#the other video i posted of this has completely vanished from my profile so

[asciuto]

all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothin' 🐝

[the-witches-you-couldnt-burn]

It started with a whisper

I originally wrote ‘Like I did with you’ as a one-shot but people wanted a sequel. This turned out to be waaaaay longer than expected (4.7k word count). Inspired by Everybody Talks by Neon Trees. I hope you lot enjoy!

Ao3

(Also this is Mari’s new outfit, all credits go to the original artist)

————

Two teens stood upon the balcony of a large banquet hall, exposed to the midsummer night air. The sky was a lilac blanket that hung over the Parisian buildings, speckled with glowing stars. The moon, with it’s crescent smile, beamed down of the young couple.

Hey, baby, won't you look my way?

Marinette’s eyes were closed as she rested her head upon his shoulder, relaxing after the night’s rapid escalation. Tonight she had arrived at the ball with the intent to be there for her friends, but somehow she found herself within the arms of Gotham’s (and probably Paris’) Ice Prince. She had overheard his nickname from the Gotham students, one of which being Jon, who was in the middle of mocking the young Wayne. She had never considered that nickname as suitable; sure he was temperamental & had a tendency to snap, but icey to the core? No.

I can be your new addiction

Damian was calm. For the first time in his life he felt like he could take a breath. His exhale was carried off by a small gust of wind, the bush over hanging the stone railing rustled. With his inhale, the scent of Marinette’s perfume became present once more. Mixed with the crisp night’s air, her usual scent of pastries was mixed with what could only be described as ambrosia. His phone vibrated within his pocket, it was never on volume due to the potential risk it caused during his heroic activities.

“Shit.” Notifications covered his screen, multiple tweets, Instagrams and Tiktoks in which he had been tagged in. But the alert came from his family’s private messaging chat. The whole thread was a shit storm, Grayson and Todd’s messages were completely capitalised (he learnt years ago this meant ‘to yell’ in writing form) and both had multiple ‘keyboard spasms’. Drake, like the thorough detective he is, had combed through the images and videos, investigating their validity. His honorary sisters had replied with ‘awwwww’(s) and ‘Omg we MUST meet this girl! I need to know how she tamed the demon!’. He could practically hear Brown’s shrill voice from across the ocean.

Hey, baby, what you gotta say?

No reply from his father or Alfred. The two of them were the only semblance of ‘normal’ paternal figures he had within his life, after the sham of a relationship he had previously held with his grandfather. Their silence unnerved him.

Marinette had noticed his attention had shifted to his phone, her own mobile was buzzing away within her baby pink purse. Messages, notifications of account tagging and comments galore. A sigh left her lips when she saw her parents seemed to be none the wiser. Good, she didn’t need to deal with future adoration for ‘The boy who swept our daughter off of her feet’ (or something along those lines).

Her cheeks regained some of the warmth they held before as she thought of her parent’s reaction. Scrolling through her Twitter she saw her friends had posted multiple images of the night’s events, majority being her shared dance.

Chloé Bourgeois @TheBestBourgeois

what kind of Disney shit is this? (Insert video of two teens dancing around an mostly empty dance floor.)

Alix Kubdel @Sk8trGirl

Replying to @TheBestBourgeois

I KNOW RIGHT?! THEY WERE FUCKING FLOATING!!!

All you're giving me is fiction

She was thankful that they hadn’t tagged her but she hadn’t been spared by others in attendance. Her post thread had blown up, thousands had commented and even more had viewed the evidence. There was no way she would come out of this unscathed.

“Has anyone been on Twitter today?” The blonde of the family asked as she walked into the dining room. Her eyes focused on her scrolling screen, brows furrowed in confusion. “Actually has anyone seen what’s happening on any of our socials?”

It was early in the afternoon and the family had recently returned home after a straining stakeout. The Joker had broken out of Arkham and the Batfam had to deal with his minions. Dick’s arm was in a sling (sprained from a grapple gone wrong), Jason was icing his hand, Alfred was stitching Bruce’s chest wounds while Tim and the girls escaped without severe injuries. All were still recuperating and finally able to recharge.

Alfred always enforced a strict ‘no devices at the dinner table’ rule; no matter how urgent it was, it could wait until after sustenance was consumed. Tim strongly opposed this, but there was no arguing with Agent A. This all surmises that probably no one had seen the crap storm on social media.

I'm a sorry sucker and this happens all the time

Bruce sighed, bringing his free arm up to rub his eyes. Tilting his head back to look at Steph, “Who was it this time?” Barbara quickly took out her phone to see what Stephanie was talking about, all the while glancing accusingly at Dick and Jason. Both of whom held up their arms (or in Dick’s case arm), declaring their innocence.

“It wasn’t fucking me!”

“Jason! Language!” Dick shot a glare at Jason and was met with one in return. “It wasn’t me either.”

“Then who-“ Bruce started before being cut off by his most rambunctious daughter.

I found out that everybody talks

Stephanie with a squeal, exclaimed that it was Damian. Visions of what the Wayne brat could have done flashed through the heads of everyone in the room. He had been sent overseas before the quarantines and lockdowns hit. During Damian’s first month in France he had been forced into online schooling and then finally when he got to go to in-person classes he hated it. Described the class as a kindergarten with petty and vindictive toddlers.

Had he broken someone’s arm? Was that person of such importance that it had spread over multiple social media platforms? France’s government had announced on June 15th, that teens were now being inoculated so him having COVID-19 was doubtful. Had he insulted the wrong person? Had he taken over the government? He certainly had the potential.

Everybody talks, everybody talks

What they saw stunned them, even Steph as she watched it for the 7th time. Damian Wayne was dancing. But not only that, he was dancing with a girl.

It started with a whisper

“What is this shit?”

No one verbally objected to Jason’s outburst but he was sent a harsh glare from Alfred, Dick and Bruce. Their focus soon returned to the images and videos before them. Babs’ and Steph’s phones were returned to them as the others ran to grab their own devices. They all met back at the table, comparing the posts and comparing their notes.

I can hear the chitchat

“There’s no way this can be real.”

“Jesus Tim,” Barbara rolls her eyes, “have you seen the amount of posts there are? You’d be an idiot to think otherwise.”

Take me to your love shack

“I’m with Tim, how do we know this isn’t some skit. I mean, Demon Spawn almost looks normal. That’s a matter of concern.” He almost dry heaved when he agreed with Tim. Damian couldn’t be capable of naturally exuding that amount of humanity unless there was something in it for him.

Mamas always gotta backtrack

“I was just saying Babs, that we should check the credibility of these images. For all we know they could be gorilla glued together and trying to get unstuck.” Tim cringed at his own reasoning, he really needed to either sleep (probably not going to happen anytime soon) or find his favourite coffee brand (which had been one of the first to vanish after the covid hoarders appeared).

When everybody talks back

Dick was too busy freaking out and spam messaging the youngest Wayne, to defend Damian’s humanity. The family saw this and followed suit, wanting to get information from the source.

Chat name: Alfred supremacy

BigBird: AHHHHHH DAMIAN!

BigBird: YOU LOOK SO CUTE!!!

BigBird: HAIFJDNDNFI

LittleWing: WTF HAPPENED DEMON SPAWN YOU LOOK ALMOST HUMAN

Babs: who knew the city of love would influence the brat

Blondie: they are so cuteeeeeee!

Blondie: We HAVE to meet her!

Silent-but-deadly: agreed.

Timbo: YO DEMON

Timbo: Apparently the videos are legit

Timbo: are you being blackmailed?

And it just devolved into more chaos from there, fueled by the fact that they saw Damian’s ‘Blood Son’ account appear online before vanishing once more. Dick shrieked, “I FOUND HER ACCOUNT!”

The family gathered around the eldest son, peering over his shoulder to view his iPhone 12max screen. They saw a young girl’s Instagram account. It was locked but they could see her profile pic, the girl had black hair and looked to be if Asian decent. They compared it to the videos but it was hard to see due to the hall’s lighting and the minimised facial features of the pfp. Alfred suggested that they search up her username and see who has tagged her, some might have other photos of her.

After research for awhile, the family began to get frustrated with lack of results.

Hey honey you could be my drug

You could be my new prescription

“Come on!” Jason complained, “What kind of teenage girl doesn’t post her life online?” He ignored the girls glares and went back to researching. How had the account by the name of ‘mariiiiinette’ to managed to prevent the entire Wayne clan from accessing it? Damn Instagram privacy settings. He groaned, dragging a hand down his face, “We are fucking stupid. Why don’t we just use the Bat-computer? It would be so much fucking easier.”

“It shouldn’t be used for civilian issues-“

Too much could be an overdose

“The girl could be a meta for all we know! We aren’t safe until we know who she is.” Jason points a finger at Tim, his paranoia flared up and even though he would never admit it, Jason would do anything to protect each member of his family (although Bruce is still debatable).

All this trash talk make me itching

Barbara and Tim took their usual positions as Oracle and Red Robin (who had been banned from patrol due to lack of sleep). The rest of the Batfam stood behind them either with arms crossed or still failing at researching.

Oh my my shit

“The account is owned by a girl called Marinette Dupian-Cheng. She is French-Chinese and her parents own a popular bakery. Also if it wasn’t already obvious, she goes to Collège Françoise Dupont, aka Damian’s French school.” Tim begun informing his nosy family, “But this account has been inactive for the past 6 months, which is strange due to her frequent posting schedule before hand. It seems she probably has a second account and this is her old one.”

Everybody talks, everybody talks

“Not only that,” Barbara interrupted. “There are unopened messages from other accounts that accuse her of being a bully. There is a whole Facebook page about this girl and how she has been hurting her old friends, but neither side seems reliable. The so called victims seem to be twisting the truth but there is barely any information about Marinette so we can’t disprove it either.”

“Read out some of the messages.” Bruce took a cup of coffee from Alfred and sipped it.

The main screen of the bat computer displayed a Facebook group with the banner picture being a photo of Marinette. “They are mostly complaints expected of teen girls when there is a girl they don’t like; ‘Marinette is such a know-it-all’, ‘She is constantly insulting Lila’s intelligence’. They go on to talk about how Marinette was briefly expelled from the Collège before being reinstated by the principle for a reason unknown to them.”

Everybody talks too much

“Her school reports up until this year were good. The newest one states, ‘While Marinette is a wonderful and bright student, I encourage her to settle her disagreements outside of class. This seems to only be a recent occurrence and I implore her to go to the guidance council if she is in need of help.’” A beat of silence echoes through the cave, Tim sighed. “Jason’s meta theory could be correct. She could have just recently started exhibiting her abilities and using them to get what she wants.”

“Bruce what do you want to do?”

“We’re going to Paris.”

She opened her eyes to the blaring morning light that streamed through the blinds. Her lashes still painted with mascara that refused to leave. She felt a pang of sorrow when she was removing her makeup and dress last night, she never wanted the night to end. She shuffled down the stairs to the kitchen, covering her mouth when she yawned. She greeted her mother as she entered the kitchen to get breakfast.

She glanced at her phone and there was the chaos that was started hours ago and it was still occurring. It was the weekend, she wouldn’t need to deal with her classmates until Monday. But she would still have to survive her parent’s interrogation. Out of the corner of her eye she caught her mother smirking at her.

Everybody talks

“Nadja told me some interesting news about last night.” Marinette held her breath, glaring at the toaster, willing it to hurry up so she could escape. “Well,” Sabine patted her shoulder before rubbing Mari’s back. “I know you didn’t want to go but I hope you had fun.”

With that she exited the kitchen, probably going to help her father in the bakery. The ravenette stared after her, eye widened in shock, jumping when the toaster went off. Buttering her toast she went over the conversation, her brows furrowed in confusion. She had expected a ‘When do I get to meet the oh so famous prince?’ or ‘Should I be expecting a new guest sometime in the near future?’ or at least a ‘Who was that young man, Bǎozàng (宝藏 it means treasure)?’ But she said nothing.

A small smile was plastered upon her face as she changed and went down to help her parents in the bakery. Her father didn’t say anything either, he gave her a knowing smile before continuing to kneed the dough. She sat at the the store front as the cashier whilst her parents were busy making ‘Paris’s Finest Pastries’.

Her musings slowly faded as she was brought back to reality by badly hushed whispers. Two young preteens were by the bread roll casing near the door. She had seen them come in before with their parents, the girls went to the prestigious international school over in the 16th arrondissement. The one with purple hair kept whispering to the brunette, both ‘subtly’ glancing towards her. Using her enhanced hearing she listened in on their conversation.

“That’s her, I swear that’s her in the video.”

The blonde’s face soured likes she sucked on a lemon. “No, it wasn’t good lighting there is no way he would dance with someone like her.”

Everybody talks

Marinette had tough skin but their words had an impact, only a small one due to her defence mechanism of repressing emotions. She stopped listening and went back to drawing in her sketchpad, she was in desperate need of a new school outfit.

The two girls eventually came up to the counter, goods in hand. Marinette rung up and bagged their items (paper because save the turtles sksksk) in a tired daze. A phone was shoved into her face, her eyes barely adjusted to view the screen before the blonde spoke.

“Is this your instagram?” She asked in a tone so snobbish that it should be illegal from a person her age. Marinette finally was able to view the screen that was barely an inch from her face. Her old Instagram ‘mariiiiinette’ was displayed on screen, she hesitantly nodded, gaze flicking back to the two in front of her.

The blonde’s nose scrunched up and the purple goth girl squealed in delight. They soon after left the store, their conversation had devolved into ‘See! I told you’ and ‘Yeah, yeah. You were right.’

Walking to school on Monday, she had finally come down from cloud nine. She still rode the tail end of her high as she rushed along her path to her campus, she wasn’t going to be late but she sure wasn’t going to be early. She had spent the better part of the weekend designing and sewing a brand new outfit. Her new look was composed of a black cropped singlet (L'amour gagne hemmed into it and it’s straps), paired matching peach plaid cropped overshirt and a-line miniskirt. Her hair was down, ballet flats were worn and her makeup was the usual with the added edition of a rose gold eyeshadow.

Even though her face was covered in a black and gold mask, she looked hot.

She reached the campus and the whispers started again, people were still buzzing from Friday night. Her classmates, the majority of her grade and the younger years seemed to gossiping before class about the formal’s events. She couldn’t spot any of her friends or the two Gotham transfers, so she was stuck listening the the chitchat. Why couldn’t she have been late like usual?

Damian had a fowl disposition and it showed in multiple icey glares (and that was before he even reached the collège). His family had made their appearance known in Paris at 1am Sunday morning. He could have used his dorm to escape but his family didn’t have the word ‘privacy’ within their vocabulary. He didn’t want to have to pay for a lock replacement due to his brothers’ (most likely Todd with Drake & Grayson laughing at him) lock picking habit.

The Ice Prince was back with full force. He had just been... influenced by all the other couples. Yes he did respect Dupain-Cheng and he appreciated her company & pleasant conversations. He would struggle to hide a small smile at the memory of the dance, even if he denied himself the happiness of normality, he felt content when reminiscing.

“Ooo the Ice Prince is here, did he have a fight with his princess or something?” The voice seemed to mock him.

“The Disney Magic is gone. The demon is back.”

Everybody talks

At the second jeer he shot a glare at the perpetrator. Jon held his hands up in an ‘I surrender manner’, laughing as he joined Damian at his side. The two entered the school’s large foyer and looked to see if any of the classes were open yet. Sadly they weren’t, before he was wrong and the his class was plain torture but this was truely hell.

He saw Dupain-Cheng sitting alone on the stairs, drawing within her sketchpad. He wondered how a girl like her, who always seemed to be involved in other’s lives (for the better) was ignoring all of the comments about her. She felt his focus centre on her, eyes flicking up to meet his, she provided him with a small wave before continuing to draw.

Jon nudged him with an elbow to his ribs and dragged him off to the side, into the boy’s locker rooms. Jon scowled at the door, “It’s a mad house out there. You’ve heard what some people are saying right?”

“Why would I care about these imbeciles?”

Jon jabbed Damian in the chest, causing the demon to stumble. Green eyes darted from blue eyes to the tan finger. “You care when lies hurt people you care about.”

The day began to rapidly decline once the two dance partners took their seats, next to each other. They had both been placed up the back of the class and them sitting together hadn’t been a problem until now apparently. She wasn’t even safe when the teacher started their lecture, whispers and glances were cast towards them. Once the two got to biology it was better, Ms Mendeleiev was a strict teacher and was able to control the class.

Everybody talks

But the recess came. When the bell rang she slowly started packing up her equipment, Alix and Max (who she shared biology with) waited for her; she watched as the Ice Prince left through the door. She knew she didn’t need to be concerned about her friends joining in with the gossiping, if anything they would dispel people and tell them to ‘Mind their own fucking business’ because this whole situations is ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.

She did receive some slight teasing from Alix about being a Disney princess, but Marinette quipped back about the skater’s fairytale story being ‘Pinknette, the Geek and the Beast’. The three met up with the other two of their group, they had just come from geography. Kim was complaining that Argentina was a state in America.

“That’s Arkansas you idiot!” Chloe shrieked, lightly hitting his arm with her white handbag. Max held his head in his hand as he approached, how had his tutoring sessions failed so badly?

Chloe turned to Marinette, a smile forming from her glare. The blonde examined the designer’s clothing, nodding. “You look like you are about to have a hot girl summer.”

Marinette’s face burned, the tips of her ears coated in red. Alix chuckled and nudged her shoulder.

Everybody talks

“Look at her, she is so desperate for his attention that she probably copied those designs.”

“Why do you think he danced with her anyways? Maybe she has something on him? I mean, she forces him to sit next to her in class, who knows what else she has done.”

What. The. Fuck.

Chloe glowered towards Lila’s posy. “We have a fucking seating plan, those cretins-“ She made a motion to storm over but was caught by the ravenette, looking back to Mari, her rage decreased from a boil to a simmer.

“No Chlo. It’s fine, it’s not worth it.”

Everybody talks... back

The group walked out to the school’s front steps, it was a mad house... a mad courtyard? Students sitting on the stairs, on the grass and standing around mingling, all of them now were staring at her. She held her backpack close to her chest (she had swapped her signature coin-bag purse for the pastel pink bag), pretending its a shield. Her friends circled around her becoming an obstacle to prevent their stares. If people were afraid of a scowling Kim then they don’t know the scorn of Chloe or Alix’s bite. And Max, sweet quiet Max.... you better hope he doesn’t have blackmail on you (he probably does), he can dismantle your life with a single anonymous post.

Rushed footsteps approached them. The group was broken apart by a rude Wayne boy, he swept Mari away from the school and the gossip crowds within. Her four friends shouted at him and he kept walking, shooting a glare at them in response. He kept pushing Marinette forward with a hand placed on the small of her back, her backpack was now swung over his other shoulder.

They ended up in her favourite alcove. She had brought him here with the other Gotham transfers for a native’s tour of Paris. It had always been her safe place to be creative.

It started with a whisper (everybody talks, everybody talks)

“My apologises for our rushed departure but you seemed to want to get out of their anyhow.” His gruff tone danced through the silence, his head still peaking around the corner; watching for any unwelcome guests.

“Thank you.” She whispered, her voice almost being carried off by the gentle wind. A genuine smile illustrated upon her face.

“We weren’t able to converse after the events of the other night. I would like to formally apologise once more for my actions causing this adverse reaction. If I had kn-“

“You don’t need to apologise!” She squeaked, hiding her eyes behind her fisted hand. Her shoulders curled inwards as she tried to make herself seem as small as possible, a side effect of her common use of her secondary miraculous form: Multimouse.

“I chose to dance with you, you don’t need to apologise for my own actions.” He stared at her with confusion. He had taken the blame so she wouldn’t need to do so herself; but she had taken it anyways. He had given her an out. Why does she always take the blame, even for things out of her control?

“But if I hadn’t danced with you then you wouldn’t have been the focus of the entire school.”

Marinette stepped forward, her eyes hardened and blazing. “Damian Friday night I went there out of obligation to my friends, I didn’t want to be there. But dancing with you? That was the highlight of my week, probably my month too. I enjoyed our time together.” Her face softened, lips twitched downwards ever so slightly. “I don’t regret anything about that night, but do you?”

He was bad at comfort. Everyone in his family avoided him when they were in need, he plainly didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t visibly upset but he sensed that she is disappointed that he apparently didn’t share the same opinion of the night. The only thing he regretted about that night was letting Jon call him a coward, but then again if he didn’t he never would have danced with Dupa- Marinette.

He picked up her clenched hand, the tension in her body alleviated at his embrace. He remembered how Grayson would apologise to Kor’i or how his father interacted with Ms Kyle. He brought their hands up and placed a kiss upon her knuckles.

And that was when I kissed her (everybody talks, everybody talks)

“I do not regret anything either—“ he cleared his throat, “In fact, I’d appreciate if we would be able to interact more, especially outside of that cesspit.”

Was he...?

It didn’t matter.

She smiled the same dazzling smile she gave him at the dance. She nodded while laughing, “I’d love that.”

Everybody talks

The two stay talking, hidden within their secret alcove for the rest of the day. She texted her parents to say she was with a friend and would be back later that night. Damian didn’t bother texting his family, Marinette knew he had to be back soon due to his dorm’s curfew.

The sun was setting at they walked back together, he did the gentlemanly thing and dropped her off at her bakery door. She could see her mother behind the register inconspicuously looking over at the two of them. Damian’s lips quirked upwards, she was satisfied with his kinda-smile.

He walked back, hands in pockets and a neutral expression upon his face instead of a scowl. He reached his door and took his keys, he found that it was already open. Damn.

His family was splayed out within his two roomed dorm. Todd and Drake were fighting over a place to sit on his bed, whilst his father sat at his desk, watching the commotion. The three of them turned to him as he enter the room, they were the only family members able to attend on short notice; Cain had a ballet audition, Gordon & Brown had concert tickets for tomorrow, Grayson had to take care of Mar’i while Kor’i was on Tamaran and Alfred stayed to ensure no one died during their night time activities.

“We need to talk Damian.” His father stood, leaning onto the desk chair. “The school called and said you had an unexcused absence for half the day. Where were you Damian?”

Damian stared into his father’s eyes. He was fifteen, almost an adult, but was treated like he was ten again.

“I was with a friend.”

“Probably the girl from the dance. Marinette, right?” Todd mocked him. Damian snapped his head in the direction of his bed, glaring at both his brothers.

“That’s what I want to talk about with you Damian. Now I don’t know her personally but from what we’ve discovered through our investigation we have some concerns. What’s happened Damian?”

The youngest Wayne’s glare shifted off of his brothers to the floor, and then finally to his father; his family sitting in wait for his answer. Straightening his posture, his shoulders clicked as he rolled then back. His statement’s tone was sure and steady, “Everybody talks father.”

Everybody talks... back

[songbirdseung]

Wishes, come true.

Pairing: Reader X non-idol!JK

Word count: 2.2k

Rating: K+ 

Genre: Angst, Established Relationship

Warnings: the angst hurt, also the hit of reality at the end that this is just a fanfiction

Summary: In a heated argument, words were said. Hurtful wishes that ended up to be true with no unknown way of return. 

A/N: i love you :)))))))) prepare tissues 

Wishes, Come true.

If you had one wish that you could not return, you’ll have to live with it for your whole life, what would it be? Will you ask for endless amounts of money, a happy relationship, or would you ask for someone to vanish from your life?

Considering the state that you and Jungkook were in, you were unsure on what you wanted. Looking through the windows of your car as you drove home, made you reminisce on all the good and bad you have witnessed when you moved to seoul just to be with him. Giving up everything and everyone back home. Your parents warned you that it was a stupid idea, but three years ago you said it was fine and it was what you wanted. But now you realized the honeymoon phase was worn off, long gone. You watched the street lights allow light into the city as the night and darkness was creeping through. It reminded you of how once he was your light, but now it was running out of power and dining everything in your way to a happy life. Jungkook knew you both were unhappy but for whatever reason, he was selfish and did not choose to end the relationship you both shared. Driving while admiring the view was bittersweet, everything reminded you of the bad times. The sky turned dark and rain started to pour, as if the world was in your favor and feeling the same way you were. Everything you have done for Jungkook, up to this point was too much. Skipping classes to attend to his needs, cutting people off to add fire to the fuel of your relationship, lying to others just to keep him staying true and loyal. It was a mess.

Eventually the rain stopped and you finally got out of your car and entered the dark house, the house you could no longer call home. It was silent enough to hear your fast beating heart, nervous that a furious Jungkook will come through the door, ready to finish the argument you walked out on. Looking around the silent house, you found him nowhere to be seen, you looked through his closet, his clothes weren’t there, everything that had to do with you and him was gone. Picture frames, gifts, and shared items they were missing as if they never existed. Not knowing where he went you decided to call him, scrolling through your contacts, his number was not there. Half of your contacts, people you met through Jungkook are gone. You shook it off and went to sleep, assuming he’ll come back to his senses and come back home. 

Meanwhile, Jungkook was back at the dorms, having a blast playing video games with his hyungs. He was laughing and smiling like he never met you. At the house, you were tossing and turning, looking back at your phone, half of your files disappeared, photos, videos, contacts, what was weird was everything that was gone was about Jungkook. Thinking your phone was corrupted you decided to open instagram to DM him. Sure you hated the state you guys were in, but you still loved him. As you scrolled through instagram you started to take notice that the post and feed was the same as it was back in high school, nothing related to your present life. Your profile also led to confusion, you had less posts and followers. You typed up Jungkook’s profile but to your luck, it wasn’t there either. Sleepy, you turned off your phone, wanting to push it for tomorrow. 

Your dreams were even more confusing, it was a collection of memories you had with JUngkook but instead of Jungkook being there it was your family and friends. Things that you would be doing with Jungkook, but he was not there. In the morning, you woke up with a headache. You scanned the room, recognizing your old room back in your home country. “How the-” Nothing was making sense, you walked out the room, as you definitely knew you were at home, Your mom was cooking breakfast with your father. Not noticing your presence, you just watched them being so close and in love with each other. You watched them laugh and hug each other just as if they just started a relationship. Growing up, you grew up with parents that genuinely loved and cared for each other, that is why you looked forward to having a relationship of your own when you grew older. Then you did, you met Jungkook. But the bitter truth came out, the things you saw in TV dramas were not true at all, you soon realized how your parents never showed you their bad side and they hid their arguments. You learned the truth and reality the wrong way, leading you to lose someone you loved. “Good Morning honey” Your mom said from the kitchen, pulling you out of your trance, she told you to sit down and eat breakfast together. You were still confused on what was happening and how did you get here through the night. Throughout the meal your parents striked up the conversation of relationships.

“So when do you plan to get a boyfriend?”

“Don’t rush her, she’s only 22, she has a lot to experience”

“What do you guys mean? Have you already forgotten about my boyfriend, Jungkook?”

You watched their expression go from happy to confused, they asked you multiple questions on who and what you were talking about. Saying they never heard of Jungkook and your so-called relationship with him. For the rest of the day you kept calling your friends, trying to know what the hell was going on, but they did not know anything. You thought it was all a prank but it was definitely not. You sat in your room, dry tears were staining your face while new ones fell down your cheeks, you were lost in this universe not knowing how to fix any of it. You thought of the night you last saw Jungkook, the last argument you have. With you walking out of that door spilling out the bitter words I wish I never met you Jungkook.

Then it all made sense to you, God gave you wanted you wanted even if what you said was said purely out of frustration. The wish you did not want, but now you suffer the consequences. On the other side, Jungkook was meeting up with a woman to go on a date. He was happy and excited. Being the opposite of the person you were. Back in your room, your mom walked in your room with fruits and a box of tissues. 

“I could hear you crying from outside, I’m here to listen to you” You told her everything, although you sounded crazy, she believed you and trusted your words.

After a few weeks of packing, you were now at the airport being dropped off by your family. Just how they did three years ago, instead you leave with a more heaving confused heart. With weeks of planning and thinking you decided to find Jungkook and possibly start over. Hoping everything can go back to normal and you’ll walk up to the night you fought with him but not walking out. Eventually you reached a hotel, not wasting time. You went back to the house you once shared with Jungkook, hoping he was there. You knocked on the door and waited for a few seconds until you heard footsteps. A completely different, unfamiliar person opens the door, a male. “Oh, do I know you?” explaining you were looking for someone, he told you he’s been living here for 3 years now. After apologizing, you left and decided to just go back to the hotel. You received a few glances, I mean, your hair was a mess, you were looking tired, and your outfit was not looking good at the moment. Passing through the city and re-seeing the places you went with Jungkook before. You ended up at the restaurant Jungkook confessed to you. He did it infront of everyone, he got up from his chair earning everyone’s attention. You remember how you hid behind his friends, laughing. You watched Namjoon and Jin trying to bring him down and Hobi apologizing to the other customers in the restaurant. Jungkook just stood there, looking at you, confessing his love to you. Back to reality, you sat at a solo table scanning the room, while remembering the great times you had. Your eyes landed on him, it was him. Unfortunately he was not alone. He was with a beautiful stunning woman who you were now comparing yourself to. Tears were forming in your eyes as you kept staring at him. Without noticing, Jungkook felt a pair of eyes staring at him, now he was the one scanning the room, trying to find the person who was making him uncomfortable. His eyes finally reaching your wet teary ones. He furrowed his brows in confusion, but shrugging it off, he assumed you were in a trance, imagining or maybe just crazy. Although he was feeling so uncomfortable, he excused himself from his date and went over to confront you. “Excuse me?” the tears finally fell as you heard his voice and how he was right in front of you. 

“Jungkook?”

“How do you know my name?”

“I- just guessed?”

“Well, uhm...can you stop staring at me, do I know you?”

“Uhm...well, you do but it is quite complicated”

He was now confused, but interested. Maybe a little scared because maybe you were just trying to kill him or a cult member. Either way, he gave you a number you can call him from and then you can meet up. You thanked the heavens giving you another chance. 

The next day, you met up with him at the same restaurant, but instead of him confessing, it was now your turn. Jungkook was already there waiting for you, minutes after he arrived you walked through the door, being the complete opposite person you were yesterday. Today you did your makeup and hair, put on a cute outfit and met up with him. His eyes widened at your appearance, stunned by your aura. He got up and bowed slightly to greet you. You did not know what approach you were going to go with. Because you did not want to scream and cry in his face pleading him to remember you. You also did not want to lie to him and say you were his classmate and you dated back then. 

“So, are you gonna tell me why you were crying and claiming you know me?”

“Well, it’s really complicated-”

“It’s okay, I have all day”

“Please do not find me crazy when I tell you this?”

“Can’t promise that” He joked, lightening up the mood. Just like how he always did in the beginning to the climax of your relationship. He continues to console you and begging you to tell him, slowly but surely, you told him. He did show any looks of judgement or disguise. He was still ever so understanding. “Let me get this straight, we were dating but you suddenly time travelled?” As crazy as it sounded it was true, Jungkook did not know what to do, he did not believe you but he was kind about it. He continued to explain how he was already in a relationship with someone else and he does not wish to continue to meet up with you. And as you can tell and maybe feel, you were heartbroken. 

You wished to have never met him, you got what you wished for, now you regret it all, upset and now living within a universe you never wanted. Now understanding the phrase be careful what you wish for. Throughout the life you lived, all you wished was to meet someone you can love and cherish, the way your parents did. You wished for Jungkook, and you got him. Thinking all good wishes come true, you took it for granted. Now you’ll have to live life without him. Now you’ll have to go older with someone new but with the memories of Jungkook in your life and the possibilities of what could have been. 

“I’m sorry Jungkook, I’m sorry I wanted your time” It has now been years since you saw Jungkook. He was now married with kids, while you couldn't find anyone new. Haunted by the memories you had with the love of your life. No one could compare, you chose to not waste your time. Your parents were making you go on dates and each one was unsuccessful. Right now, you were back in your hometown, at the rooftop of your house. Looking up at the stars, wishing upon them one last time. 

“Why did you do this to me? I never meant what I said...Jungkook, my jungkook.If you are listening, I’m sorry. I miss you so much, these years I have experienced without you was terrible, it is something I would never choose over you. Now I learned that I should've fought for us and I should have realized what I had. I hope you’ll be happy in her arms. Universe, my last wish is never let anything hurt him...Goodbye Koo”

The End.

[cablecorvid]

The Night I Werked For Slenderman

Ah, the early 2010s, they were really much simpler times. I spent my days doing what most emo kids in their late teens did back then- sitting cross legged in my computer chair and scrolling through Tumblr. I would absentmindedly fiddle with the laces on my checkered Van's while I read through my friends' profiles, reblogging pictures of my favorite bands, and creating posts that were oh so relatable and original, ranging from "lol XD I'm so random" to "I'm so dark and edgy, and nobody understands me" depending on how I felt that day.

It was a night just like any other, just another Wednesday evening when I should have been sleeping before school in the morning. Me being me, the angsty 18 year old guy that I was back then, I had deliberately chosen to stay up late. I was keeping with my typical Tumblr routine, just clicking on various hashtags and hoping from topic to topic, my favorite songs streaming from YouTube on a separate tab.

I had always likened myself to the Mad Hatter, but you might as well call me Alice, because that night I fell down the most life-changing rabbit hole I would ever find. This was the night I discovered the realm of the Creepypasta.

It was like a whole new world had opened up to me. I went through so many posts, each one introducing me to or teaching me about the greatest creations of classic Creepypasta- Jeff the Killer, Smile Dog, Ben Drowned, one right after the other. After several hours of scrolling and clicking and almost a whole can of Monster, I was engrossed, disturbed and intrigued. Images of so many terrifying creatures had filled my mind; I had read just about enough on this topic for one night and was planning on finding something new to look at when I told myself I'd scroll down to one last post...

That was when I saw him. The tall man in black. The crown prince of Creepypasta. The one, the only, Slenderman. He seemed so simple, and yet so unnerving. The grainy black and white photo attached to the post sent chills down my spine. I was hooked, I just had to learn more. Before I knew it, another hour had passed. The can that once held my energy drink was empty, and I wasn't going to stop reading until I was thoroughly versed on all things Slender.

I don't remember what was on before, but I took just a moment to change the song playing on YouTube. Everyone has that one guilty pleasure song that makes them want to bust a move, and I found mine right at the top of my "recommended videos" list. Now, an important side note: the 2010s were a wild mix of pop culture advancements. Alongside the rise of the Creepypasta and the Emo genre, a new dance trend had come into the limelight: the twerk. My best friend, Victoria, who ran in the "cool" circles at school, had attempted to teach me, but I hadn't ever been what you would call good at it. I turned the song on, clicking back on the Tumblr tab on my browser, and kept scrolling, dancing in my chair and singing along while I read.

Over the sound of my music, I heard a tapping noise. I thought it must be the wind or something. I ignored it until again, I heard it, a tap tap tap coming from my window, louder this time. I turned around and felt my heart drop, letting out a scream. The pale, faceless figure I had been reading about was standing outside of my house, his long black tentacles snaking out from his body and, every so often, bumping against the glass with another tap. "This can't be real!" I said to myself, stifling another scream. I turned around to turn off my music, but instead of my regular browser the page was a background of static and, to my shock, the still image of a hyperrealistic set of asscheeks, clad in black formal trousers. It looked like they could pop out of my monitor at any time.

I jumped out of my chair and ran across the room. This can't be happening, I told myself. But, in my heart I knew it had to be. I turned around and he was still there, and he was… Shaking. His menacing form blocked the moonlight, casting a long thin shadow that wobbled through my room. We stared at one another for a little while until I caught my breath. A tendril pressed at the edge of my window, trying to open it. I realized that I hadn't locked it after my last time sneaking out of the house, but it was far too late to do anything now- eventually, after, prodding and pushing, the window gave a creak as it opened and the noodly appendage slipped inside. It curled and gestured towards Slenderman, as if it was beckoning me to come forward. I don't know what possessed me to do so, but I made the decision to go outside and face him, man to man.

I made my way through the house, through the kitchen to our back entrance, hoping desperately with each step that he would be gone by the time I got out of the house. My hopes were dashed when I threw the door open and stepped out into the chilly night air. I realized then, as I laid eyes on him, what he was doing- it was something that I can’t fully describe even to this day. Slenderman, the internet legend himself, was throwing it back in a way I had never seen before, and may never see again. He turned his head slowly, menacingly, his eyeless gaze landing upon me.

No story I read could have prepared me for this encounter, for that itty bitty waist and the round thing in my face. Slenderman, they called him? I beg to differ. Those thighs, that booty? He was thicc. So very, very thicc. He stared at me, unflinching. I stared back in shock, examining the scene before me. One of tentacle-like tendrils made its way towards me, the same beckoning motion it had in my bedroom. I took a step forward. “Okay, big guy. What do you want?” I said aloud, my own courage surprising me.

Slenderman slowed to a stop, then stood straight up. His height, his stance, it shook me to my core. Then, he slowly took his former position once more, his hands on his knees, and waited, his unseeing glare seemingly peering through my very soul. “What do you want?! I already asked you.” Slenderman tilted his head quizzically. He raised his hand slowly, gesturing to me, then returned it to its place on his knee.

My eyes widened, the realization hitting me. “Do you want….. You want me to…. Join you?” I sputtered. He nodded slowly, and I paused. What was I doing? Was I really about to twerk with a being so powerful he struck fear into the hearts of anyone who saw him and could make me disappear without a trace? I told myself that if this really could be the last night of my life I might as well have fun with it. I placed my hands on my knees as he had and nodded to him. It was then that Slenderman started to twerk once more. I slowly shook my head, he slowly shook his ass. I heard the music from my computer grow louder and he really got into it. I tried my best to keep up but there was no way I could match his technique- he was just so advanced and so fluid in his movements. His hips moved in ways that no human could ever compare to, shaking what his momma or whatever unholy creature that made him gave him.

I can’t tell you how long we werked it for, but I could feel my legs growing tired. I wouldn’t dare stop until he was ready to, though I was afraid he could go on forever. I tried to follow his form, shaking it to the beat of the music, but I knew I wouldn’t last much longer. I was almost ready to admit defeat, to collapse after the vigorous dancing that I’d been doing.

My saving grace came in the form of my mother’s voice, and I spun around just as she flicked a switch and flooded the kitchen with light. “What on God’s green Earth are you doing out here, blaring your music at this time of night?!” My mother screamed at me as I put an arm up, shielding my eyes from the sudden illumination.

“It’s not what you think Mom, it’s!-” I turned to look back at Slenderman, but, to my surprise, he had vanished. Not a fleck of dirt on the ground was disturbed where he had once stood- he had completely and utterly vanished.

“I don’t want to hear any lip from you! You get back inside this instant, turn off that racket, and get yourself to bed! Do you hear me?”

“But Mo-”

“No buts!” Mom snapped, grabbing my arm and pulling me indoors. As she shut the door behind me, I thought to myself. If only she knew what I had just experienced. Maybe she would have known that “buts” were the whole reason I was out there in the first place. I promptly went to my room, turned off the music, and slept like a rock. When I woke in the morning, I questioned myself. Could it really have been real? Did that actually happen? I knew in my heart that it could be, that it was, and that it did.

It’s been years since that night. I don’t think of it all that often, but anytime I’m in the club or dancing in my room and bussin it down, I get a chill and the memories come flooding back to me. Not out of fear, no no, simply out of my mad respect for the best in the game. If there’s any lesson that I hope you take from this story, dear reader, it’s this: If you should find yourself in the presence of the creature of your nightmares, don’t throw away your dreams. Throw some ass. You may just be alright after all.

Source: The Night I Werked For Slenderman - u/SkeletonicKeys on r/Iconpasta

[isa-ghost]

Corruption AU

*Galaxy brains*

Catch me tempted to start a whole AU based off my theory that Chase got corrupted at the end of Dark Silence and is living through slowly changing and growing sick and discovering freaky powers he didn’t have before and realizing this is what his comatose best friend went through before the August 3rd/March 5th operation was hijacked by Anti.

Oh god this might be a temporary muse but god am I about to blow it up real quick anyway. There’s details on it below the cut.

Henrik is the one who put Jack in the coma and regrets it deeply. Half-possessed by Anti in the moment he did it, he knew Jack would die unless he induced a coma to stabilize him easier than blindly trying to figure out how Anti his possessed self was killing him.

He wasn’t gone for 9 months but rather 2. In-game the time Jack flatlined was March 5th, 2018 and Henrik reappeared May 3rd, 2018. He has barely revealed any info about what happened in that time, but any time he’s opened up about it to the other egos, Jack’s comatose body, or in vlogs on the channel, he gets extremely anxious and can’t elaborate. He’s trying to coach himself into healing enough to tell the story so it won’t happen to others.

It wasn’t one big operation from August 3rd, 2017 to March 5th, 2018. Jack was in the hospital on and off suffering severe affects from Anti’s constant assaults on him. Anti hijacked the August 3rd operation and March 5th operations. He might’ve hijacked a few in-between but nowhere near the level of chaos and damage on those two days. (I haven’t decided yet lol).

Henrik saved Chase’s life after a suicide attempt soon after his divorce was filed (Bro Average) and is very protective of him, but stretches himself incredibly thin between caring for Jack, watching over Chase, and dealing with his own trauma.

Obviously Chase took over the channel for Jack in his place. The community is suspecting he’s him and not Jack slowly, which he’s somewhat worried about, but hasn’t seen any anger about it yet so he feels like it won’t be a big horrific reveal if he ever gives up the facade and comes clean. It was hard enough watching Henrik’s vlog announcing Jack’s coma.

Being that he’s running the channel in Jack’s place when that’s (one of many things?) what Anti wants to do in order to gain more power, Anti attacked him (Dark Silence) and this is how/why Chase is slowly suffering the slow corruption Jack did from October 2016 to now.

Chase blacked out for a very long time after Dark Silence but beelined for Henrik when he came to his senses. When he found Henrik, he started to grow unstable again and broke down about being cornered by Anti and not knowing what was happening to him now before completely snapping again. Henrik had to fend him off, restrain him, and then had a minor trauma-related meltdown because his best friend is going through what he did on August 3rd and March 5th. Little does he know, this is going to progress far beyond just two one-off traumatic possessions and a two month kidnapping.

Anti lurks around constantly in between times harassing the community or toying with Jack’s comatose body on occasion. He’s watching and very much savoring the downward spiral Chase is in. A majority of what’s happened since May 2018 has been Chase glitching and acting strange rather than Anti, hence the camera/screen glitching more often than his physical body. The remaining fractions of cryptic/glitchy videos has been Anti hacking into the channel and reminding the community he’s lurking. After each time he’s done this, Henrik and Chase have had to reset all passwords to Jack’s social media that they’ve been using to make sure he’s kept out.

Sometimes Chase doesn’t feel/realize/see the recording getting meddled with by himself until well after its uploaded and he sees the community panicking about it, other times he’s well aware it’s going on and is acting that way on camera on purpose because he’s experiencing corruption affects or having blackouts. He‘s ashamed of himself for letting the community see what’s happening to him. Little did he know Anti had cameras record what he did to Chase and uploaded it to the channel so they all already know something is deeply wrong with Chase. He doesn’t have the will to go into detail about everything and clarify, so even though he’s upset about all the different speculations and theories about what’s going on because most of them are incorrect, he’d rather leave them to their own devices because the truth is complicated and messy and would be way too much to explain in a video or post.

Not only Chase, but Henrik keeps in close communication with the community. He keeps them up to date on Jack’s condition, how he personally is doing, how anniversaries and birthdays go, if Anti makes any appearances off-screen around them, his progress with finding Marvin and small updates from Jackie.

Jackie and Marvin are Henrik’s best friends since before Henrik met Chase. They all met through Jack. The coma struck all three of them with different kinds of grief. Jackie stopped heroing for a while and has kept a pretty low profile. He’s too distraught to fight as hard as he usually does and he’s also terrified he’s next on Anti’s list. He Probably Is. Marvin has completely vanished and nobody has heard from him. The truth is, he’s wiped himself off the radar to practice every type of magic he can find a way to learn about. He’s relentlessly training himself to avenge Jack and keep Anti away from the others.

Jameson is a sort of wild card buzzing around wherever needed. He typically hangs around Henrik, who saved him between operations on Jack. Anti attacked him the moment he was created to get him either on his side or out of the picture so he had less loose ends to tie up. He mutilated Jameson’s throat and left him for dead (though Jameson was created mute, the subtle throat scar he has is a common misconception people have when they first meet him). Jackie and Marvin found him, brought him to Henrik, and he was saved. Now recovered, he’s slowly taught Jackie, Marvin, and Chase BSL (Henrik already knew it in case of disabled patients), and floats between places doing whatever he can to help. He knows minor medical assistance from Henrik and helps him with Jack sometimes, he guards Jack’s hospital room (he’s got rapidly developing time powers and he’s not afraid to use them), practices said developing powers on his down time, and just generally does whatever small things he can to make life easier on the other four.

Jackie and Marvin had no idea Dark Silence happened until they both (at separate times on their own) found Anti’s footage on the channel. They’ve sunken even deeper into the grieving/coping methods they developed after Jack went into a coma.

Quit the Game to Win, most (if not all) of the X Scary Games, 1 Video series, any other videos we’ve had random, strange, fiery panic-worthy behavior and glitches from since May 2018 are all Chase. If someone were to watch the videos consecutively, Chase’s deterioration would be a lot more clear, a lot more scary, and a lot more heartbreaking.

So far Chase’s side affects are small glitches, mood swings, nose bleeds, ears ringing, nightmares, random blackouts (usually in which he does cryptic shit or uncharacteristic and unnerving behavior during), headaches, paranoia, and several other (mostly mental) symptoms.

For now, Henrik and Chase are waiting things out. Both of them are very stressed, scared, and tired.

Might edit this (will reblog if I do) or just straight up reblog it with more info if I think up more,,,, if I ever touch this AU again?? Idk it was spontaneous and usually my muses like that don’t last long. XD But I’d be happy to keep this an occasional writing prompt thing or something... Hmmmmm...

Also if you wanna send me asks/write/draw about this AU ever, feel free! Just tell me and tag me! :0

[dangerscully]

The Mundane Lockdown Diaries, UK edition

I figured I’d post some everyday mundane content, just because I’m finding experiences around the world to be really interesting to compare. So here goes. 

(For reference, the UK went into “lockdown”, although a less strict one than some other countries have put into place, on Monday evening. We are allowed out to exercise once per day, to go to the shops for essentials as infrequently as possible, and to work if you’re a “key worker” and unable to work from home. The police have been given new powers to enforce this with dispersal orders and the use of fines, as well as arrest powers for non-compliance. Businesses not deemed as essential are closed, so pretty much the only things open are pharmacies and supermarkets).

Today I went to the supermarket for the first time in over a week. 

We had to queue outside – with a 2 metre gap between people – as they were limiting the number of shoppers inside the store at any one time. Luckily we have uncharacteristically gorgeous weather in Wales at the moment so it was a nice break to stand in the sun (especially now that the lockdown has limited our time allowed outside to very specific reasons), however this will be utterly miserable when the usual rain returns. Although it’s becoming normal, it’s still very surreal to see people queueing outside, wearing masks and gloves, with security staff overseeing the queueing process.

The queue was fairly long but only due to being spaced out, and I was let inside within 5 minutes. Inside the front door, a staff member greeted every customer and told them to keep 2 metres away from fellow shoppers and from staff members, and informed us that they’d implemented a one-way system in the aisles to avoid people getting closer than that. They also had a rule that each customer could only get 3 of each item (I’m lucky to live in a two-person household, bigger households and large families will struggle with this rule, but it’s obviously there for a reason!).

Most things are back in stock! Pasta is still low, as are frozen veg, and tinned tomatoes and pulses, however there are barely any totally empty shelves – totally different from how it was last time I set foot inside. I was able to pick up several things that I haven’t been able to find over the past couple of weeks. The only things on my list that I struggled to get were stock powder and one specific type of cereal, however the cereal aisle was pretty full apart from that.

The 2 metre system was in place at the tills too, with markings on the floor to show customers where to stand. All of the staff on tills were wearing gloves, however they didn’t have the perspex screens up like I’ve seen other supermarkets install for the protection of their staff. 

Everyone was friendly, and despite everything it was actually a more pleasant shopping experience than normal. I’m grateful to have not seen any of the abuse which I know that some retail workers have experienced during this. 

I’m currently debating how to spend my one (1) government-approved daily outdoor exercise. I normally go to the gym 3-5 times a week, but stopped doing that over 2 weeks ago. So I’ve been going for a walk most days, and yesterday I went for a cycle. I may try a jog today – I dislocated my knee(!) a few weeks back so it put me out of action for a while and I’m still very much in the rehab portion of recovery, but I’m almost there so may try my first jog. 

My job means that work (and therefore my income) completely and utterly dried up a few weeks ago when the virus really started to take hold here, so I have no work to fill my time with. Usually on my quiet days / weeks work-wise, I fill my days with going to the gym, wandering around town, popping to the shops, or driving somewhere scenic for a walk – all of which are pretty much out of the equation at the moment. 

The government last night, about a week after announcing similar measures for employed people, announced a grant for self-employed people that I should hopefully qualify for – although I won’t receive the money for well over two months. It has, however, taken a huge weight of financial burden off my chest, but I feel incredibly sorry for the huge number of self-employed people who, for various reasons, will not qualify for the grant. I know of far too many people who are looking to receive absolutely no help in all of this, and are on the verge of going totally broke as a result. 

In the meantime, I’ve been getting really good at Mario Kart(!) in all of this spare time, while totally putting off all of the tidying up I could be doing around my flat. This week I’ve forced myself to get back into reading books – my brain had a Moment at the end of 2019 and my concentration, focus, and executive function just vanished, and I’ve struggled to read since. I’m aiming to read at least two books a month, until I get back to my usual pattern of it being more like four a month. So we’ll see how that goes!

Today our Prime Minister and Health Secretary both announced that they’ve tested positive for COVID-19, days after Prince Charles announced the same. Hopefully these high profile cases will make the few people still not taking it seriously start to do so.

I’m very grateful that this horrible situation is at least happening in a time where technology can help us feel less alone. I’ve taken part in so many group-watches, video chats, games nights etc all with the help of the internet and various apps. 

And I absolutely cannot wait to hug my friends when this is all over. 

Stay home, stay safe, and wash your hands, folks!

[evilisk]

Reading Len’En Profiles Pt 3

We’re rounding off the cast of EMS by looking at the “Yachie-length”* profiles of Sukune and the Snakes.

(*No seriously, these profiles are frigging big)

= = =

So the three upcoming profiles don’t just give us details about each individual character. The information between the three characters give us a complete backstory to the events of Earthen Miraculous Sword. This backstory can be summarized as:

In Len’En’s version of the Orochi myth, Orochi’s corpse lead to the birth of 7 Adagumo Siblings (with Yaorochi being the sword wielding arm of Orochi, and Saragimaru being one of their Eyes).

Though they were born from Orochi’s corpse and vowed revenge on those that killed them, Yaorochi only really had eyes for the sword stolen from them, the Kusanagi / Tasouken. Their obsession with Tasouken even lead to them attacking Saragimaru at some point.

Yaorochi went after the Tasouken when it was lost at sea during, what I think is, the Len’En version of the Tale of Genji (I’m only vaguely familiar with the Tale of Genji between the Warriors Orochi and Genji series of games, so I might be wrong on this). Saragimaru waited for their return by the shore while the remaining Adagumo siblings perished without completing their revenge.

Yaorochi returned with Tasouken, but it was completely rusted at this point. Saragimaru witnessed this return, but Yaorochi did not seem to be aware of who they were (it is mentioned in Saragimaru’s profile that they did not get to reveal themselves as family to Yaorochi, which means they certainly met at one point).

For a time it seemed that Yaorochi had been lifted from their obsession with the blade. Then Yaorochi vanishes. There’s a big timeskip between the next “meeting” of Saragimaru and Yaorochi. Yaorochi begins to fall into a type of depression.

Saragimaru eventually notices Yaorochi in Mugenri. They realize that Yaorochi has become hollow due to the state of the sword. They become sickened by this, as they fear Yaorochi’s obsession with Tasouken, as well as Tasouken’s true power, but they cannot bring back the “true” Yaorochi without reviving Tasouken.

Saragimaru commissions Sukune to create the clay replica, but they don’t pick up the completed sword. Despite this, Yaorochi eventually runs into Sukune and notices the blade.

Yaorochi lies to Sukune, pretending to be a holy servant who can make Sukune’s works complete (there’s this whole bit about crafting and divine spirits in Sukune’s profile that you can check out on your own). They plan the ritual to transfer the power of Tasouken into the clay replica.

The story ends at “designated protagonist breaking into the ritual chamber, about to confront Yaoorchi”

As for my personal thoughts on this backstory... this backstory is so sad :/ It’s also really compelling. But it’s just really sad T_T, like will somebody please give Saragimaru a hug?? They have been through so much.

Before I go on, I should mention that Tasouken, the secret boss of Stage 6, also has a profile, though I don’t feel like talking about it as Tasouken isn’t really a character. The most relevant info here is that Tasouken apparently can’t be wielded by humans. This basically confirms that Orochi was a youkai (this was not clear just from Yaorochi’s profile) which his leads me to wonder if Saragimaru’s dislike of humans comes from Orochi’s death by trickery...

Anyway, onto the character relevant parts of each profile. 

= = =

Stage 5 Boss - Sukune Katano

Original Opinion: I can’t lie here, I kind of knew about Sukune before my deep dive into this series. Ages ago, I watched a video of Earthen Miraculous Sword (I think it was probably Jaimers’ clear of the game). The bosses didn’t really impress me at the time... up until I got to Sukune’s fight. Sukune’s fight kind of blew me away. It’s hard not to be impressed by like, giant Haniwa and Haniwa artilleries. Their fight also helped me *get* what Len’En’s aesthetic is meant to be (it’s drab and low technology af)

When I finally got the chance to fight them for myself, I was just as impressed as the first time I saw them in action, though Sukune’s personality didn’t seem very appealing (again, I don’t like ditzy characters). Now that I’ve gone through and recorded all their conversations for my side-blog, and have also played RMI, I think I can say I honestly like Sukune. When I get to making a “Top Len’En Characters” post, I’ll probably go into more detail there, but all you need to know is Sukune is a character that’s interesting in their first appearance and only gets more interesting the further you get into the series.

Thoughts on their profile: 

Most of their profile is lore about how divine spirits work and that’s whatever. I mean, I get why it’s there. It’s to explain the backstory and how Yaorochi’s plot works. I just don’t have any meaningful commentary about it.

When the profile mentioned how Sukune feels most of their works are incomplete failures, I really felt that. Also, now I can’t help but feel Kuroji is kind of a jerk for dismissing their works.

Though I also feel bad about Sukune being tricked by Yaorochi too.

Sukune loving to open sake bottles but not actually liking to drink alcohol is the funniest thing.

New Opinion: I don’t think my opinion has changed of them, but they’re still really, really cool and I’m so glad that they became one of the series’ recurring player characters

= = =

Stage 6 Boss - Adagumo no Yaorochi

Original Opinion: I didn’t really care for Yaorochi in EMS. I felt they were outshone by every other boss (in terms of personality and musical theme), though their fight was still kind of fun. RMI made me like them a bit more between their powerful shot type, their cool Team theme and their depiction in their route. They give off a really strong “why did I leave my house, I should have just stayed indoors with Tasouken” and it is honestly hilarious. 

Basically, EMS Yaorochi is a cheesy, boring villain, while RMI Yaorochi is more like a single-minded, anti-social dork who immediately regrets trying to get out of their comfort zone

Thoughts on their profile: 

Yaorochi still seems like a massive dork, but the bit about them basically having had depression makes them so much more relatable now.

I think the strange “love triangle” going on between Yaorochi, Tasouken and Saragimaru is fascinating. Saragimaru cares for Yaorochi, Yaorochi only cares for Tasouken, and Tasouken’s full potential can seemingly only be used by Saragimaru, but Saragimaru has no interest in anything other than Yaorochi’s happiness. It’s just all so interesting. It’s just a shame that Yaorochi is the least interesting character in this dynamic, since they know absolutely nothing about what’s going on.

I’m glad that Yaorochi is at least mentioned as feeling bad for tricking Sukune, though I’m not sure how I feel about Yaorochi and Sukune still being a thing in RMI.

New Opinion: While I like Yaorochi a bit more, I still think I’d have to rank them low on the EMS cast. No offense to Yaorochi at all, but someone’s gotta be last, and if I have to choose between Sluggo and Snek being in that spot, well...

= = =

Stage EX Boss - Adagumo no Saragimaru

Original Opinion: I also felt Saragimaru was a little underwhelming in EMS, though I still ended up liking them over their sibling for their design and their amazing boss theme. RMI made it easier to like them since they got partnered with my favourite MC and gave them hilarious banter with them. I wouldn’t put them over Sukune or Hibaru, but I’d say they’re comfortably tied with Lumen and Jun for third. In all, I like ‘em for the fun banter and the dorky Youmu-esque vibes I get from them.

Thoughts on their profile: 

Somebody please give this snek a hug, they have been through so much T_T

More seriously, the whole “can’t seem to approach Yaorochi” thing explains why Saragimaru acts like such a weirdo when you encounter them in RMI as Yaorochi

As I mentioned before, the whole Yaorochi -> Tasouken -> Saragimaru -> Yaorochi triangle is just so fascinating. It’s rather interesting that Saragimaru can theoretically use Tasouken to its full potential (wait, is it “can” is it “could have”, now that Tasouken is a bottle opener)

I just realized that Yaorochi/Saragimaru is the Koishi/Satori and Flandre/Remilia dynamic but more compelling. 

Wait, this weird “unappreciated sibling” dynamic is why they got paired up with Kuroji isn’t it? That pairing makes so much more sense now.

New Opinion: Yeah okay, I think after reading through their profile, Saragimaru is easily my third favourite Earthen Miraculous Sword character. It’s a bit unfair to Lumen and Jun as they’re side characters that get much smaller profiles, but Saragimaru is so incredibly interesting to me now.

= = =

Final Thoughts

I am actually really impressed with JynX’s writing in this game. Evanescent Existence’s story and characters didn’t really impress me, even if it was conceptually very interesting. Earthen Miraculous Sword was not only an immediate improvement (since one of my favourite characters is a flippin’ Stage 1 Boss) but I actually feel that the writing is on par with the Touhou series. And I’m not one of those people that dismisses the writing in Touhou either; the whole Tasouken / Saragimaru / Yaorochi backstory and dynamic is easily as compelling as Touhou’s best. 

If there’s one thing I take issue with, it’s that all the best writing in this game is confined to the profiles rather than the in-game banter... even that’s not a huge issue to me since it’s an issue that could just as easily be said of the official Touhou games (the shooters at least). 

= = =

Ranking the EMS Cast:

Hibaru Kokutenshi

Sukune Katano

Adagumo no Saragimaru

Jun Amanomiya / Lumen Celeritas

Shou Amanomori

Adagumo no Yaorochi

[mostlysignssomeportents]

20 years of blogging at Boing Boing

Twenty years ago today, Boing Boing became a blog. Mark Frauenfelder's first post linked to Street Tech, a now-dormant gadget blog. Now there are 160,000 more posts just like it and the impossible task of summarizing the best of them in yet another.

Founded as a print zine in 1988 by Mark and Carla Sinclair, Mark's personal retrospective posted earlier today is a must-read; following are a few of our greatest hits, proudest accomplishments, clickiest traffic monsters, and best features of all time.

Despite the tens of millions of words in our database – mostly wonderful things – it's oftentimes the shortest posts that get the most attention.

So it was with Xeni Jardin's Ralph Lauren opens new outlet store in the Uncanny Valley, a single-sentence reblog of a now-vanished post at another site highlighting the incompetently dysmorphic photomanipulations in one of the fashion house's ads.

Ralph Lauren tried to force us to remove the post, to no avail.

That wasn't our first rodeo, either. In 2008, were were sued by MagicJack, makers of a VoIP dongle, after criticizing its terms of service. We stood our ground and beat them in court. Ten years later, Playboy sued us for posting about someone else's uploaded cover collection, claiming that linking to things is a form of copyright infringement. We beat them too, with the help of able friends at the Electronic Frontier Foundation.

It's not all law and chaos, though.

Mark Frauenfelder says he's most proud of his two-part series on the fortified residential mailboxes of Los Angeles, Survival of the fittest mailbox and Fortified mailboxes, part 2. Readers, though, say his greatest gift to the world of letters is the gentlemen of Boing Boing.

A trilogy of Cory Doctorow's most incisive writing on technology, policy and freedom is found in Lockdown, based on his keynote speech to the Chaos Computer Congress in 2011, The Coming Civil War over General Purpose Computing, and Anodyne Anonymity. Also, would you just look at that banana. Furthermore, Christ, what an asshole.

David Pescovitz is a collector of unpopular culture with an affinity for haunted ontology, mall nostalgia and cryptids (more!, with a Grammy on the shelf for his part in reissuing the Voyager Golden Record.

But it's his touching obituary for Mark, his older brother, that will not be forgotten.

Xeni Jardin's posted countless articles about cutting-edge tech and light-hearted nods to the wonders of the web, and more seriously about politics, but it's her writing about cancer, hers and others', that sticks with readers. The Diagnosis; When life hands you cancer, make cancer-ade; Obamacare saved my life; Cancer and cannabis: How I learned to stop worrying and love medical marijuana; A medal for completing breast cancer treatment; and We should be worried that science has not yet brought us closer to understanding cancer.

Rob Beschizza's The Weird of Wendy Pini profiles one of America's most successful women cartoonists. His random generators include the Psygnosis Game Generator, the North Korean Press Release Generator and the Audiophile Hardware Review Generator. (For those who don't revile them, Rob's disturbing mouth-eyed politician shoops are collected in the gallery item Corinthian Leather). Fissure opens in Chess AI scene is a deep dive into a code-plagiarism scandal. He once reviewed a loaf of snot.

He eulogized his mother, Mandy Johnson, in 2016.

Did you know Boing Boing publisher Jason Weisberger was namechecked in a saucy romance novel?

Jason has also written obituaries for his close friends Molly, Lucy, Calliope and Nemo.

We published critical games writing under the aegis of Offworld, edited by Leigh Alexander: All the women I know in video games are tired and Why Silent Hill mattered. Zoë Quinn's call to creative arms, Punk Games, remains as relevant now as it was five years ago.

Laura Hudson's Women take a place at the pinball table is a deep look at a unique competetive area, complemented by her excellent reviews of games as different as Undertale — choose to kill monsters or understand them — and Bloodborne — In Bloodborne's brutal world, I found myself.

Our longtime science editor Maggie Koerth-Baker's analysis of the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear disaster was featured in the anthology The Best Science Writing Online 2012. Don't miss her profile of James Watson, either.

Though known for chaingun blogging, we pioneered the trend toward Fancy Lookin' Features on the web, such as Maggie's Cassini Trip Reset, highlighting the astonishing imagery from NASA's probe, and Rob Beschizza's Friendly Darkness in the Palace of Utopian Fantasy, linking rare threads of modern and Victorian fantasy.

Here's just a few more of the nice features we've published over the years:

1906: Vintage Photographs by Mike Shaughnessy Leaking Secrets, leaking Blood by Raul Gutierrez Death in Space, by Maggie Koerth-Baker Ghost Babies, by Mark Dery A Season in Hell, by Mark Dery Hajj for Heathens, by Omar Chatriwala Maps, by Simon Parkin

Other guests are too many to mention – there are more than five hundred contributors in our archives now – but they account for many of our finest posts. Among the best are Sawyer Rosenstein's Don't tell me the sky is the limit when there are footprints on the moon and the many annual iterations of David Ng and Ben Cohen's Halloween Candy Hierarchy.

Glenn Fleishman's Domo Arigato, Mr. Roboto is typeset in the then-new Google typeface it was about, and What it's like to be on Jeopardy is about his brief but impressive stint on the game show.

Unseen World War I photos: German Trenches reveals a unique collection of photographs inherited by Dean Putney, our longtime developer, from his great-grandfather Walter Koessler.

Carl Malamud is well-known for Liberating America's secret, for-pay laws, and we're immensely proud to have helped him make his stand.

We've also published loads of fiction over the years, including our own, such as Cory's By His Things Will You Know Him and The Man Who Sold The Moon, Jason's Kevin's List, and Rob's Mixtape of the Lost Decade, Such Bravery and Nomen Ludi.

Finally, here are our top traffic posts since we started counting: a master key for winning at blogging. But only if you have a time machine, because the web, as they say, is dead.

1. Nigerian astronaut lost in space

2. Rickrolling is sexist, racist and often transphobic in context

3. 'To Donald Trump,' by Leland Melvin, former NASA Astronaut and NFL Player

4. 16-year-old girl who took nude selfie photos faces adult sex charges

5. Campus rapist given lenient sentence to avoid "severe impact on him"

6. Man stole $122m from Facebook and Google by sending them random bills, which the companies dutifully paid

7. Climate change denier Rupert Murdoch just bought National Geographic, which gives grants to scientists

8. Trump is angry at NBC News for using this photo of him, so please don't use this enhanced, enlarged version of it for anything

9. I'm married. I'm a woman. I'm addicted to porn.

10. For sale: (1) California ghost town

https://boingboing.net/2020/01/21/20-years-of-blogging-at-boing.html

[readyplayerhobi]

Symphony of Sin - The Graveyard Series

A series where I just post whatever I’ve written of fics I have no intention of finishing. Someone may as well enjoy them! They’re obviously not finished, nor are they proof-read, nor will they likely make sense! Scenes may jump around and so forth but...who knows, maybe you’ll enjoy?

Metal Vocallist!Taehyung x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Synopsis: Your world is softness and sweetness, gentle ballads of pure words and light, catchy beats merging together in dreams come to life. His world is hard and loud, songs of anger and rage pounded out of instruments in nightmares given song. But what happens when those worlds collide?

-

The tinkling of windchimes in the light breeze combined with the warmth of sun as you leaned back on your hands. Eyes closed, it felt like a tiny piece of heaven right here on Earth and you were loathe to ever let it go.

“Okay, nice! I’ve got it!” Momo called out, causing you to open your eyes and look over in her direction. She’s knelt on the floor, a Canon camera in her hands with a large wide-angle lens protruding from it that she’s currently intensely looking at, checking over the photos she’d taken.

You were both shooting your new music single cover image, lovingly titled ‘Afternoon Sun’. Sitting down next to her, you take a peek at the photographs and smile fondly. In the tiny image viewer, you’re sat on the windowsill with rays of sun beaming in and lighting up dust particles the float aimlessly around you.

The sheer, gauzy white curtains are blowing gently and the lighting gives an odd juxtaposition of shadows and brightness. A navy blue dress reaches mid-thigh and your legs drape over the edge, ending in pointed toes that years of ballet have given you.

It looks ethereal and whimsical, like a dream sequence that has been brought to life and to you, it’s like your song has taken physical form. Smiling at Momo, you connect up the camera to your MacBook and begin to upload the images, getting ready to edit them to perfection.

There’s plenty of people that happily call you hippie, deriding your indie music and style with a sneer. Your music is light hearted lyrics that belay deep meanings, softly sung words that when listening closely reveal your soul being poured out.

Songs about love and life, your health and your friends. Songs about heart wrenching love and songs about soul crushing despair. They are the songs that live in your head and are poured out onto paper, a keyboard, a piano; whatever you can find that will let the melodies and words flow.

While artists such as Shawn Mendes, Ed Sheeran, Lorde and Adele have made music and songs like yours more popular, there seems to be a limit to what people will accept. Music that is produced by the big labels is lauded as beautiful and game changing, smaller singer-songwriters like yourself seem to struggle and get derided.

Hippie music, boring music, music to die to. It seems that if there isn’t a voice layered over itself sixteen times along with a little auto-tuning and a ton of electronic instruments, people aren’t interested. It doesn’t bother you though, as you’re just happy making the music you like with the people you love.

Your little musical corner wasn’t very big, and you’re listener count hovered somewhere around 10,000 people on Spotify. Not even remotely enough to make a living off but you enjoyed self publishing your music. Your main job was as a photographer and videographer, though even that made living hard sometimes.

It did make shooting your music videos easy though as you simply asked your friends to help and your boss, the owner of the photograph studio, was always happy to expand his skills on his time off. You’d become a little renowned among your small circle for your high quality videos made on a low budget that spoke of sincerity while showing creativity.

But despite your small following on Spotify and Soundcloud, your fans were incredibly loyal and supportive. Any negative tweets when you were having a bad day were responded to with plenty of love and attention, causing a smile to rise each time.

You loved each and every one of them, even if you couldn’t meet all of them. The small fanbase you had was part of the reason you kept doing this, even though you had no real reason to carry on like you did.

So caught up in your photographs, finding the perfect one required close scrutiny to ensure there was nothing wrong and that the angle and lighting were perfect, you didn’t notice Momo’s sharp inhale of breath next to you.

It’s only when she begins to poke your stomach insistently that you look over, a frown marring your forehead at the interruption. She doesn’t notice though, too busy focused on her phone and gesturing to it insistently.

“Oh my god, oh my god! Y/N, oh my god!” Is all she says constantly, waving her phone around so much you can only see a blur of light. Scowling, you grab her arm to stop her.

“What?! What is it?” Momo looks at you with wide eyes before turning the phone screen to you, allowing you to see the familiar layout of Twitter staring up at you. The tweet is from some verified account that you’ve never heard of, answering someone else’s tweet. The original tweet is in a little box under their answer and you read that first.

Claire Fairngold @3scap3th3vort3x

@enterthevortex Taehyung! What’s your favourite song lately? #kimtaehyung #taehyungtime

The verified account had answered it and your eyes read over it for a moment without quite taking it in.

Enter The Vortex @enterthevortex

Thanks for your question! My favourite song right now is ‘It’s You And Me Against The World’ by @Y/N. Probably not what people expected but check her out, she’s very good!

You stare in confusion at the words, confused as to who on Earth this person was that had recommended your song. It was a year old song and one of your favourites, written when you thought you were in love and could conquer the world. The relationship had fizzled out but you still remembered happy times when you listened to it.

It’s only then that you capture the retweet and like counts and your eyes widen immediately in shock.

67K retweets, 367K likes and over 10K replies, to a tweet from someone you’d never even heard of! Tapping the user handle, the page loads up to reveal a cover photo of a huge arena crowd with six guys stood in front of them, hands held up together as stage lighting illuminates them from behind.

The profile picture is a band logo that is elegant yet imposing at the same time, white text on a black background. 7 million people follow this group, and you’ve never even heard of them. Looking at Momo in confusion, you watch as her lips twist into a smile before she’s leaning over, fingers pressing on the touchscreen and navigating back to your own profile.

“Look at that. That’s just in the last half an hour since he tweeted that. This is ridiculous!” She squealed, hands clapping together excitedly. In complete opposition, you sit in silence as you stare at your own follower count.

It had been hovering at just over 5,000 people for a few weeks now and you’d been pretty happy with it. But now you had over 100,000 followers and the number kept rising and that was to say nothing of your mentions which were exploding with people replying to the original tweet, including your own handle.

“Who...who are Enter The Vortex?” Momo stops looking at the phone to stare at you with creased brows, shock written all over her face like a New York Times bestseller.

“You...you’re kidding right? I know they’re a metal group but they’ve had a few songs hit the Top 40 over the last few years,” Your blank stare causes her to face forward in shock. “Okay, hold on.” She grabs hold of the phone and brings up YouTube, typing furiously before scrolling to find the video she wants.

Turning the device around, the screen rotates to fill out the whole width and you proceed to watch the video. At first there’s nothing but a haunting cello playing, the video taken up by a wide shot of a dead tree surrounded by mist. And then the wall of noise sounds.

Well, a wall of noise is being cruel. You can hear the melodies underneath the pounding bass, frenetic drums and relentless guitars, with an underlying piano subtly heard throughout. But it’s the screaming that causes your face to scrunch up.

Loud, like it has been filled with the rage of a thousand souls who died too soon, the vocals sound as if they are being ripped from the guy’s throat. And just when you think you’re ready to reach out and press stop, they suddenly vanish and a hauntingly sweet voice takes over, harmonising over the top of a deep and sultry voice.

They play with each other, rising and falling together before sliding in between the gaps each leaves open in the song. The unending energy and heaviness of the instruments makes it hard for you to truly love the song, but from a musical perspective you appreciate the complex melodies they have produced and the vocalists take your breath away.

“Well, it’s not my cup of tea I guess but the vocals were beautiful. I never thought that you could have vocals like that in a metal song?” The words are tinged with confusion and surprise, causing Momo to look at you with a raised eyebrow.

“I think you of all people should know to not judge things like what kind of music someone makes, right?” You look down at that, suitably chastised as you remember all the people who’ve criticised your music and put it down.

“Okay, but I did say they have nice vocals. How did they manage to crack the Top 40? This is not Top 40 material.” The video has ended now and it’s only then that you notice that the entire thing had been telling a story, with no band members present. Or at least you’re 95% positive that girl is not a member, though maybe she plays an instrument?

Momo chuckles lightly, taking the phone back as her fingers begin to tap away once again. “Oh girl, metal may not be your style but let me tell you...these guys are to die for. I’m not ashamed to say I started listening to them because I’d let every one of them ravage me.”

Eyes popping wide, you lean back at the phone that’s been shoved back into your face. The image you’re now staring at is of seven guys, which seems a little excessive for a band but what do you know?

And you have to give it to Momo, she’s not wrong. Each member exudes bad boy, and given the music they make they can probably back it up, but you have the disconcerting feeling that they could walk into Gucci tomorrow and come out models.

The main things you notice are muscles, oh holy wow muscles, tattoos, so many tattoos, and piercings. Momo begins pointing to each member and talking about them individually, the drummer called Hoseok with all monochrome tattoo sleeves that match his black hair that’s swept up to the rhythm guitarist named Namjoon, with his black hair shaved on all sides but the top platinum blonde, intricate art scenes blooming up his arms and along his neck.

She taps two individual members suddenly, two fingers pinching the screen and expanding it. One of them looks youthful with bright, colourful tattoos spreading along his arms and throat, a ring speared through the centre of his lip and a ridiculously large number of piercings in his ears. Black hair that looks soft but mussy, as if he’s rolled out of bed and run his hands through it a few times has a slightly blue tinge.

He’s unbelievably attractive with the cocky little smirk on his lips, just a hint of white teeth peeking through but its the glint in his eye that makes your stomach clench. He has a face of innocence and eyes of sin.

“That’s Jungkook, he’s the second vocalist. The one with the higher voice?” Momo sounds uncertain of how to describe it but you nod anyway, remembering the almost sweet voice that soared high. His face suits his voice, but the man next to him does not.

Hands pushing back fire engine red hair that looks soft and silky to the touch, his arms are dominated by bright splashes of colour that spiral their way up his muscled limbs, creeping underneath his shirt only to reappear around his neck. His lower lip is caught between his teeth, tugging the two lip rings on either side gently while his dark, eyeliner smudged eyes are hooded as they stare deeply into the camera, promising all sorts of dirty things you suspect he could fulfil.

Jungkook has the kind of youthful beauty that will make him popular for years to come, but this guy has a refined attractiveness that would inspire statues to last centuries. A sharp, cutting jawline is met with a perfect nose, a ring piercing his septum, leading up to two intense eyebrows that just add to the sheer magnetic pull of his face. You’d never considered eyebrows attractive until right now.

“He’s the main vocalist, Taehyung.” Momo’s voice is almost background noise right now as you observe him closer. This man, this celestial body turned into human flesh, did not look like he was the one who had been screaming out rage. But at the same time, he didn’t look like the kind of man who would croon darkly seductive tones with a deep voice. Everything about this man was a walking contradiction.

A face that belonged in artwork that would be revered in centuries to come and yet he had turned his own body into a walking canvas to be displayed to the world. A voice that could sing an angel into a fall from grace and yet he chooses to strain those vocals with unrestrained power and emotion.

Momo must take your silence as a positive as she nudges your shoulder teasingly. “He’s the one who recommended you, if you can believe it.” A soft giggle lets you know she’s just as shocked as you are, she’s just handling it better.

10 minutes ago, you would have said a metal band was incapable of listening to your music and enjoying it. Hell, even after seeing the pictures of them you’d think the same thing. But looking at Taehyung now, you’re not surprised.

Because his colourful tattoos, that would be taken as gaudy and offensive at first, are interwoven with layers of culture spanning centuries. His left arm, from wrist to elbow, at first looks to be a wild mess of colour but you spot the intricacies quickly. Blues, yellows and whites swirl together beneath musical notes, melting timepieces and more. He’s brought Van Gogh’s Starry Night to life on his arm.

His other arm has a stylised version of Edvard Munch’s The Scream that melts into the hyper coloured world of Leonid Afremov’s paintings. While there are plenty of things merging into these, they cause a smile spreads over your lips without warning as you realise that this man, who’s vocals sound like his throat is being ripped out, is a man of the arts. Something that surprises you intensely, instantly making you feel bad about your stereotypes and preconceived ideas.

Passing the phone back to Momo, you simply smile as she continues to scroll through all your new notifications. Picking up your own phone, you unlock the screen and navigate to the Twitter app, heart racing as you see the continuously increasing follower count. You’re not entirely sure why you do it, given their music really isn’t your scene, but you press that little blue follow button on their account.

It takes exactly three minutes for them to follow you back.

For a few days there’s no more interactions between the two of you, though that might be because you’re too busy making sure that your new song is fully mixed and ready to go. It’s at 12pm exactly that you release the song on Spotify and YouTube, sending out a quick tweet with a link and a little ‘surprise! Hope you all enjoy it!’.

So it’s a shock to find your tweet almost instantly liked by the verified account and a reply a few minutes later.

Enter The Vortex @enterthevortex

@Y/N love the new song!

Is all it says, but immediately your timeline begins to fill up with people practically screaming into it. You can’t quite figure out why this metal band has taken such an interest in your work, particularly given you can’t even get most mainstream artists to listen to your stuff.

[free-instagram-followers-fans]

Get More Free Instagram Followers in 2020

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This is what we'll cover:

 Presenting Instagram

 The development of Instagram

 Counterfeit versus genuine devotees and how to recognize the fakes

 Stage 1: Determine the general reason for your Instagram account

 Stage 2: Come up with a substance methodology

 Stage 3: Design your profile for greatest commitment

 Stage 4: Post photographs that catch eye

 Stage 5: Add long picture subtitles to your post

 Stage 6: Add vital hashtags

 Stage 7: Create a posting plan

 Stage 8: Locate and follow your objective clients

 Stage 9: Follow 50 clients for each hour

 Stage 10: Become a functioning individual from the network

 Stage 11: Partner and cross-advance with applicable clients

 Stage 12: Run difficulties and challenges

 Stage 13: Run Instagram advertisements

 Stage 14: Link your Instagram to your disconnected client

 Stage 15: Keep tabs on what's working so you can keep on improving your presentation

 Presenting Instagram

 While I feel like this stage needs no presentation, some of you might be different to it.

 Along these lines, I'd prefer to give you a couple of brisk realities.

 Instagram is a photograph sharing portable application. It was propelled in 2010 as an average complimentary gift application. There were a ton of other photograph applications, however Instagram hit the sweet spot and began to develop exponentially.

 They developed so rapidly and naturally that Facebook took intrigue and got them for $1 billion in April of 2012.

 As of April of 2017, Instagram has in excess of 700 million month to month dynamic clients!

 image22

 The advancement of Instagram

 Instagram used to be an essential application. You snapped a photo, you put a channel on it (to make yourself look better), and afterward you imparted it to your little Instagram following.

 That was it. No chimes. No whistles. Not all that much.

 That is not true anymore.

 Today, Instagram is pressed with huge amounts of highlights, from computerization highlights to phenomenal channels. Once Snapchat began drawing in a large number of devotees, and applications like Periscope utilized live video, Instagram raced to offer these highlights too.

 For instance, you can alter photographs utilizing further developed photograph altering highlights as opposed to depending on Instagram's worked in channels.

 image23

 You can likewise post Stories. Stories show up at the highest point of your companions' feeds and show up there for just 24 hours. On the off chance that you need to keep your Stories discrete, you can send them just to choose companions or curated gatherings.

 You can alter your photos with content, drawing, and other embellishments, much like Snapchat.

 Instagram's Live Video highlight is additionally getting on.

 Dislike most live video stages on the grounds that the video vanishes when you quit spilling. You can observe live recordings just while they're being shot.

 My objective in this article is to tell you the best way to get adherents, not show you how to utilize each component.

 All things considered, it's critical to know about these highlights, since you will utilize them as you develop your crowd by the thousands every week.

[sadrien]

prince of cats

chapter one: if i profane with my unworthiest hand

on ao3 || on ffnet

[full note on ao3]

it been a journey to get here. i started outlining in november.... i'm really excited that i'm finally able to share it with everyone! this fic was inspired by two (2) posts. one of which was this video of salem the glittery cat

shoutout to everyone in the miracusquad who was online when i started talking about this! thank you for letting me idea bounce/dump, and thank you for being so supportive in general <3 shoutout to my @mlfanfiction​ fam for not yelling at me when they realize that i had many other things i was supposed to be doing in november. things that were not this fic.... i love you guys and finally, massive shoutout to @ladriened​!!! thank you for your endless support kc <3 

last quick thing! im going to be using these tags for this fic: 'proc ml' and 'prince of cats ml'. obviously i wasnt going to use poc and prince of cats is already used for half a dozen other things because...shakespeare

enjoy!!!!

Marinette hums to herself as she hauls her bag up on her shoulder and flicks off the lights in her apartment. For once, she got a decent amount of sleep and she actually ate breakfast this morning, so today is already better than most. Now if she can get the stitching on this new jacket done before lunch…

She pauses to check her phone as she closes the door behind her. Nothing surprising, nothing pressing. Alya confirming lunch like she does every week and insisting Marinette bring juicy gossip to the table. Marinette rolls her eyes as she turns the key in the lock. Fortunately, or unfortunately for Alya, work has been drama free lately. A nice breath of fresh air after a tense argument between two other designers that ended in screaming a few weeks ago. For days after, the workroom was stifling and awkward. Marinette is glad she has nothing to bring to Alya. Besides, Alya will have more enough to say on her own.

Marinette looks up in surprise as she spots movement out of the corner of her eye. She blinks as a black cat leaps up onto the sill of the window at the end of the hall. The cat sits up and licks it paw, shimmering gold in the morning light.

“Huh.” Marinette stuffs her keys into her bag and inches closer to the cat. A golden cat, that’s…odd. She didn’t even realize anyone on this floor had a cat. She glances over her shoulder as a door swings shut and someone swears. She sees the cat jump down from the window out in her peripheral vision and run toward the stairs. Marinette takes another step into the center of the hallway with half a mind to follow it.

Instead, someone crashes into her.

Marinette stumbles backward, her legs tangling with theirs. She groans as she hits the floor hard, banging her elbow on the ground. She winces as the person above her apologizes profusely.

“I-I’m so sorry, so sorry, I didn’t mean—”

Marinette stares at him, heart in her throat. His face is flushed and his blond hair falls in his eyes, eyes so green that spring itself would be jealous.

He stops talking and she forces herself to look away from his eyes. Instead she studies his coat, long and dark with impeccable stitching. She tries to come up with a price range for a trenchcoat of this quality to distract herself from the fact that his hands are bracing either side of her head and they’re incredibly close for two complete strangers.

“H-hi,” she stutters.

He blinks. “Uh…hey.” His eyes go wide as a meow echos through the stairwell. “Shit!” he whispers, scrambling to his feet. He runs a hand through his hair, making it puff around his head like a halo, and offers Marinette his other hand. She hesitates for a moment before taking it, letting him tug her to her feet. “Nice to meet you, I have to go!” he says as he sprints toward the stairs. He hooks onto the wall and skids as he turns the corner into the stairwell.

It takes Marinette a moment to realize her bag has spilled all over the hallway floor.

She tries to shake the stranger and his sparkling cat from her mind as she picks up her things and hurries to work. She drowns herself in fabric and sketches, but she can’t get his face out of her mind. When she picks up a pencil to work on a dress design, she finds herself itching to trace out his profile and the curl of his hair.

Marinette groans and puts her head down on her sketchbook. She’s twenty four! She’s a grown woman with a job and an apartment and a social life. She should be over the collège crush phase, but here she is. Obsessing over someone she hasn’t even exchanged names with. Strangers have caught her eye before, a smile making her heartstrings twinge or bright eyes causing butterflies to flutter in her stomach, but she hasn’t experienced something like this in years. All feelings and mush and sudden wooshes of emotion that make her feel like she’s floating.

This is ridiculous.

Marinette texts Alya, because she needs to be grounded, stat. She doesn’t have time to be moon eyed over a guy, no matter how tall and handsome.

From: fashion goddess To: the Most Beautiful      Are we still on for lunch???      Like 1000000%??      (I know you confirmed earlier I just need like. Another confirmation sorry)

From: the Most Beautiful To: fashion goddess      of course!!!      arent u at work? 

From: fashion goddess To: the Most Beautiful      :P      Yes

From: the Most Beautiful To: fashion goddess      something up??

From: fashion goddess To: the Most Beautiful      Yes but Im saving it for lunch      The usual??

From: the Most Beautiful To: fashion goddess      gotcha      yes!!      see u in a bit! <3

From: fashion goddess To: the Most Beautiful      See you then!

Marinette puts down her phone and gives in. When she returns to actual work, the stranger’s face covers two pages of her sketchbook. 

✦ ✦ ✦

Thoughts of the stranger vanish from Marinette’s mind as Alya practically collapses in the seat across from her.

“Are you alright?” Marinette asks, reaching out to touch the back of Alya’s hand.

“I hate my job,” Alya groans. She drops her head down on the table with a thump.

Marinette rolls her eyes but pats the top of Alya’s head anyway. “You love your job.”

“Not today,” Alya mutters. “I’m going to set this entire article on fire.”

“That bad?”

“Yes. I just— words? Sources? Journalism? It’s all horrible.” Alya sighs and wallows for another moment before sitting up. “Didn’t you have something you wanted to talk about?” she asks.

The stranger’s eyes appear in Marinette’s mind and suddenly, under Alya’s gaze, it all seems incredibly trivial. Marinette knows Alya would willingly listen to her talk about the weather and be completely invested in the conversation, but she can see the way work is weighing on Alya’s shoulders. Marinette can feel it weighing on her own. She wouldn’t be lying if she said thinking about the stranger was a good way to procrastinate.

Marinette glances down at the menu, even though she already knows exactly what she’s getting. “Same as you; work. This new line is possibly going to kill me.”

Alya nods in agreement. “Right there with you, girl.”  

✦ ✦ ✦

Marinette stands in the hallway in front of her apartment for much longer than she usually does. Usually, she’s dead on her feet and ready to sleep. Recently, she’s been working longer and longer hours to work on the newest clothing line. But today she’s wired and awake. And has been standing in the hallway fumbling for her keys for almost ten minutes.

She shakes her head as she slides her key into the lock and twists it until she hears the click. She’s an adult, not a teenager. She needs to pull herself together. She also needs a glass of wine and Netflix. She pushes the door open and flicks on the lights in her apartment. Just as she’s stepping inside, the apartment door next to her opens and a tall, blond man steps out, holding a phone to his ear and keeping his eyes cast to the floor as he locks the door behind him.

Marinette scrambles to shut her apartment door, her heart beating in her ears. She feels like she was just caught staring, even though he hadn’t even glanced her way.

Right. So her immediate next door neighbor that she never bothered to meet is her handsome stranger from earlier. Of course. That makes sense, she knows almost everyone else on the floor.

She sighs and rests her forehead against the door. “You’re ridiculous,” she murmurs to herself.

She toes off her shoes, changes into pajamas, and collapses on the couch with her laptop, her tablet, and a glass of wine. The bottle sits on the coffee table in front of her and she’s sorely tempted to just drink straight from the bottle. The past few weeks have been overwhelming and dealing with a crush on top of it— 

Marinette isn’t sinking that low. Not yet.

(She hears Alya in her head insisting that drinking wine from the bottle isn’t a low point. She hears Alya say it as she hands Nino and Marinette their own glasses before taking a long sip from the bottle. “I feel like a teenager again,” Alya says with a bright smile and knocks the bottle against Nino’s glass.)

Marinette turns on the TV and chooses a show to start binging at random. Then she makes herself comfortable with her tablet and computer and lets her mind wander as she draws whatever comes to mind. Dresses and jackets start to form on the blank canvas of her screen. The swoops of skirts and the curls of hair. The straight lines and sharp curves forming themselves into clothes and people and expressions and accessories.

Marinette finds herself using an awful lot of green.

[earthdeep]

ok so

having finished silver snow I've now done all the story content easily available to me, even tho the two music tracks in the extras menu that are ???ed out still do worry me

and tbh I don't have much to say abt silver snow itself bc it is almost identical to verdant wind HOWEVER I'm taking this opportunity to ramble my thoughts on the game as a whole, in a format that will likely not make sense to myself let alone anyone else

I guess I'll start on my thoughts on the lords? + rhea bc she's basically a fourth lord. so like, personal fave is still edelgard bc I am gay and angry with the state of the world, followed by claude bc he's fun and also probably the best person out of all the major players in this game, then rhea further back for being fucking terrifying to me and yet also woefully incompetent at the act of doing anything important, and dimitri is waaaaaaaaaaaaay down at the bottom of the barrel bc I am not here for angry white boys. I'm incredibly disappointed in the fandom wrt how much they adore dimitri. not surprised, mind you, since I've seen the cullenites in the dragon age fandom and their years of bullshit. but still, el and claude have so much more going for them (and are hotter to boot lbr) that it makes it suuuuuuper difficult to claim race and gender has nothing to do with it. but I'm totally sharing some of that blame with the game too, bc dimitri did get brought up in a good light more than, say, claude did in the eagles routes. which is super shite since claude's the fucking helpful one. srsly I had to sit through dream!dimitri in silver snow and you couldn't give me another claude scene- oh my god I just realised I didn't here from him again after he went missing. son of a fuck my dude just disappeared. like I assume he ran off to almyra like every other time but I just never saw him again.

actually, since we're on the topic of claude not being widely beloved enough by the fandom for me not to side eye them, leeeeeeet's point out a little smth smth with 3h's darker skinned characters. bc.... eesh. dedue? absolute life debt mode to the whitest of boys, hobbies include household chores, big brawny lad who's only recently literate. if disney wrote this character he would currently be locked in the vault out of shame. but I guess if it's not a pattern- oh hello cyril. at least HIS life debt is to the whitest of ladies instead! literally, her dragon form is the actual colour white. at least catherine used to be a noble, even if it's in danger of being cancelled out by her also being a brigand. and I don't think she's any good at chores either which is good. but like, the devotion...

we have claude and petra too, who thankfully have lives of their own. but it's hard not to wince when claude is called some variant of sneaky for the hundredth time (he's all talk yo...) and petra's post timeskip outfit makes me feel kinda gross if I look at it too long. it's annoying bc her face makes me feel gay things and then the camera pans and I'm back to oh yeah, they really wanted the tropical princess halloween costume huh.

at least judith's cool. and even wears trousers. I've never seen her in action in my game bc I overlevel and get through fights too fast for her but we stan her on this blog anyway. and this is already the third 3h lady I've had this response to but I am super gay.

anyway that elephant has finally been ushered out of the room, time to ramble about narrative things. bc what the fuck was three houses doing? verdant wind and silver snow were the same but for the final boss (and BOY is that final boss an asspull in both routes) while azure moon is similar but with entirely different factions being discussed, then crimson flower is just HALF A ROUTE?? and tbh crimson flower was I think the best, not only bc it was p unique and let me hug edelgard but also bc it was as short as it was. all the other routes dragged to hell and back as a result of being restrained by the calendar. you have so much fucking energy by endgame that it's a fucking chore to use it all, and you can only go two weeks before you've taught everyone on your main team and need to go explore and feed them or give them shit and then you need to use up all your energy and collect some more ingredients for the meals you keep having and then decide what you're going to do with your free day now all your paralogues are done and you don't want for ore or gold or levels so do you- ugh I know I could just skip but it feels wrong to do when not story appropriate. the calendar system works during the academy phase and fits the almost slice of life feeling it has, but once there's a war on it just destroys the narrative tension. war isn't hell in three houses, war is purgatory.

and now for something completely different: the church n stuff. it sure is very based on the real life church! as an agnostic lesbian maybe you can guess how high my hackles raised whenever anything particularly churchy came up. I do wonder whether IS underestimated how heavily that could sway the viewpoint of the player. bc I walked in ready to burn that fucking monastery to the ground if I'm honest. it's rare to be able to do that to christianity allegories in video games (*cough*dragonage*cough*) so crimson flower appealed to me a lot in a way I'd guess wouldn't to certain others (*stares at the white boy stans*) and it's kind of a kick in the teeth to be railroaded into worrying abt rhea in verdant wind. I purposely avoided support with her during that run and yet my dialogue options the moment she vanished were byleth caring abt her well being. game, the most I care at this point is that she is alive enough to give me some fucking answers on the shit she's been doing this past millenium. and that specific factor makes me wonder whether silver snow was done first and basically copy pasted to serve as a different route, forgetting that the player may not have the same objectives since they've been rolling with claude the visionary for the past year.

honestly the golden deer in general get kinda shafted by the game. I've seen others point it out too, but they get like no exposure outside of claude unless you seek them out. of the eagles, edelgard and hubert are always major characters appearing as bosses multiple times, although the others do fall to the background. then dear god the lions. both ashe and sylvain have entire month's missions dedicated to a part of their backstory during the academy phase! and even while dimitri dies after a single battle away from his route, there's a good chance dedue's coming back for more. claude gets a couple letters and a single battle and then he's out. let us ally with claude you bastard of a game.

I got sidetracked there but like the ashe and sylvain getting prominent story beats in all routes I think was a bit of a lost opportunity. and also probably is the reason sylvain is actually as popular as he is. dude's kind of a scumbag and it really does take being contextualised by his obscene amount of trauma to start understanding or liking him. it also helps he's easy as fuck to recruit and a very viable unit so u have a gameplay route to getting attached to him (legit 3/4 of my playthroughs had me fielding him as one of my regulars).

but think of the potential to add that to other characters! imagine seeing the conditions that led leonie to obsess over jeralt! meeting all these (completely alive!) siblings we keep hearing about then not seeing! killing bernadetta's father! the possibilities are endless and could be easily explained by rhea assigning tasks to students who already have relevant context or whatever. just ugh some of the choices made by the writers annoy me.

sfdlkdfkjdj I don't know how to connect this last bit at all, bc it's just observations abt like the models n stuff. I like how they've obviously set materials up for all the models to easily change clothing colours to differentiate factions. that's cool. they did that with skin tones too, so if you zoom in on like the agarthans you can see their weird super pale complexion (tho for some reason their battalions have regular skin?). tho it does make it weird when the 2d portrait is always the same. this duscar soldier sure doesn't look like his profile pic.

anyway that was the last thing on my mind abt this game. kinda anticlimactic to end on, I know, but rather in the spirit of things. only crimson flower knows what a satisfying conclusion is, after all :) long live lady edelgard yo.

[arachobia]

Pokemon Re-Typed: Bulbasaur Line

The original grass starter - Bulbasaur and its evolutions are also, like most of the Gen I grass types, half poison. Conceptually, the whole line has sort of looked a bit frog-like to me, especially those ‘ears’, the lack of a tail and Venusaur, in particular, has all these wart-like bumps.

And for their type I got...

So, I gotta be honest, before I even got to the ‘maybe I could blog this’ stage I had tried out generating a type for Bulbasaur just for fun. So I have had a bit more time to think of this then I probably will going forward.

Anyway - my initial gut thought was of succulent rock plants - succulents are a pretty common sight and topic of conversation in the Western Cape of South Africa where I live

However, I began to feel like such an addition would better benefit a Rock-type form of Bulbasaur. I drifted on to deserts, which in many Pokemon games are the main location for ground types, and thinking of plants in deserts one immediately thinks of cacti.

However, I didn’t really like this idea. Cacti still seem like more grass type than ground type to me. Even the actual cactus Pokemon, Cacnea, and Maractus are pure grass types. So I thought of the other main location in the games you find Ground type Pokemon - caves.

Plants don’t exactly thrive in caves, so I began to think about what a Bulbasaur without its bulb would look like. After all, their Pokedex entries normally make it seem like the plant is attached to Bulbasaur after it is born (I know all Pokemon are hatched from eggs in their basic or baby stage practically identical to the others of their kind, but I view that as a mechanic rather than a representation of reality). So, what if in some region a group of the Bulbasaur-line adapted to a life in caves, giving up their symbiotic relationship to plants altogether.

While I do think Bulbasaur are frog-like, the ‘saur’ part of their name and certain features also call to mind some of the so-called ‘mammal-like reptiles or ‘Therapsids’. Indeed, recently there even was a Dicynodont discovered that was named Bulbasaurus. 

Having worked in the Natural history museum recently where its skull was on display, I am aware that there is some vehement denial that it was named after a cartoon monster and instead named for its bulbous nose. Still, I remain aware that there is a trilobite called Han solo and that this particular species was called Bulbasaurus phylloxyron with phylloxyron meaning ‘leaf razor‘ WHICH TOTALLY DOES NOT REMIND ME OF ANYTHING ELSE...

Anyway, why I bring this up is because certain Dicynodonts were burrowing animals. Bulbasaur and its line certainly do bear some resemblance to Dicynodonts - especially looking at Ivysaur’s projecting teeth and the beak-like shape of Bulbasaur and Ivysaurs mouth.

So, Subterranean form Bulbasaur is a pure ground type - they never bond with a plant and, lacking the defensive poisons and abilities of this plant, become timider, nocturnal creatures that hide in burrows or caves during the day, emerging at night to forage.

While I considered Bulbasaur growing large front teeth like Ivysaurs to resemble the burrowing teeth of a mole-rat...

... Ultimately I decided that subterranean form Bulbasaur is mostly unchanged. it lacks a plant on its back, having instead a flat back making its overall posture lower to the ground. Its front legs are slightly larger than a normal Bulbasaur’s, with more noticeable claws, to help it dig. Its color is duller than regular Bulbasaur - moving towards a paler skin. Its eyes are smaller as well, but to compensate its nose has become swollen like Bulbasaurus to sniff out food at night and underground.

For subterranean form Ivysaur, I thought of another Therapsid group - Gorgonopsia

Ivysaur already has those projecting teeth. Subterranean Ivysaur has longer teeth. Still pure ground type, these Ivysaur have become purely cave-dwellers. Their eyes have shrunk to almost nothingness, but their nostril bulb has become even larger. Subterranean Ivysaur, without a plant on its back, still has a flat-profile but also has longer, straighter-legs. It’s a fast hunter that chases prey through the dark caverns beneath the world in packs. Its pigment has almost entirely faded, leaving it a dull gray in color.

When subterranean Ivysaur become Venusaur, they become quite the opposite to agile hunters and become massive ambush predators - again with Venusaur being the most frog-like of the group although in this case, I’m thinking of a particular one

I imagine subterranean Venusaur being like a cave-dwelling Suriname Toad. Its eyes have completely vanished, and its head it little more than a massive mouth and nostrils. Subterranean Venusaur buries itself in the sand of the cave floor with only its swollen nostrils projecting. When it smells prey, it lunges forward suddenly and engulfs it in its huge mouth. Although definitely the largest and heaviest of its line, it would also be extremely flat to hunt this way. At this point, its pigment, like its eyes, is completely gone leaving it a ghostly white like most cave-dwellers

But, what about Mega Venusaur?

Well, Trypophobes may want to look away for this bit, but seeing as I did mostly base subterranean Venusaur off of a Suriname toad, there is a particular thing that toad is famous for besides its flatness...

Suriname toad eggs are embedded on the female’s back by the male. Over time, the eggs sink into the skin on the toad’s back - where they develop and eventually hatch as tiny toadlets. There’s a lot of videos on this if you’re curious :).

For Mega Venusaur, however, this process has nothing to do with reproduction. Rather, when exposed to its mega-stone, a part of subterranean Venusaur ‘remembers’ its ancestral practice of carrying a flower on its back. On the skin on its back erupts into hundreds of ghostly, luminescent plant tendrils - literal ‘ghosts’ of the plants that could have been

At this point, Mega Venusaur gains the Ghost type - becoming a ground/ghost Pokemon as long as it is Mega evolved.

In general, I like the idea of these alternate form megas not quite working as the mega-stone is meant to work with their ‘original’ form, but we’ll see as we go on...

 I’m not too knowledgeable on balancing or changing stats and abilities in Pokemon, but to give a general idea: all the subterranean Bulbasaur forms will no longer learn grass or poison moves - instead learning ground and probably rock type moves. They would lose OVergrowth/Chlorophyll and gain something like Sand Veil. I wish Illuminate was a better ability as it would be perfect for Mega Venusaur’s ghostly plants - perhaps some version of that ability that had an effect. Stats wise, I can’t see these Pokemon being too different - perhaps physically tougher with higher ATK and DEF and lower SP. ATK and Sp. DEF and subterranean Ivysaur probably would be faster than regular Ivysaur. 

Which brings us to the end of my first post in this series. I hope it was at least entertaining and, if somehow, this inspires you to try to draw what these subterranean forms would look like, I would love to see what you come up with.

Otherwise, check-in hopefully this time tomorrow and I'll move on to the next evolutionary line - Charmander's

[ntrending]

The science of serial killers is changing, thanks to Sasha Reid

New Post has been published on https://nexcraft.co/the-science-of-serial-killers-is-changing-thanks-to-sasha-reid/

The science of serial killers is changing, thanks to Sasha Reid

The wall of Sasha Reid’s office is covered with serial killers. The collection of black-and-white photographs of Ted Bundy, Jeffrey Dahmer, and notable others is not, however, just an unusual choice of decoration.

“It’s very intentional,” says Reid. As a doctoral candidate in developmental psychology at the University of Toronto, she is trying to demystify the circumstances that lead people to commit multiple murders. That means poring over their own words from journals and media interviews. The viewpoints they express often share uncanny similarities, to the point where diary entries penned by different people begin to bleed together. On one occasion, Reid was brought up short by the words of Edmund Kemper (popularly known as the “Co-ed Killer”). Kemper spoke often of domineering female relatives, and in one interview referred to “my grandmother who thought she had more balls than any man and was constantly emasculating me and my grandfather to prove it.” Lines like this reminded Reid powerfully of Gary Ridgway, (the “Green River Killer”), who had issues with his mother.

“I thought, ‘I literally just read this!’” she says. “Then I flipped over the page and I saw that actually this is somebody entirely different—but isn’t that interesting that they’re thinking the exact same thing.”

It was at that point that Reid decided to pin up the photographs. “Their individuality needed to be retained,” she says. Though the serial killers she studies think along very similar lines, Reid sees them as distinct people—people who are very poorly understood. Reid, who is due to finish her dissertation in May, has so far analyzed about 70 serial killers with her colleagues. Her hope is to reveal when their warped perspectives take root and how this kind of damage can be reversed when it shows up in children. “How can we help their development to unfold in a way that’s healthy as opposed to in a way that is completely catastrophic and harmful to society?” Reid says.

Little is actually known about how serial killers think and why they develop the way they do. Reid is among a small number of researchers who believe the time has come to probe their minds in exhaustive depth.

An unexpected case

The thought of six-dozen serial killers is an unsettling one. But for Reid, this sample is just the tip of the homicidal iceberg. She is creating a massive database filled with information on 6,000 serial killers from around the world. This involves searching for documentation about 600 different key details—such as being bullied or having a father with a history of criminal behavior—that may have influenced a person’s path to serial murder. She is also compiling a separate database of people who have gone missing in Canada. Her hope is to create a picture of who these people are and to understand who might have harmed them. On one memorable occasion, Reid unexpectedly found herself comparing her insights with the reality of an active serial killer.

It started when, one day in the summer of 2017, she noticed something bizarre. Three men with ties to the Church and Wellesley neighborhood of Toronto, also known as the city’s Gay Village, had disappeared several years previously. It’s not uncommon for clusters of people to disappear around the same time, often for reasons such as accidents, gang violence, overdoses, or becoming lost. But these men had gone missing under strikingly similar circumstances. All had vanished from a very small area, were men of color of similar ages, and had close ties to friends, family, or work that made an intentional vanishing act seem implausible. “It didn’t make sense, and that was the thing that united them the most,” Reid says. “My immediate thought was, ‘it’s probably a serial killer.’”

Reid consulted her database and used the patterns she observed in serial killers who targeted gay men to draw up a brief profile of the kind of person who might be responsible. She then called to share her findings with the police. As Reid expected, they did not end up using the information. However, in January 2018 the police arrested a 66-year-old landscaper named Bruce McArthur, who has since pleaded guilty to murdering eight men—including the three Reid had noticed.

The profile Reid created had erred on some details, such as the suspect’s age; given that most serial killers are under 40 years old, she had expected a man in his thirties. Other predictions were on the mark. Serial killers often bury their victims in sites over which they have control or easy access. And sure enough, the remains of multiple people were found in planters at a home where McArthur stored tools. Seeing the similarities between pieces of her analysis and the actual features of the crimes gave Reid reason to hope that her databases might have practical use in the future.

She is quick to point out that the widespread notion that police rely on profiles to solve cases is a romanticized one. “Police officers work on the foundation of forensic evidence, not Excel files,” Reid says. “But [the database] is something valuable to have on hand—especially as we start to develop it more and take the art out of it and make it more scientific.”

Embracing the art

Understanding serial killers, however, is as much an art as a science. “Experience is one thing, but the way in which those experiences are perceived across the lifetime is much more telling,” Reid says. “I’m kind of in both worlds, remove the art but embrace the art at the same time.”

Her particular focus is male serial killers whose crimes have a sexual element. While analyzing one of these people, Reid and a team of several other researchers each spend a week to a month digging through a trove of information. Among these sources are diary entries, home videos, interviews with the killer and people who knew him, police files, and medical or psychiatric records released into the public domain. The team looks for recurring themes and discusses the interpretations they each arrive at. Reid then tries to extrapolate a sense of how her subject sees the world and his place in it. “This can then give us a better indication of who they are victimizing, how, and why,” she says.

Reid and her team have honed in on a few core ways in which this group differs from most other people. Notably, serial killers feel they are constantly being pushed around, mistreated, and emasculated. “These people really go through their lives looking at everything that happens to them through the lens of a victim; they’re ultimate victims,” Reid says.

This is not to say that certain behaviors or cultural shifts are to blame for mass murder. Some serial killers did, in fact, survive horrific abuse as children. Others weathered much milder situations, but still believe their entire world is filled with abuse. For Gary Ridgway, one such intolerable experience was his mother’s command that he do his homework (Ridgway went on to murder at least 49 women in the state of Washington).

In fact, these people often yearn for connection with others. But in some cases love is not forthcoming, while in others they may be unable to understand or accept it as such. Often, these people misinterpret relatively gentle social cues as threats, and blame others for their problems.

“They fundamentally isolate themselves because they feel that they’re not accepted,” Reid says. “So they create these little worlds wherein they have ultimate power and control and authority.” But for people who believe the entire world is set against them, these fantasies can end up reinforcing unhealthy ways of engaging with others.

These tendencies are already well documented in serial killers. Reid, however, wants to reveal how such beliefs evolve over time. From what she’s observed so far, these elements seem to germinate during particular critical time periods, and may emerge in children as young as seven years old. By the age of 11 to 13, their violent fantasies begin to take on a life of their own, Reid says, becoming powerful and potent.

Each serial killer’s trajectory is unique; genetic predisposition may play a larger role for some, while life circumstances may be more important for others. However, none of these characteristics or experiences amount to destiny; development is a process that unfolds across the lifetime. Attributes such as resiliency and the ability to adapt to one’s circumstances are important as well.

Reid believes that knowing how and when this development occurs will allow us to better reach children who show signs of maladjusted thinking and ultimately put them on another path. This doesn’t mean all or even most of the kids who display these patterns would have grown up to become serial killers, which are extraordinarily rare. It might be more common for them to become depressed, struggle to form relationships with other people, or engage in domestic violence.

“The thing with development is that you just can never say anything for certain,” Reid says. But she feels there is much to learn from the people for whom these disturbing thoughts blossomed into their most extreme form.

“We can reverse some of the ways in which unhealthy thought patterns impact people’s lives. We can teach people to think healthy as opposed to unhealthy,” Reid says. “It’s not just generalizable to serial killers, it’s very much generalizable to all of human pathology.”

The neo-alienist

In some respects, Reid’s work represents a new take on an approach with old roots.

Lee Mellor, a Toronto-based criminologist and chair of the American Investigative Society of Cold Cases academic committee, feels that Reid’s style harkens back to the early psychiatrists and psychologists, or “alienists,” of the 19th Century. But while alienists created detailed life histories to understand mental illness, these efforts were stymied by the fact that scholars at the time didn’t have access to nearly as many records as those today do. This means that researchers like Reid can dive much deeper into a serial killer’s background and come to more meaningful conclusions, Mellor believes. “Sasha is almost like a neo-alienist, and we need more of that,” he says.

Reid’s work also echoes that of the first pioneers who tried to decipher serial killers, the FBI agents whose work has recently been chronicled on the Netflix show “Mindhunter.” Though an important first step, their original work is considered flawed by academics today, in part because it focused on a small group of only 36 criminals who were not all serial killers, says Robert Schug, an associate professor of criminology and criminal justice at California State University, Long Beach and forensic psychologist.

“I don’t know that anyone has collected as much data on serial killers [as Sasha has], ever,” says Schug, who also studies how serial killers develop. “The potential for kind of unraveling the mysteries of the serial killer, if you will, I think is very high.”

Mellor, who like Schug plans to collaborate with Reid on future projects, feels similarly. “Rather than rejecting the work that these initial trailblazers had done, we’re kind of returning to it and we’re seeing the value in it,” says Mellor, whose own work has focused on necrophilia and murderers who communicate with the police or media before or during their crimes.

That said, this approach does have its limitations. One challenge for Reid’s venture is that there are only so many serial killers whose lives are extensively documented, or for whom these records are easily accessible, Mellor points out. Another hurdle, Reid feels, is the fact that she has not yet spoken with serial killers in person. As a student, she could not muster the funds to fly back and forth and conduct interviews. The project also presented certain liabilities. “I think it [would be] very irresponsible for a university to say, ‘okay, we’re going to send you into the prison and let you interview all of these people who have killed women who looked just like you,’” she reflects.

Once she finishes her dissertation, however, Reid plans to visit prisons and finally begin to conduct her own interviews. “I haven’t spoken to the people that I’m trying to give voice to, and I think that’s awful,” she says. For now, she tries to capture their voices as best she can in her research, and plans for the day when she will be able to ask them questions about her interpretation.

Beyond the zoo

As a child growing up in Dryden, Ontario in the 1990s, Reid wrote “murder stories” and roamed the woods hunting for werewolves, vampires, and other murderous creatures. The decision to study serial killers felt like an inevitable next step on that path. “I don’t think there was anything else ever that I was supposed to do; it’s always been this,” she says. She doubts that any other job could hold her attention.

“I learn something about people every single day,” she says. “It’s like I’m living at the zoo… and I’m looking at a predator and every day I learn something different about their walk, their stride.”

Serial killers hold an enduring fascination for those of us who don’t study them as well.

“I think people are actually craving new information about this topic; that’s why we see the proliferation of these televisions shows and movies and whatnot,” Schug says. “It’s beyond just a morbid curiosity… I think people want to know why.”

Often, we imagine these people are criminal masterminds, Reid noted last year in Contexts, a journal published by the American Sociological Association. They have a certain mystique; although their victims are often forgotten, serial killers are granted fame and flashy nicknames such as the “Night Stalker”, the “West Mesa Bone Collector,” and “Jack the Ripper.” In reality, serial killers are more often opportunists, wrote Reid and coauthor Jooyoung Lee, also of the University of Toronto. Many target vulnerable groups such as sex workers, “who become ‘easy prey’ because of their precarious legal status.”

But there may be change on the horizon. Efforts by sex workers and groups such as the Canadian Alliance for Sex Work Law Reform to advocate for legal protections and awareness are becoming more visible. And organizations like Street Safe New Mexico take immediate steps such as handing out “bad guy lists” to alert sex workers to dangerous men in the area.

Meanwhile, Reid and other researchers are journeying ever deeper into the minds of the people who have harmed these communities and so many others. “They are people whose behavior is at the far end of the continuum of abnormality, but they are human,” Reid says. “And because they are human they can be understood.”

And whether or not these people would want to be understood, this knowledge may prove valuable to the rest of society.

Written By Kate Baggaley

[speedygal]

Sherlock fix it au

This post was made for the Sherlockians in the BBC Sherlock fandom. Remade twice since I bumped the battery and made my computer turn off by accident. Don't worry, this is the only thing I had to rewrite at the moment. Enjoy! :)

Sherlock is reviewing their previous cases while taking care of Rosamund Watson during the time that John Watson is at the store getting more baby food. Rosie really likes Sherlock. Really, really, really likes his chin and his nose and his curly hair so he gets his hair pulled at by the little one. Sherlock sees a pattern developing. Every two years there is a tragic event in his personal life. It has been occurring since 2010. He has given Rosie a questionable toy to play with being something that normally would be used by a Vulcan child and Mrs Hudson has no idea where he got that from. Sherlock claims he got it from a client. Rosie loves it. Hudson looks back at the many clients that knocked on his door and came in, some of which were crying while the two men were asking their case. Sherlock starts to get worried about Rosie. Because what if the next tragedy is John losing his only daughter? He begins to believe he is the titular character of this TV show. And it's called Sherlock. And it airs on the telly on the BBC channel. When John gets back, he sees Rosie has completed the game. And Sherlock has the board decorated in events from the past. Rosie is playing with her animals and organizing them that Sherlock had decided to purchase. Sherlock puts the little one in the high chair and John gets the spoon out for the baby. Rosie follows where Sherlock is going and that makes it difficult for John to spoonfeed her. John has to tell Sherlock to come over and stop moving around. Sherlock obliges. And Rosie makes these cute, adorable faces every time she has to swallow something. John finds it ridiculously adorable.  Sherlock is making faces while thinking and---Rosie spits out what she is eating laughing at him. John cleans her up and tries again to feed her this time with success.

Sherlock does research through the internet and makes a fake account. He does research for the sake of wanting to know if he isn't the only one effected by this 'narrative' that he has so far dubbed. There are replies, some recommending psychiatric help, and some giving genuine advice and others sharing their stories. Sherlock deduces the ones that are fake and some that sound genuine. Sherlock is going under the pseudonym of 'Spock House' and he is on the dark end of the internet. John asks which client gave the Vulcan toy. Sherlock gets Rosie out of her high chair and allows her to play with the toys that he left throughout the room for her.  Their conversation steers over to the board via John's curiosity John asks what kind of case involves the events of the past. Sherlock explains over Rosie. Rosie throws a temperantrum over her toy not working. John gets the batteries for Rosie's toy. Rosie resumes playing with her toy after he throws away the old batteries. John admits to Sherlock  that he, too, has  experienced this sensation when the two year period is up. Sherlock also explains that the bullet for him was broken through the sound barrier and that's illogical. She should be alive. And the person who made their lives shitty is responsible for it.  The way he phrases it sounds like he is high. Sherlock has to reassure John that is not high and that he has been sober from drug taking for awhile. He also points out that he only starts taking drugs again because of this stupid narrative. Sherlock has deduced that whoever is writing these stories is a sexist, homophobic, ageist, Sherlockian acting out his greatest fantasys (John never thought he would hear Sherlock say that), and does not have any clue about physics, and may also be a huge fan of Doctor Who. He provides evidence in the form of Jim Moriaty's video and Mary's videos which is illogical because she was so busy. He also tells John there is a slight chance he might be going mad and that this repetitive narrative is driving him nuts making him remind everyone he is a sociopath which he doesn't like to go around and say.  Sherlock also says this is a side by case for his "hypothetically-but-possibly-true-theory-that-might-not-be-and-we-are-insane." John has a long, serious expression on his face. Sherlock tells John that if they could go to whoever wrote this hell for John and convince them to rewrite the episode, he would do it.

John knows that there's a chance that Mary, Sherlock, and he could have been living happly if it wasn't for that stupid narrative. And he is convinced it is true. He does some digging by asking some of his medical professional colleagues to see if they experience it. There are some hypothetical conversations and--yes, there are some people who experience it but not as bad as Sherlock and John and Mycroft and everyone in London. He comes across someone calling themselves the doctor when coming back from the park with Rosie. The doctor, now a black woman with a purple scarf, apologizes but informs John that she can't help but she knows someone who can. And she apologizes for swooping in and leaving a alternate timeline version of Sherlock all those years ago on the sidewalk.  She had to cover for the man because it would have ruined the future plot twists. He rather that he had gone through this process when Mary had died without being highly impossible. And that grieving for losing  Sherlock. John asks if she knows that someone. She replies with, "What? Do I look like I have a tracker on him?" John stares back. "Oh, you do. Sorry, don't. He will find you." The doctor runs after a man in a trench coat while holding her sonic cane, "GET BACK, ARSEHOLE!" John coos back at Rosie and tells her to ignore the polite woman.

Sherlock is purchasing a new book when he is approached by a man who shares a uncanny resemblance with him. The man introduces himself as Doctor Strange. Sherlock deduces they share a common  aspect. Their actor. Doctor Strange informs him that he is correct, and he is  a highly well paid one named Benedict Cumberbatch. He offers him to meet the man. Sherlock refuses. He just like to meet the writer put the effort into a two year limit of bliss. Doctor  Strange informs him Sherlock that he would love to help him after watching The Final Problem. He offers to help the man next year and gives him a card, informing him if he needs reconstructive surgery that he needs to call this man  before it's too late. Sherlock is puzzled because it's the mans number and when he looks up, Doctor Strange has vanished. Sherlock decides to buy some comic books to analyze this person with back up information to know if he is  a worthy person to be an allie to. Sherlock finds out who this Stephen Strange is. When they meet up, Sherlock informs John that they have a chance to change the future. And the past. He makes a lengthy profile for the man to indicate he is patient, he is very skilled, he is very observant, and he is a lot like Sherlock facial wise in the comics. So Sherlock and John plan out what they are going to do, how to approach the writer, how to get to the writer, and convince them to change season 4. Spock deduces the episodes go in this order: the six thatchers, the lying detective, and the final problem. Which technically isn't even final since they are still solving cases and it is highly illogical for a episode title.

One year later, it is 2018, Rosie is using Sherlock as a way to walk with one hand on his pant leg. Sherlock and John have been sleeping together for the past, after reconciling their loss, and how hurt they are by Mary's pointless death being used to garner attention for the show and Euros being used as a prop just for their damn own evolution. They are both hurt by it. Sherlock wants to kill the man who made that deduction.  He has solved plenty of other cases sometimes with  Rosie in tow because she is his father godfather/uncle/ detective. Sherlock is secretly worried that it is getting  closer.  John gives Sherlock a massage while Rosie is rolling around on the floor as she has been doing rather than walking. Rosie stops, calling out "Uncle!" Sherlock drops his newspaper as she is wrapped around the legs of Doctor Strange. John dives in and grabs her, repeatedly apologizing. John is worried, as well, that the next plot is going to be aimed at his daughter. Sherlock has taken Rosie to the Holmes cottage during some of the intense, weird cases. Mrs Hudson has been babysitting Rosie while they were on their usual cases. Sometimes Molly has been taking care of her with Mycroft when Mrs Hudson is sick.  They share a conversation then he offers them a trip to fix everything. Everything leading up to Mary's death. John and Sherlock use their free hands to hold. 

Sherlock goes with John and Rosie into the past but not their past. The past of a different time. Doctor Strange informs them they have a time limit and he will be back shortly. He gives them a map and a piece of paper to know where the writers are.  Sherlock and John share a knowing glance as Rosie is looking around curiously.  They embark on what is most likely their daring case yet. To fix season 4 and give themselves a bloody ending. When they arrive, Sherlock informs them, "Get your hands off my personal life." And as you can expect, the reactions make the men fall. John comes in with Rosie when Mark awakens  with Rosie in tow. They are furious. John goes on to rant about how they have been treating him and Sherlock as a chew toy for the universe. They are not chewtoys. Mark thinks these two are Benedict and Martin but no, they prove it is not with three simple words "Mary Watson dies." They just wrote that line. The two men have a crying baby and a unconscious Moffat. Sherlock proposes a different story.  John offers to help make this story something to be remembered about and something that BBC could approve of and everyone is happy BECAUSE NO DAMN QUEER BATING IN THIS EPISODE. SORRY, NO, THAT'S OUR PRIVATE LIFE! WE DON'T MAKE JOKES LIKE THAT!  With some convincing and help. John and Sherlock help rewrite the three episodes. They like it, they sound themselves, and  Mary is alive. Rosie has calmed down.  John is the happiest. Sherlock requests they not make him a drug addict and shoots down when Elementary is mentioned. He has seen it, and, he is not that man. He is Sherlock Holmes a highly intelligent and deductive detective who does not need drugs to solve anything.  Sherlock and John have given Mark plenty of storyline material to last forever so they don't resort to the old timeline. They request to be given a happy ending, and if they dare make another season horrible as season 4, they will personally get the show cancelled. Sherlock and John are taken home by Doctor Strange to find they are in John's flat. And Mary is quite alive. Sherlock looks up to find if that thread he posted is gone. And John is in the mist of tears hugging Mary. Sherlock is willing to be in a hug with  Mary and he reciprocates. Sherlock decides to check for his old nemesis Jim Moriaty to find him quite alive and annoying but for the first time he doesn't care. Euros is a highly intelligent woman working as a psychologist.  And Mrs Hudson, otherwise, is still the same woman he left. He gives her a well deserved hug when he gets back home.  Sherlock feels upbeat and better about himself. Two years later there is a explosion in 221B and Sherlock and John dies. Kidding, they lived happily ever after with Rosie being raised by three parental figures. She calls Sherlock 'Dad' and John 'Daddy' and Mary 'Mommy!' and  Euros is this aunt who manipulates Rosie to do adorable stuff, inncoent things, really. Mycroft is appalled. Rosie calls him Uncle Mycraft to mess with him. Mr and Mrs Holmes are 'Grandma and grandpa.'

The End.

You are very welcome.

[waftr]

This post teaches you How to delete your Instagram account. Using Instagram over a long period can cause severe addiction. It is better to get rid of the application and delete Instagram for good if it is clogging up your social and work life. Instagram is perhaps the most popular social media application right after Facebook. In fact, the Instagram account is directly linkable to Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr, etc. which gives you more motivation to waste your time using these applications.

Instagram provides you two options of either deactivating your account or permanently deleting your Instagram account forever. You can delete your Instagram account if you completely want to delete including photos and videos permanently, But, If you want to delete your account temporarily you can deactivate your Insta account.

Also Read: How to Delete Instagram Comments

Permanently delete Instagram Account (Quick Answer)

Time needed: 5 minutes.

Below are the steps to delete your Instagram account permanently

Login to Your Instagram account.

Open your Mobile browser and Log in to your Insta account, as your App won't allow you to delete Instagram.

Click here: Delete Instagram Permanently.

Now Go to Manage account and select Delete my account or follow this link - instagram.com/accounts/remove/request/permanent

Choose a reason for leaving Instagram.

Pick a reason for deleting your Instagram account like Trouble getting started, Want to remove something.

Now Type your password again

Don't get annoyed, this is for security purpose, just type in your Instagram password again.

Select Permanently delete my account.

Now click on the big red button saying "Permanently delete my account" This is the final confirmation button so think twice before clicking the delete button, with this your whole account will be gone.

Before moving on to a detailed explanation of how to delete the Instagram account for good, there are a few things that you should keep in mind.

Note: Read Before Deleting Your Instagram Account

Once you delete the Instagram account permanently all your information from the platform is lost for good. All your likes, followers, following, videos, comments, photos, etc. vanish from the platform.

After permanently deleting your Instagram account, you have no way or recovering the information back. So, if you plan on not using Instagram for a while to practice self-control, you might want to check out how to deactivate the account instead.

You can deactivate your Instagram account to take a break and get back all your information just the way you left it on reactivating the account.

You can use your username only once on Instagram. Unlike other social media platforms that allow others to use the same username again after Insta account deletion, your username is permanently blocked and made unusable for good.

It is always advisable to deactivate your Instagram account for a while rather than permanently delete it for good because in the second scenario you need to start afresh.

Uninstalling the Instagram application from your smartphone is not the same as deleting the Instagram account for good. You need to follow different steps to remove your account permanently.

Once you delete your account, all your photos and videos are automatically lost. Also, no one will be able to locate you on Instagram after you delete the account.

You cannot delete your Instagram account in case you have forgotten your login credentials. You need to first recover the credentials using the Forgot Password feature to permanently delete the account.

Also Read: How to Delete Facebook Account

So now that you know the various risks associated with deleting the Instagram account, I will teach you how to delete it for good.

Deleting Instagram Account in 2020

In cases where you are unsure of your decisiveness in throwing away your Instagram account or at times when you think you just a temporary break from the outside world, you can choose to ‘deactivate’ your Instagram account. This means your account will not appear in anyone’s newsfeed and search results. Your username is still yours and all your photos are safely stashed away but in an invisible mode. Anytime when you decide to step back in action, you can sign in to your account with your authorized credentials and your account will get activated.

In the other case where you feel you have had enough drama, you can opt to delete your Instagram account permanently. Once you delete your account, there is no option to backtrack! Your username is grabbed away from you and is made available for the millions of other users who are signing up. All the photos that you posted get lost including the ones in which you were tagged. All the likes and comments you made gets deleted permanently.

How to Deactivate your Instagram

Deactivating the Instagram account will only disable the Instagram account till you re-enable your Instagram account, Your photos and videos won't get deleted.

1. Login Instagram and click the profile icon. 2. Click Edit Profile and click temporarily disable my account. 3. Choose a reason and enter your Instagram password. 4. Click Temporarily Disable Account. 5. Your Instagram account got successfully deactivated.

How to Delete Instagram Account - Step by Step

Here, we explain you in details about the way in which you can delete your Instagram account –

Step 1: Initially log into your Instagram account. Since deleting/deactivating your account is not possible through your mobile app, log into your account via mobile browser or desktop.

Step 2: Click here: Delete Instagram Permanently to navigate to your Instagram account deletion page which will automatically be directed to a page that allows removing Instagram account permanently from the list of its users.

Step 3: Choose a reason why you want to delete your account. This is a mandatory step that has to be followed as it enables further understanding for the people behind the application to understand what went wrong that forced you to step out of their arena. Further, on choosing a reason to step out, Instagram gives appropriate links that are meant for helping in sorting out the issue the person is facing.

Step 4: Re-enter your password to continue the process. In order to make sure that you arrived at this decision definitely and not by mistake or doubt, Instagram asks you to perform this step to get a double confirmation from your side before it proceeds in deleting your account.

Click on the ‘Permanently delete my account’ blue colored button present at the bottom of the page to proceed to the final step in this account deletion process.

Pooffff! With that, you get away from the Instagram community forever, unless you choose to create a new account with a new username and you start posting new pictures and new stories and gain new followers.

Frequently Asked Questions on deleting Instagram:

1. What happens when I disable my Instagram account?

Nobody can search your profile, Nobody can take your username, Your photos and videos won't get deleted.

2. Is disabling Instagram deletes all my Photos and Videos?

Disabling Instagram account won't delete all your Photos, Videos, and even your account configuration when re-enabling will bring all Photos and Videos.

3. How to Reactivate Instagram?

Login to your Account from your phone browser and your Instagram account will get activated.

4. How to delete a Hacked Instagram account?

Go to Instagram support and explain your situation, they'll help you.

The post How to Delete or Deactivate an Instagram Account [2020] appeared first on Waftr.com.