unhooked, he doesn't come after her. Wow.

She gets extra mad because they open the exit gates and are trying to save a hooked teammate. In the end, she screws it up SO BAD, entirely her own fault, and ends up killed for it -- the other two survivors barely escape while slugged. She gets SO MAD at this guy and like I said, INSTANTLY used censored language on this killer, even when his first reply was just the usual "gg."

She shits on the killer for "tunneling the rank 17" and plainly calls him a bad killer, making fun of him for everything he says. And like... what the fuck? I mean seriously. How was he supposed to know what rank any survivor is at????? That info isn't known until the end of the game!! So why is she even trying to use that against the killer? As if he intentionally picked the weakest link to tunnel? He was just playing the game, and at WORST he played it DISAGREEABLY to her standards -- who gives a fucking shit??? She plays the game for THOUSANDS OF HOURS... one shitty game is not the end of the world lmao. And can we mention how she's a rank 2 survivor, grouping up with a rank 17??? She HIGHLY outmatched this killer, it was clear in the gameplay that she was just the better skilled player, yet she STILL had to shit on this guy and try to make him feel like shit.

And that's the part that bugs me so much. She was INTENTIONALLY trying to make this other player feel bad for NO REASON. She said things like "you're a bad killer and no one likes you" "you're the reason people quit the game" "you're so bad you have to tunnel our weakest player" "you have no skill" like what. the. fuck. I seriously am AMAZED that this attitude came from ANYONE, let alone a LIVE STREAMER... and a FOG WHISPERER!!! This person is PROMOTED BY DEAD BY DAYLIGHT!

And honestly, that's so fucked to me. This killer was rank 7... I COULD HAVE BEEN THAT KILLER. And seriously, now I'm afraid to play the game! I'm afraid some survivor is legitimately going to piss their pants like this streamer did all because I decided to PLAY THE GAME. How is she allowed to be promoted like this? Why is this acceptable? And when I say in her chat "hey I think you're being kind of mean at this point," she turns and starts insulting ME. How cool, right?

And her chat is just enabling this attitude. It's so sickening to watch the circle jerk happening. People looking at a HIGH RANK SURVIVOR, a PROMOTED STREAMER, bullying a killer for how he played the game... and her chat is LIVING for it. "roast him" they said -- yeah, that's a real roast, telling someone they suck and make people quit the game. What a roast. This was so embarrassing to read live and another reason why I don't participate in streams or their chats; THIS is the kind of people I'm engaging with, people who can't think for themselves and just cheer on a streamer as they do something terrible.

Anyway... This is why I can't watch streamers very easily. I get too much anxiety that I'm watching a secretly-terrible person, and I inevitably get proven right almost every time. Not only is this attitude ridiculous in and of itself, but that she's PROMOTED BY THE DEVS is just... really disheartening. Is this really what the devs think is okay? Do they think bullying the killer post-game is acceptable? Legitimately makes me want to not play DBD any more lol.

[ideahat-universe]

Bad, Good, Grey entertainment

Okay so there’s been a lot of pedo talk about various forms of entertainment and I want to set the record straight on what we are dealing with here. 

Toddler’s and Tiaras/Dance Moms/Little Miss Sunshine/ and Honey Boo Boo probably:

No one with empathy for children or just humanity in general liked those shows. Those shows were popular and went on for several seasons because the production costs were low and the reality television audience is very passive, very addicted to drama, and love watching freak shows. 

You can’t find a audience more entertained by human suffering than the people that love watching reality shows. 

The success of those shows is not an indictment of America, especially Little Miss Sunshine which is a movie that no one has seen. If you defend Cuties by saying that Little Miss Sunshine had something like that in the third act I have to respond with “No one who isn’t a hipster douchebag or a film reviewer has seen the ending to that film”

Normal people don’t watch shit like that. Do you even remember the trailers? I do! I saw a review for it either and it looked like the cure for insomnia. 

The average person thinks Honey Boo Boo was the worst, they think dance moms is for sociopaths who like seeing little girls cry, and they think Toddler’s and Tiara’s are for pedophiles. 

Big Mouth: 

Big Mouth is a coming of age show for adults and it seems mostly like a thinly veiled excuse to watch westernized lolita and shota soft core porn, it might be that but the big problem with calling Big Mouth fans pedos is that big Mouth is basically like every other raunchy adult comedy, including the sacred cow South Park. 

There’s not a lot of stuff that Big Mouth has done that South Park hasn’t also done and in standard American fashion the art style is more repulsive than endearing and good hentai lives and dies on how well the human body is drawn. 

You have to have a strong understanding of the human anatomy just so you can bend those rules for unrealistic proportions and still have people invested in the quality of your work. It’s real fucking work drawing good looking pornography. 

Big Mouth isn’t drawn like a show that loves the human body. It’s drawn like a show that kind of sees the body as something gross and it’s half played off for laughs while the other half is reassurance that you’re relatively normal. 

If you were going to make a show about a subject matter like this, you probably can’t do worse than Big Mouth and you probably can’t do any better either. 

Cuties:

Cuties exist supposedly as a way to spark a conversation about how we sexualize young girls. It’s from France so it’s probably more relevant there than it is here but not many people are making that argument. I would make that argument though. After all, France is where the infamous novel “Lolita” was originally published (although to be fair it was written by a Russian). 

French culture is extremely sex positive and the plot is about a Somalian girl acclimating to a dance group that would only exist in the western world and would have the most acceptance in France. 

The mass immigration of people from the Middle East created a culture clash in France and other places where people who abandoned religion have to butt heads with people for whom religion is basically everything. 

Sexuality is condemned in fundamentalist Islamic culture, especially the sexuality of women. I could go on for awhile talking about my theories why and how it speaks to a series of social, emotional, and mental disorders hidden within the members of the Islamic faith but that’s a conversation for a different subject. 

America has problems with sex and sexuality but lets face it, if the Somalian girl was Christian instead of Muslim and set in America there wouldn’t be a film or alternatively there would be a film but it would just be Mean Girls. 

Most stories about sexuality and coming of age is usually about riding that line between being liberated but not so far out that you fall in with bad people who want to exploit your sexuality for profit, physically abuse you for pleasure, or give you a disease that will forever lower your quality of life if not be the lead cause of your own death. 

Many stories of sex are about the regret of even having it or having had it with the wrong people or refusing to have it with the right one until it was too late. 

The real question is “Is Cuties truly a satire of french culture?” 

It can’t be satire of American culture because the abuse of children is met with public derision and disgust when it’s brought to their attention. America is still very religious and the inherently conservative nature of islamic culture can fit within America with only modifications to how it views the concept of punishment for breaking religious rules. 

In order for Cuties to be a commentary on how America sees the sexuality of girls it would have to be pro pedophilia because the antagonist that’s being criticized would be the religious faith and not the hedonism of the Cuties. 

This can however be an critique on how France’s sexual openess is just an excuse for debauchery and sexual exploitation. 

Only the French can say for sure or not, I can’t say if that’s a fair critique, my investigations has led to people affirming that French people are “More honest about romance and sex” which is distressingly vague given the subject matter but I don’t know where the french draw the line so I’ll leave it at that. 

In any case the production of the film regardless of intent is child abuse. Either they exploited the pre-existing sexuality of young girls or they sexualized young girls specifically for the film. Effectively grooming them to be sex pots for the purposes of authenticity. They had hundreds of kids tryout for this as well. 

How many of those children have been raped before or during the production of the film? Even when a child is being hired for a G rated kid’s film or show there’s still a high chance that someone on set, in the studio, or in Hollywood has sexually touched the kids, sometimes with the consent of the parents (I mean the parents get all the money, if you were a selfish prick willing to make your child famous so you could get rich, would you care if Dan Schneider touched your daughter?) 

It’s massively irresponsible at best and at worst, part of the film’s message relied on throwing actual little girl’s into the lion’s den to make a point about how immoral and corrupt french people are. 

It got an award at Sundance. The co-founder of Sundance is a confirmed pedophile. If the intent of the film is to oust french people and non religious people as nonces and nonce enablers well mission accomplished I guess! 

I’ve never seen a film throw everyone that liked it under the bus. 

Well. Does Freddy Got Fingered count? I digress. 

That’s the conversation one is supposed to have about Cuties. I get really fucking annoyed when people say “we need to have a conversation about this.” or “it’s a conversation starter.” but they don’t really initiate a conversation and they use that phrase to end the conversation they are currently in so it’s a lot of bullshit. 

We’re done talking about Cuties but we’re not done here yet. 

Hololive:

Some person named Brittany made some video where she took shots at Shark hololive girl. Said the person was Lolibait and that she had an audience of 40 year old men. 

Where does one begin?

Apparently this person has done this before. I keep thinking of Jessica Valenti which is another person so clearly what this person did or does has been lost to me. I can only assume it involved gamergate or Donald Trump because all roads lead to those two subjects for some bizarre reason. 

But that’s the past. Right now is what matters and right now you can’t just make a video saying that someone makes content exclusively for pedophiles which is what she did. That was some Keemstar level shit right there and I’m under the impression no one will make her regret that choice. Everybody always talks about actions having consequences but it appears like only certain people suffer from the consequences. 

But we’ll see. 

She talked about Hololive like it was another Project Melody. Unfortunately for her it’s not, It’s a real business and a real business is designed to deal with defamation in a serious way so things could get ugly if Yagoo actually thinks his ladies are being threatened by drama mongers. 

These vtubers are doing really well. Pokimane deciding to become a vtuber that is just her normal self but animated is boomer level imitation and extremely funny. 

The appeal isn’t that they’re animated by the way, the appeal is that they’re fun people doing streams. The animation works by letting the audience create a para social relationship with a fictional character of sorts so that the actress can have a private life while still maintaining a streaming setup that’s very personable for the audience. 

This is a meaningful evolution of an online persona.

The only real downside is that anyone who wanted to have an animated avatar in general will be defined as a vtuber when that may not be the intention of the streamer. 

I’m just waiting for one of these girls to be part of an ARG. 

Okay so to wrap up:

Reality shows are trash and always have been.

Indie Films are also trash and only pretentious douche bags like them. 

What happens in France should stay in France. 

and Hololive is GOAT but tragedy of the commons is still a thing. 

[ultimaxell]

Testing Fate : A WolfPack AU

Word Count: 10011

All at once her night was lit up with stars, bright flashing bursts of white lights exploding in her eyes, making Nephi’s lashes flutter with a  slight discomfort, nose scrunching as her bright green gaze moved to a sheepish looking girl who was already fiddling with her phone to turn off the flash. The excitement was still clear to see under the fear of upsetting one of the School’s queens, and Nephi watched, a light, distant amusement drifting over her as she watched the flushed faces of friends taking pictures as the music played in the background, a low bumping bass that threaded through her veins and called to her, made her desire to move and twist and dance, but she refused, turning away from the dance floor to look for her own friends.

All her life, she had heard stories of this night. She had heard the excitement that seemed to run through the veins of every teenager she had ever met, the happy wistful little whispers of girls as they entered high school, the one night that was supposed to make up for all the horrible bull shit that was the rest of your days in the confines known as public school.

Prom night.

Or THE night, depending on what girl you seemed to be talking to.

There was a lot of rumors that floated around about this night. With the way that people went off about it, you would think it was some sort of ritual or a rite of passage rather than a just extensively long and supposedly lavish dance. Nephi had never seen the appeal, her brother’s dates before her awkward and filled with ill fitting suits and shy smile as they handed over the flowers they had saved for, but her friends had been excited and had been giggling about boys and streamers and themes like it was the second coming. In the past month, Nephi had heard so much about prom, had seen so many bad movies based around the night that Nphi held no hopes or expectations for hers. She knew what it was supposed to be.

Tonight was a night of wonder, of days you spent daydreaming finally coming true before your very eyes and you get everything you ever wanted, all the attention, the recognition…

The boy you had been pining for since kindergarden….

Nephi sighed as she leaned a little, settling her weight to her left leg, long slit of her dress parting to allow a length of brown skin to peek beyond her Dresses folds. Her date had wandered off somewhere, a boy on the football team that she could hardly remember his name but he had asked her and had been the least repulsive of them in the way eh had asked, so she had ended up saying yes to save herself the embarrassment that was the only one of her family to not have had a date to prom. Her brothers would have never let her hear the end of it, and truthfully, Nephi was glad to lose him.

The boy may have been pretty to look at but he wasn’t the brightest bulb of the bunch. He followed her around like a lost puppy, telling her, often, frequently, like it was the only point of conversation that eh wanted to talk about was how great her legs looked or how her heels made her ass look great, a vulgar tongue she had not known before she had said yes. She was glad to lose him because it saved her a little bit of sanity she would need to make it through this night, but truthfully she wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand his company, her mind too used to the whipcrack mind of her best friend, Ryker Ecchevarria, or the strange unique taste of her perverted but bubbly other best friend, Braithe Durendal, or even Lunthe’s constant movement. This man was a dead rock in the water, about as entertaining as a cavity search, and had lost her ten minutes after arriving.

“Fucking hell. This night already blows. Where’s my real Date?” Nephi spoke, her voice low and muttered over painted lips as she cast her gaze back to the floor, trying to find her tiny friend.

-------

"Damn, I missed the entire thing," Braithe Durandal whispered overly loud to herself, but her body was moving forward, blue eyes finding her dark skinned best friend. "All those plans going up in flames and Nick losing his mind and wanting to machete someone. I slept right through it. Next time, wake me up! What was the point of getting a hotel room if we don’t get to see the crazy stuff?"

Deliberately, she glanced over her shoulder at Ryker and some other new guy, pretending to be covert, as if her booming voice was so low in her pretend whisper that they couldn't possibly overhear her or know she was talking about them as they trekked in single file through the narrow opening of the gymnasium doors.

Ahead of her, Ryker stiffened, but she didn't turn around.

Ryker pressed her lips together tightly. Braithe was only going to make things worse by being so boisterous, but she was teasing and the darkling knew that. She wanted to stir up trouble because neither Nick nor her sister would give her the time of day and her ego was bruised. She sighed and rubbed her hands against the back of her neck, stretching the other above her head as she pressed against the wall beside Nephie. She couldn't wait to make it to the end of the night, but honestly she had only came here for one hope. The hope of seeing the one person that had been missing for the past week. Although Ben Charger had stayed true to his word and kept a close watch for him, along with Jubal Sanders and Gary Jansen no one had seen him. His social media had died. No snapchats. No late night skype calls. For a week. And it was getting to a point where her feeling were in the way of being in trouble.

Ryker reached her hand back and brushed Nephi's arm. The touch was featherlight, but Nephie and Braithe could feel her fingers tremble slightly as she adjusted the dress that was a little too skin tight. She had gone very quiet, rarely speaking, her face pale and for the first time, lined a little with worry, her bright gold eyes flashing over the crowd. Braithe tried not to feel panic, but she honestly felt as if one of her best friends was retreating from her, slowing slipping away. Everyone had talked nonstop of the incidents in the middle of the night. And Ryker had been to afraid to come out of the bathroom for a good majority of the night.

Half the girls regarded Nick as if he suddenly had become a serial killer. But it was not as if nightmares weren’t a normal occurring thing. He just He didn't seem to remember much, just kept repeating it was a nightmare he'd been caught up in and how sorry he was. To be strictly honest, Braithe felt terrible for him. She was still afraid of him, but she couldn't help but see the misery in his eyes, and he had tried to resist that continual pressure and command in his mind. She'd seen him two or three times trying to go back to the bed, to stop moving around and trying not  to defy the sleep that was beckoning him.

But after that she had knocked out. The rest of the night a blur to the intoxicated and then unconscious Braithe Durandal. But she had heard whispers of the things that had happened.

Ryker hadn't made a single comment, not even when Braithe had explained she'd seen him have nightmares before, this time he just reacted a little bit,... more than usual. She'd just looked at Braithe with hopeless eyes-almost with that same defeated look Nick had-and shook her head. She'd hardly eaten anything before they'd started out again. Nick and the other guys were hoping to get to the back to the hotel by nightfall. From there, each group would go their own way. Braithe had to admit, she wasn't as eager to part company with Ryker and Luneth and Nephie as much as she'd thought she'd be. There was something very reassuring about the three of them.

"I wish he'd stop talking," Braithe said suddenly. She rubbed her temples as if she had a headache. But her eyes flashed to the vice principal at the podium. Welcoming the incoming seniors and juniors in with a warm welcome and a lecture.

“I don’t think he knows how to.”

“‘Welcome to prom. Try not to get knocked up kids.’ We get the gist Mr. Portmen. Get on with it already.”

“I think the point is to not get it on Braithe.”

Braithe watched with a sly smirk as gold eyes rolled, pale hands reached out to grasp onto Nephi’s undisposed arm, wrapping herself around the sun kissed skin. They stood there after that, the three of them all trying to let the man finish. Which felt like it dragged on for too long, but they finally got through it. Ending the whole lecture with wild whoops and screams from the surrounding students. A small blonde bundle emerged from the students, her hands waving at some and her lips offering small smiles to others. But those matching blue eyes caught onto her twins as she approached.

“Looks like they already got to the damned punch. These damned hooligans.”

--------------

The lights stung. Bad.

He could feel the sting starting behind his eyes.

The lights from oncoming cars hurt his eyes and seemed to pierce right through his skull, stabbing at his brain until he wanted to scream. He quickly tuned the radio station until the soft, voice of the Night Siren flooded the car. It was taped, but it helped. Helped calm the lump that was beginning to form in his throat. His vision tunneled, so that everything took on a dream like quality. Buildings flashed by, cars appeared as streaks of light rather than solid matter. Nerves should not have been settling in the way that they were. It should have been a time for excitement. A time to feel like he was truly alive for the first time. One of the only opportunities that he had ever actually taken a chance in.  

Truth be told he was excited, somewhere deep inside him he could already feel the beast bubbling up. Unfurling and stretching as low rumbles escaped. But Heru sucked it down as he watched the students file into the building, all of them dressed to impress and all of them were happy. Unknowing. Almost innocent if he hadn’t known how they had treated him, he would have called them that at least.

“Where are we going?”

He jumped. For a moment he had forgotten he wasn’t alone. Throwing an impatient glance at the whore seated beside him, he felt the terrible pounding in his head, which had just begun to ease, return. In the dark she looked a little like the woman he needed. A little bit like the woman that he had already decided he was going to have one way or the other tonight. If she kept her mouth shut, he could pretend. Tempted to tell her she was going to hell very soon, he forced a slight smile instead. “You’re getting paid, aren’t you? What difference does it make if we drive around for a little bit?”

She leaned forward and fiddled with the radio. Tanned fingers skimming through the channels too swiftly. Light eyes transfixed on the flashing numbers in front of her.

He slapped at her hand. “Don’t touch anything.” He had the station tuned right where he wanted it, needed it. The Night Siren’s voice was drifting out over the airwaves, making his body hard and his head clear. The woman wasn’t going to make it through the hour if she touched that dial again.

Not when he was already on edge.

He kept his eye on the car he was following. He knew what he had to do. He had a job and he was damned good at it. The whore was such a good cover, and gave him such an anticipation of the pleasure to come later. He hadn’t been caught yet. Damn Arsen for his interference. The man had threatened to send someone else again. Stupid man didn’t like his reports. Well, fuck him. The man thought he was so superior, so intelligent, and was worried about the situation deteriorating. What a crock of bullshit. There was no situation, nothing was deteriorating. He could handle surveillance on a school any day of the week.

Arsen and Neket both seemed to think that since this decision happened they were all to be revered. Well, that was something Heru could whole heartedly agree with. He knew better now, more than ever that no one was going to every question him again. they were genetic mutations, aberrations, abominations, not the fucking miracles Arsen purported them to be, but Heru had no problem with it being seen this way. The entire lot of them should be wipe humanity from the face of the earth, and they were just the men to do it. They were nothing more than scum that should have been scrapped long before they were ever let loose on the world.

He saw himself as the guardian, the lone man standing between themselves and the humans. He should be revered. They should bow down to him, kiss his feet, thank him for his mere glances and his attention to detail…

“You never told me your name. What do I call you?”

The voice jerked him out of his reverie. He wanted to slap the girl by his side. To pound his fists into her face until there was nothing there but bloody pulp. To take her head between his hands and hear a satisfying crack just to shut her up, but that was for later. If she kept her mouth shut he could fantasize that she was...

She belonged to him and he’d have her soon enough. He just had to get rid of the rest of the pest once and for all. And then she’d do everything he told her.

“You don’t need my damned name.”

The girl had the audacity to roll her eyes at him, but he resisted the urge to punish her. Resisted that tingle in his hands as his fingernails pressed into his palms. He had other plans for her.

“I am a naughty girl,” she said and leaned over to rub his covered dick. “And you obviously like me that way.”

“Don’t talk, you sound like a fucking idiot.” he snapped, and sighed when she opened his pant suit. Let her just go to work on him while he took care of business. It would keep her mouth and hands occupied. He could look at her skin and hair and everything would be all right. It was going to be a long night tonight, and at least he could look forward to later.

Up ahead the car he’d been following pulled to the curb. It was a strange thing to do, but he couldn’t get caught and he couldn’t lose them. He pulled over as well and waited while the girl worked on him, the rush beginning to flood his veins like a drug.

--------------

One night.

One night could change everything.

This. He knew. Neket knew the power of change, knew the pull and switch, knew intimately the feeling of rushing air about you as your world shifted and pulled out from under you, everything you knew shattering into a thousand tiny pieces. He had already gone through it, had faced Change and survived, had come out the other side of his sudden freefall better and stronger and better at the end.  It had only take one night for everything to change in Neket’s life, the life he had long gone, a distant burn on his memory that eh could recall with vivid detail, but could not touch, could no longer connect with that person he used to be.

There was nothing to miss in his old life. He would like to say there was something to it, something good he could pull from his memories, but nothing, nothing that he hadn’t already reclaimed was really something he could call good. His life was nothing more then hit after hit, insult after insult, prank after prank after harassment and threats… It was Safe to say, Neket Dhouti never quite…. Fit in.

Starting at a young age, people seemed to avoid him, be it from his odd mismatched eyes or the way eh clung to his brother like a moment apart would be the end of him. Whatever the reason was, whatever it was that seemed to turn people away from him, it had become a constant pattern in his life, and everyone else seemed to just,,, pick up this vibe from him, this strange sort of air eh could not explain and avoid him and antagonize him. All Neket had ever known was ridicule and slander, all he had known of looks were nasty and disgusted, and all he had learned of touches were drunken slurs of how hot he was, how bad, how he was such a bad idea, so mysterious and alluring. People ignored him, people saw him as pathetic, the weird, fucked up kid, the  one fucking idiot failing his classes and being yelled at in the back of class for not turning in some assignment…. Again.

But It only took one night to change your life, one night to change the way the world treated you, saw you, reacted to you. It only took one night to shatter it, and one night to make sure, nothing would ever be the same. There were only a few of those nights, only a slight few in the lotto that was your life.

And Tonight … he was feeling lucky.

The air rushed around him as he sped down the mountain roads he had long since learned by heart, twists and turns he could make in his sleep as the woods of his mountain home passed him by, slowly giving way to his small little no tourist town, a little dot barely on the map nestled between the mountains and the woods that covered them. He was flying through them, speeds far too high to be safe in any sort of situation, but there was something liberating, something wholly uplifting and relaxing to feel that sharp sting of pain as razor winds cut under the sleeves of his suit, already slightly rumpled from his fast paced ride down the mountain. The roar of an engine next to him made his eye drift, lips pulling in the slight smirk as he watched the sleek black care slide from the shadows, the low tint of purple flashing in the street lights as they passed by.

Neket inclined his head, a stiff nod toward the driver before passing him, the laughter spilling from his lips drowned out by the rushing of the wind past him and the roar of engines in the dark the surrounded him, his gaze brightening as his eyes landed on the hell he still managed to just barely call a learning institute.

His school.

The parking lot was practically full by the time he arrived, but Really, Neket didn’t mind the little bit of the extra walk eh had to make because he was parked so far away from the school, in the grasses barely used and some even in the parking lot of the fast food chains that had decided to make a good business move and place themselves next to impulsive buyers with little sense of the value of a dollar. Neket moved, taking off the helmet to shake his  ink black hair out of the mold it had found itself in, his eyes wide, body shaking as he placed down the hemelt. He shifted, moved, pulling his leg over to settle himself as nervous hands found the wrinkles in his suit, pulling and twisting them before they straightened back out, the light smile on his face small and almost hesitant as he looked over himself, pleased with the look his messy hair and straightened suit.

The rest of his friends slowly pulled in, one by one by ne, filling up the rest of the empty spots easily as they filed out, dressed to the nines in their own sort of flairs and Neket watched each of them with a interested tick of his brow, seeing so many of his friends  dressed so far out of character.

But Every important event required a suit. It was the only belief he had taken from his father, a distant angry bitter old man who was too busy fucking other people’s wives to pay attention to His sons. Every important event often had impressions attached and every event that meant anything required a suit if you really were serious about it, and Neket was nothing if cut throat serious about his long awaited night.

His Night. He loved the sound of it, the very thought filling him with an excitement that could not be held off his features.

“Everyone have their party Favors?” He spoke easily, fixing his cuffs as he asked, voice breezy and light, like eh didn't have a care in the world.

--------------------------

“Hooligians, Or Prom savors? Let me tell you, I’m already feeling ten times better about coming here thanks to them.”

Lunthe Smiled as she brought her drink up to her lips, already the fifth glass she was on and the effects of the alcohol that had already found it’s way into the vibrant selection of punches lines along the wall were already beginning to appear on her skin. Her face was flushing, a light ghosting of dusky pink over her cheeks as she grinned, her eyes clear but bright, her body never stilling, little light movements in time with the music that played as she dance in her place, almost unconscious of the movements as she held out her hand, three cups placed precariously in her hands, held together only by balance and Lunthe’s fingers. She waited for each of them to take a drink, watching Nephi’s eyes narrow as Ryker grabbed hers, the clear worry written over her face at the sight of the extraordinarily tiny girl taking the drink to her lips.

“Ryker, You sure you should drink that? You weren’t able to eat this morning Or afternoon.”

“She’s fine, Momma Bird, stop hovering over her. One night of drinking is fine, plus there lots of little finger foods over there she can nibble on.”

Lunthe jerked her head behind her, toward the other wall that held lots of station, different arrays of food that were all line of prettily on plates and platters, waiting for the large jocks to devour everything and make the caterers struggle to keep up wit the demand. Nephi’s eyes softened slightly, but her back straightened as she took her own drink to her lips, a light, embarrassed blush fluttering over her features.

“Someone has to worry, cause none of YOU seem to.” She tried to defend herself, valiantly as always, but it fell a little short at Lunthe’s little laugh, the buzz of the poison in her veins making everything feel bright and hazy.

So she wasn’t exactly a heavyweight like her sister. So sue her. She knew that alcohol didn’t affect her sister like it did her, where as five cups in this would have done nothing to her sister but it was already making her world just that bit more colorful and alluring. She didn’t mind being a light weight,as It made it all the easier to forget that she had come here alone because no one had bothered to ask if she wanted to go.

Lunthe was Popular. This much could be said without any sort of doubt. Lunthe was Popular,She was loved, she was adored by the masses of her school, for reasons both that had to do with school and without. She was a popular girl, a cheerleader and energetic theatre kid all rolled into one, the kind of girl that got invited to parties and had a hundred people blowing up her phone at any given time. People liked to talk to her, liked to hang out with her. There was no shortage of people who would kill to spend even a moment at her side.

But no one ever really Liked her, not in the ways she ever liked them. In all her seventeen years, Lunthe had not had one single person ever ask her any sort of dance, any sort of person ever confess a crush or feelings toward her, and any time she happened to have plucked up the courage to tell someone she had a crush on them, it was always met with a sympathetic pitying face and the start of an awkward separation of friendship. Over time, it became easier for her to avoid those feelings, notably most happening when she was young, and so the disappointment of not being asked never really stung so bad…. She was able to ignore it, ignore the slight stings as The girls around her got boyfriends and dumped them, a rinse and repeat process that never really started for her.

But this was prom, PROM NIGHT, Night of fulfilled memories and awkward, weirdly sentimental first times in hotel rooms that cost way too much, and despite her promise to not place herself in that sort of situation again, Here Lunthe was, Pining and yearning for someone who could not, would not like her back.

She didn’t see him here, she had noted that a while ago…. But that didn't really come as a surprise. She didn’t really expect him to come, not with how the rest of the school treated him, but she had been hoping maybe she could trick a dance out of him if eh had shown up, all the weird desire in her chest churning in disappointment.

Lunthe took another drink. She almost hadn’t shown up either, the pressure of being popular and arriving alone getting to her as everyone started to clamor about dates and pictures and limos, Her acquaintances asking who was taking her and her making up vague little excuses before she managed to brush the subject off, her throat closing with embarassed waves…. all of it  was making her head swim as she fretted over stupid things.

In the end a little rum and a pep talk was all she needed to go, and now here she was bouncing on her feet as her lips split into a grin.

If nothing else, Lunthe loved a good party.

“Braithe~ My Love, My sister, My Darling!”

Lunthe moved, sliding over through the bodies of her friends to wind her arms around her twin, mirror image of her own face staring back at her with artificial brown strands falling into her face, carefully styled to keep it’s hold but still look natural.

She had done some damn good work.

“Last night was weird, for sure, but it’s nothing that hasn’t already been resolved. Nick is practically sobbing at Your feet to get your forgiveness, and Ryker is okay. So let’s drink,and make tonight a better one. ”

--------------------------

Heru Dhouti leaned back against the plush seat in the low-slung sports car and stared incredulously at his date, his hands wiping the debris off on the girl's white laced dress. He tapped a finger against the door's armrest, fingers sliding the window down. Excitement filled the air between the boys who were arriving but Neket’s voice was the only one to rise above all of them. There was a beautiful melody to his brothers voice, the happiness that laced through his words felt contagious as he opened the door to his car with one hand. The other came up to wipe at the blood that was beginning to settle on his lips, thumb brushing the liquid back into his mouth as he let multi colored eyes shift to the puppy like boy he called his twin brother.

“Nobody's going to forget them Neket… I know i didn’t.”

There was tilt to his voice as he spoke to his brother. His eyes gleaming in the same respect as Neket’s as he glanced at his twin. So engrossed in his plans that nothing could truly ruin his mood. Not even a sarcastic younger brother, those eyes just trapped him. Forced a smile to his own lips.

Inked fingers found their ways into his pockets, finding warmth in the shallow depths of the slacks.His fingers traced over the cold metal that clung underneath the thin cloth. The only part about this whole thing that felt too showy. But it was what Neket wanted. And who was he to deny a king.

There were very few things in life that Heru was not sure about. This plan being one of them. Really the plan here was to more make sure they got some sort of revenge on the beings that had made their lives a living nightmare. Not just to go in guns blazing and take them all out in one swift move. No they all wanted them to suffer. They all wanted some sort of retribution or at least acknowledgment from their fellow peers. A feat he was sure by the end of the night they would all be throwing at their feet. Not that any of his squad was going to listen. Another thing he knew for certain.

They were ruthless in their ascent. Knocking down who ever they wanted and who ever they needed in the last week. The last week felt almost like he was on top of the world. Like they were meant to be there from the very beginning. The gods had just been a little confused on their positions at first, but it had seemed that they had fixed their previous mistakes. So what could Heru say to that.

They knew where he stood, his rule to this low maintenance plan that they had thrown together so haphazardly. One that he hadn’t truly thought would be put into action, but here they were. Buttoning up their coats, slicking their hair back and trying for some reason to look some what appealing to these people. Something that without a doubt in his mind he knew they would all achieve.

Some of the girls were already flocking, their eyes on the men in awe and questions. Their dates seemed to stare in the same kind of awe. A trait that with this new found ‘power’ Heru found he could not really complain about. He could hear their shocked gasp, hear the small whispers. The doubt that they were who they thought.

A half cocked smile spilled over Heru’s lips. His eyes turning from his brothers to the small crowd, taking each of the gasping students in for a moment. Allowing them to bask in his gaze for a singular moment before he began forward, his hand extending out to the door while his eyes shifted back to the small group.

“Shall we get this started then?”

-----------------

The taste of victory was sweet on his tongue, washing away all the bitter hate that used to cling to his throat in heated lumps and stinging eyes, that hate, the bile, the bitter sting falling to his gut to churn into something so much darker. His hands found his pockets, the door slamming behind him as he locked the newly acquired car he had added to his collection, the sleek black nearly blending into the shadows the trees about them created, his eyes flashing, his lips parting, gleaming white teeth sharp as razors in the moonlight.

His gaze fell to Neket, the power the coursed through him hot with a new feed and the tang of blood still lingering in his mouth making his lips part in a slight sigh, a thrum of energy under his skin that allowed him to roll his shoulders smoothly, easily, his expression softening, warming, but in the most lethal of ways.

“Everything will be to your liking, Your Majesty. There’s not a pawn out of place…” His voice was a purr, low, dark, unhurried even as he shifted his own hand to his pockets to  feel the bit of cold metal into his flesh in several different places as he shook his head, allowing the long brown strands to fall about his face…. The ones not currently held back in a bun that he normally never cared to wear.

He moved, sliding past them, toward the doors of the Gymnasium that hed the practical entirety of his school, of the people who had long since pushed him past the breaking point and had decorated permanent scars along his ego and psyche, wounds that would never heal, and scars that would linger forever on his skin, times, moments, years they had taken everything he had and god Arsen had only wanted out.

He watched them as they took him in, watched them as the stunned awe hit them first, a low darkly pleasured growl boiling in his throat as he made his way in, only flaring as the recognition hit them second, the realization of who he was more pleasing than anything else he had seen so far. This gift, this ability, whatever it was that Neket had granted him just that week ago,  made the heads of girls who had long since scorned him turn with lust painted over their faces like a whores make up, the men blinking as they tried to connect the scrawny boy who sat in the back of class and got good grades, a natural target for bullies to try and get him to, stereotypically do their homework.

More often than not he did it, if only to avoid the beatings and the  bullying that was sure to follow a no.

He wasn’t that boy anymore. Arsen was no longer the kid they could push around and get what they wanted.

Arsen moved, his stomach full but his body taking him to the steam of cooking food and heated whispers, the area of the gym everyone seemed to be gathering with unspoken social cues. He moved easily, picking up foods he knew he liked, foods he was curious about, things he simply saw someone else wanted and he took so they could not have them. It brought him pleasure to know he had obtained something someone else had desired, knowing they felt a little of the disappointment he had known too intimately and deeply  for nearly all his life. He moved with ease, gaze flickering to watch as his brothers, his friends slid along the floor to mingle, relishing in the way the people stared, the recognition that it was the class losers that had stolen their girls attentions.

Then his eye caught sight of a group he had slowly been getting to know, his eyes narrowing in on the one girl who had been on his mind consistently, for years now, her thin form standing out next to her friends, exceptionally tiny even in her beautiful dress that only accented everything he loved about her.

From the moment he first saw her, He had known she would be his downfall.  

It was a quiet knowing, a soothing rush of river currents over a sunburn you obtained yesterday, the play of the sun heating your skin as you dipped into ice to allow the chill to sit and settle into your bones. He knew it like you craved that cold, knew that she would ultimately lead to the ruination of his character, had known that when his life changed again, because meeting her was something that had so effectively altered his life he could not say that meeting her was not a  life changing event, That she woulds be at it’s center, the catalyst that started it all. She would be the reason his whole world turn upside down, the whole reason he would change everything, for better or worse.

He was not wrong, but what eh could say was she had changed his life in a way he hadn’t expected at all. Ryker Ecchevarria was most definitely a girl worth changing your whole life over. However, He had expected it to be for worse. There was something about Ryker that drew you in. She was small, but she made a huge impression. She was gorgeous, that much inarguable when you saw her, pretty pink lips pulled into smiles and bright golden eyes framed by ink black hair. She had flawless skin, laughter that made his knees weak and eyes that made his heart flutter in his chest. She was more than that though, devastatingly smart and funny and poise, sweet and kind and she tried so hard to to offend him it almost made him cry. She cared, she saw him, she saw him as Arsen, not as the kid who would do your homework and not as the kid who you should push around.

She was different from the usual…

She looks stressed.

He mused as he felt Neket move beside him, hand outs to clap against his back, his gaze following his to catch onto the small group of four that were huddled by the wall, lips splitting as he took in his own little addiction, the social media Queen of snapchat, Braithe Durendal.

“Do you think they saw us?” He asked, the childish, almost playful tone still lingering only his voice as he breathed out his words, looking up at the brunette as he cocked his head, tilted it to look overly curious.

“Oh i hope so.” He answered himself, that smile bordering on madness as he straightened and turned away from him.

“I hope they all saw. The spotlight suits me, don’t you think?” He asked, practically twisting on heel as he spread his arms out a little, eyes bright, flashing, razors and all lethal energy under the guise of friendly conversation. “ I think It suits all of us so much more then the shadows they tried to force us in.”

There was a pause, before, Neket laughed, legs bending slightly in over exaggerated gestures of joy. He moved, faster than eh should have to keep a low profile, eyes wide, on him as he took his face in his hands, forehead pressed against his as a suddenly serious look drifted over the Freckled kings features. He shook him slightly, lightly, with meaning, his gaze steady, clearer than he had ever really seen it.

“We’re going to get absolutely everything we deserve Arsen. Everything will be handed to us on golden platters simply because we wish it to be. Do not forget it.” The words were a his, spoken with such reverence and determination Arsen could feel his heart stumble and jump at the intensity of the words.

Neket moved, danced away, the twist of a fae’s smile on his lips, the Dark king in his ballroom.

“Enjoy yourself, Enjoy others, Enjoy that ice statue over there, I don’t judge! Tonight is The last night, before the rest. Of. Our. Lives...So make it your bitch!”

Neket thrived in the spotlight, Arsen mused, shaking his head at the excited king as he moved through the crowds, relishing in the way the girls clambered.

“Revenge brought out a demon in your brother.”

-------------------

“For all my love birds out there, this is a special love song from the Dj to you.”

The Dj’s voice was loud, booming through the speaker systems so that everyone could hear him. His eyes searched over the crowd but he clearly couldn’t seen any of them their retinas probably burning from the blaring lights that were flashing in his eyes. Ryker had no sympathy for him, the boy had chose the position though she had warned him relentlessly that it was going to be hard on him., instead she let her own gaze fall back to the blonde that was strapping herself to her twin.

A sigh passed pink stained lips, gold eyes closing as she shook her head. Her thoughts shouldn’t have been so low but with her body the way it was right now. She knew there was no way to stay positive in this sort of situation.

“Five minutes in and it’s already about love birds and couples. Of course.”

Ryker sent her soft, whispery voice out over the airwaves, punched in the music, and stared up at the clock for the hundredth time.

Her head was shrieking at her, she had a sore throat, and she had wiped beads of sweat from her forehead more than once. She couldn’t even come up with decent dialogue for tonight's conversations between them all. The studious little sure to be harvard graduate was as sick as she could possibly be. She had been out of the hotel room for exactly two hours and she was ready to surrender.

Ryker rubbed her temples, trying to soothe the awful pounding. She had fallen asleep at six in the morning and, unusual for her, had slept most of the day away. The sore throat and headache had been with her from the moment she’d opened her eyes.

“Oh, yeah, you guys don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.” she muttered resentfully. She had looked the epitome of health as she went off to start the weekend, but she had been distant. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Ryker was never distant, but she felt she was closed off to her friends, and she was never that. She sighed and laid her head against the cold of the cement wall, using her arms for a pillow. She was too sick to figure anything out.

Brian Hutton, her soundman, waved to her from the other side of the gymnasium, indicating the phone. When he mouthed the principal’s name, Ryker wrinkled her nose in distaste and shook her head. Just the idea of the louse increased the awful pounding in her temples. She was going to have to go home, crawl in bed, and hope she could fall asleep with the lights on.

She flipped a switch. “They told me it  would be done when prom started,” she said with genuine regret. She had never missed a day of school, had never even been late. It meant nothing to her to be able to go to prom committee, however brief her stay always was. She liked having a clean record, knew they would think well of her after she left. But she moved, pushing through the crowd to the blonde that continued to beckon her over.

“You look like hell,” Brian informed her.

“Oh, thanks. I needed to hear that. Would you cover for me so I could go home and get some sleep?”

“Sure, Ryker,” he agreed sympathetically. “It’s just as well, the crazies are calling in tonight.”

Her fingers wrapped around the phone she had been reaching out for, and everything inside of her stilled. “What crazies, Brian?” She was exasperated and she knew it showed on her features no matter how hard she fought the expression down.

“Don’t worry about it,” he reassured. “I didn’t think you would be so upset over the news. We will get it under control if anything happens Ry. Just go home, get some rest. Don’t want your crush to see you looking like that.”

Ryker forced a laugh, forced her tense muscles to relax. “If they could only see me now.” But she would have to be more careful than usual. She’d grown too comfortable here. Too comfortable with Brian. “What did he want? The principal?”

“Nothing. He just wanted to see what was happening, how everything was going.”

Ryker breathed a soft sigh of relief, dropping her head into her hands. All she wanted was to crawl into a hole and hide.

Brian pressed closer to her and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. “You’re burning up. You okay to drive? Or do you want me to call you a cab? I can drive you home.”

She patted his hand, shifting out from under him on the pretense of gathering her things together. “I’ll be fine, Brian, thanks. Rest, orange juice, chicken soup, I’ll be here tomorrow Monday with bells on.” She held up her car keys. “I didn’t lose them this time.”

He grinned at her. “That’s a shock. Wait for the security guard. You know how Nephie is about you wandering around in the parking lot alone this time of night. He’d have my job first, then my head, if I let you.”

“Poor Nep.” Ryker smiled at the thought of her in spite of the fact that even her teeth hurt. “She really thinks I’m a pack of trouble, doesn’t she?”

Ryker took out the little phone from her purse, clutching it in preparation to call Nephie and let her know about the current situation. There was way too many pressures right now.

“I’ll call her, don’t worry about it.”

Brian grinned at her. “She’s right too. Come on, I’ll walk you down.”

“Thanks, I’m fine, really, but next time you want to take a day off, do it on someone else’s shift.  On some other guys shift, like the Dj, whatever his name is…” The boy said chucking a finger back to the man that Brian called his brother.

She rolled her eyes. “He’s a grump and a bore. Last night was no fun at all working with him.”

He grinned at her. “I’ll be sure to plan all my future days off around your schedule.”

She thumped his shoulder, knowing sarcasm when she heard it. The sound of vibration humming from the boys tux pocket.  “My phones  lighting up all over the place.”

He shrugged, uncaring. “Probably that nut. He’s called six times already tonight. I don’t want to talk to him.”

“Might be,” Ryker agreed. “But on the other hand it could be our mighty boss. Ever think of that?”

Brian’s smile faded instantly. He was halfway through the gym by the time Ryker lifted a heavy hand to wave. She sighed running a hand down her neck as she sighed loudly. Her eyes shifting to the bar that she stood by, the smell of the food making her face turn in disgust. There was  nothing in the slightest appealing to her on this table, her fingers coming up to press the cold of her phone to her lips. Trying to cover the expression.

There was a sharp turn on heels that were too high for her, her body shifting to turn away from the array of smells and smacking her straight into a brick wall. At least that’s what he felt like to her, her own body flinching from the impact, her head shrieking in protest to the pain.  Thin fingers pressed her phone against the table, leaving it in its place so she could press cold fingers to the bridge of her nose. But her hand came up to wave lazily trying for the life of her to focus on the person in front of her.

“I’m sorry... Sorry. I should have watched where i was going.”

Gold eyes took in the burst of colors in front of her, allowing her eyes to roam over the well tailored suit, to the brown tendrils that dropped loosely onto his shoulders not stopping until they landed on violet eyes, smoldering. And she could feel her heart drop in her chest only to reappear in her throat. Those eyes were transfixed, and there was something in them that made her recoil, a fear jumping over her bones as she took a quick step back.

“Sorry! Sorry! So sorry,...”

Pale fingers reached out to snatch her phone, and run but she never got the chance her name a whisper between the two. She let gold eyes slowly flick back to the brown haired beauty that was in front of her. His smile drew her and forced her to suck in a breath, his teeth practically gleaming in the low lights of the thrumming prom. It took her a second, her eyes wandering over the man again.

“Ryker.”

There was an ache in his voice.

But that wasn’t what gave away who he was.

Ryker’s fingers clenched the edge of the table as she inhaled deeply Arsen’s distinctive male scent. It flooded her lungs and made her stomach do a strange little flip. He had been missing for a whole week, in one of her busiest weeks he had disappeared along with the rest of the squad he hung around, But now here he was, all smiles. Her mouth curved at the thought. He said her name and she could feel her already fragile heart flipping in her chest, but she loved his voice. The thought of it, of him solely talking to her, had a warmth spreading quickly through her entire body.

She took another breath, breathing in the heady aroma that she had grown so fond of, wondering whether she should leave immediately before she became obsessive over him, or stand there lost in him forever, slip him into her emergency pack so if she had to run fast she would always have him.

Arsen. He smelled so good all the time. He smelled safe and clean and so very male. With a little sigh she forced herself to back up. Having no idea what she was going to do with herself, she forced her body into motion, taking no time in throwing a smile over her lips, genuine, savoring the feeling of his gaze on her.

Now she wasn’t going to be able to get the boy out of her mind.

“Arsen! I’m glad you came,... you look incredible!”

--------------------

Tonight…. God, Tonight was absolutely magical.

There was a feeling, a light hum of burning energy that simmered under Neket’s skin. It was like a livewire, bright and snapping with cracks of vicious electric energy that simmered under the surface of the whispers that were spreading around the room.  It was burning, bright, a hum even more apparent when they had walked into the room. Part of it was the natural sensual bubble of promised anticipation that happened at any sort of event like this, the pressurized simple things that held more worth than they really should. There was a charge to it, a lacing ribbon of something otherworldly twisting into the seams of the night and pulling it all together, his heart elated at the sight of so many eyes on him, the thought the retribution at hand.

His fingers found his hair, shaking even as they moved, soothing back the black strands into the sort of messy slicked back style that seemed to be working for all the girls that were around him, the sound of their little hearts racing for something they shouldn’t want only adding to the almost giddy elation that had found it’s new home in his heart, his throat, his mind. He let out a breathy laugh as he twisted on heel, turning as he allowed the world to slow, taking in the pathetically attempted decorations and the contrasting with the phenomenal catering service the school seemed to choose to pour the entirety of the Prom budget into.

Everything was so different with a view from the top.

“Neket!” He heard her call, the vision of red hair flashing in his head as he turned, smile still in place as he took in the sight of Vivianne Strides, A girl who, just last week had told him off for touching her desk when he was falling and tried to catch himself so that he didn’t fall straight to the floor and hit his head after some random pushed him. He smiled wider as his hand came up, palm up and extended, something she delighted in as she placed her fingers along his, her face turning smug for only a second, her eyes flashing back to him. He lifted her hand to his mouth, lips never touching her hand, but instead breathing in, before he dropped her hand suddenly, like it burned him.

She looked flustered, but undeterred, at least, Until he moved, pulling out a handkerchief out of his pocket to rub along his hands, his eyes unbothered but his lips pulling slightly at the edges.

“You’re not supposed to touch trash with your bare hands, you know. My mother would beat my ass if she found out I had forgotten. She was such a  strict woman, lovely when company was around, Smiles, perfect hostess ...beat me and my brother with rulers and starved us when we made noise, or breathed or make less than an A on a test.”

He shook his head fondly, leaning back to bend his legs again as he balled up the cloth in his hands, rolling his head as he straightened back up to look at her with an almost child like innocent expression. He leaned forward, his hand up over to the side of his face like he was sharing some sort of secret, his voice low, whispered only for her to hear.

“She also told me not to kill her, begged me really, but I did that too; I really was never good at listening, I have a real problem with authority.”

He spoke this with a nod, laughing as she pulled away, the laugh catching in his throat as she lifted her gaze to him, absolutely disgusted.

“You’re a fucking freak.” Her words stopped his laughter, expression falling as he narrowed his gaze on her. He reached out, careful that the handkerchief stayed between them as he pulled her to the side, into a darkened corner that no one was paying attention to. She attempted to scream, but her eyes caught his, a shifting blend of colors swirling in her eyes as he reached into her, the strange compulsion spell falling over her as he lifted his fingers to his lips.

“Shhhhhhhh……” He hushed her, low hiss sliding past his lips. His gaze stayed steady on hers, her breathing growing faster as she realized he held her there with nothing more then his gaze. His lips quirked, a light lift of a half smirk that fell before it could fully form, his mind clearly racing, flashing with the option to completely fall or to allow this new persona to fall through.

“You’re not to say a word, not one more noise is to leave you until I tell you otherwise. I want you to suffer, silently, Quietly, without notice...as I have for the past eighteen years….”

He took a step closer, her body taking a step back to hit the wall, her eyes tearing up as she watched him grin, watched his finger, still against his lip move, curl away from his mouth as he leaned down toward her. The ability flexed in him, the compulsion a vibration to his words, a low sensual growl as he purred them, commands directly into her.

“You will live, as I have. And you will say not a word. You will not leave, you will not scream, or cry, or sob, but you will be plagued by your worst nightmares.”

He saw it when the visions started to appear before her, dark light and fading fragments shattering in her eyes as the darkness started to overtake her. He watched her eyes for those few moments, losing the light of a happy life as her mind filled with her own horrible nightmares, mind trapped in an endless loops as she had to live her reality.  He watched it because he recognized it, the soulless eyes that just barely passed as living, a mirror image of his own. He watched with that growing smile as she shook, trembled, taking a step back to enjoy it, enjoy her fear, the fear of a girl he had once feared himself. Her nightmares came to him like knowledge, things eh could block out if he wanted, but he simply smiled, before throwing the cloth at her.

“Here, i’m sure you’ll be needing it to clean yourself up later after twenty men corner you in the bathroom to gang rape your drunken ass. No need to thank me, all in the spirit of Prom, no? Don’t bother returning it, I don’t want to catch anything you might get.”

She stared at him wide eyed, as he pulled away, shrugging like he was honestly doing her a favor and it really was no problem. She shook as he waved, grinning as he took those steps away from her with a carefree wave.

“Enjoy your night!”

And he was gone, the sound of her knees hitting the ground as she silently screamed her despair into a void in her mind making the giddy happy feeling rise again. God it felt great to put the filth in their place, to put someone who had once made it a rather nasty point a state why no one would ever want to date him or ever even want him and had encouraged him to take out the problem in his life, which she had assure him, was himself, into such a state of distress all she could do was shake and silently cry.

Tonight was shaping up fantastically.

Neket moved, stepping back into the crowd, standing up to his toes as he took in a deep breath, the hum of blood making his mouth water. He allowed his gaze to move, slide over the people to catch heads or tails of someone he knew, be it bully, Friend or….

Braithe.

He saw her, was able to pick her out of the crowd easily. She wasn’t dressed like the rest of them, was never one to follow what the rest of the masses like but rather stayed very true to her own cares and needs. She was popular, Her and her sister But Neket had never really had much interaction with Lunthe, but rather most of his free time was spent with Braithe over the internet. She stood out blatantly, something that made his heart stutter as he looked at her, cheeks heating as he watched her bounce on her feet, looking around like she was looking for something as Ryker walked away and Nephi seemed to panic.

Desire hit him like a freight train, and before he knew it, he was moving, sliding through the people until he manage to sneak up behind her, Nephi not seeing him as she looked around, his hand sliding along Braithe’s waist to pull her back, into his chest. He was already moving,twisting them, turning her in his hands in easy moves that had her dress spring out and her words shifting, before he settled, his hand finding the divots of her waist,  holding her as he lowered her, dipped her so she had to rely solely on him to not fall to the ground. His other hand pulled up her leg, fingers finding her thigh and pulling, holding her tightly to him. He grinned at her, lips pulled into a half smirk, eyes flashing as he looked her over.

“Good Morning Beautiful… Well, Technically goodnight, but I have about a week of greetings to make up for.” He spoke easily, playfully even as he gave her a slow burning look that only grew the longer he looked at her. He purred his next words, a rumble of need in his voice that wasn’t present before, a longing only ever apparent for her.

“Did you miss me?”