#there’s already a decent amount of evidence

[chirpsythismorning]

we would have a parallel to this Benverly moment from IT (1990) only with Byler and Vecna? And the painting would be brought up, not a poem.

https://youtu.be/ZKHyYutpFxA

👀 I’m sat.

[salomeapologist]

everyone should have to watch the paralympics. not for some like oh it’s so inspiring disabled people can do things too! lesson because people have heard that before from other places and at this point you either get it or you dont. but because there are so many moments where you notice how peoples disability affects not only their sport but just random parts of their life. and i think thats helpful for able bodied (/without intellectual impairments) people so that we can be more aware with regards to accommodations and simply being good fellow people. especially because there are so many different disabilities represented and you might not find that many at once a lot of other places (like a doc that focuses on just blindness or amputees)

[leidensygdom]

WOTC is hiring a "Principal AI Engineer"

After multiple scandals of them trying to "covertly" using AI (and denying it, when found out, up until the evidence was too big to deny), declarations from Hasbro's CEO, Chris Cocks, saying how much he loves AI, after their empty promises with dubiously worded "No, we won't use AI (in our final products)", Wizards of The Coast is now hiring a "Principal AI Engineer".

And as highlighted (the highlighted version was posted by @/SpicyEncounters on Twitter), this does include AI usage for all sorts of things- Including writing, audio, and art. (Which is an incredibly broad amount of subjects, but the wonders of AI is being able to have a single guy hitting the keyboard 'til the plagiarism machine pukes something decent)

This is no surprise to most people, I think, but it's still a great time to just boycott WOTC, and make noise about this everywhere: Social media, on your way out for your DnD Beyond subscription, amidst many others. Don't give them the money. The cents they save from not hiring artists shouldn't be worth much amidst many users refusing to use their products and bringing their money elsewhere. They already had massive layoffs- Which of course heavily hurt their artists, and this was the "natural", greedy next step.

I keep thinking about getting sent death threats over bringing up this in the past with people who were too deep in on the corporate bootlicking. Who would've thought that the same company that threw their creators under the bus with the OGL would now be looking forward to keep running them over for a measly profit.

[sommerbueckers]

hiyaa might get real specific with this one but can u do one where paige n r get a piece of furniture from ikea for their flat and paige is complaining that its not like lego at all. it takes them so long to build it and they just keep bickering and in the end they finally finish but find a whole bag of screws or sm

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭

___________________________________________________________

✰ 𝐰𝐜 :: 𝟏.𝟔𝐤

✰ 𝐢 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐝𝐨, 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐧𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐟𝐟

___________________________________________________________

YOU AND PAIGE HAD been shopping around for hours, neither of you seemingly able to agree on a theme for the empty room in your flat. Paige wanted to turn it into a game room; colorful furniture, sports posters littering the walls, an obnoxiously large TV accompanied by a PlayStation 5 with an obnoxious amount of controllers. You, the more reasonable and mature one, wanted to turn it into a mini library/guest bedroom for when family came to stay. Paige thought that was absolutely ridiculous.

She had nitpicked every piece of furniture you picked out; the bookshelf looked too old, the bed looked too small, the dresser 'just wasn't appealing to the eyes'. Your eyes narrowed with every 'no' she gave you, but nonetheless you let her have her way. Just like always.

Several furniture stores later, the two of you landed in the middle of a high scale Ikea. The cart you pushed in front of you was empty, save for your handbag which sat in the built in baby seat. You slowly turned your head from side to side, scrutinizing things in your head as you passed. Paige did the same, trailing closely behind you with her hands stuffed deep into her pockets.

You had slowly but surely found yourselves in the bedroom department, bed frames and nightstands surrounded you. Your eyes fell onto an ample-sized couch, the description reading 'Sofa Bed' in large, bold letters. You pushed the cart toward it to examine it closer, Paige's sighs growing faint as you left her behind. It was decently priced, and you discovered the material to be quite soft as you ran your hand over the armrest. You abandoned the cart, plopping down onto one of the cushions and getting comfortable.

"What're you doin?" Paige was leaning against a dresser, her chin resting against her arms.

"Come tell me if you think this is comfortable," you patted the space next to you, your decision-making face present.

"For what?" she asked, coming to join you without an answer. She sat down with a heavy sigh, shimmying in place.

"What do you think?"

She shrugged and made an unsatisfactory noise, "It's okay."

"Paige," you spoke sternly.

"What? You asked what I thought about it and I said it was okay, I don't like it, but clearly you do."

"What's wrong with this one then?" you ask, frustration evident in your voice.

"It's so lame. No colors, no patterns, just plain white."

"Paige, you already have your PlayStation in the living room and your entire side of the bedroom has basketball posters on it. You don't need an entire room for your stuff," you tried to reason.

"But you get to put all your books in there!" she complained.

"That's because my books hardly take up any space, and like I said before, it'd be nice for my mom to have someplace to stay when she comes to visit. Or what about your family, that way they don't have to get a hotel."

"If my family comes to visit, they're not stayin' with us. Ion want them hearing how I tear you up every night," she shook her head.

"Paige!" you slapped her arm, briefly making eye contact with a woman and her son as they passed by, no doubt having heard Paige's inappropriate comment. You gave her an awkward smile, casting your gaze downwards before looking back to your girlfriend. "Keep your voice down. Obviously we wouldn't be doing anything when they're visiting," you told her plainly.

"You expect me to keep my hands off you for that long? Yeah, fuck that, no way."

"Paige."

"What?"

"We're getting the couch."

When we reached the front of the furniture store to check out, Paige opted to put the large cardboard box containing the couch in the back of the car. It wasn't going to fit, and as the logical one of the two of you, you chose for the couch to be delivered to you for a fifty dollar fee. Paige sucked her teeth from beside you, you were always overriding her decisions. But in your defense, yours always worked out for the better.

When the clerk asked whether you wanted a team of men to assemble the couch upon delivery, you said 'yes', Paige said 'no'.

"Paige, we are not gonna put this thing together ourselves."

"Yes we are. Trust me, we got this, okay? I put shit together with my legos all the time, how hard could it be?"

"THIS SHIT IS REALLY FUCKIN' HARD," Paige groaned, her back resting against the wall as she stared tiredly at the mess you two had created, wishing that'd it just magically put itself together. Across her lap lay a sheet of directions, the paper was incredibly creased, finger sized dents on the page from having been passed back and forth between the two of you. You had been biting your lip to say 'I told you so' from the moment you had opened the box and were met with the complexity of the situation.

You were standing with an unimpressed look on your face, a piece of metal in one hand and a drill in the other. You were impatiently tapping your foot against the floor.

"Maybe if you had listened to me when I requested for them to put it together when they delivered it, we wouldn't be sitting here stuck as fuck," you sassed, pursing your lips out at her.

You were met with a glare. "Dude, okay! I'm sorry I overestimated your hard labor skills," she responded.

"I don't have hard labor skills, and neither do you! Seriously, what on Earth made you think this was a good idea?"

"Oh like you haven't overestimated yourself before," Paige rolled her eyes.

"Um, I haven't, thank you. I know my limits," you argued.

"What about the time we went to the gym and you tried to benchpress 150 without warming up?" she raised her brow.

"Okay well that was—"

"Or the time you thought you could make blueberry muffins from scratch without looking at the directions?"

"In my defense I had—"

"And let's not forget about how you bet me your favorite sweatshirt that you could beat me in Fortnite because you had been watching me long enough."

"Okay! Enough Paige, I get it," you seethed, furrowing your eyebrows at the taller girl. She was looking down at you with a victorious smirk, her arms crossing over her chest as you smoke again. "I haven't always been exactly...grounded. But still, in all the losses I've had, I've never dragged you down with me. I feel like there's a chain tied around my ankles right now and you just threw the anchor half a mile underground."

"Oh this is not that bad," she laughed.

"Paige we've been here for hours and we haven't put a single piece together!" you were laughing too.

"That's because you're goin' too slow, if you would've jus' listened to me then we would already be done!"

"Like when you told me we had to buy a mattress first and build around that?" you snorted, your hands on your hips.

"Does it not make sense?"

"Can you just hand me the directions please?" you sighed.

WITH A SATISFIED GRIN, you slapped your hands against your knees and stood, admiring the sofa bed you and Paige had finally assembled. The room was filled with the faint smell of new furniture and the evidence of your hard work—scattered instructions, a few empty screw packets, and two exhausted, but triumphant smiles.

Paige stood beside you, her own smile shining brightly. "I told you we had it," she said, giving your shoulder a proud pat.

You briefly narrowed your eyes at her, feigning indignation. "Yes, after hours of me having to go behind your mistakes and fix them, we’re finally done!"

Paige laughed, shaking her head. "Oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad!"

Just as you both started to clean up, you noticed a small bag tucked away beneath the pile of discarded packaging. Curious, you reached down and pulled it out, feeling the weight of it in your hand.

"Uh, Paige?" you said, holding up the bag for her to see.

Paige turned to you, her smile fading slightly as she recognized what you were holding. "You gotta be joking."

You nodded, your own smile slipping into a look of bewilderment. "I think we missed a step...or several."

Paige’s eyes widened as she took the bag from you, examining it with disbelief. "How did we miss this? We used everything else!"

You both stared at the bag for a moment, then turned to look at the sofa bed, which was standing proudly in the middle of the room. The realization set in, and you could feel a mix of horror and amusement bubbling up inside you.

Paige was the first to break the silence, a laugh escaping her lips. "Well… at least it hasn’t collapsed yet?"

You couldn’t help but laugh too, the absurdity of the situation too much to ignore. "Maybe it’s a miracle of engineering."

Paige shook her head, still laughing. "You think we should take it apart?"

You both glanced at the sofa bed again, then at each other. The thought of spending more hours disassembling and reassembling the whole thing was almost too much to bear.

"Nah," you finally said, tossing the bag of screws onto the floor. "Let’s just pretend this never happened. If it falls apart, we’ll deal with it then."

Paige grinned, relieved. "Okay. Besides, it looks good enough to me."

You both flopped onto the sofa bed, testing its sturdiness. It held up, at least for the moment, and that was good enough for now. You shared a glance, bursting into another fit of laughter. 

___________________________________________________________

[peachsukii]

₊✩‧₊ ⎯  Decorating Sakura’s Room 『 ♡ sakura haruka x reader 』

content // after seeing sakura's empty room for the first time, you're determined to make him feel more at home with a few additions.

note // tumblr decided not to post this yesterday for softie sunday lol so here it is!

Sakura's always deterred you from coming back to his place for your date nights, avoiding the topic altogether by offering to meet up at Pothos or to watch movies at your place instead. For the first month or so of dating, you didn't question it much, but now? It's getting suspicious. What did he have to hide from you?

"C'mon, we always go to my apartment. Why do you never have me over?"

Your demand has Sakura sweating, unable to come up with a logical excuse to keep you away any longer. He knows damn well that you can see right through his lies...and he has a terrible poker face around you.

"Fine, but don't expect much," he mutters, stomping passed you and continuing down the street. When you approach his front door, he takes a deep breath before twisting the handle.

"Do you not lock your door?!" You exclaim, noticing he didn't have a set of keys on him. "Saku, that's dangerous as hell!"

"S'not a big deal," he mumbles before kicking his shoes off into the corner, completely ignoring the shoe rack behind the door. "Don't have anythin' to steal, anyways."

You're confused by his words until you get a decent look at the apartment. It's...bare. Not a single decorative item in sight.

"Did you just move into this place?" you ask, confused. You're slowly making your way back to his bedroom, awestruck by the lack of evidence that anyone lives here.

"Nah, been here since I got to Makochi."

You turn to face him, a sad glint in your eyes before shaking your head. It makes him swallow nervously, the tips of his ears warming by the second. You don't say another word about it for the rest of the day.

A couple days pass until the two of you have plans again. You insist to meet at Sakura's place, and after lots of begging, he begrudgingly agrees. When you finally arrive to his place, you can barely knock on the door with how full your hands are with numerous bags of gifts. He opens the door as your mid-swing with your foot to "knock," immediately overwhelmed by the amount of stuff on your person.

"Th' hell is all this?!" Sakura shouts while attempting to grab a few of the bags from your hands. "Yer like a walkin' target with all this! Get in here already!"

"Sorry, Saku. I couldn't help it."

Sakura places the bags on the floor, slowly peaking through them to investigate just what the hell you've unloaded into his space. There are tons of essential items in neutral tones - a few sets of towels, a bath mat, two pillows and silk cases, a 4 set of plates and bowls, silverware, a pair of black house slippers, a brand new reusable water bottle, a water filter for the fridge, and a picture frame.

"I might've went a little overboard," you say sheepishly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "I felt bad you didn't have anything to make your home feel like your own. So I got you some things to warm it up, make it feel more permanent and a place you like, not just one you sleep in."

Sakura's speechless - devastated, even. He can't comprehend what he did to deserve your sweetness, biting his lip to keep his emotions caged. His cheeks are ablaze as he picks up the picture frame, noticing the plastic film is missing and there's a familiar set of pictures behind the glass.

"I went ahead and put in the pictures we took at the photo booth from the theater on our first date, you don't need to keep⎯ "

Your silenced by Sakura's lips capturing yours, his shaky hands cradling your face. Your squeak of surprise makes his heart skip a beat.

"Thank you," he whispers as you part, moving to wrap you up in a tight hug. "Yer...always so warm, like bein' under the sun on a hot day. I'm still getting used to that feelin', but this helps more than you know."

Your heart swells as you lay your head on his shoulder, absorbing all of his affection in the moment.

"Of course, Sakura. You deserve to be happy and feel like you belong."

His grip tightens on your shirt, a shiver running down his spine at your words. One day, he'll be able to tell you how you've made him feel at home for awhile now, and that the material possession are a nonfactor.

You pull back from his hug and pat him on the shoulders. "I'll help you put everything away and whatnot."

The two of you spend the next hour unpacking all of the goodies you've bought, leaving the picture frame for last. Sakura grabs the frame and paces the apartment a few times, pondering where exactly he wants to put it until the perfect spot pops into his mind.

Right above the shoe rack so you can welcome him home every single day with your bright smile.

『 #reis softie sundays 』

[leclercsbunny]

maybe if you loved me ♡ c. sainz

part six ♡ masterlist

f1chai sainz and ricciardo allegedly got into a scuffle, sky news report. the two have come up on recent news due to their involvement with yn, as both drivers have been closely linked with the spanish socialite. the f1 management is reportedly investigating this matter, and are adamant to deal out swift and just penalties for both drivers involved. neither teams have expressed their side regarding this matter.

username i would pay good money to see them fist fight

username and nobody caught it on their camera ?? LAMEEEE

username see i would have screamed world star‼️

username hmmm arguing who's the daddy

username will forever be astounded of yn, bagging these men in the same breath

username yikes

username penalty for ocon!!

username don't let these men back on track fia (10392)

username so... private school fighting? pointing at eachother and then screaming?! 🤔🤔🤔

username "sainz and ricciardo had to be separated by several staff in a fit of blind rage."

username "the australian driver emerged with an upset expression, a bruising prominent on his jaw and a crimson eyebrow. the spaniard later on followed suit, an expression of annoyance evident, armed with a busted lip and a limp to his gait."

username so a fight FIGHT. they were scrapping to scrap 😳😳

username oh i know they were just swinging wildly

username ten bucks daniel would have laid carlos on his ass

username disagree. have you seen carlos's hands? he's punching to knock some sense into daniel

username yeah but daniel has the force of justice behind his blows

username not if he's the father. screwing your mate's ex girl while they're on the rocks?

username what do you mean on the rocks?? he cheated on her publicly. then they broke up. then partied like his life depended on it? 🙄🤨

f1chai daniel ricciardo adds fuel to the fire by posting a shady instagram story amid the controversy surrounding him today. several news outlet reports that the australian pilot have been fined a sum of 5,000 euros for recklessly behaving and have been reprimanded alongside sainz. to waive the penalty, the pair were urged to make ammends, and publicly acknowledge their wrongs for disrupting the peaceful atmosphere present in f1. his response is as follows; "i won't apologize."

username ATEEEEEEEEE

username stop playing with him 😳😳😳

username yeah that will tell them🤦🏻‍♀️😂

username they keep letting these men buy their way into being a decent human being... they'll cash out everytime !!

username i love when men are shady

username DANIEL WE ARE ALL ROOTING FOR YOU

username what if they used chairs ?? would that be atleast 10k ??

username that's spare change for these men 😭😭😭 who assigned these amount?

username it's a minor misdemeanor, it's already blown out of proportition🤭

username yeah but that's like what?? one tyre and a steering wheel ?? 😭😭😭

username so close !! steering wheels could go up to six figures 😂😂

username i stand corrected

username daniel: ... so can i pay in advance to throw hands? 🤔😂

f1chai both sainz and ricciardo have declined to elaborate regarding their public spat, and have expressed very little about their issue. no direct apologies were addressed to eachother nor was there any indication they regretted they came to blows. new reports claim that the reason of them being tight-lipped had everything to do with the paternity of yn's alleged baby, and although at odds with eachother, both sainz and ricciardo are adamant on maintaining her privacy at this delicate moment.

username enemies 4 life

username awww yn's boys🥲🥲

username the boys you speak of would push eachother on the track if given the opportunity🥰

username yeah boys‼️

username daniel probably talked maaaaad smack

username only reasonable explanation

username not necessarily, i would have been throwing hands regardless. like wym you've been comforting MY girl?!

username they broke up though

username on a break** this has been yn and carlos' dance since forever

username man shut up. yn deserves better than a man who has a very fickle sense of loyalty.

username he has some serious issues

username ALLEGEDLY okay ALLEGEDLY daniel took a swipe at matteo's parentage and said something along the lines of "you're gonna fuck up another kid's childhood just because you can't keep it in your pants?" non verbatim 😳😳

username YOOOOOOO

username that's WILD to even comprehend, imagine hearing it directly.

username ngl i would have been throwing hands with daniel aswell

username nicki type of line

username who's matteo's mom anyways 😭😭

username i know we're all mad at him but look at him 😩

username yn this isn't you‼️

username look away we can do this!!

[darkcircles4lyfe]

Behind the locked door

In honor of Izuku’s mask disintegrating into rubble, I think it’s finally time for me to really dig deep into his character. I’ve been keeping this one in my back pocket for a while. Amid all the talk about Izuku’s fading narration, the “control your heart” subplot, I’ve been trying to find the words to articulate how I know exactly where this is going, at least on a certain level. Most recently, I read this meta from pika who brings up how the word “control” alone can be misconstrued (by us). And then I thought about how a while back I made a similar point, although I said Izuku was the one who got it wrong. At that time, I was holding back a huge piece of evidence because it was external to the story and I wasn’t sure it would be received well. As a result, my argument fell a little flat. Well, now—after 411, right before leaks for 412—it might be my last chance to play this card.

So about that external evidence. I struggle to bring it up because it’s gonna sound an awful lot like I’m projecting onto Izuku if I don’t do it justice. But… I look at the way his storyline has been going lately and I see a pattern emerging that I’m very familiar with. Fortunately, I don’t have to dump a bunch of personal junk on you in order to illustrate this pattern, because a certain personality typing system already has it all figured out: the Enneagram.

Now, hang on. I’m not one to put people in boxes. My trans ass? I managed to get a different result every time I retook the P0ttermore quiz. MBTI, zodiacs—not my thing. But the Enneagram comes the closest I’ve ever seen to covering all the bases and revealing actually meaningful insight, at least for myself. On top of that, I find it extremely useful for fleshing out fictional characters, hence this post will be taking advantage of that.

For those who aren’t familiar with it, here’s a quick overview: The Enneagram consists of 9 individual personality types, each arranged carefully in a sequential, circular manner. They are also simply named 1 through 9. While this might seem kinda basic, there is actually a surprising amount of nuance and fluidity involved. Typing is done largely through personal introspection (you don’t really have to take a test). Adjacent numbers share some core themes with each other, and according to a web of arrows between them, one type can take on either positive or negative traits associated with other types depending on how emotionally ‘healthy’ they are, causing a lengthy spectrum of different ways each type can manifest. That part gets kinda complicated to explain here, so for more info, the Enneagram Institute website is a decent place to start. I also highly recommend the Enneagram album by Sleeping At Last (and if you really want to dedicate some time, the accompanying podcast) to really get inside the heads of the types on a deeper level.

My interest in applying the Enneagram to Izuku comes from observing how differently one can interpret his character based on whether you read him as a 2 or a 9. And even though no one uses this language to talk about him, the distinction accounts for a bunch of different rifts in the fandom: whether you appreciate bkdk’s relationship, whether you can acknowledge Izuku’s flaws and weaknesses, the severity of his vigilante/rogue phase, and most importantly the gravity of his concealed heart, his rage, and what it all means—what he needs in order to grow and triumph.

Discussion of Enneagram types in the fandom is pretty scarce, but where it exists, I have only seen him labeled as a 2. Type 9 and type 2 can be similar at a glance in a lot of ways (actually, 9s can be mistaken for any type because they are like all of them combined). It’s easy to see Izuku as a 2 because he is the helping hero archetype. He puts others’ needs above his own and he is always ready and eager to help. If you listen to Sleeping At Last’s song for 2, you’ll notice that it’s all about care and noble sacrifice with the underlying theme of neglecting or even harming oneself: “I just want to build you up, until your good as new, and maybe one day I will get around to fixing myself too.” Sounds pretty obvious, right? Well, here’s the thing. You really get to know what your type is by how it hits you where it hurts, so I like to focus on each type’s basic fear and basic desire, first and foremost, as a tell. A 2′s basic fear is of being worthless and unloved. Consequently, their most basic desire is to be loved. And 2s have been taught through their negative experiences that love is conditional, something they have to earn from others. They need to be needed. So let’s say you think Izuku is a 2. This means you consider his heroic, self-sacrificing tendencies to be a result of his growing up quirkless and being told he is worthless and powerless because of it. Through this lens, he is trying to prove himself to the world by being useful. Along these lines, you may also assume he is trying to prove himself to Katsuki. Taking this train of thought even further, you may interpret Izuku’s relationship with Katsuki as an obsession of his, where he is either blind to Katsuki’s more negative traits in favor of gaining his love and praise, or else bitterly determined to prove him wrong. This is how a 2 might behave in an unhealthy relationship with an 8, which, yes, I do think Katsuki is an 8. That’s a tangent for another time, though.

But does Izuku ever “need to be needed?” It’s worth noting that while 2s’ search for validation might seem insincere, it is actually motivated by a deep, heartbreaking insecurity. They think they don’t even deserve love unless they are useful to someone, so they do everything they can to be worthy. Does Izuku show signs of this motivation?

If I stop to think about it, I can’t exactly see this in Izuku’s character. Yeah, his dream is to be a hero, and in his childhood, he was denied that dream. However I think we need to take a step back from that for a second if we want to dig deep. I mean, a lot of the other characters also behave heroically, act selflessly, and strive to help. Does that mean all of them are 2s as well? Of course not. So let’s instead turn to observe how Izuku acts with his loved ones, friends, and peers in other/adjacent contexts:

Inko: He is committed to protecting his mother from fearing for his safety. He wants to be good enough to not cause her to worry, rather than good enough to make her proud or make her love him. Idk about his father but at this point I think it’s safe to assume he is deeply unimportant.

All Might: I would describe their relationship as one of mutual responsibility. Izuku feels a responsibility to uphold All Might’s legacy, All Might feels a responsibility to teach him well. Because of this mutuality, I don’t think it quite makes sense to say Izuku deliberately seeks approval for its own sake. You know what I mean? They may be a mentor and a pupil but in practice they are almost more like co-conspirators. They don’t really have a power dynamic going on.

Shouto, Tenya, other friends: Izuku seems to take an interest in what makes his friends tick, and he sets himself aside in order to both analytically and intuitively determine what’s wrong and how to solve it. Examples include his fight against Shouto in the sports festival, and his stubborn concern for Tenya’s reaction to his brother’s forced retirement. He will put himself in the line of fire specifically when confronted with another person’s inner demons. This is not a labor that is asked of professional heroes, it’s just who Izuku is. You can also extend this observation to how he sees through Tomura to Tenko, but I’ll get to that later. Basically, while 2s seek to help in all kinds of ways, a 9’s strategy is always centered on the realm of the mind.

Kota: Adjacent to the paragraph above, before Izuku literally gets into a position where he needs to save Kota, he becomes interested in the boy’s point of view out of genuine curiosity. He doesn’t go “oh no, this kid doesn’t like heroes, I better get him to like heroes.” Instead he seeks out information as to why he thinks that way, and patiently listens. He’s sorry about what happened to Kota, and he understands. Twice (ch 71 and 72), he recognizes the fact that everyone has their own point of view on quirks, and he can’t really do anything about that.

Mirio: This might be one of the most telling examples. Mirio is the platonic ideal of an All Might successor. He’s “perfect.” He even looks the part. While this initially makes Izuku uncomfortable, he doesn’t become insecure and defensive over it. On the contrary, he easily comes to the conclusion that actually, Mirio should have One for All. Just like that (ch 172). If Mirio hadn’t dismissed the “hypothetical,” he probably would have gone through with giving it to him. That’s not how a 2 would respond. A 2 would double down and aim to be better than Mirio by trying to establish some relationship of need, fueled by the insecurity. Their shared subplot with Eri would have looked pretty different, I think.

Katsuki: I’ve mentioned before that I believe their rivalry only exists because Katsuki put it there. First of all, we can see that after the sludge villain incident, Izuku weirdly takes Katsuki’s dismissal of Izuku’s help as practical advice. Like, ��oh yeah, I guess what I did was pretty stupid and dangerous, and I’m not cut out for this hero stuff. Now I can move on and find a realistic career.” Hello?? He accepted that so easily. So Izuku clearly isn’t motivated by a desire to prove himself to Katsuki. Even when he proclaims he’s going to surpass him, it’s like he’s happily mimicking Katsuki, not reacting based on insecurity or pride. Izuku is content to meet Katsuki wherever he is, and he’s satisfied with whatever kind of relationship they are able to have, including a rivalry, so he isn’t vying for his affection either. We can observe this when he gives up the role of reaching out a hand to save Katsuki to Kirishima, and also when he thinks about how “blessed” he is to even have a normal conversation with Katsuki. He doesn’t push things. It’s also stated in Deku vs. Kacchan 2 that Izuku doesn’t excuse or overlook Katsuki’s “bad side” but still admires him for his other traits. This is not at all characteristic of a toxic 2x8 relationship.

When 2s are at their very worst or pushed into unhealthy situations, they tend to become more needy and self-centered, even downright manipulative. But at Izuku’s worst, when he went rogue, he pushed everyone away to avoid being a burden. When the refugees at UA tried to prevent him from returning, he was like, “you’re right” and would have turned back immediately if not for his friends, loved ones, and other people who care about him telling him it was all okay. Meanwhile, Katsuki, in true 8 fashion, was pissed off at being rejected and having to deal with Izuku’s stubborn and evasive side (oh yeah, have I mentioned 9s are actually stubborn as hell?), but he made sure to establish that they are (he is) here to step in when Izuku can’t handle things by himself. Katsuki even opened up and admitted to his own weaknesses to show why mutual support is so important. Tbh, a lot of the above can be construed as just super healthy type 2 behavior, but not this. The way Izuku acts at his lowest, and his dynamic with Katsuki? Totally different. Dead giveaway for a 9.

Let’s get into the type 9 itself in more detail to show how it applies to Izuku more deeply—seriously, it’s beat for beat. One of the key differences is, while 2s seek validation, 9s are actually resigned to the belief that they aren’t important. Similar to 2s, a 9′s basic fear is of separation, but their basic desire is actually just peace or harmony rather than love. Notice how these motivations are just like a 2’s, except they have the “self” part taken out. With that in mind, they “achieve” their basic desire through selflessness in and of itself, without the need for recognition. That’s not to say that 9s are better than 2s. In fact, a 9 can be worse, in a way. If unhealthy, they will seek peace at almost any cost to themselves. In other words, they can be more self-destructive while still under the impression that they are doing just fine. “Peace” may refer to the expression of empathy, fulfilling the needs of others, sheltering someone, or mediating a fight—but also to repressing their own opinions and needs, not “rocking the boat,” ignoring negative emotions, or becoming a vessel for someone else to vent to.

What about inner peace? 9s value serenity, and thus they have a complicated relationship with the most tumultuous of emotions: anger. On the surface, 9s look like the type that is extremely slow to anger and highly tolerant. However, as much as they would like to believe this about themselves too, deep down, 9s are afraid of what might happen if they lose control. My phrase for it is this: I feel like a bottled tornado. Personally, I also think of anger as a basic desire to make others feel your pain—not necessarily sadistically, but in an effort to be known, to be understood. The difficult thing to grasp, especially for a 9, is that this is NOT inherently a bad thing. It isn’t wrong to seek sympathy. On the contrary, it is harmful to tell yourself that getting angry is wrong, because it’s like telling yourself that your pain is wrong, your pain doesn’t matter.

The problem is it doesn’t stop there. A 9, in shutting down their anger, ends up with such a low opinion of their own heart, their other emotions dull along with it. They cry less, laugh less, love less. It’s often said that they “fall asleep” to themselves. It all starts with anger. It’s interesting to note how different this whole mindset is from toxic masculinity—where men only feel allowed/able to express emotions through anger. This is sorta like the opposite. Anger becomes the dam rather than the river. For Izuku, I want us to consider that his suppression of anger carries with it the implication that he is hiding other things, too. It’s a given. There’s a whole sea of feelings out there, and we can only see the waves hitting the shore. This brings me to the whole “control your heart” thing. I do think it is worth mentioning that Banjou didn’t just tell Izuku to exercise control. He also told him that his anger could be useful if it is harnessed. With this added context, “control” here means “to master.” And Izuku seemed to grasp this concept… sorta. I think that if Izuku is like a 9, we can assume he has trouble understanding how anger could be a worthy source of strength. His emotions in relation to Katsuki feel more like a weakness to him, a character flaw in a hero, who is supposed to be detached and selfless. But he’s trying to understand, even though he’s afraid of it. He essentially applied the same strategy he used for mastering OFA itself: incremental strength training. Which, okay. Take a moment to absorb how odd that is, in relation to emotions, specifically. Does one learn to cry incrementally? Does one learn to use anger by bottling a fucking tornado?? Like, what, you think you’re gonna be able to let out juuust the right amount of air to avoid an explosion??? No, man… if you want to be the master of your emotions you have to be willing to sit with them. Confront them. Listen to them. Take them in completely and accept them as a part of yourself.

For someone like Izuku, though, it is very difficult to imagine how this is even possible. Tomura, as with every villain, can be used to reflect his hero counterpart’s greatest fear about himself. Tomura literally touches everyone and everything with his rage, and as a physical manifestation of that desire to pass his own pain onto others, destruction radiates from his fingertips. Thus, losing control in this manner must be Izuku’s worst nightmare, as if he would be completely unable to stop the collateral damage like an infinite line of dominoes. But his anger is not something he can overcome, as such.

An overarching theme in this heroes vs. villains conflict is that the villains are not merely obstacles to be overcome. Just think back to Himiko’s bitter rejection of the heroic sense of superiority. She demanded not to be pitied, condescended to, or lied to. Likewise, the answer cannot be that Izuku needs to restrain himself where Tomura doesn’t. What purpose would it serve to show that Izuku is better than him? Certainly not saving Tomura. If this was a battle against AFO, it might have been a different story. In that case, Izuku would have to overcome his emotional manipulation tactics. Tomura, on the other hand, is not so strategic. With his strangely childlike tendencies, he must relish making Izuku mad because it brings them closer to the same wavelength. It’s his own twisted way or seeking sympathy, or at least, the closest thing to sympathy he can get anymore, because he believes he is beyond saving. With that in mind, Izuku isn’t going to get anywhere unless he rises to meet him. Izuku has to match Tomura’s hatred with equally strong emotions of his own, whatever they may be, or else face the loss of OFA (as established in 305). This is not an easy thing to ask of a 9, once they have started to pull the blood from their extremities, become cold and numb. Bringing back circulation is painful and makes the skin crawl.

In case you’re worried about the focus on anger here, I want to reiterate that concealed anger in a 9 is just one sign of so much more. Back when everyone started fretting about Izuku’s habit of self-sacrifice, which would have been the only thing we need to worry about if he were a 2, I was freaking out because Izuku was also starting to look like a person who has too many secrets. You don’t even have to acknowledge the possibility that he lied about what triggered blackwhip. It’s written all over his face all the time these days. It’s especially noticeable when you contrast him with Katsuki after all his own growth. Katsuki confides in people. He acknowledges his weaknesses. He enjoys being himself. He asserts his place. He thinks about Izuku all the damn time and now he even lets himself be soft about it. All this warmth while Izuku is distant, muted, and blank. I know all too well what this state of mind is like. Man, I hate secrets. You get to the point where you don’t know how to talk about even the simplest most inconsequential shit. And the bigger things? They’re like a growing snowball of words in your throat that cannot possibly fit out of your mouth. The “easiest” way to cope is to simply fade into the rhythm of life. Go with the flow.

Since 9s have a natural curiosity about the interiority of other people, they may choose to focus on that in order to divert their own attention away from themselves. Taken to the extreme, they will lose track of their sense of self. Like I said, you can see Izuku doing this as he fights, analyzing the psyche of his opponent, and his match against Shouto in the sports festival was a fantastic early example. They became friends because of how observant Izuku is. His emotional intelligence and intuition are very strong, but gradually, as he has taken on greater responsibilities and experienced more trauma, he has gotten worse at applying these skills to himself. You know, we go on and on about how his narration has been reduced to nearly nothing, and it’s not just an absence of introspection, it’s an absence of self. It creates a lack of ownership over the narrative—what should be his narrative.

Right now, he’s focusing on trying to see Tomura as a person, figuring him out. I think it would be really satisfyingly ironic if in the process, he ends up uncovering insights about himself instead. It’s about time we learn what Izuku’s secrets are. I don’t actually think that Izuku mastering anger will constitute the emotion that is strong enough to keep Tomura from taking OFA. Moreover, he can’t expect to reach Tomura’s core, Tenko, unless he exposes his own. Rather, anger is the conduit for Izuku to unlock something else. Think of the way he described how Katsuki is his image of victory. The feeling manifests when he asserts a stronger sense of self (the urge to win) and he becomes more free with his words. I have no doubt that Tomura has the power to make unfiltered honesty spill out of him. He knows how to bring out his selfish needs, his pain, his pressure points, his fears, his insecurities. Hell, maybe Mt. Fuji erupting is a metaphor. I want to see Izuku explode while Tomura watches with mad glee. But then I want Izuku to Realize Things such that it finally sets him free. Then, instead of Tomura witnessing yet another person he touches fall apart, he gets to see someone become whole.

"I let the scale tip, feel all of it. It's uncomfortable but right. And we were born to try to see each other through. To know and love ourselves and others well is the most difficult and meaningful work we'll ever do." --Sleeping At Last, 'Nine'

[kmgkmg]

CREAM SODA - JEON WONWOO

word count: 1.6k…

pairing: wonwoo x afab!reader (otherwise gender neutral)

synopsis: wonwoo comes home from practice needing some relief (not a lot of plot...but a lot of action iykwim...)

genre/s: smut, idol!wonwoo, softdom!wonwoo, bf!wonwoo, established relationship, domestic

warnings: nipple play, shower sex, petnames (literally just baby), begging, biting, marking, fingering, overstimulation, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (both receiving)

rating: r (18+), minors dni

a/n: the lyrics were absolutely insane for exo's comeback but it also had me ~imagining~ things for wonwoo so...here it is! thank you so much to @rose-likesto-write for being the beta reader for this fic!

Wonwoo opened the door as carefully as he could, only to see you sleeping peacefully on the couch. It was already past one in the morning, he was drenched in sweat and his whole body ached from dancing for hours. 

“Baby, I’m home,” he softly announces to you. Seeing you stir awake causes him to smile lightly and caress your hair. 

“How was practice?” You yawn, getting up to hug him. 

“It was decent, nothing unusual. Are you sure you want to hug me though, I’m pretty gross right now.” He turns around to reveal the back of his shirt was soaked with sweat. 

You ignore his warning and hug him, “It’s okay, I need to shower before going to bed anyway.”

He hugs you back before separating the hug and raising an eyebrow, “It’s so late and you still haven’t showered…how lazy.” 

The tone of his voice was all too familiar, matched with the lust in his eyes. It’s evident that he wanted to have his way with you. “Guess we need to get clean then.” 

You’re fully awake now, excited of what the night has to bring you. What Wonwoo will do to you. 

“Already thinking about what I’m going to do to you, Y/N?” He teases you, nibbling on your bottom lip before kissing you deeply.  

You both become solely focused on each other, making out sloppily while taking off each other’s clothes. Bumping into things was a given, you could only imagine the mess your place was with clothing sprawled out everywhere. 

You finally get to the bathroom and Wonwoo wastes no time. He turns on the shower, pushing you against the shower wall as he starts kissing you again. The way that he was kissing you, you knew you’d be covered in marks. It didn’t matter though, he loved that the whole world would be knowing you were taken. Your quickened breaths could be felt as he continued to cover you in hickeys. 

He knew your weak spots just like the back of his hand. The amount of pressure to apply, the touches and reserved focus on certain parts of your body, he memorized it all. His lips linger on your nipples, biting them just enough to be both painful and full of pleasure. You were in the palm of his hands, shaking from his touch. Wonwoo spreads your thighs open, “Look how wet you are for me.” 

You can’t even muster a reply, overcome with pleasure from his affection. It was always this way whenever you had sex with Wonwoo. 

He stops abruptly, much to your dismay. He grabs the washcloth and lathers soap all over your body. Wonwoo also notices your eager eyes as you grab the washcloth from him and begin to rub soap over his body in return.

You paid special attention to the area behind his ears, knowing touching them only made him more aroused. He tosses the washcloth aside and kisses you again.

“I need you, now.” You beg, hand reaching for his dick. 

“Yeah?” He hums, continuing to leave marks all over your body, “How bad do you need me?” 

You kneel down, opening your mouth and stretching your tongue out to show him. 

He finds you cute the way you wanted to pleasure him just as much as he pleased you.

You take his dick into your hands and look at it in admiration, never getting over his size. You used your tongue to play with the tip before fitting as much of him as you could in your mouth. He was hard and thick which only turned you on more. You loved the taste of him.

He placed his hand gently behind your head and held himself in place with the other hand on the shower wall. “You can handle more of me, can’t you?” 

You attempt to say yes but it comes out muffled due to him being in your mouth. He slowly goes farther in, fucking your mouth. 

“You look so hot with my cock in your mouth, Y/N.”

You continued giving him head until he pulled out and released onto your face.

Looking up at him with swollen lips, teary eyes, and his load on your face you ask, “How was it?”

“You did so fucking good, baby. Should I give you a reward?” His low voice asks, helping you up onto your feet. He cleaned your face up with water. 

You nod fervently, “Yes please, Wonwoo.”

He turns the shower faucet off, deciding that the shower was too small for all that he wanted to do to you. Neither of you bother with grabbing a towel to dry off and he pushes you onto your shared bed.

He trails his fingers down your wet body slowly, sending chills. By the time he puts his fingers inside you, your body was already on fire. He goes at a steady rhythm, enjoying the overindulged expression on your face.

You reach for anything to hold on to, foolishly grabbing his hair. That doesn’t stop Wonwoo from fingering you, instead he uses his free hand to grab both of your wrists and pinned them above your head.

“Did I say you could move freely, Y/N?” His question could barely be heard as you experienced pure ecstasy from his touch. “Do I have to ask again?”

You shake your head no, unable to form a proper sentence. Each time he rammed his fingers into you, the heat inside you built up more. You weren’t sure how much longer you could take it. 

Moaning his name was enough to get him to look up with a sly smirk, knowing your voice when you were close to your limits. Without a second to waste, he pulls his fingers out, depriving you from any possible orgasm. 

“Wait until I give you permission.” 

Your whole body trembles, trying your best to follow his order. Raggedly you whine, “Please, Wonwoo, I need your fingers in me again.” 

“All pretty saying please…you’ve earned it.” He curls his fingers into you again and you instantly reach your climax. He rubs your thighs supportively, helping you work through the orgasm. Your mind went blank besides the image of Wonwoo being vivid.

“Y/N, do you deserve more?” He watches you catch your breath, having more planned for you. 

You were still panting, but craved more. Your eyes fluttered open, “Yes, please.”

Wonwoo smirked and laid soft kisses on your torso before continuing. You sprawl out again, preparing for whatever he was about to do. 

He skillfully used his tongue on your clit and squeezed your ass before sliding his tongue in you. You writhe under the new stimulation on your lower body. Clutching the sheets in your hands, your moans grow louder as you’re completely at Wonwoo’s mercy.

Intoxicated with the taste of you, Wonwoo’s grip around your thighs tightens more. He takes a break from eating you out and looks up at you dazed, “I just know this tastes too good to be healthy.”

Wonwoo loved eating your pussy. Drowning in your juice, he ate you out like it was an animalistic instinct of his. Your bodies grinded together in harmonization. Each time you squirmed he would move his tongue in a different direction, making you arch your back again and again. He gave you no time to recover and before you knew it, another orgasm came. You clenched your thighs together out of reflex, but Wonwoo loved it. Loved the way you wrapped his head between your thighs so much it only made him more excited. He continued to eat you out, even as you came. 

“Do you have enough strength to get on all fours?” Wonwoo’s question snaps you out of your bliss, knowing the main event is coming. You reposition yourself on the bed, having Wonwoo watch each move hungrily. 

He puts his hands on your hips and looks down at you with soft eyes, “Y/N, do you want this cock in you?”

Your head is facing the headboard, a sight you were too used to, “Use me all you want.” 

The sound of your gasp fills the bedroom as he fits his entire length into you. You roll your hips into his cock, legs still feeling weak and Wonwoo was to blame. You could feel yourself pulsing around his cock, so sensitive that anything he did would make you lose your mind. 

“Good baby, so tight for me. Who owns your sweet pussy?”

“You, Wonwoo! I’m all yours and only yours,” you whimper as your eyes roll back. 

Your words turn him on even more and he leans down to kiss you tenderly before thrusting faster. 

“I’m about to…” Wonwoo groans, unable to contain himself. 

“Fill me, fill me with all of you.” You plead, about to come for the nth time of the night. 

Your words send Wonwoo over the edge and he does one final thrust, filling you with him. His eyes close in pure euphoria as you clench around his cock. He pulls out and appreciates the view in front of him.

Wonwoo loved seeing his Y/N being left a mess. Hair disheveled, covered in sweat, and panting. He falls onto bed next to you, exhausted. 

“I love you,” Wonwoo sighed, caressing the side of your face.

“I love you more,” you exhaled, caressing his face as well. 

Wrapping his arms around you, Wonwoo’s fingers tapping against your shoulder as you nestled your head into his chest. You both laid in bed, unable to sleep but needing to rest after your strenuous night. After about thirty minutes, his bulge could be felt against your ass as he held you. 

“Not tired yet?” You tease him knowingly.

“Looks like we’ll need another shower,” he smugly replies.  

Tonight was going to be a long night, not that either of you minded.

[slashersgostabbystabstab]

Object of Obsession

Ghostface x Reader Smut

Mmm...old fic from my old, deleted blog...felt like posting it cause why not. I remember if anybody remembers this fic.

Warnings? SMUT. And everything else you would expect in a DBD fic (I'm sorry it's midnight and I'm posting on my phone,I'll fix this whole post tomorrow)

I stg if this gets a decent amount of notes(just to show people wanna see more) I will post the other fics I had deleted (these involve the Blight, more Ghostface, and possible Wraith ones...)

Words: 6,021

"Hello?”

“Hello there.”

It had all started with a call, a mere and simple call.

“Who's this?”

“Soon you’ll discover.”

You assumed it was a telemarketer, or some kind of prank perhaps.

“I'm sorry, sir, but I think you have the wrong number.”

Now that you thought about, you had wished it was some stupid teenagers or some guy offering to buy some stupid prodcut.

“How are you so sure? Tell me your name, and I'll tell you mine.”

“My name? But why?”

Yet it wasn’t either of those.

Had it been one, you wouldn’t be limping through the lone yet crowded streets of this neighborhood.

“I want to know who I’m looking at.”

Putting aside the lack of doors and completely run down homes, one could have said the neighborhood...was normal looking.

Normal.

That was what you could now consider the life you no longer lived.

A life in a neighborhood not too different from the one you found yourself in.

Everything had been going well, even if life was shitty, it was no doubt better than this.

“You sick fuck!”

In your mouth you perceived the taste of iron, one you knew belonged to the blood smeared over your lips. Thinking about it, you weren’t even sure if the blood came from your lips that you bit to contain desperate whimpers of pain, or from the blood that was found nearly everywhere you limped through.

“I’ll gut you like a fish!”

That voice, you despised it with every ounce of remaining blood in your body. You weren’t even sure how much you had left after everything you had endured. All you knew was that your complexion had indeed turned into a paler one, your loss of blood evident as you unconsciously continued to bleed.

It had all started with a call, a mere and simple call.

Why did you have to pick up the damn phone?

Why did you pick it up all the following times that bastard called?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a scream that prompted you to skid to a stop, nearly crashing into one of the trees you were now surrounded by. With the hand that was not holding your impaled side, you clung onto the tree as your teeth now released your lip and you allowed yourself to pant after so much running.

Another scream was heard, a voice telling you to look to your right. Once you did, there he was.

In a panic, you shut your mouth as tightly as possible before rushing towards the direction you had just been coming from. You gulped and concealed whimpers that were created by the pain coursing through your ankle. As you fixed a generator earlier with one of the many people suffering the same, neither of you ever realized the looming presence that failed to strike your shoulder, instead hitting the generator that further damaged it.

You and the other person saw him, that bastard who was brought into this world of chaos with you. A man with a ghostly mask and dark clothing that helped him blend in with his surroundings. And he stared you down after you had fallen onto your bottom, already raising his blade above his head to strike upon you. But to your relief, the person behind stood in between the two of you, flashing the ghostly mask with a light so bright that made him loudly groan before your teammate helped you up and away.

The woman ran to the left as you ran to the right, never realizing that your footsteps were enough to have the ghostly figure chasing after you once more. However, before he had the chance of piercing your skin, you jumped through a window before falling to the harsh floor, injuring your ankle in the process. As you got up, you stared up at the window where you saw the figure peering down at you with a tilt of his head, deciding that now was not the time to continue your chase.

Obsession.

That was what the other survivors called you, as well as others like one who you learned went by the name Laurie Strode.

According to the others, there was more than one being with the goal of killing, and each one was somehow matched up with a being with the goal of survival.

You were one of the poor souls who had been matched up with a killer obsessed with their survivor.

Even more unfortunate was the link created with this obsession, brought to life by the very being that brought you and that bastard into this world.

“What do you want!?”

“What do you want…” you muttered through grit teeth, remembering that those words were the last you cried out after being chased in your own home. You remembered being cornered in your bedroom with the obsessed predator standing between you and your freedom.

“I want to see what your insides look like!”

Those words the last words he shouted, right before the lights in your bedroom turned extremely bright and blinded the two of you. You brought your arms up to shield your eyes, realizing that the lights had turned into swirls of red that flashed once and quite intensely, all the while a thick fog engulfed you and the figure.

Once the light show had ended, you opened your eyes, finding yourself alone and in a strange place.

A strange place you eventually learned was one of the realms conjured up by The Entity.

Your thoughts were once again interrupted, this time by the sound of a phone ringing.

You cursed under your breath and immediately pressed the ‘answer’ option, pressing the device against your ear as you heard the same ringing coming from one other location that had previously been three others, one for each survivor.

Two had now been sacrificed, and the third...well, the latest scream was more than enough information.

From the other line you could hear a dark chuckle, making your eyebrows furrow deeper and your teeth grit harder.

“I always feel like somebody’s watching me.~”

“Fuck you! Fuck you!”

“Aw, Dollface, no need for that kind of language.~”

You angrily ended the call before resuming your limping around, having to stop for a moment to wince in pain and grit your teeth even harder, causing a new pain to be created. Right then, you heard the phone in your pocket ring again and this time only yours, making you the last survivor again. But, it also made you the only one around with a phone, making you much easier to locate.

“You sick, sick fuck!” you hissed into the phone once you replied, frustrated how this so-called Entity made it so that you could never rid of the phone unless you were given a moment of peace or faced against another one of those bloodthirsty predators.

“Why so angry? All I want is to play a little game.”

“Well game’s over asshole!” you gripped onto the phone, scouting the area while being cautious, knowing how well this man hid. “I’m gonna find that damn hatch, and I’m living another day!”

“Oh, is that so?” the man chuckled once more. “That’s not what happened last time.~”

Death was something nearly inevitable in this realm, and it was something that you and the others were able to experience multiple times.

The last time you were faced with this man, you finally had a taste of sweet, sweet death, deciding that that would be the first and last time you would.

So you ended the call in a fit while scanning every inch of the overgrown grass you currently ran through, hurriedly searching for the hatch you hoped he hadn’t shut back. Without a key, the hatch was useless, especially because you still needed two more generators to power up the gates.

The phone rang again, further irking you before you answered.

“What do you fucking want!?”

“The question isn’t, what do I want.”the killer cooed at you, somehow being heard over the sound of your heart rapidly beating in your ears.“The question is, where am I?”

“Where, are you?” you jeered, holding your side with your fingers digging deep into your ripped shirt that had been slashed earlier.

“Heads up.~”

At the sound of that, a feeling overcame you...a dreading feeling that you were completely exposed.

You felt your eyes widen as you ever so slowly turned to look up, lips quivering upon the sigh of the ghost mask looking down at you from one of the roofs. You gasped as the killer waved at you with a tilt of his head, then rushing away from the home for you knew he had jumped down with ease and no pain.

Not that there was no need to hide your sounds, you panted loudly while sprinting down the empty street, never daring to look behind you for you knew the killer was just a few feet away.

Had it not been for your racing heart, you would have heard the heavy steps coming from the killer’s boots as he continued to chase. Yet you knew those running steps were heard, so you made your way towards a sidewalk that was placed between a tree and a fence.

Of course, the killer followed right through but was immediately thrown back when you cleverly pulled down one of the leftover pallets.

As the killer tried to recuperate, you took your chance and ran through a space between the homes before making a right and continuing until you found yourself limping into the front entrance of one of the far houses.

With the feeling of exposure gone, you silently made your way towards the living room where you found a pair of lockers. Carefully grabbing the handle of one, your bit your lip while attempting to open it as quietly as possible, something quite impossible.

And this you witnessed like several other times, ignoring it and placing your body in the space before shutting the door to then be immersed in a darkness. The only light came from the three slots on the door, giving you the slightest view of the outside world.

With a hand clasped over your mouth, you tried to steady your heart pace and your heavy breathing, ignoring the pain on your side and ankle that you found it impossible to stand on. Your eyes were shut tightly as you gave a slight wheeze, the stab wound on your side continuing to bleed out.

“I want to see what your insides look like!”

Those words replayed in your head, especially as you heard muffled breaths outside your locker, making you gulp and clench your free hand into a fist, ready to strike if needed.

You opened your eyes, feeling your hand shake but forcing it to stop once you saw the killer just outside the locker.

He stopped walking as he was a few feet away, deciding to crouch down with one of his hands holding his blade as his other dialed something into his personal phone, prompting a deep panic to course through your body as you readied yourself for whatever happened after your phone began ringing.

Yet...your phone never rang.

“Fuck!”

Through the slots you could see the man stand in pure frustration, kicking a leftover couch as you both realized that your phone had run out of juice. Thankfully, the Entity kept things considerably fair.

You saw as the killer angrily made his way out of the house, giving you a chance to sigh in relief before placing your hands on the locker’s doors, opening them in an instant before looking to your right and feeling the relief once more.

“The hatch!” you whispered to yourself, grinning ear to ear before making your way over to it.

Another day-

With the sound of a loud creak and then slam, you skid to a stop before your grin fell into a frown oh terror once you looked into the void-like eyes of the ghost mask, it’s owner just having shut the hatch before your eyes.

“No!” you barely cried out, turning before trying to make a run for it until you felt the back of your shirt be grabbed and pulled, making you fall backwards and onto the hard, wooden floor.

After wincing in reaction for the briefest of moments, you looked up and immediately reacted with your healthy leg, kicking upwards to where you saw the killer ready to strike his blade.

You heard an ‘oof’ from behind the mask, right before the killer dropped down after having been kicked in the abdomen. After rolling onto your stomach, you attempted to drag your body out of the house as the killer took his time, but you shrieked in pain once you felt a leather glove wrap around your injured ankle.

Soon you were pulled backwards by the ankle and then turned onto your back again before feeling a hand be placed on your chest, keeping you down as you attempted to move it away. Instead, you felt something heavier hold you down as your wrists were held above your head, realizing that your waist was straddled by the killer. You saw as he felt his hands above his head again, ready to plunge to blade deep into your heart several times.

Memento Mori.

You gasped at the memory of that phrase, shutting your eyes and covering your face with your arm as you expected an immediate kill rather than sacrifice.

However...it never came.

Hesitantly, you opened one of your eyes and to look up at the man who’s blade was no longer above his head but already down. Now with both of your eyes opened, you glanced up to where your pinned wrists were, seeing as the knife had been struck into one of the aging wooden planks.

“Gotcha there, didn’t I?” the killer spoke through his mask, chuckling at the sight of your helpless form. “Thought to myself, how fun would it be to stab you like the game before? But then I thought, no...maybe not this time.”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, blinking up at the man who tilted his head like every single time.

“I’ve seen the way you stare.” he started once he retrieved his blade, still never releasing your wrists. “That glint in your eye when I grab another one of those pathetic idiots, slinging them over and onto a hook like nothing.”

“What?” you finally spoke up.

“Don’t play dumb Dollface.” he presented his blade, holding it horizontally before it teasingly made its way over to your neck to now graze over your skin, threatening to break it. “You think I know nothing, but I know everything about you.”

“Because you’ve been fucking stalk me even before we were brought here?” you attempted to move your arms, but the man’s hold grew stronger.

“You could say that.~” he purred while sliding the tip of his blade up to your chin, now gliding it against your jaw as he leaned down and close to your ear. “Kitten.~”

Fuck.

Fuck no.

“Oh, don’t tell me you liked that.~”

You squirmed beneath the killer’s grip, then choking out a gasp once you felt both of his hands place themselves on your body after he had repositioned himself.

With the knife being no more but instead an accessory on the ground, you found a gloved hand wrapped around your throat while the other ever so casually placed a finger on your thigh as he kneeled in between each one.

“What are you-” you croaked out as your hands wrapped themselves around the one on your throat, attempting to remove it as you felt its grip tighten.

“Drop the act.” he purred right into your ear, taking notice of how your breaths and heart rate quickened, prompting him to slide his lone finger up and down your thigh in a teasing manner. “You fucking love this shit."

“I-” you wheezed out, feeling as his finger on your thigh was now joined by the rest of them, squeezing your denim covered leg. “Fuck!”

“Look at that,” he pressed his mask against your ear as you shut your eyes, digging your nails into the hand that refused to let go of your neck. “Just a small squeeze…”

“Stop…” you tried to gulp, now feeling as his hand sank to the inside of your thigh, caressing it soft enough to make you squirm beneath him.

“Stop?"

“Y-yes!”

No.

Never.

“Stop!” you exclaimed as best as possible, especially as his hand now squeezed your thigh, basically massaging it before his hand traveled under it to hold it securely.

“Is that really what you want?” he lifted your leg into the air, pressing the cheek of his mask against it to rub himself. “You want me to stop and hook you?”

“Yes, I-I mean...no?” you stammered, finally breathing in peace when the man released your neck and instead placed his hand on your leg so that both of them gripped on.

“You’ve kept me waiting for this long, better make up your mind now before I do.”

“W-waiting?” you blinked at him a few time, then feeling something...somewhere.

Your eyes trailed down his body that kneeled in between your legs, then making your eyes widen once you noticed that beneath all the dark clothing was a bulge pulsating right in front of your crotch.

Wow.

Fuck.

“Whoa…” you started as you attempted to sit up, only to be pushed down in a rough manner. “Whoa, whoa-!”

Soon you felt as your leg was lowered and the killer’s hands were instead placed on your waist, dragging your body so that the bulge between his legs poked the opening you unintentionally provided.

“Crap…”you muttered out once a heat came upon your cheeks, this being due to the newfound heat in between your legs.

Before you could react any further, you felt as your body was hoisted up and onto the killer’s shoulder. There was no time to attempt and wiggle out of his grasp, for you now found yourself being thrown onto the nearby couch, purposely having been put in a slouching position as the man once again kneeled in front of you and between your legs.

“What are you…” panted words escaped your lips as the killer placed each hand on each of your thighs, spreading them further to lean in extremely close to the in between. “Hey..!”

“What?” he asked, never turning away from your area as you felt your cheeks burn hotter.

“A-At least take me out on a date first!” you semi-joked, grateful for the mask he still wore and the jeans covering you, for if neither of those hadn’t been in the way, you would have felt his hot breath over your… “Shit…”

“First you’re fighting and trying to kick my ass,” the man dragged his hands closer to the center, making you squirm a bit more. “But now, you’re here squirming under my grip, shy over the big bad killer being in between your legs.”

“Big? As if.” you scoffed as you attempted to regain your composure, instead giving a slight gasp when he dug the fingers of one hand into your leg, just as the other reached up to the hem of your pants.

“Take them off.”

“W-what?”

“Pants.” he posited in a deep voice, squeezing your thigh once more before his tone grew much more assertive. “Now.”

With a shaky nod, you reach down to unbutton your jeans, soon feeling as they were quickly being slid off your legs before being flung to the side like nothing.

“I-”

“You never know when to stop talking, hm?” the man shushed you as his hands grew close to your center once more, this time taking their time to taunt you. “You never know anything.”

This time, you kept quiet as you felt him press one of his thumbs on your briefs, rubbing a few circles that made you hiss through your now grit teeth.

“You’re a stupid one, but maybe not that stupid.”

You could tell this bastard was licking his lips right behind that mask, eyes watching your every move and getting off it.

“You don’t know just how long I’ve been watching you.” he continued as he rubbed the slight dent on his mask against you before sinking it further. “How long I’ve craved for you.”

“Craved?” you breathed out with fluttering eyelashes, not daring to look away from the man who snuck a finger under your panties, tugging on them to only tease and expose your opening.

“I thought that after all our previous encounters you would have figured it out by now.” he finally placed two fingers onto your entrance, making your arch back as he went under your folds to encircle your bud by dividing and reuniting his fingers various times. “I thought, maybe all this chasing and slashing was enough to tell you."

With your mind in a haze, you kept what could have been considered quiet, not being able to speak a comprehensive response, let alone word.

“But fuck you’re an oblivous one.” the killer stopped his motions, making you give the slightest whine as you looked down at him with half lidded, pleading eyes. “But now that I have you here...I sure as hell am gonna have my way with you.”

You bit your lip at the sound of his husky tone, hands desperately reaching to the couch as you now felt as your bud was roughly rubbed, but in such a satisfying manner that made you throw your head back.

“I know you’ll love every second of it.” he continued to tease your clit, now using his other hand to open your folds and breathe heavily against you.

Wait.

“Moments ago you were ready to run, but look at you now.” you heard his voice, realizing it was no longer muffled. “So wet already.~”

You managed to look down at the man between your legs, surprise filling you as you saw that his mask had been slid up and away from his face that was unfortunately not visible to you.

At his words you shut his eyes: he was right, he was so right.

Maybe...just maybe when you first saw the news with a picture of this man’s mask...just maybe…

“The Ghostface Killer” was what the news said, and just maybe you...

“No…” you shook your head to yourself, not realizing that the man had looked up at you with a quirked eyebrow.

“No what?"

“Huh?” you glanced down at him, barely being able to see a scruffy chin after he had lowered his head again. “N-nothing-!”

You immediately clasped a hand over your mouth and shut your eyes as you felt something wet against your entrance, a moan muffled right behind your palm.

“Fuck…” you whispered as your other hand attempted to grab whatever, just so you had a hold on something while the wet appendage continued to move against you.

Seeing as the killer no longer made any comments, you could guess that he was now using his tongue as his hands held you down and open for him.

You managed to grab onto the top of his head, the man not minding nor worried that you would see his face due to how you arched your back and even rolled your eyes to the back of your head as he continued to lick your bud.

“A-ah…” you whimpered, digging your nails into the man’s hood as his tongue moved in a circular manner before moving up and down, making you choke out a sound of pleasure. You especially moaned at the feeling of one of his fingers teasing below that, right before plunging itself into your hole that made you bite your lip intensely.

But what made you a complete writhing mess was his lips planting themselves on your clit, sucking on you, making gross, sloppy sounds that turned you on even more and made your toes curl inside your shoes. Now, both of your hands were gripping onto the killer’s hood as one of his held you down with how much you moved around.

“Fuck, fuck, f-fuck-!” you wailed out, the man’s hands on your hips as you felt a knot in your stomach, something that was ready to explode at any moment. “Oh fuck, oh...Ghostface!”

Now that was enough to make the killer reach down to his crotch, cupping his bulge as you said that name.

“Say it again.” he paused his treatment on you, allowing you a moment to recover and grasp a bunch of your own hair.

“G-ghostface…” you wheezed, then shrieking in delight once you felt him suck on your clit once more. “Ghostface! Oh, fuck, yes!”

Squeezing your eyes even tighter and your legs attempting to repeat the action, you felt oh so close to sweet, sweet release.

And that moment finally came, right after Ghostface went back to licking you as his fingers wiggled inside you, mimicking a ‘come hither’ motion before he detached his lips from you and instead rubber his thumb on your clit.

You weren’t sure what it was you said, but you swore and you screamed into the cold air as one of your legs kicked up. You didn’t know how long this moment lasted, but it was a blissful moment that had you seeing white whether you had opened your eyes or not.

Ever so slowly, you returned to your senses and could hear the faint sound of your juices being slurped by Ghostface as you felt the slight stubble of his chin brushing against your wet skin.

You heaved with a euphoric sigh as your eyes fluttered open, then glancing down at the killer who adjusted his mask enough to cover his face while making sure to keep a space open.

He lifted his two fingers that he had used on you, bringing them up and into his lips as you heard him sucking on the remainder of your juices.

“Look at you,” Ghostface cooed as he stood up, now fixing his mask so that it properly covered his face. “So worn out, and I haven’t even finished.~”

“What?” you lifted your head to look at him, seeing as one of his hands cupped his throbbing bulge once more. “M-more?”

“After all the chases and kicks and punches,” he reached down and under his top, and you could hear the sound of a belt unbuckling right before an unzipping noise followed. “I think I deserve a little more.”

Your eyes fell onto where his hands were, widening at the bulge that he now unfurled out of his pants to reveal an erect member pointing right at you.

One of his hands held onto it, slowly pumping the member as you noticed trickles of precum at the tip, threatening to spill onto your abdomen once he had stepped closer towards you.

“Such hungry eyes.” Ghostface breathed out a chuckle, not realizing that he himself had grown desperate, nor that he began rubbing his tip over your drenched briefs. “Such a good hole...just for me.”

Before you could say anything, you felt his free hand grab under your right leg before he lifted it and set it on his shoulder which opened your entrance even more. Once that was done, he kneeled on the edge of the couch while still supporting himself on the ground, leaning in until the forehead of his mask was pressed against yours.

He tucked his arm under your raised leg to keep it in place, placing his hand on the couch to hold himself as his other hand guided his member, using it to move your undergarment to the side before he rubbed himself at your entrance. As he breathed deeply, he felt you wrap your arms around his neck before he finally brought himself inside, making you arch right into his chest that provoked a deep growl in his throat.

“Fuck…”you heard him grunt behind the mask, especially as he sunk himself deeper inside you which made your toes curl once more. “Fucking, hell…”

After a moment, you brought your left arm to his back and eventually slid it down to his bottom, unconsciously pushing on it so that he could continue.

“What are you waiting for?” you sighed out, staring into the lifeless eyes of his mask before you felt him pull out and thrust into you rather harshly.

“Quiet.” he commanded, just as he felt your other hand claw at his hood, grabbing a bunch that nearly removed it. “No...don’t keep quiet...scream. Scream for me.”

“Scream…” you gulped before feeling Ghostface repeat the same action from before, this causing you to give exactly what he wanted.

“That’s better.” his voice sounded through your ears over the sound of your heart beating fast. “Say my name. Scream my name.”

“Ghostface,” you panted out as you felt him slowly pull out again, then thrusting back inside at the same teasing pace that made you give a whine. “Please...Ghostface, please.”

“Ghostface what?” he questioned as he continued his movements in a slow manner, creating a new knot in your stomach that was instead bothersome, ever so irking with this terrible, terrible taunting. “Say it Dollface, tell me what you want me to do.”

“Ghostface,” your bottom lip quivered as you dug your nails right into the killer’s back and neck now. “Please...f...fuck me.”

“Thought you’d never ask.” the killer purred against your neck, right before he quickened his movements, feeling your left heel dig into his back as well.

“Ghostface,” your voice grew louder. “Ghostface, oh fuck-!”

“Mmm, Ghostface. Oooh, Ghostface!” the killer mocked you, now pressing his right hand on your throat as he squeezed. “You fucking like that, huh? Tel me how you fucking love it.”

“Ghostface,” you started, removing both of your hands from his body to place them on his wrist. “Ghostface, I fucking l-love it.”

“Of course you do.” he laughed as he squeezed your throat. “You love it when Ghostface fucks your little hole; nobody knows what you want but me.”

You breathlessly nodded while tightening your grip on his wrist, especially as his thrusts became even faster and roughed.

“Fuck!” you choked out, feeling as Ghostface did not hold back in the slightest bit.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head once Ghostface finally removed his hand from your throat, instead bringing it down to your clit to rub it with a pace that matched his thrusting.

“Oh, fuck, oh my-” your hands once again returned to Ghostface’s back before one went to his head yet again, clawing at his hood which you accidentally lowered, the man not seeming to care. “Ghostface-!”

“I’m so fucking close.” he whispered into your ear, hand clawing into the couch that neither of you heard squeak and creak with every rough move. “But not yet...not yet.”

Before you yourself were able to come to another release, you gave a disappointed breath once you felt the man’s member missing. You turned down, giving somewhat of a pout as you saw him hovering just above your entrance.

“Ghostface…"

“Move.” the man told you after having lowered your leg and sat on the opposite end of the couch. “Now.”

You gave a shaky nod before getting on your knees, looking at his exposed member that dripped with a mix of your and his juices.

Ghostface spread his legs before patting his lap, you already knowing what he wanted.

So, you carefully climbed onto his lap, straddling him as you held yourself above his member, only the tip touching you.

His hands were placed on your hips and they forced you down onto his cock, making you gasp in surprise once you felt your skin smack against each other despite him still wearing his pants.

You stared down at the killer, once again pressing your forehead against his mask before you felt him move under you, prompting you to bite your lip to contain any other sounds.

He moved his hips in a way that made you plant your hands on the couch as he began to move you upwards, right before his hands brought you down again. Ghostface watched every expression you gave, a chuckle rumbling in his throat as he had you panting against his mask. His fingers dug into your hips, no doubt leaving bruises that would eventually match the ones he had caused on your thighs earlier.

Ghostface huffed as he now moved his pelvis upwards so that your body wasn’t the only one moving, his thrusts becoming sloppy yet remaining rough and quick.

“Say my name.” he aggressively grabbed your chin, squeezing you as he brought you to a more appropriate eye level. “Scream.”

“Ghostface!” you finally opened your lips, wrapping your arms around him again as his hugged your frame tight against his chest. “Ooooh, fuck! Faster!~”

You struggled to do anything, you didn’t even know if you were still calling out to him or gave all kinds of shrieks and moans. All you knew was that the knot from before had returned, and you were having a hard time both hiding and restraining it.

“Such a tight little-” Ghostface had to stop himself, hips continuously clashing against your bottom that was probably also bruised at this point. “Squeezing my cock, you fucking love this, don’t you?”

“Y-yes!” you managed to cry out, nails once again digging into what you could only assume were Ghostface’s shoulders or arms. Considering the pads he wore, it was probably the latter.

“I’m, I’m close!”

“You don’t finish until I fucking tell you to.” Ghostface hissed at you, one of his arms still holding you tight while his other hand snaked up and inserted two of his fingers into your mouth.

With his fingers in your mouth, you choked out all kinds of sounds, never realizing that a bit of drool dripped out and down your chin, making Ghostface lick his lips.

“Yeah...yeah…” he breathed out, marveling at such a sight he waited far too long to see.

He picked up the speed, grinning like a deviant once he felt himself twitch inside you.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop…!” you mewled after his fingers were pulled out of your mouth, once again on your chin to pull your gaze down after you had thrown your head back lost in ecstacy.

“I’m not fucking stopping.” he gave a few grunts, pulling you face even closer to press himself against you. “Oooh fuck. Should have waited to kill the others, just so they could hear your cute little moans.”

“Mmm, Ghostface!” you whimpered as you felt yourself even closer, the possessive hold on your chin and body making you clench around the killer’s cock that continued to pound inside you. “Ghostface, G-ghost-”

“Do it, fucking do it.” he teased right into your ear, practically licking and nibbling you as you finally released that tension inside you.

With a scream, you wrapped your arms around the man who let go of your chin to wrap both of his arms around you again.

His thrusts became faster before you felt a hot liquid be shot inside you, eventually dripping out and sliding down your thigh as you once again had that hazy feeling.

You held onto Ghostface like your life depended on it, feeling your bottom half tremble as his speed slowed down with every final thrust until eventually there was no more.

Ghostface bit his own lip, both to hide his slight pants and the cheeky grin that crept onto his features, now leaning his head to the side where you panted exhaustively into his ears. His hands slid down from your back and waist to your bottom, supporting you so that you wouldn’t fall backwards after such an experience.

The killer squeezed your body, chuckling once more into your ear as his muffled voice spoke.

“Our film’s finished, but you can hope for a sequel.~”

[buckychristwrites]

About You | Day 12 | j.t.

Summary: Your job? Pop culture journalist for The Independent. Your assignment? To write a profile on the cocky footballer that you're publicly feuding with.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Cussing. Enemies to lovers

A/N: Please let me know what you think! :D side note, this gif is my fave thing that Jamie does in the whole show, im obsessed.

Masterlist | About You Masterlist | Main Blog

Smack.

Smack.

Smack.

With every newspaper that loudly hit, it was met with another jump from you, despite the fact that you knew they were coming. It had been a long morning, waking up early to catch the tube into the office, so you weren’t prepared for the loud noises this soon into the day, although you now knew more were to come. You stared at the headlines, reading each of them over and over again, as if you were trying to memorise them.

Tartt Seizes Mystery Girl’s Heart

Tartt Kiss: What We Know About The Footballer’s New Woman

Victory Celebration, Sealed With A Kiss

It was clear that the only reason the room was still silent was because a response from you was expected. You really didn’t know what there was to say. Scanning the words, you smacked your lips together before speaking.

“They’re not particularly clever.”

Your boss was whatever the exact opposite of enthused was, evident by his severe stare and the fact that he hadn’t sat down for a single second since you had entered his office.

“This funny to you?” He demanded, rotating his laptop to display an article that had your name and picture featured. An article you had already seen and gone through the 5 stages of grief over. “It’s funny that they know exactly who you are and why you were there?” You shrugged, a fire burning in your chest.

“They wouldn’t have known why I was there if you hadn’t posted the announcement of the profile without checking with me first.” 

His round face was turning a bright purple, but you remained nonchalant. These meetings were so much easier for you to swallow when he made it so easy to argue. At the very least, it gave you the entertainment of seeing him so mad. This time, however, it felt different. You could feel it, and you know he did too. Leaning into his palms, which were pressed against the top of his desk, he towered over the newspapers. Despite the fact that there was still a decent amount of space between you and him, you still instinctively leaned away from him.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

You didn’t look at him.

“I’m thinking that it was a football match, and excitement was high, and I’ve been spending a lot of time with Jamie Tartt, and maybe he wasn’t thinking very clearly.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. Although it definitely wasn’t entirely the truth, either. He began to nod as he grabbed his phone and began to type. A few seconds passed before he was sliding it across the desk to you.

“And what about that?”

Looking down, you saw the picture from Jamie’s instagram of you walking in his jersey, something you had totally forgotten about. A hot flash shot through you.

“I just borrowed some clothes. I walked to the stadium and it started raini-“ You stopped when your boss viciously waved you off.

“Don’t fucking disrespect me right now,” He said angrily, snatching his phone back. “Spotted wearing his clothes. Pictured exiting his car with him at the Charity Gala. What the fuck is the matter with you?” Your fingers were in your lap, pulling at each other. Even though you were telling the truth, there was no sense in continuing to defend yourself. His mind had been made up.

Within the hour of the match ending, you had received an email from your boss, telling you to come in for a meeting first thing in the morning. You took the tube in, which gave you plenty of time to settle your nerves. As much as you could, anyway.

Your boss began to yell about professionalism, and how you lacked it, while you thought of Jamie. No real conversation had occurred after The Kiss, as he got swept away by the team, and you found yourself being crowded by paparazzi and journalists as you tried to follow. It took two hours to go home, needing to take several detours to fend off the extra persistent ones. After that, you avoided your phone like the plague. It was blowing up with texts and calls from friends and relatives, asking if the pictures they were seeing were of you. Maybe there had been a text or two from Jamie as well, somewhere lost in the mix, but the fear of looking at your phone kept you from them. Instead, you had spent the night at home in solace, and worked on the article.

Your boss went silent for a while, pulling you from your thoughts. His fingers were white against the back of his chair, making you wonder when he moved there from the desk. Finally, he shook his head.

“I’m pulling you from the profile.”

Your spine straightened with the speed of a whip.

“You can’t do that,” You said in shock. He began to shake his head again, but you continued. “I did nothing wrong.” 

“You did everything wrong,” He spat. “You couldn’t be fucking professional. Sleeping with the fucking person you’re writing on. Disgusting. I’ll email you when I decide who will take over, and you’ll send them your notes.” The urge to cry was creeping up your throat, but you swallowed it down.

“I won’t be sending anyone shit,” You told him in a firm voice. “I’ve been working on this for almost two weeks. Do you know how hard I worked to get Jamie to trust me? After everything I’ve said in the past?” At this, he laughed. 

“Worked him real good, you did,” He said.

The comment felt like a strike to the face, and you leaned even further away from him. All you could see was red. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, his pleased smile only growing with each attempt to come up with something snarky or angry to say. A sort of acceptance washed over you as you knew what needed to be done.

“I fucking quit then.”

Now, the shock was on his face. 

“You’re quitting over Jamie fucking Tartt?” He shouted as you rose from your seat. You contemplated this answer before looking at him again, your face blank. 

“You’ve made me wish to quit over a lot less, if it makes you feel any better.” 

The yelling immediately began to commence once more, but you were already closing the door behind you. It didn’t take long for you to empty out your desk, as you really didn’t bring a lot of personal items to work, and before you knew it, you were at the train station with a box of assorted belongings and a spot in the unemployment line. 

The tube was mostly empty, just a few scattered people throughout the car. You took a spot in the back, setting the box in the space next to you while you sat against the window. As the train took off, you lost yourself in thought.

Where to go now? Over the years, you had yearned to move on from The Independent, much like Trent did, but had never bothered to try. Complacency and fear can really hold a person down. It was hard enough landing the job there, how hard would it be now to find a new one? Especially with the tainted reputation you now held? You absolutely couldn’t get any sort of reference from your old boss. Hell, he’d probably have you blacklisted from all major outlets before the day was out.

Looking at the empty seat that held your belongings, you were hit with deja vu. 

You can lay on down if ya want. Grab a few winks.

His voice echoed through your mind, bouncing off the walls of the train car. Your head fell back against the seat. Your body ached at his absence. You missed him horribly, and were angry about the things you missed out on. That you didn’t spend the day laughing with him. That there were so many things left unsaid still. That you could still feel the ghost of his lips on your own. 

You imagined him sitting next to you, and what he would say if he were there. 

Fuck ‘em. You don’t need them. You’ll be alright, love.

Your heart lurched at the thought as you came back to reality, greeted by the sad, grey box that held your belongings. You closed your eyes. It wasn’t the same. It felt like nothing would be again. 

But it had to be. Right?

Pulling out your phone, you went to call him to appease the yearning for his voice, but then froze. You didn’t want to call him. You wanted to see him.

You switched to another contact, typing and sending a message faster than your brain could process it. The response came quicker than expected, although you wouldn’t have been surprised if you hadn’t gotten one at all. A sigh fell from your lips as you stared out the window. Anxiety built in your belly, but you knew soon, it would all feel better. At least, you were hoping it would.

When you got off at your respective stop, you were determined as you rushed out. Your foot was on the first step to go up to the street when you paused. Turning, you ran to the first rubbish bin and threw the box on top. It didn’t quite fit, but you still left it. A few people gave you looks as you ran up the steps, some due to your strange behaviour, others because they recognized you from the pictures of you and Jamie in the press. You kept going.

You didn’t mean to run the whole way. But you did. Mostly due to the urgency you felt, but also partially because it was raining so hard that you felt like the streets would flood and carry you away. There was something cathartic about it. Maybe not to your heart, but to your mind. You slipped on the sidewalk a few blocks from the Underground station, almost falling straight into the cement had it not been for the lamppost next to you. It took a second to straighten up again, but once you were, you continued to run.

Within twenty minutes, you were walking down the residential street, rain continuing to pour. Your chest hurt from the running, as it wasn’t something you did with any sort of regularity. With every house you passed, you looked at the numbers on each one, searching for the one from the text. It was hard to see, with the rain and all, but you felt desperate enough, even going so far as to approach porches to properly read them.

It wasn’t the house number that alerted you to his house, however. It was his car, parked in the driveway. Your feet froze at the sight of it, remembering in vivid technicolor the rides you and him shared inside of it. The first one being under similar circumstances as you were in right now. The nerves were really building, as you stared the car and realised you were really at his house, and you wondered if you made a mistake. Wouldn’t it have made more sense to just return his calls? Instead of showing up, unannounced, in the pouring rain? 

Am I stupid? You asked yourself. Am I actually insane?

But you still found yourself approaching the door, your feet moving as if they were being magnetically pulled forward. It was nice to finally be out of the rain. You thought of the box in the bin back at the tube station. Did someone else take the belongings for themselves? Or would it end up in the landfill? Not that it mattered now. It was filled with things you’d never need again. 

You closed your eyes, thinking of the last two weeks. So much had happened. More than you ever would’ve predicted when you were given this assignment. And it all led to this moment, here, on Jamie’s porch, with you covered in rain water, heart full, and ready to share those feelings with him. After another brief moment to allow yourself to calm down, you lifted your hand and knocked one, two, three times on the door. 

As the seconds passed, you felt your heart begin to race. Is he not home? Maybe he went out with the team? Or out to the shops? You knocked again, a little faster, more urgent this time. More time ticked by, and nothing happened. Tears sprang into your eyes. Was this a sign? You checked your phone, ignoring your growing inbox as you went to Jamie’s text thread. Nothing new. Stuffing the phone back in your pocket, you gave the door another sorrow filed look. Would another knock be enough? 

No. Either he’s not home, or he doesn’t want to see you, you told yourself. It was that simple. 

You all but ran back into the rain, your head down and your spirit crushed. The walk home wasn’t a far one, although you assumed that by how many times Jamie had walked over to your place. Over the sound of the drops hitting the sidewalk, you thought you heard the sound of footsteps, but that was confirmed when you heard someone yell your name from behind.

Jamie Tartt stood before you, already soaked from the storm. He looked a mixture of pleased and confused to see you. His hair was back in the usual headband, sporting a black hoodie and joggers. 

“I was on the toilet,” He explained his delay, looking sheepish. You nodded, not caring for a single second what he had been doing. Just happy he was there now. Just you, him, the pouring rain and the bristling trees. 

“They pulled me from the profile.”

His face fell immediately, and he took a step forward. 

“Because of…?” He asked, trailing off. You nodded, causing him to pinch his chin between his fingers. “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have… I’m so sorry.” You shook your head at him, waving your hands in the same rhythm.

“Did you mean it?” You asked him. “The kiss. Did you mean to do it?”

He looked conflicted, like this was a test. Maybe he feared that you were asking in hopes that you could answer to get the article back. Or maybe he was worried that you regretted it terribly and wished that he did. 

“Yes.” It was so firm, so definitive. “I don’t regret it at all. I’d do it again. And again. And again.” You smiled widely, convinced that you’d never stop smiling again.

“I quit.” 

The curtain of rain didn’t hide the absolute shock that filled his face. You nodded.

“My boss implied that I slept with you to get you to trust me,” You explained. A beat passed and you tilted your head. “Actually, he just flat out said I slept with you to get you to trust me. So I quit. And I took all of my notes with me. So they’ll have to do everything over.” He ran a hand through his wet hair, shaking his head.

“I’m-” He stopped, his eyes squeezed shut as everything processed. “You…”

“I quit my fucking job for you,” You said, speaking loudly but slowly, so that nothing could be uncertain. You took a step forward. “I was miserable. I didn’t want to accept that, but I was.” You laughed, remembering how it felt to hate going into work. It felt like a lifetime ago, considering how happy you had been these last two weeks. “Then I got to interview you, and I remembered why I love writing and journalism in the first place. I quit my job so I can fucking kiss you whenever I fucking want to and not worry about what my boss has to say, or what people who have read my past articles about you have to say. Because I was wrong about you. I know that now.” You shrugged. “And maybe I’ll never get to write another article again, but I’ll get to kiss you, which I think is a good trade off.” 

A long time passed where he just stared at you, wide eyes and chest breathing heavy. Finally, after letting you sit in agony for a second too long, he took three quick strides towards you, pressing his hands to your cheeks and his lips were against yours once again. Your eyes closed instantly as you faded into the kiss. It was different this time, with more passion behind it, but the adrenaline that filled you was the same. You put one hand on the back of his head, curling your fingers in his hair, your other hand balling the front of his shirt in your fist. 

When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours. The rain was freezing against your skin, yet you were warm.

“It’s funny,” He mumbled to you. “I learned how to behave meself in public, and now you’re out of a job. You were right.” You immediately pulled your head away from his, staring at him with a look of disbelief.

“Are you choosing this moment to make fun of my unemployment?” You demanded, as he laughed. “This exact moment? Right now, you felt it would be the time? After I just said all that nice, romantic stuff to you?”

He kissed you again, and you could feel him smiling against your lips, his body shaking in silent laughter. You wished this moment would last forever. Just kissing in the rain while smiling and laughing in between. No other problems but getting too cold. 

You broke the kiss this time, him leaning after you as if he wasn’t ready for it to end. A slight pout was on his lips, but he recovered quickly.

“How’d you get me address?”

“Got it from the highest bidder,” You said jokingly. He furrowed his eyebrows together, and you laughed. “I asked Roy.” His laugh seemed to fill the entire neighbourhood. 

“He’d give me address to all the homeless men in London if he could, so I ain’t surprised,” He admitted. You scrunched up your face.

“I don’t like being compared to the homeless men in London.” 

“No,” He said in agreement. “You’re much better.” Reaching forward, he brushed a chunk of wet hair back into place, his fingertips brushing against your forehead. His expression was tender. You were still in shock that this was happening at all.

You gave his lips another peck.

“If money were no object, what would be one thing you’d do?” He shook his head at you continuing your game.

“I’d spend the rest of me life with you.” 

You bit the inside of your cheek. 

“You don’t need any money for that.”

His eyes were staring into yours, twinkling despite the lack of light. 

“We’re gonna need money for a hospital visit if we don’t get inside,” He said, grabbing you by your damp sleeve and dragging you towards the door. It made sense. There wasn’t a single part of you that wasn’t wet, and Jamie looked about the same.

“Well, I don’t know if you knew, but I’m not gonna have money for anything coming up soon,” You told him. “So if I would have to just die at that point.” 

“Don’t worry, love,” He said as he opened the door, gesturing for you to go inside. “I won’t let anything happen to ya. Not ever.”

He shut the door behind you, and for the first time, in what felt like a long time, you didn’t need that reassurance.

You had already known he would.

[feyres-divorce-lawyer]

@night-courts-shadowsinger Rhys never sexually assaulted Feyre wtf

Violent Foundations

An Excerpt from The Tragedy of Feyre Archeron: Decentering Female Trauma to Garner Sympathy for a Male

Feyre’s relationship with her canonical endgame, Rhysand, is one constantly painted in a romantic light that intentionally attempts to blind the reader to the innate violence that surrounds the pair. With every gifted crown, gown, and house, Maas tries her hardest to cover up the horrifying foundations Feysand, their fandom ship name, was built upon.

Exhibit A

A Court of Thorns and Roses | Ch. 37

Torture: Rhysand twisting Feyre’s exposed bone.

Is when someone in an official capacity: Rhysand as Amarantha’s second puts him in a position of power. The fact that he can even be in her cell for definite amounts of time, freely interacting with her, says enough.

Inflicts severe mental or physical pain or suffering on somebody else: Mental pain and suffering aside, Rhsyand inflicts physical violence on Feyre. Her vision blacked out due to how severe the pain of her bone being twisted, several times, were.

For a specific purpose: Rhysand is torturing Feyre in order to get her to accept a bargain: two weeks spent in the Night Court, the court Rhysand is High Lord of, in exchange for her arm to be healed from the injury she sustained completing her first trial.

The bargain scene, for all intents and purposes, fits the definition of torture; all conditions are met with individuals that match.

Exhibit B

Her trials aside, a majority of Feyre’s time Under the Mountain is spent non-consensually dancing in a sexual manner. It starts with Rhysand sending two shadow wraiths to take Feyre her cell, strip her naked, and paint her. They then proceed to dress her in two sheer panels of gossamer, ignore her demands to be clothed in something else, and physically restrict her from taking the panels off. Though this act is not torture, it is still a violation. She is made vulnerable by two individuals she does not know, in a place she’s endangered in.

A Court of Thorns and Roses | Ch. 39

Rhysand reveals she is so scantily clad in order to be his escort to a party. Feyre’s sexual assault and humiliation at his hands begin here. On their way to the party, she is already self-conscious about the outfit she was forced into, and by the time they arrive, it is very clear that she does not want to go.

A Court of Thorns and Roses | Chapter 39

It is very important to note that Amarantha was not the one who ordered this. Rhysand chose of his own volition to take Feyre to the first party, and by doing so put Feyre on Amarantha’s radar outside of the trials.

A Court of Thorns and Roses | Ch. 39

Exhibit C

Rhysand, perhaps knowing she would not do as he asked otherwise, makes Feyre drink faerie wine, a substance that her human body is not built for and intoxicates her quickly.

A Court of Thorns and Roses | Ch. 39

At no point during this encounter did Feyre choose to drink the wine. In fact, one could interpret that her mind echoing Rhysand’s instructions and her fingers moving to do as he wished is evident of him using his daemati powers to further influence her actions. Regardless, the fact that she said and thought “no” four times is enough to say Rhysand drugged her and this causes her to black out.

Exhibit D-1

Feyre wakes up in her cell still dressed in nothing and is disoriented to the point of regurgitation, remaining sick for most of the day. She finally finds out what happened during her blackout from Lucien.

A Court of Thorns and Roses | Ch. 39

Exhibit D-2

A Court of Thorns and Roses | Ch. 39

Rhysand sexually assaults Feyre night after night after night presumably for the entirety of time she was Under the Mountain after her first trial. He continuously drugs her with the wine and she continuously blacks out, leading to gaps in her memory that are never explicitly stated to have returned. Please note that Feyre consented to none of this. She had no power, no agency, and no personhood at Rhysand’s hands. Her becoming dependent on the wine to stifle the horrors of what was happening to her doesn’t change that fact. She considered her blackouts a mercy, you do not seek reprieve from things you enjoy.

Exhibit E

At a particular party, Feyre gets an opportunity to meet Tamlin in a secluded place, and it becomes the only time she enthusiastically consents to being sexually touched by a male. They’re caught by Rhys, however, and he takes it as an opportunity to assault Feyre, again.

A Court of Thorns and Roses | Ch. 42

This is another violation of Feyre’s consent. Note the language being used here: pries, forcing, pushed and thrashed. She doesn’t want it, Rhysand knows she doesn’t want it, yet he did it anyway. Later on, he says this was to have a reason why the paint on her body had been disturbed but he had the ability to magically correct the paint, and if scent was the issue then it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

Conclusion

You’re free to engage with literature however you choose, but denying Rhysand sexually abused, assaulted, and humiliated Feyre doesn’t make it untrue. Maas may attempt the same via retconning and placing reason over impact but it does not change what she wrote.

[evaglass]

Speculation about Mizu's parents pt. 1

I don't like usually posting much online, but I do enjoy this series very much, and I would like to discuss possible directions it could go

I think about this moment a lot

A decent amount, actually

Mizu has had to hide her entire life of being a mixed-race girl for her safety, but there's an implication that it's not just because of that reason alone

There's a big assumption that one of the four white men put the bounty on Mizu, and as terrible as they are, there's reasons they probably aren't the ones that placed the bounty on Mizu. I don't think the four white men really care about any bastards they could have produced; I will explain.

Yes, Fowler neglected his offsprings to the point of starvation, but I don't think he was actively hunting them down, and here are the reasons why:

Fowler doesn't really seem to care to put too much effort into caring if the children he profduced in Japan lived or not. It just seemed more like he didn't want to be bothered with any children he had fathered.

If Fowler really cared about having all his children dead, he wouldn't have let Heiji Shindo give Mizu the option to be a Lord in order to leave Fowler alone in exchange

He just really didn't seem too bothered to deal with the situation. He didn't understand why Mizu went through all the effort to killing him (probably because he's not responsible for the bounty).

Also, Violet is already very much dead. I assume Routley and Skeffington have been away from Japan for a few years now, so why would they still keep the bounty up? It feels like it would be a bit counterproductive.

So why is there a bounty specifically for Mizu?

Is it for the "selling the unwanted daughters of Japan" aspect that Fowler pointed towards Routley and Skeffington of being responsible for? Do they want to sell Mizu abroad for profit? No, I don't think that's the reason.

When Mizu asked the bounty hunters, "Which white devil do you work for?" They respond by saying she's the only white devil they see, and then call to kill her.

When Mizu asked who told them where she was, they responded with "the bounty is a sum few could resist."

This says a lot:

The bounty is for sure specifically for her (a mixed-raced girl with blue eyes)

They're looking to only kill Mizu, as if to erase her from existence

The bounty is a high bounty

And the bounty hunters are probably not being sent by any of the four white men

So, who is responsible for putting a bounty on Mizu's head? Well, I want to dive into Mizu's parentage for this because I don't think any of the four white men are Mizu's father. I don't think her father was white at all.

I think there might be subtle evidence to suggest the contrary; that Mizu's mother was European, while her father was Japanese.

I'll dive into this. Remember the play about the Ronin and the Bride in episode 5?

Remember how people pointed out how both the Ronin and Bride represent Mizu, which I agree with. However, I think they're also supposed to represent her parents, and the child is also supposed to represent Mizu.

Before I keep talking about the Ronin and the Bride, I want to talk about the show's influences. I promise this has a point.

Two of the biggest influences are Kill Bill and Yentl. I'm not gonna get into Yentl too much, I have never seen it. I'm just gonna loosely retell a synopsis I found; Yentl is about a woman who dresses as a male in order to study religious scripture forbidden to women to learn. You can see some of the connections there.

I want to focus on Kill Bill more. Specifically more in pt. 2 as tumblr is only letting me use ten pictures per post.

Part 1/Part 2/Part 3/Part 4/Part 5/Part 6

[sarahreesbrennan]

Is Elliot decently muscular and athletic to the people in the Border Camp? Does he realize this?

Absolutely yes, and absolutely no.

Elliot has two superhuman personal trainers. They are intensely motivated by his wellbeing, and he is intensely motivated by his desire to earn their affection.

... He doesn't have to do this, but he doesn't realise that. It was interesting for me to chart Elliot's development over years, both physically, mentally and emotionally. To me his outside is a mirror for his insides, as he grew more socially adept and confident and able to charm and negotiate, but still thought of himself as a social reject even while using those skills, despite the cognitive dissonance inherent. Elliot doesn't realise his deeper qualities attract people's love as he doesn't realise his surface qualities attract admiration.

Being unloved by your primary caregivers in childhood means you carry with you--despite evidence to the contrary, despite your own intelligence arguing otherwise--a deep-rooted conviction you are unlovable. And if you have a prickly personality (with that conviction, it's likely: neglect, like other forms of abuse, does not produce perfect victims) you're going to receive feedback that looks to you like more evidence to back up those beliefs, and you won't see the arguments against it. Elliot is observant as hell, but only sees a certain amount because of his blinkers.

... Also I do enjoy writing characters who are deeply oblivious, and providing the clues for my readers. Every character is a mystery in themselves! And the mystery is both tragic and comic.

To people in the Border Camp, Elliot's less impressive than on our side of the wall: they're accustomed to said superhuman personal trainers, but he is still remarkable enough to be remarked upon by their commander. That's especially significant as many of the 'humans' in the Borderlands have inhuman blood, and thus everyone's approach to 'can a human jump from a tall cliff and land unhurt' is 'that doesn't sound right, but I don't know enough about the capacities of the species to say...'

Elliot's unquestionably seen as the jock of the council course, which would disgust him if he knew. He's picked to play the homme fatale of his school play and put in revealing outfits, and the very night of the school play while still in sexy costume he sleeps with the (widely-considered) hottest girl in school. (Having already romanced the other contestant for hottest girl in school. And then goes on to hook up with the two best-looking boys. Truly a bisexual icon among the beautiful people.) Extremely fit in all senses of the word, and to those of the Border Camp being visibly athletic is especially attractive because it indicates you're more likely to survive.

To those outside the training camp, well, he gets courted by a harpy on sight ('who is that striking gentleman? I must bring him a bouquet of dead rabbits!), propositioned repeatedly by an elf, and kissed by a mermaid during their first encounter. It is fair to suspect that some of his diplomatic missions have been helped out by people responding to him with 'he's not that diplomatic but... that ass.'

To the people of our world, as Jase testifies, Elliot is clearly the product of fairly intensive athletic or military training.

I remember one post that says 'he is so tall and so ripped' and another one saying he is totally jacked and the fastest man alive.

... I endorse them both.

[biceratops7]

HOly fucking SHIT-

Guys I just had a complete Shellstrop style “holy motherforking shirt balls” moment at work about Donnie’s unusual speaking patterns. You know, when he does this:

This tendency to narrate his actions in the third person or verbally say onomatopoeias in place of the sound is uh… well it’s autistic right? Look it features in literally every compilation but no one knows why other than “vibes, sometimes it just be like that 🤷”

But NO. No it NOT be like that. I finally know what this fucking nerd is doing, hear me out…

… he’s scripting.

Think about it. You know what else describes action, emotion, and sound in purely words? Books. He has these little speaking quirks, yah, but if you actually zoom out and see the whole picture, Donnie talks like he’s a narrator. This makes a SHIT ton of sense considering we already have textual evidence that he engages in scripting behavior (more specifically some possible echolalia. See: saying “New York! What a Town!” in any situation something kind of abnormal happens after he hears Splinter say it with the exact same infections and everything.)

And we also know from the mystic library that Donnie actively seeks out and enjoys reading. So it stands to reason an autistic 14 year old who likes to be left alone to work on complex machines a decent amount and takes pride in his intellect would model the way he communicates off of written media as opposed to tv or his brothers. He could fill his social tool box with lines from Jupiter Jones and Lou Jitsu movies, but he may think it would give him less of a chance to properly express his capabilities.

Books are also the only form of media that can literally just tell you flat out what a character’s expression or emotion is supposed to be without it being awkward, which would be really appealing for Donnie. What solidifies this for me is the fact that at least once he verbally says “sad face emoji”, which could not have come from a novel or textbook. But we often do flagrantly use emoticons as tone indicators, and Donnie is constantly on his phone.

I think he’s definitely aware that this is not a regular way of communicating, but he’s clearly also self aware of his issues in getting his emotional meaning across and receiving input back. So it stands to reason he would accommodate this in a way that, yes, makes him sound odd, but is at least effective.

Now for my final little “I’ve connected the dots. I’ve connected them” moment, I headcannon that Donnie learned to read before he fully got the hang of speech. Aside from… literally everything I just said, he uses sign language to tell the squirrels to blow up his treehouse in that one episode. But he does the sign for “make” a bit incorrectly (there should be a slight twist in his upper fist), which leads me to believe he was probably taught baby sign out of necessity rather than being fully proficient in asl. This is fairly common for autistic children with speech delays.

[thesnazzysharky]

Hot take: Monster 3 is a decent character

Out of all the creatures in this game, Babcube seems to get the least amount of attention and seems to be widely disliked. I do get it to some extent, it's not my most favorite character, but to the point of disliking it? Nah. Firstly, I've seen some claim that there's nothing to the creature itself in terms of background or lore, which isn't true. Its purpose seems to be representing some kind of symbolism. "Old Experiments" is the title of the ambience that plays in the area that Monster 3 resides in and is also the ambience that plays when Monster 3 chases you in Endless Mode (albeit only in the og version of sjsm). Simply going off the name and the fact that it's associated with Monster 3 gives some disturbing implications. That being, at some point amidst the chaos that Ghost Cow was causing in the hospital, a literal infant (or possibly multiple infants) were involved in some way. Infants that were involved in some twisted experiments that somehow birthed the creation of... that (do remember that this is the same game that directly references Unit 731).

Either Monster 3 is supposed to be that infant or infants merged into one or Monster 3 could be a paranormal manifestation of the pain those infants went through. The pain of being trapped down below in the hospital, which is represented through the box containing the baby head, and eventually succumbing to whatever experiments were performed by the possessed staff. That is what Babcube symbolizes. Some extremely fucked up shit was happening down there (which was already made pretty evident by Monster 4, the Hanged Man). It might not be much, but the implications are definitely there. That's kinda the point of the monsters and is what separates them from the specimens. The DLC tells you jack shit about its creatures. Leaving things up entirely to your own interpretation and speculation. Karamari Hospital is all about its mystery. It's why, although pretty funny, I'm not a big fan of Wambu's "How a body got the bag" story apparently becoming Monster 2's canon backstory. It feels like it misses the point of Monster 2 and Karamari Hospital as a whole. But that's just my take. Secondly, its design. It's very simple. An infant's head in a rusty cube. Yet it still manages to be unnerving and bizarre. Frankly the most bizarre creature in this whole entire game in my opinion.

"Well that's just weird" isn't the only aspect to its design however. It's just very unnatural and uncanny in general. The way it glitches in and out of existence as it slowly moves towards you. The way the head itself clearly resembles that of an infant, yet it subtly doesn't 100% look like one, with the closed eyes, wrinkled face, and unnatural looking mouth and nose, making it strike the uncanny valley. With the face looking even worse when it randomly distorts.

And the sounds... dear god I fucking hate the sounds this thing makes. Similar to how the face resembles an infants, the sounds from Babcube resembles the crying and wailing of an infant, but there's that uncanny valley again. It sounds like a crying infant... but not fully. Its crying sounds muted and croaky. Not loud like a regular infant, but definitely odd and strange. Combine all of this together and you get a creatures that's disturbing to ponder about, unnerving to look at, and uncomfortable to listen to or even be around. A creature that feels like it shouldn't exist, yet it does. A creature that really makes my skin crawl. Not in a downright scared or horrified way, but in a "what the fuck am I even looking at or hearing" kind of way. A creature that I just feel really bad for and wonder what happened to birth it.

Like I said, it's not my most favorite character, but I don't dislike it either and I appreciate what they add to the game and the atmosphere of the hidden basement. I don't dislike or think any of the enemies in sjsm are bad in fact. Some are weaker than others, but I think they all add a little bit of flavor that makes this game so enjoyable and cool to me.

[moved-to-mettatonsbestie]

You know what. I DO wanna know about the religious imagery with Mettaton. Tell me all about it *laying on my chest kicking my feet up in the air*

@therowansweeps @mtt-brand-idiot

Let us start with his name. Remember that majority of the names in Undertale/Deltarune are very particular, whether it be for a funny joke or something with a dual meaning (ex: Toriel is just Tutorial, Undyne being Undying, etc). The etymology is rather important with characters, and Mettaton is certainly no exception. His name is most likely derived from the angel Metatron, found in Judaism, Christianity and Islam. He was one of the only two humans to attain Heaven in the form of an angel, he was originally a righteous man named Enoch who was gifted with the form of an angel by God once he died. Now, the names being similar could very well be a coincidence, but one must also take note of the fact that Metatron is transliterated as MTT in Greek; which is too much of a coincidence to not be intentional.

So... his name is taken from an angel, which is already an allusion to the notion of deities and religion. Furthermore, this angel in particular is a rather interesting candidate to be compared with Mettaton... Both of these figures were something else entirely before they obtained their true forms, and changed their name along the way. They have even further parallels when you look at the name's meaning and Mettaton's actions. Metatron is most likely derived from the verb memater, which means to guard or protect; very striking when one considers the fact that Mettaton is very much a protector in Genocide/No Mercy Route; he quite literally gives his life to protect the Underground, as a guardian angel would do.

Furthermore, he is quite literally a celebrity, an idol. He even says it himself, he is the idol everyone craves. This is a double entendre, referring to him being a celebrity or figure to look up to, or a literal deity. Deities are all considered idols, they are to be worshipped; the very notion is entirely what his character is about. He loses his humanity, he is no longer a person. Hell, he is not even seen as alive, in his quest to be the true idol for humanity and monsterkind. He is worshipped and adored, yet is it genuine? Do the people know and love the real him? No. He is the heater, the Underground's sexiest rectangle, he is seen as just a robot. He is complacent in this, yet to hide his past and help Alphys he gave his humanity away.

It is a rather cruel twist on the story of Metatron actually... Metatron was given a wonderful gift by his creator, God gave him immortality and the blessing of being truly holy. This transformation into something else was divine, yet the same cannot be said about Mettaton. He was given the body of his dreams, yet it will never come without a terrible cost. His humanity and agency was given away, he even got used for functions he would be completely against; such as his creator giving him human eradication functions to "make him more useful", something the human loving ghost would never agree to until the last possible moments in a Pacifist run. Regardless, Mettaton falls into both the categories of being the idol and being God's pawn, which is rather interesting.

And of course... he is not without true fans either, take Spamton for example. Spamton supposedly spent all of his time praying to an artifact, the very machine that created NEO; which evidently has direct ties towards Mettaton NEO. I honestly never played the Spamton NEO fight yet, so I cannot comment too much on it, however Mettaton is quite literally an overworld being being unknowingly worshipped and prayed to by someone who resides below; this blind faith being found in every religion.

So yeah... Whether it was directly intentional or not, Mettaton as a whole has a decent amount of religious imagery and themes with his character that it becomes rather important to properly dissect him fully. I barely remember writing any of this, he probably possessed me and made me write this.