#women were made out of chemicals to trick men into murder

[whereisten]

Mr. Hyde

A Hendery fic that’s part of our Halloween Series!

Summary: Hendery is sweet, charming, and kind, but he possesses a dark secret. Unfortunately, Mr. Hyde won’t stay quiet for much longer.

Pairing: Chemical Engineer!Hendery x female reader (college student)

Genre: angst, smut, fluff, violence, murder, horror

Word Count: 10.5k

Warnings: mental illness mention, blood mention, knife mention, murder described, death of side character, possessiveness, cursing, smut: semi-public sex, protected sex, thigh riding, nipple sucking, slapping, choking, rough sex, car sex mention, daddy kink, size kink, slight degradation, dirty talk.

(A/N: WELLL Halloween is here you guys!! Thank you for the support we have gotten for this series, I hope you enjoy this fic inspired by the iconic Jekyll&Hyde story!❤️🥺)

————

“Oh, hello Hendery..”

“Hello, Mr. Hyde..”

“And how did it go today..with the Mayor?”

“That’s none of your concern, Hyde. Leave it to me.”

The dark voice lets out a haunting chuckle. “Hendery..what would you like me to do?”

“Nothing! I said, it’s none of your concern!” Hendery slams his hand down onto the counter.

“But it’s our lab, isn’t it?” 

Hendery cups his face as he breaks down to tears. “Why?! Why won’t you leave me alone?!”

“Oh..Hendery, you can’t get rid of me, no matter what crazy toxins you concoct. I’ll be here, I’ll always be here.”

———

“I don’t see what my difference my presence here makes..” You roll your eyes and step out of your father’s black SUV.

The driver closes the door behind you while your father takes your hand in his and waves to the crowd with the other.

Today, you’ve joined him for a fundraising event in City Hall. The program is designed to bring awareness to a Missing Persons Search Team Fund. Lately, people have been going missing at an alarming rate and your father, the Mayor, is unsure of what to do about it. The police and volunteering citizens had done the best they could to conduct thorough search parties but no one was ever found. These people varied in age and description so there was no way to formulate a possible killer’s profile.

Your father initiated a curfew for everyone to abide by until they found the missing people and the kidnapper..dead or alive.

You were a college student and your institution was about two hours away, but your father didn’t feel safe and insisted on you staying at home while taking classes online. You did as he said, for you knew that this must’ve been difficult for him, considering your own dealings with the death of your mother. She was found murdered in an alleyway a few years ago, prompting a change in your father’s life. He was determined to become a leading figure in society that would bring down the city’s crime rate. And it worked...until now.

“The more people we have on board, the faster we find these people and the better I look, the better OUR family looks.” He whispered into your ear while displaying a wide smile to his “fans.”

You smiled as well and nodded.

And so, you found yourself seated at a round table by yourself as your father spoke with other leaders, sergeants, politicians, and the fund creators.

And what difference did your presence make? Nothing.

You scrolled through your phone and huffed. You saw pictures of your friends back at college. There had been a Halloween party the night before and they all posted pictures of themselves in their costumes looking drunk and happy. 

You were jealous to say the least. You just wanted a normal life, but now even Halloween was canceled because of the curfew your father put in place.

You didn’t notice that a slender man with brown hair sat down beside you as you pouted.

“You must be so bored..” His low voice spoke.

You looked up at him and smiled. “Hi..yeah, I am very bored.”

The man in a nice dress shirt and tie laughed and then you realized you may have insulted one of the organizers.

“Oh!” You sat up straight in your chair and put your phone down. “I’m so sorry..I didn’t mean to offend—“

“Oh..of course not, sweetheart. I’m quite bored myself.”

Sweetheart. The way that word left his lips made your heart tremble.

You nodded and stared at his heart-shaped lips, maybe a little too long. “I see..” You looked away. “My name is y/n..the mayor is..”

“Your father..yes, is that the only reason for you being here?” He tilted his head while smirking.

You looked to the side and hesitated. You looked up to him with wide eyes.

“Y-yes, I’m sorry but—“

“Don’t be sorry, my name is Dr. Wong, but you can call me Hendery.”

Your mouth fell open. He looked like he was your age, but he already had a doctoral degree? You were stunned.

“I know..I’m kinda young, but I skipped a few grades.”

Your eyes widened. “Wow! That’s so cool, what do you do?”

Hendery smiled when you looked shocked by his title and complimented him. “I’m the leading chemical engineer at the WCT Lab..”

You gasped, WCT lab was responsible for breakthrough advancements in technology as well as medical advancements. That was what your city was primarily known for. And for this young man to be the leading engineer was amazing. Why was he sitting with you, a college student? Surely, you were only insulting his intelligence.

Hendery was pleased by your surprised look once again, he felt a sense of pride.

“Dr. Wong, I mean, Hendery..that’s amazing! You guys have done some wonderful things at that lab. Well..of course, you already know that.”

You closed your eyes. Oh how dumb you must’ve sounded to him.

But Hendery only adored you even more when you got flustered.

“It’s okay, y/n..It happens all the time. People don’t expect that from me, someone that’s just 21 years old, to be the head of all projects.”

You nodded, then looked to your father who was still speaking with several men and women of importance surrounding him.

“Why aren’t you up there with him?” You turned back to Hendery. “You’re just as important as them.”

Hendery glanced up at your father then back at you. Something about his gaze felt..good. His eyes were intense but made you feel like it was just the two of you in the room. You felt warm as you saw his shirt hug his biceps as he leaned forward.

“My presence doesn’t make a difference either, but it does make me look good.” He gave a wink as his smile widened.

Your face became warm.

“I’ll tell you what..come with me for a moment, I’m going to show you a cool trick.”

He stood up and held his hand out for you to take. You held it and smoothed your dress down as you stood up.

Hendery thought you were beautiful, unlike anyone else. You were like a butterfly with a unique pattern of vibrant colors on its wings. Your touch was delicate like one too.

He took you to the kitchen in the hall. No one was there but the two of you.

You stood by the island in the center.

“What are we doing here?”

“Are you nervous?” Hendery shuffled through the freezer.

“No..” You lied as you looked around for the closest knife to pick up just in case he tried anything.

“The knives are to your right.” He called out, as if hearing your thoughts.

You chuckled and leaned against the counter while feeling embarrassed.

“Okay, so I’ve got some ice..” He placed a few ice cubes onto the countertop and then reached over for the salt dispenser.

“And some salt..”

You nodded, unsure of where he was going with this. “Okay.”

“Now, hold your hand out.” He smiled at you again.

Your brows furrowed but you did as he said.

He placed his hand over yours. Your skin was smooth and warm, his touch was gentle as he slowly traced his fingertips over your knuckles.

He stood so close to you, you could feel his breath on your forehead.

Your eyes grew as a silent moment rested between the two of you, you looked up at him as if no one had ever held your hand before.

He cleared his throat and looked away from your eyes and to your hand. “I’m going to put some salt in your palm, then I’m going to place ice on it, simple right?”

You nodded.

Hendery smiled again and glanced down at your lips.

“Alright..good.”

He poured the salt out then put about three ice cubes into your hand.

“Now, close your hand.”

You do as he says and after a few seconds you wince in pain.

A burning feeling shoots through your hand, you open your palm out and shake the ice to the floor.

“Oh my God, Hendery! What the hell was that?” You look up in pain. 

Hendery laughs. 

“You see, salt lowers the melting point of ice..hence why you briefly experienced the burning sensation.”

“I could’ve gotten frostbite!” 

Hendery only laughed harder. “Y/n...you wouldn’t be so stupid as to let it stay long enough for that...but I am.”

You looked up at him questioningly.

He poured salt out into his own hand and placed ice onto it.

He shut his hand and smiled. You watched him intensely. How could he endure this type of pain for so long?

“Hendery..that’s enough, you should stop now.” 

You go to grab his hand, but he turns.

“No, no, I’m fine, I promise.”

“Surely, that must be painful, Hendery!”

“Does it impress you?” He turns when you try to open his hand again. He smirks while he watches you freak out.

“No..no! It doesn’t, it’s freaking me out actually!”

Hendery pouts with his hand still closed. “Oh no..I wanted to impress the pretty girl.”

You shook your head. “Let me see your hand.”

He turns again.

“Hendery!”

“I’ll let you see it, if you let me take you out some time.”

You tilted your head. “Oh my God, that’s why you did this? Hendery..why didn’t you just ask?” You peel his hand open and see red, burnt skin. Several lesions have been created.

Your eyes widened but Hendery only adores your face while you hold his hand.

“So is that a yes?” He pays no attention to the burns on his palm, knowing that they’d go away soon enough if he just drank the right thing for it.

“You’re crazy, but yes, you can take me out.”

————

[Two Days Later] 

You and Hendery swapped phone numbers later that night. You agreed to go to the street art fair where you would walk around and learn more about each other.

Hendery waved to you as he walked over to the entrance.

He looked cooler now, in a flannel and jeans while aviator sunglasses covered his eyes. 

His hair had a slight wave to it and hung more loosely than it did the first time you met.

“Hey Doc, how’s your hand?” 

Hendery held his palm out to you and to your surprise, you saw nothing that would indicate he had burned himself just two days prior. His palm looked normal.

“W-what?”

“All healed up, I told you I’d be fine.”

He smirked then took your hand and led you through the gate.

The fair was calm, you got to talk about your major in college and why you were home this year.

Hendery told you that he got his degree overseas and came back here to help your town. He said that he always felt drawn to it for it needed so much assistance, he felt he was the one to help.

You liked his dedication to his craft, but even more, you liked watching him talk about it. His eyes were shielded from you, but even then you could tell that he was passionate and in love with his work.

“Well..I guess it’s time to go home..gotta get back before curfew.” 

You stared up at him. “You’re right. I had a—“

“Y/n! What are you doing here? I thought you were home.”

It was none other than your father. He hustled towards you. Hendery’s smile fell as he watched him walk over. 

“I’ll go mad if I spend any more time in the house, dad.” You sighed and crossed your arms.

His focus shifts from you and to Hendery. “And young man, it’s nice to see you again, but what has my daughter done to warrant your presence?”

You rolled your eyes, your finger rubbed your temple.

Hendery chuckled softly. “Your daughter and I had a wonderful time today, we were just saying goodbye.”

Your father frowned and looked back at you.

“Well...goodbye then.” He stepped towards you.

You turned to leave with your father before you could be embarrassed any more. Your father was always like this since your mother died, overprotective and on guard.

“Y/n…” Hendery’s soft voice called out.

You turned back to look at him. Your face looked gorgeous in the sunset, the sun made your eyes glitter and your lips were shaped perfectly. Of all the art he had seen today, you, in this moment, were the prettiest sight he’d ever seen.

“Yes?”

“I’ll..see you later.”

You smiled and nodded. “Of course.”

When you got to your father’s car, he scolded you on how you shouldn't be interested in speaking with anyone right now, for everyone was a suspect.

“You have to be careful, no one is safe!”

You leaned your head against the window.

“I understand, father, but all of my friends are at college right now, would it really hurt if I go out every now and then?”

“Yes! Yeah it would hurt, why? Because you could go missing or lose your life!”

“Why are you so strict? He’s a nerd, what harm could he possibly do to me. I thought you’d like him, I know mom would’ve--”

You stopped when you realized what you had said. Your mom's death was something that you were both still grappling with. You tried not to speak of her, for it only made both of you more upset.

Your dad sighed, he held back tears. “Y/n..I’m sorry..I’m sorry I’m this way..Sometimes I can’t help it, but..I’m just worried, I-“

“I know, dad..let’s just go home.”

When you got inside he spoke to you again before you headed to your room. “That boy..If you want to see him again..He’ll be at the soup kitchen on Thursday, he’s always helping out there.”

You turned and smiled. “Thanks, dad.”

———-

[Thursday]

You had volunteered at the soup kitchen a few times during high school, it was a rewarding experience, for you got to help out while hearing from members of the community that you wouldn’t usually meet or speak to. They varied in age and overall life experiences, each one had a story to tell. 

You stood in the utilities closet of the kitchen alone and put your apron on, but struggled to tie it in the back.

“Damn it..” You whispered, you just couldn’t find the other strap.

Then you felt a presence behind you. 

“Do you need help?” You heard a familiar voice say.

But before you could spin around to face him, his fingers tapped along your waist on both sides and grabbed the straps. He stepped closer, leaning down to breathe against the back of your neck.

A chill ran through your body as the apron tightened around your body perfectly.

You finally spun around to face him.

“Hendery.” 

He watches his name fall from your lips.

He smirks and licks his lips. “How’d you know?”

You laughed, but his intense and low gaze on your face made you weak.

“Your voice..I’d recognize it anywhere.”

Hendery blushed and laughed.

“Do you like my voice, sweetheart?”

Another chill vibrates through your body and you find yourself pressing your legs together.

You breathe heavily and nod. “I do..and I’d like it if you’d call me at night...when you leave work of course.”

“Understood.” He licks his lips again and turns to leave. You follow behind him and out to the main dining area where you both serve food together.

During your break, you watched him go to each table to talk to all of the families eating. He grinned as they asked him how he’d been doing since the last time they saw him the week before.

He even sat down next to any elderly attendees that needed assistance with eating their food.

Your heart fluttered. He was so kind, caring and handsome on top of it all.

“How long have you two been seeing each other?” A man said. His voice broke you out of the trance Hendery had you in.

“Oh..” You turned to him as you leaned against a wall.

“We aren’t dating.”

The man that spoke to you was none other than Yuta, the head chef and owner of Osaka Moon, the best restaurant in the city. He was in charge of providing food for the soup kitchen every Thursday and did a wonderful job each time from what you had heard. Everyone loved his five star meals.

He smiled softly. “Well..if you continue to look at him like that..it won’t be long til you do.”

“Like what?” Your brows knitted.

Yuta only chuckled and shrugged his shoulders before walking away.

But he was right, you started dating. You found yourself FaceTiming Hendery every night until you fell asleep. You spoke about everything, never running out of topics to talk about and never getting bored. His personality, like Cinderella’s slipper, fit yours incredibly well.

Fortunately, that wasn’t the only thing that fit perfectly. 

———

[1 Month Later]

One day at the soup kitchen, the two of you found yourselves knocking over cans of fruit in the kitchen closet.

Your legs wrapped around his waist as he slid in and out of you for the first time. You just couldn’t hold back anymore. You wanted him badly and a kiss just wasn’t enough.

He covered your mouth with his hand, for your moans were beautiful but grew increasingly louder as he rubbed your clit. 

He breathed heavily into your neck. “Sweetheart, I’m going to ruin you later for being so loud.”

You let out a mewl while the wetness between your legs increased at his words.

Your nails scratched his back as he pinned you against a cabinet.

And later that day, he did ruin you in his car before he let you out to go home. He parked just a few blocks away, luckily his windows were tinted so no one could see him bringing you to paradise in the back seat with your hands tied behind your back with his belt.

You laid down together when you finished.

His fingers played in your scalp as your back rested against his chest. He kissed your neck and listened to you breathe.

“How’s school?” He said in between kisses.

You took his other hand in yours and intertwined your fingers. “It’s okay, finals are stressful.”

“Well, you know I’m here to help.” He kisses you again.

You smiled. “Of course, but I know you have your own issues to deal with. How are things at the lab?”

You knew he had been frustrated lately because some of his appeals for certain projects had been denied by the national organizations. You failed to remember the very specific details he told you the night before, but he was overjoyed that you remembered him even mentioning it.

He smiled to himself, tucking your hair behind your ear as you yawned.

“Things are okay, it'll all work out, I’m sure.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Hendery chuckled. “Because they all give in to me sooner or later.” His voice sounded a bit different then, it was deeper, rougher.

Deep into the night after Hendery drops you off home, he drives down an empty street.

“When will you tell her?”

“Tell her what?”

“About me! About us..”

“She will never know about you because you don’t matter!” Hendery says sternly.

“Fuck you! I’m the reason why you got this far, you fool!”

He grips the steering wheel and winces. “I like her..a lot. I can’t hurt her. I won’t hurt her.’

“And how many times have you said that before? Hmm?”

Hendery blinks slowly and looks to his rear view mirror.

“The clock strikes 8 and the world goes empty, which poor, wandering soul will be our next victim?”

“‘Our?’ You’re on your own..”

“And when the blood is on my hands, don’t forget to look down at yours too..now shut up, and stop here..this girl looks lonely.”

“No..I won’t do that.”

“I wasn’t asking! Pull over!”

“No!” Hendery struggles, but pulls over and stops right beside a girl waiting at a bus stop.

“Hello..need a lift?”

——

[1 Week Later]

You hadn’t seen Hendery since that night, you knew that he was busy with work, but you didn’t think he’d be this busy.

“Hey.” You say once he answers the FaceTime call.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

He looks disheveled and has bags under his eyes. His eyes look intense as he props the phone up beside his computer screen and continues to type.

“Are you still at the lab?” 

Hendery feels soft when he hears your sweet voice, it calms him down. He stops typing and looks at you, all cuddled up in your blanket on the bed.

“Yeah..” he pouts, “I wish I could be there with you right now..”

“Oh? And what would you do if you were here?”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Ahhh you naughty girl, well..just for that, I’d only cuddle you..”

“Henderyyyy don’t be so cruel, what if I need you?” 

“Then I’d hug you tightly and make you wait until the morning.” He winked and started typing again.

“What if I call you “daddy?” You whisper into the phone, knowing that it would drive him crazy.

His typing fingers stuttered for a moment but he exhaled and furrowed his brows as he continued his work.

“Baby? I haven’t seen you in so long, play with me..please.” You begged.

“No..not tonight, sweetheart.” He wasn’t even looking at the screen anymore.

“But baby..”

“I said no!” He said angrily. You never heard him like this before. His voice was rough again and different, like it had doubled.

He looked at you then back at his computer screen.

He fidgeted and had trouble breathing for a moment, but you stayed silent.

“I’m—I’m sorry, I should go now, goodnight.”

He hung up before you could say goodnight.

That was the first of many moments that were strange to you. Hendery wasn’t as sweet sometimes. He’d be short with you even at the soup kitchen. When you tugged his shirt to pull him to the back he ignored you and fixed his hair.

He looked tired and you tried to pin it on him acting on the stress he was recently experiencing, but the truth was that it was much more complicated.

Late at night, Hendery would find himself fighting someone else. Someone that had been more intent on doing their own thing.

“Let’s take a walk in the park tonight.”

“No, Mr. Hyde..”

“Really? I think it would help you to relieve some stress.”

“I need to sleep..I feel terrible, I don’t even know what you’re doing anymore..why don’t you stop this? Why don’t you leave me alone so I can function like a normal person?” Hendery holds his head as he lays down on his couch.

“You can rest while I take care of the imbeciles out there, the more we kill, the happier we’ll be.”

“No!!” Hendery shouts. “How many more?! How many more must die at your hand? I will control you! You will not overrule me!”

He grabs a glass of green liquid from the coffee table and brings to his lips. He chugs it down as tears stream down his face, but soon he is thrown to the floor on his knees. He feels fingers in his throat, his eyes roll in the back of his head as veins protrude from his forehead. Then, out comes the liquid that he just struggled to swallow.

He balls his fists up and cries. “NOOOO!! That was the last of it!”

“It’s okay, Hendery, it’s time to go to sleep anyway. You’ll make more tomorrow, but you’ll be just as defenseless against me.”

“No, no, please don’t! Please don’t kill anyone else!”

“And what would you rather me do to gain satisfaction? Torture them until they BEG to be killed?” Mr. Hyde laughs sinisterly as Hendery drifts into unconsciousness.

The next morning, Hendery wakes to find himself covered in blood, he can’t remember how he got to his bed or whose blood is on him, but he sees the knife at the end of the bed covered in blood as well. He breaks down in tears and yells out for mercy as he realizes that he can no longer control Mr. Hyde.

————

[Two Days Later]

You meet up with Hendery for a Starbucks date.

“I’m sorry about the other night..the stress got to me.” Hendery smiles softly when he watches you burn your mouth with hot coffee.

The truth was that you like iced caramel macchiato but you wanted to be more “serious” around Hendery so you only drank black coffee like a “regular” adult.

You hissed as the hot liquid burned your tongue.

“How many times do I have to tell you?..just order what you want.” He giggled and sipped his own coffee.

“Eh, I know, but..isn't it a bit childish?” You asked with wide eyes.

Hendery chuckled and ran his hand down the side of your face. He adored you. 

“No..nothing is childish if you enjoy it.”

You smiled. “Okay.”

You sat in silence most of the time as you both worked on your projects separately. Hendery still looked handsome, but strange. You’d glance up at him every now and then and see that his brows were always knitted and his lips moved like he was talking to himself.

He spoke quickly, so you could never make out what he actually said.

The bags around his eyes were red and his cheeks looked more sunken in like he hadn’t been eating well. His shirt was crushed, but when you first met him his shirts were always pressed and tucked in neatly. And his hair had grown out, like he hadn’t bothered to visit a stylist recently.

“Hendery..is everything alright?” You put your hand on his.

He quickly withdrew his hand and held it while glaring at you.

“I’m fine!” He said loudly, the few customers sitting nearby turned to the two of you when they heard his roar.

He realized he was loud and relaxed into his seat. “I’m sorry, again. I-I was just frightened.”

You nod slowly and put your hand back under the table.

Before the two of you departed each other, you gave him a hug and a kiss. 

You walked towards your house as Hendery watched.

He felt pain in his heart when he watched you walk away with a defeated look. You were sad because of him, and he hated that. He just wanted to make you happy, he just wanted everything to be under control.

“Y/n..There’s a new art museum opening up on Friday, your father extended curfew just for it..would you like to go with me?”

You turned to him and smiled widely. “Is that a date?”

“Of course..we can spend some time in my car afterwards..if you want. Would that make you happy?” He gave you a wink.

You nodded. “As long as I’m with you, Hendery. I’m happy.”

———

[Two Days Later]

Hendery decides to have dinner with your father at his penthouse. He pretends to prepare a meal for him that was actually provided by Osaka Moon’s Catering company.

He had a maid make everything spotless and made sure to spend a little more time on his hair and outfit. He had to ensure that your father took him seriously, for he would plan to ask him once more for a donation from the city for his lab. They would be able to do more research this way. 

He had posited the question once before, but gained a disappointing ‘no,’ as your father focused more on the missing people’s fund, however, Hendery believed it imperative for the lab to gain new resources and make new developments that would positively affect the city’s environment.

So tonight, he hoped that with some food and humor, he could convince the mayor. 

“What are your intentions with my daughter? I see you have been seeing each other quite frequently lately..” your father took a bite of his steak and chewed while looking down at his plate.

Hendery smiled. “Your daughter and I have a wonderful relationship, I would say. She is very supportive and kind, the world could be better with more people like her.”

“Well, I certainly agree. Do you feel that you can protect her from this cruel world?” He looks up from his plate and looks sternly on Hendery.

Hendery swallows hard, but nods quickly. “Of course, I’d do anything to protect her.”

Cut the bullshit, get to the question.

A few more minutes pass. The two speak about wonderful changes that have occurred in the past year. Hendery even cracks a few jokes to get a chuckle from your father.

As things whine down and your father prepares to leave, Hendery leans forward and intertwines his fingers on the dining table.

“Mr. Y/l/n, I believe that you are a man of great intelligence, therefore, I believe that you will make the right call by supporting my lab.”

Your father raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms as Hendery continues.

“I believe that you will see the importance of funding our research at the lab. We will be able to make even more groundbreaking developments like we have in the past year. We need the resources should we continue.”

Your father thinks for a moment then shakes his head. “I am so sorry, son, but I cannot issue the funds to your lab at this time.”

Hendery sighs but the mayor continues.

“We are dealing with a huge crisis in our city right now, I have to help our citizens find their loved ones. Furthermore, with the holidays approaching, we must provide food and assistance to families in need. The budget for your lab is not there.”

“Yes, sir, I understand the importance of these things, but I have been asking for your assistance for these past few months now, we simply cannot go any further without it..” Hendery taps his finger against the table while trying to hold back. He swallows the grumbling in his chest.

His eyes stare intensely at the mayor, but the mayor is unfazed.

“I will not provide tax payers money to some boy that wants to do his little experiments..at the end of the day, your work being done is not a matter of life or death.”

Hendery twitches when he hears the mayor’s insult.

“Please..don’t make me do something I’ll regret.” He whispers lowly.

Your father leans forward in his chair.

“Is that a threat, boy?”

Hendery smirks and loosens his tie.

“I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but just because you gave me some food, doesn’t mean I will bend over and let you do what you will.”

Hendery laughs under his breath. “Your daughter did.”

Your father shoots up from the table.

“What did you say?!”

Hendery’s eyes narrow, his mouth grows into a creepy smile as he laughs. “You heard me!”

Your father walks around the table and grabs Hendery up by the collar, but Hendery grabs the steak knife and presses the sharp tip into his neck just deep enough to draw blood.

Your father freezes, his eyes widen in fear.

“Hendery, what in God’s name are you doing?!”

“Hendery isn’t here anymore, you fucking fool. You should’ve just listened to him the first time, now I have to take over because he was too weak!” Hendery’s voice comes out in a deep tone your father had never heard before. Venom practically leaves his tone as he speaks.

Your father stares in confusion as the knife presses in deeper.

“Listen, you worthless piece of shit. We thought you were smart but it turns out you’re just as dumb as any other bimbo in this shitty city. So let’s spell it out for you, give us the money or we will kill your daughter…”

His head snaps to the right. “We won’t kill her!” Hendery’s usual voice cries out.

“Shut up!” He snaps his head back to the left.

“You’re-you’re insane.” Your father stares into his red eyes and pale skin.

He looks strange and scary, like someone that was already dead.

This couldn’t possibly have been the same person he spoke to just a few minutes ago.

“Aren’t we all, mayor?” He chuckles and twists the knife, your father cries out in pain.

“Okay! Okay! I’ll give you the money!” Your father couldn’t lose you like he lost his wife. He wouldn’t mess up this time, he had to give Hendery whatever he wanted if he wanted you to stay alive and well.

Hendery nods. “Good.” 

He lets the mayor go and laughs loudly while still wielding the knife in his hand and watching the Mayor run out.

———

[Friday Night]

Hendery wakes up at 9 P.M. He looks down at his hands and sees bruises across his knuckles.

He sits up straight on the bed and rubs his head.

“Shit..what did you do?”

But there’s no answer.

He missed the entire day because of Mr. Hyde. He was taking his life over, it seemed the potion was no longer having an affect on him, for he couldn’t remember where he was on most nights. But even worse, more recently it seemed he’d blackout during the days as well.

He looks at his phone and sees that he has 13 missed calls and several text messages from you.

“Damn it!” He curses and jumps up from the bed. He runs to the shower to see if he can go to the art museum before you left.

He called you several times as he drove to the museum but you didn’t answer, you ignored his calls because you were pissed he didn’t show.

You were busy speaking with Ten, a writer for the city’s newspaper. He was observing an artwork when he came across you staring at your phone with tears in your eyes.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

You looked up at him with a somber expression then broke down even more. He took you outside where you talked about what happened. He then told you a joke to make you laugh and about his job.

“I focus on stories that deal with art and culture, so of course I had to be here.”

“Oh, that’s very nice. The pieces in there are really interesting..well, at least from what I saw before I started crying like an idiot.” You shrugged your shoulders.

“Don’t say that..you’re not an idiot. I’m sure he has a reason..you just need to talk about it.”

You nod. “But Ten, it’s not just that. He’s been...different lately. I can’t speak with him very often because he gets upset..this was supposed to be our first date together in a long time. It was supposed to be a “first” for us.”

Ten nodded as he watched you sniffle. “Have you thought about leaving him?”

You shook your head. “I really like him...I just think we need more time, maybe we just have to work on communication.”

Ten gave you a smile. “I agree, if you think he’s worth it, then you’ll both find a way to work it out. Now, it’s 9:30..would you like me to drop you home before you lose a slipper, Princess?”

You felt your face become warm as you smiled.

Ten walked you home as the two of you continued to talk about painters and the artistic styles you enjoyed.

You never noticed Hendery watching the two of you from across the street.

He felt his heart race, an animalistic side was creeping out as he watched you laugh and smile with another man. Sure, he didn’t show up for your date, but did that mean that you should move on so quickly?

Hendery grows angry, he sticks his hands into the pocket of his hoodie and watches Ten give you a hug at your doorstep.

“I should just text her back and apologize.”

“And what will that do? She’ll just ignore you then go on a date with this guy tomorrow.”

“Thats nonsense, she wouldn’t do that to me.”

“Oh, Hendery, he wants her, she wants him, it’s clear to see. But you won’t believe it until she trips and conveniently falls on his dick, will you?”

Hendery shakes his head. “Shut up!”

“Why don’t we just get rid of him so you don’t have to worry about that happening?”

“No! No more murders.”

“But Hendery, what about the elderly man from this morning? Or the middle aged homeless person from the afternoon? Or how about the young girl from the bus stop?” 

“Stop it, Hyde!”

“Hendery...it’s time for you to go to sleep.”

“No! No!! Don’t do this again!”

But Hyde takes over once more, following Ten as he walks back to the museum.

———

[The Next Day]

You wake up late in the afternoon and turn the TV on for the news. Your dad already left for work so it’s just you in the house.

“Breaking News, it was discovered this morning, a writer from The Chronicles has gone missing. He goes by the name Ten and his vehicle was found with the key in its ignition and the front door open. Ten was last seen at the opening for the new art museum on 45th street.. If you have any information on Ten’s whereabouts, please contact the police at 555-5127.”

Your mouth fell open. The friendly gentleman that you met the night before had gone missing. You instantly felt guilty as you realized that he dropped you home and put his life in danger for it.

Then, your doorbell rang.

You looked through the peephole and saw Hendery.

You bit your bottom lip and sighed. You had been avoiding him since he ditched you, but you should’ve known he would visit you sooner or later when he knew your dad wasn’t home.

You opened the door.

“Hi.” You said with tight lips.

Hendery looked at you with pleading eyes that almost broke your hard exterior. His hair was wavy and hung in his forehead. His eyes looked tired and his face looked drained, but he still looked handsome to you.

“Baby..I’m so sorry, can I come in?”

You widened the door. “Yeah..I guess..”

Hendery brought in a large bouquet of flowers in one hand and a large gift bag in the other hand.

You sat down on the couch and turned off the TV.

“Okay, baby, listen, I’ve been at the lab a lot lately, I haven’t had enough sleep and I..I decided to take a nap like an idiot. I overslept and missed our date, I’m so so sorry, please baby, I didn’t do it on purpose.” He says in one breath as he drops the bag down and gets on his knees in front of you.

Your eyes widen. “Okay! Okay, you don’t have to do that..”

“Do you forgive me?” Hendery’s eyes are round and watery.

You caress the side of his face with your hand while he looks up at you like you’re the messiah. “Hendery..we should talk, maybe you should take a break from the lab..you look tired.”

Hendery melts in your hand as he closes his eyes. “Sweetheart..I love your touch..”

“You’re stressing yourself out, maybe it’s time for a vacation.” You continue.

He places his hand over yours and brings it to his lips. He kisses it softly.

“I’m fine, baby. I promise.” His voice is gravelly and makes you weak.

You sigh. “Sit beside me…”

Hendery smirks, he’s able to change the topic so effortlessly once he hypnotizes you with his eyes and touch. “Why?”

You lick your lips. “Are you really teasing me right now? After what you did last night?”

Hendery chuckles and gets up onto the couch beside you. You take his face in between your hands and kiss him deeply. You both grow hot and kiss each other with more passion as you struggle to breathe steadily, your tongue brushing over his and his teeth nipping onto your bottom lip.

He pulls away abruptly. “Wait..there’s something I have to show you.”

You watch him reach into the gift bag and pull out a large box. He hands it to you and grins. “Open it, sweetheart.”

“What’s this?” You lift the sides carefully and open the top. You then see that it’s a beautiful dress, but not just any dress. As you hold it above your head to let it fall loose from the box, you see that it’s the black Gucci dress that you told him you loved. It was long sleeve but slit down the center with a plunging neckline. 

You gasped. “For me?”

Hendery nodded when he saw your face light up.

“Oh my god! Hendery!” You turned to him with your mouth still agape.

He nodded. “You’re gonna look great in it, baby, but there’s something else..” he reaches into the bag and pulls out a small ring box.

“Hendery..”

He opens the box and shows you a dazzling emerald cut sapphire colored ring.

Your eyes widen even more. “Oh—oh my god!”

You fling your arms around him and hug him tightly.

He laughs as you freak out over your gifts and holds you to his chest. The two of you fall onto the couch and continue to make out.

“I love it, baby, thank you.” You say before kissing his neck.

He feels a chill run through his body as you lay on top of him. “It’s a promise ring, I promise to protect you and love you for as long as I live.”

You felt your legs weaken by his words.

“Hendery..I love you..” you kiss his collarbone.

Neither of you felt that it was early, for there was an undeniable connection that you had to each other. You couldn’t imagine yourselves with anyone else.

You sucked his skin in between your teeth and listened to him moan, the purplish marks you gave him standing bright and clear as the sunny day outside. 

You then pulled the band of his sweatpants down to reveal his hard member and licked the tip leaking with pre cum already.

You forgot about everything as the two of you made love. You only felt him, his love, his embrace, his caring nature. You loved it all and yearned for him to be with you forever.

———

[New Year’s Eve]

Things had calmed down a bit since that day. Hendery started looking and feeling better as his lab received more than enough money to continue research and development projects.

You also noticed that the rate of people going missing each week had gone down significantly, as if the culprit was taking a break for the holidays.

You felt happier now that Hendery and your father were both happier. Things felt right when you had Hendery by your side for Thanksgiving dinner and for the entire day of Christmas. And now, you could ring in the new year together. You hoped that your future would remain as bright as these past few days had been.

Hendery bought you so many gifts for Christmas, you had to leave some of them in his place. But you didn’t mind it, as it gave you an excuse to stay over some nights. Surprisingly, your dad was okay with that.

Your dad lifted curfew for the holidays, meaning you and Hendery could go to the movies or ice skating whenever you had the chance. You also got to make out by the giant Christmas tree by city hall and snap a few pictures together.

And when the nights were cold, Hendery wrapped you in his arms and kept you warm. He’d whisper sweet words into your ear and wait for you to drift into sleep.

He was taking double the amount of his “medication” to hold Mr. Hyde back. He was able to create more of it with your father’s generous donation that allowed him to buy the chemicals necessary. But he couldn’t ignore the fact that a part of him missed Mr. Hyde, for he felt more..confident with him around.

Nonetheless, Hendery spun you around on the ballroom floor as you danced.

The city was having a countdown special at a mansion owned by Johnny, the owner of the popular greenhouse conservatory on the outskirts.

His place was beautiful and you found yourself in awe at all of the art on the walls.

“I didn’t know you could dance.” You looked impressed by his dancing skills.

Hendery blushed. “I didn’t know I could either, but I may have watched a YouTube video or two to prepare for this..” he gave you a wink.

“Ohh..I see.” You laughed out as Hendery watched your beautiful smile. You looked stunning in the dress he bought you. Your neck and cleavage looked wonderful and oh so tempting. Your makeup was also done well, even though he thought you were gorgeous without it.

Hendery looked dapper in his suit and smoothed back hair. His hand on your waist and the way he looked into your eyes as you danced close made you tremble.

Hendery couldn’t keep his eyes from drifting down to your chest. He breathed heavily and the beast inside him dared to crawl out at any moment.

He was struggling to hold him back, but your silky, revealing dress has their thoughts running wild. He’s growing impatient. Sooner or later, Mr. Hyde will take over if Hendery doesn’t hold him back.

Hendery clears his throat and lets go of your hand. “Excuse me, I have to go to the restroom..”

A look of concern crosses your face but you nod and watch him scurry to the bathroom.

In the meantime, you watch your father speak to the elites a few feet away. You take a sip of your drink and look to the other direction.

A lady walks over to you suddenly.

“Hello! You must be the mayor’s beautiful daughter! How are you?” The woman asked enthusiastically.

You gave a smile that your dad would’ve been proud of and shook her hand.

“Yes! I am his daughter and thank you so much, I’m flattered.” You chuckled.

She nods. “You look amazing, but I couldn’t help but notice the ring on your finger.”

She points to the ring on your hand that is holding the glass.

“Oh.. what about it?”

“It’s just...I could’ve sworn I saw it on TV or something..” she puts a finger to her chin.

You shrugged your shoulders. 

“Ahh! Yes! That’s where I saw it, on the news I think, it was missing from a jewelry store! I think it’s worth about 50 grand!”

“What are you talking about?” Hendery pops up behind her.

He walks beside you and takes your hand in his. “Are you really trying to harass the Mayor’s daughter by accusing her of stealing a ring?”

The woman shook her head. “I am so sorry, you guys have a good night.” She walks away.

You turn to Hendery. “What was that?”

Hendery’s face relaxes when he looks back at you.

“I don’t know, but let’s dance.”

You dance for a few more minutes. Hendery starts to sweat and pull your body closer to his, he licks his lips as he watches your eyes fall low.

“Baby, I’m so sorry but I can’t take it anymore.” He takes your hand and leads you to the bathroom upstairs where things are a little quieter.

You stumble into the bathroom while kissing. Hendery fidgets his hand behind him and eventually finds the lock. He also flips the light switch.

He wraps an arm around you, picking you up and placing you to sit on the counter.

You continue to kiss him but Hendery is impatient.

He lifts his mouth from yours and yanks down the fabric of your dress to reveal your hard nipples.

“Fuck..this is what I’ve been dying to see all night.” He latches his mouth onto your nipple, sucking hard as you hold your body up with your hands behind your back.

Your head falls back as his tongue lays flat against the hard nub then circles around it.

“Ahh..Hendery, that feels so good.”

He looks up at you through dark eyes then bites you.

You yelp and look down. 

“It’s ‘daddy’ to you.” His voice is grumbly and deep.

You nod. “Daddy, give me more please.” You look up, dewy-eyed.

Hendery sucks and pumps harder. His touch is aggressive, but you don’t want him to stop. Just as long as he was touching you.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, I could just watch you all night.” He whispers into your chest then flicks his tongue over your breast again.

He pulls the other side down now, your breast popping out like it was begging to be released from its restrictive cloth covering.

You sat there on the counter, choking back moans and tightening your legs together as he continued to suck your breasts dry.

“Daddy..please..I need you..need you in me.”

Hendery squeezes your breast harder as you squeal.

“Stand up.” He demands while walking back to a stool in the bathroom and taking his jacket off.

He sits down onto it and pats his thigh. “Show me how you’ll ride my cock.”

You walk over to him and part your legs before sitting down and facing him.

He glared at you sternly, no trace of love rests in his gaze as he watches you like a hungry animal.

“No underwear.” He clicks his tongue when he feels your bare pussy resting on his clothed thigh.

You shake your head.

“What a whore you are, I can’t wait to do whatever I want with you.”

You bite your lip and start to move back and forth, you feel your clit begin to gain satisfaction.

You press down harder and hold onto his shoulder while grinding onto his thigh.

Your chest feels weak. You feel so good as friction comforts that one spot.

“Does it feel good?” He whispers with a straight face.

“Y-yes, daddy, so good.”

“Then stand up.”

Your face contorts in confusion.

“Be a good girl and stand up.”

You reluctantly leave his thigh and stand up.

He grabs your hip with one hand and looks up at you through his lashes. He reaches under your dress with his other hand and delivers a short, sharp slap to your dripping folds.

“Ah!” You cry out, but you don’t dare move.

He runs his hand over it now, caressing it to soothe the pain.

Your breath hitches in your throat.

“Mmmm so wet, sweetheart.” He licks his lips and delivers another blow.

You would’ve fallen forward had he not been holding you with his other hand.

“You’ve been tempting me all night with this slutty dress, did you think you would escape punishment?” He growls.

And slap after slap you felt your skin getting warm, but your wetness never failing to coat his fingers.

“Please..fuck me.” You exhale after he slaps you.

“Get on your knees.” 

You get on your knees and move to a position where you can suck his cock, but he shakes his head. 

“No no no..on all fours.”

The cold tile aggravates your knees but you ignore it and focus more on the aching in between your legs.

Hendery gets on the floor behind you and flips up the bottom half of your dress so it bunches up by your waist.

He places his hands onto your breasts while grinding his bulge against your ass.

“Fuck..daddy, please.”

He watches you fidget below him, your essence coating his dress pants as you lay there and take him just like that.

Your pussy quivers each time his bulge just barely presses onto it.

You breathe heavily and moan.

“Do you think you can take me, sweetheart?” You hear him zip his pants down. A sense of relief floods your body.

“Yes.”

“Without taking my fingers first?”

“Yes, daddy.”

You can feel his tip hit your thigh. You move backwards and closer to him, just to feel him closer to you, anything to feel him.

“No, no stay still.”

He slides a condom on and watches your ass perk up in the air in anticipation. Your beautiful folds drip before him.

You gasp as he runs his tip in between them to coat it with your slick.

He smirks and grabs your waist while burying into hard and deep.

Your body falls onto the tile, you cry out loudly from the pain of him suddenly stretching you out but he wraps an arm under you and picks you up.

“I said, stay still!” He grumbles out again but his tone is harsher, darker.

Your arms shake as you hold your body up and attempt to adjust to his length.

He was both wide and long, tears escaped your eyes as he slid into your tight opening.

“So..fucking tight..especially for a whore like you.”

You bite your lips to hold back an embarrassingly loud moan.

He slides in and out quicker and pulls your head back by grabbing your hair. “Why are you crying? Is it too big for you?”

He thrusts hard, making your ass cheeks shake against his hips and your mouth fall open. He was never this rough with you, you wondered why he sounded different.

He was also bigger than usual, you thought.

“Mmmm..n-no.”

He thrusts hard again, nestling himself deep within your walls and pushing against your insides.

He then pulls out completely before giving your ass a harsh slap. You fall onto the floor and cry out.

“No, what?!”

“No, daddy!”

He flips you over onto your back just so he can see your teary face and lips swollen from you biting them.

He licks his lips and goes back to sucking your breasts like he did before, only this time, his cock is passing against your silky walls.

You feel every ridge, every vein, every twitch. 

Curse words leave your mouth as you are brought closer and closer to the edge.

He placed his hands on either side of your head and fucks into you from above while watching your breasts move with each thrust. His nails dig into your knees as he pushes them further apart, watching his long cock glide into your small opening like magic. The way you open up for him drives him crazy.

You’re so wet, he slips in and out with ease. 

“Should I let you cum?”

“Yes, daddy, please.” You licked your lips and watched the handsome man above you. He had loosened a few buttons but his hair, now free and wavy, dangled over your face.

He takes your hard nipples in between his fingers and pinches them. You arch your back and moan.

This all felt so wrong but so right. Him fucking you hard and into the new year on the bathroom floor while your father was just down stairs a few feet away. 

You came instantly, your body trembling as it clenched around him. Your eyes shut tightly, Hendery watched your jaw clenched and grabbed your chin.

“I didn’t tell you to cum, now I’ll have to go harder.” He growled out.

He fucked you hard, your back rubbing against the tile as he didn’t let up on his unforgiving thrusts.

“Too-too much, daddy.” You cried out as tears escaped your eyes again.

“That’s too fucking bad, you came without permission, so now you’re gonna take it,” he thrusted particularly hard with an emphasis on “take it.”

You moaned loudly and squirmed under him, but he held you still, his fingertips digging into your waist. You panted and cried as a burning feeling shot through your skin..

Hendery fucked you like some kind of animal with a crazy sex drive, placing your legs onto his shoulders and ripping some fabric from your expensive dress.

“Hendery! What the-“

“Shhh!! I want to see my cock fill you up, sweetheart. Want to see my little whore take all of me in.”

A smile creeped across his face.

You got up on your elbows and saw that his girthy penis really was poking through your stomach slightly.

“Fuck..so fucking good, daddy.”

Your hips started to hurt from your legs being open and spread out for so long, but Hendery didn’t care, you were all his tonight, and he was going to make sure you remembered that.

“Who were you walking home with after you left the art museum?”

Your brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

Why would he bring up something from a few months ago?

“The guy..I saw him take you home..what’s his name?”

He rubs your clit, making you disoriented.

“I don't know Hendery, I went home by myself that night.”

“Oh, don’t fucking lie to me, whore.” He places his hand around your throat and squeezes it.

You clench uncontrollably as your clit feels amazing with his thumb on it.

Hendery cums as you tighten around him unexpectedly. You release as well, his hand tightens even more around your throat. You see stars and shake. Your body feels weak, but Hendery doesn’t pull out or let your throat go.

He leans downward and kisses your lips.

He looks wild and different, his eyes are more intense with a red glow around them that you hadn’t seen before. He has purple and green veins bursting out from his forehead and neck also.

He chokes you while staring into your eyes and as you come down from your high, you notice that something is wrong.

He pulls his limp member out but lets it lay on your stomach.

“Tell me his fucking name!”

Your eyes grow. “Who are you talking about?!” You manage to utter out while slowly losing breath.

He lays a sloppy kiss onto your lips again then pulls away. “Do you want to know what Ten’s last words were?”

You grasped his shoulders. “Hendery, this isn’t funny.”

“Oh, but it is, sweetheart..you should’ve seen the look of terror on his face when I held the knife above his head.”

Your mouth fell open, greeting Hendery’s as he laid another kiss. You struggled to push him off of you, so you bit his lip and crawled away from him.

Hendery kneeled on the ground and held his lip. A low chuckle escapes and it’s one that is horrifying.

“But baby, we were having so much fun, why did you do that?”

“Because you’re not funny! I’m leaving!” You stumble to your feet and fix your dress over your breasts.

You rush to the door but Hendery blocks it. You cower in fear. He doesn’t look like himself at all, he looks like some kind of monster with a wild look.

“Hendery? What’s wrong with you?”

“Hendery’s not here anymore.” The deep voice laughs out.

“Let me go.” You begin to tremble.

“Hendery had his fun, I think I deserve to have fun too.”

You were so confused as this monster takes Hendery over, but you quickly devise a plan.

You grab the soap dispenser behind you and quickly hit him in the head. He snarls out in pain but you have just enough time to push past him and out of the door.

You rush down the stairs and call out for help, but then you notice that the fireworks are going off. People are laughing and sharing drinks on the rooftop together.

You turn to head back up the stairs and to the rooftop to get help, but Hendery is already making his way down with an angry look on his face.

No one is in the mansion but you..and him.

You run out of the mansion as fast as you can, hoping that you can find anyone that could help you.

You felt pain in your hips from being stretched out but you ignored it. You were terrified as you heard him bolting after you with superhuman speed.

“Help!! Help me!!” You cried out but the streets were empty, everyone was celebrating the new year as beautiful and loud fireworks lit up the sky.

You continue to run and breathe heavily, you finally create a safe distance between yourself and him so you lean against the back of a wall and wait for him to pass.

He slows down when he no longer sees you..

“Sweetheart..it’s just me and you, now. Don’t worry about him!” Hendery’s normal voice calls out.

You tremble and cry in fear, but cover your mouth as he gets closer.

“What are you talking about? I’m still here, where is the little whore?” A darker voice says.

“She’s smart, we won’t find her.” The first voice says.

You’re confused, it’s as if two people are talking to each other, but it’s just Hendery.

“I can smell her..” the darker voice says.

“No!! No!! Leave her alone!” Hendery fights himself in the street alone, he goes crazy  while yelling and throwing himself around.

“But she’s mine!”

“Mr. Hyde..please just leave me alone..” Hendery falls to his knees and sobs in the middle of the street.

“I live inside you forever, Hendery, with Satan himself by my side.”

“No!!”

And then you only hear silence.

You peak out to see if he has left but to your surprise. He’s right there beside you, his crazy eyes glaring as he smiles.

“Found ya!”

You scream and run away and into the yard of a random house, you stumble into the shed and look around for anything you can use to protect yourself.

A bat.

You take the bat and walk around the yard. 

You see Hendery walking around the house. You take in a sharp breath then run up to him fast and swing as hard as you can.

His body falls to floor limply.

You drop the bat and cover your mouth, screaming once more as you look on the body of your strange lover.

———-

[1 Month Later]

You’re starting the spring semester at college, physically. You and your father both agreed that after what happened, it would be best for you to spend some time away.

You told your father about what had happened that night the next day. He told you that Hendery had threatened him and you both came to the conclusion that Hendery was suffering from some sort of psychological disorder. One that would allow him to kidnap and murder people.

Some missing people were found in the lab’s crematory room, but evidence showed that most victims were cremated. This amount of cremation filled the air with harmful toxins, the very same toxins that Hendery’s lab was responsible for getting rid of.

It was ironic, but now your father was happy that the killer was identified.

People no longer went missing.

All cases were closed.

Except for one, however.

Hendery’s body was never found.

[kdramaxoxo]

hello, bun! here's my ask of the day: i've seen many kyung x dan-oh shippers. even though we have seen multiple times that kyung is an abusive jerk and his intentions towards dan-oh are sketchy at best, why do you think that people ship them, still? and since we're on the topic of unhealthy relationships; what are the unhealthiest couples that made you want to quit or made you quit a drama? (SL allowed!) I'm also hoping you feel a bit better mentally, now! -love, the dried squid fairy anon

Oooh this is a great question, especially with all of the asks I’ve been getting about Baek Kyung (Lee Jae Wook) in Extraordinary You. 

(I’m going to skip the second bit because this is about to get LONG.)

Confession: I used to suffer from the “villain attraction” mindset. I instantly loved the dark and evil villain who I thought was put upon in some traumatic way or even if he wasn’t, who cares? But one day as I was crushing on literal murderers I wondered: why did I allow myself to feel like they were actually Good Guys when they are definitely Bad Guys.

Why do we ship villains?

First and foremost: Attractiveness. Villains are mostly cast by attractive people and tend to have a little extra charisma making them even more alluring than the average “nice guy”. Because we are weak humans, it makes us ignore red flags and forget to notice the bad stuff. Sure he murdered someone. Sure he’s abusive, but did you see his lips and that hard stare? 

We want to feel special. We like the idea that the bad guy is horrible to everyone around him, except us (or the lead we ship him with). Somehow this makes it feel like we are “the one” who can change him or at least have him belong to us. 

Fear is exciting. The thrill of having someone “dangerous” around us is a form of non sexual arousal - it actually is!, and the chemicals released (dopamine, endorphins, adrenaline) are also associated with attraction. Our brain is literally tricking us to like attractive scary people.

The Bad Guy Trope is just a thing we are taught to like in media. Think about the cold male leads with mean parents, or the villains who are cast super hot and have really complicated orphan stories that we are taught to empathize with. We want to like them. We want to overlook all of the icky stuff or make excuses for it because we feel bad for that beautiful man.

Men are “supposed” to be dominant. If you go by societally constructed gender roles, women are supposed to be protected and men are supposed to be more aggressive and domineering. So instead of thinking “wow that guy is really cruel to that girl” we think “wow that guy is just being cruel because of his mean parents.” It’s still cruelty but he gets a pass cause like, he’s a dude.

So, let’s talk about Baek Kyung

Listen, there are plenty of ships out there that I personally hate (Reylo is the one that comes to mind the quickest - pls don’t fight me!) but people should be able to ship anyone they want. It’s their fantasy and hey, whatever your kink is.

BUT. I will say that when you ship someone who is an actual villain publicly (murderer, abuser, emotional manipulator, stalker) it’s important to know WHY you are shipping them and the possible message that is sent out.

The actor Lee Jae Wook is a perfect puppy in real life (that we know of) and the behind the scenes for Extraordinary You will 100% make you attracted to him. 

But the character Baek Kyung is not a “Good Guy” on stage, in the shadow, or in the past. He is The Villain. He knows this, and while it’s a tragic fate that I feel really badly about, we should not ship him with anyone. He has no redemption arc and has never shown remorse for his cruelty and he’s had plenty of chances, which has been frustrating to watch. We can acknowledge that he’s attractive but also know that we are watching a “Bad Guy” being cruel, manipulative and mildly villainous.

I don’t want to speak for Team Baek Kyung but I have a feeling they might just be glamorizing the personality traits I listed above, OR they just think Lee Jae Wook is hot which is valid but not a reason to ship him with Eun Dan Oh.

[zbickerstaff]

An Unpretentious Plan for the Future Betterment of the Human Race and Planet Earth.

                                                                              By Zach Bickerstaff

Clearly we are in trouble. I’m sure that few will disagree. Of course everyone has their own opinion of exactly what our problems are and many of these opinions conflict. But it is abundantly clear that the world has a great many problems upon which everyone can agree. I shall endeavor to concisely explain my long range plan to remediate these problems and endow the Human Race and Planet Earth with a long, prosperous, peaceful and happy future.

                                                                     The Problems

 More than seven billion people inhabit this planet. That’s enough people to fill up Yankee Stadium thirteen thousand times. If you snapped your fingers once per second seven billion times, it would take you 221 years, ten months. We haven’t stopped reproducing either. If anything, we are speeding up. By the year 2050 it is predicted that there will be close to ten billion people. The planet cannot stand up under such a biological load. Seven billion is bad enough. Can you imagine how much poop seven billion people produce? Climate change is a big concern despite the fact that many people deny that it exists. Many of the deniers are now coming around and are finding the courage to accept the fact that something needs to be done. People also argue about the causes of climate change but when you strip away all the scientific jargon and theories, what it comes down to is that there are just too many people on the planet – dirty, messy, inefficient people. The notorious garbage island in the Pacific wasn’t made by penguins and wallabies; it was made by human beings.  

 Environmental problems aside, the human race itself suffers greatly because of its own fecundity. A conservative estimate says that thirteen to fifteen percent of the world’s population is starving or undernourished. 3.1 million children die of malnutrition each year. Malnutrition is a terrible way to die. It’s not a quick death, it is slow and painful. Often parents will feed their children instead of themselves. When they die the children are orphaned and roam the slums, begging for handouts and searching garbage piles for scraps. Speaking of slums, overpopulation assures that there will not be enough wealth to go around. 36% of the world’s population, almost two billion people, lives in poverty. Vast slums exist in South Africa, Kenya, Mexico, Nigeria, Brazil and India. People live in run down shacks constructed from whatever they can get their hands on; pieces of cars and trucks, packing crates, driftwood, bamboo, palm fronds, etc. There is rarely any running water and sewers consist of an open trench flowing with human and animal waste.

 This “lack of wealth” or the unfair distribution of it is the root cause of war. Few wars have been fought over purely ideological issues. Acquisition of resources is far more often the case. In the 20th century alone an estimated 108 million people were brutally killed by war, far more were injured, and made homeless. Again, the root cause of this is overpopulation; too many people, not enough resources.

 So now we have identified the problem. So how do we solve it? The big problem is that this is indeed a very big problem. People tend to be selfish and very uncooperative creatures so they are highly unlikely to go along with any solution. The first step is organization. No solution is going to be effective unless everyone, or nearly everyone, goes along with it. The world is divided up into nearly two hundred different countries. You might think that the United Nations would be a good place to start. No. The UN has no teeth and can’t control nearly enough of the population to be effective with, well anything. When was the last time they stopped a war? There are many people who understand the value of a world government. Realistically, it’s the best, fairest form of government; everyone plays under the same rules, it’s far easier to track criminals who break the rules and it will make war unheard of. It will be much easier to disarm the population to prevent armed revolt, war and mass murder. The immigration problem will be solved because borders will no longer be necessary. Once this achieved, good, solid, enforceable population growth rules can be put into place and there will be nothing that those who do not have the courage to cooperate will be able to do about it.  

 Another very important problem that I haven’t spoken of is the loss of jobs to robotics. Granted, this has been going on a very long time. Surely you have heard the term “Luddite”. It comes from an English mill worker named Ned Ludd who destroyed a new automatic loom in a fit of anger in 1779. He was angry because the new machine had taken the gobs of several workers, including  his. Such a machine is a primitive form of robot.

 Technology is advancing at an alarming rate. Think of a job, any job. Within fifty years, a robot will be able to do it. Artificial Intelligence is even replacing artists. There are advanced programs that can compose music. One was programmed to compose in the style of Beethoven. It wrote a piano sonata and a panel of expert musicologists was tricked into believing it was an undiscovered work by the master himself.

 So, in the next hundred years or so the human race will be out of work. I seriously doubt that the robots will turn against us though, like in the Terminator film series, that’s just the stuff of science fiction. But it will be a very serious problem and the cause of much conflict; many people competing for a very few jobs. The solution is a government that will fairly and equally award what few jobs remain to those qualified and deserving and to divide up the wealth and distribute it equally to those who cannot be employed. The only other alternative is to outlaw advanced technology and / or provide “makework” jobs and that simply will not work over the long term.

 But this still leaves us with the problem that the population is growing and there are not enough resources to go around as it is. Remember, fifteen percent of the population is starving. The simple solution is to simply grow more food. But that’s not as easy as you might think. I well remember driving across the state of Texas, hour after hour. Texas is really big and there are vast stretches of open, undeveloped land. I kept thinking: “why does nobody live here? Why does nobody farm this land?” I soon realized that it was because there is no water – or nearly no water – just enough to keep cacti and sagebrush alive. There is certainly not enough water to sustain the huge, sprawling suburbs of the Northeast US and not enough water to irrigate anything but cacti and sagebrush. And that’s the problem on a global basis too. There is a lot of water on this planet but the vast majority of it is salty. Only 2.5% is fresh and only 20% of that is usable by humans, the rest is locked up in ice caps or is polluted.

 Even if we could figure out some way to feed a gianormous population of ten billion, that still leaves us with all the problems of garbage and human waste. Think about how much poop ten billion people produce.

                                                                            The Plan

 It’s obvious that we need to reduce the global population, not allow it to keep growing and try to deal with it. As I have stated in the preceding paragraphs, there are too many people right now, and we are looking toward the future – the far future. The long term goal is to have no more people on the planet than can live in comfort and relative wealth, be adequately fed and receive all the necessities of life; medical care, a fair government, diversity, inclusiveness and the freedom to feel safe from violence and intolerance. Experts differ in their calculations but the consensus is that the global population should be no more than two billion people.

 So what do we do with the five billion people who are dead weight? Well for starters, they would need to be moved around. With a global government it will be much easier to move people into more efficient and environmentally friendly locations.  Massive structures will be built covering square miles and rising a thousand feet or more. This might seem like it would use up land that could be cultivated but in reality it would free up cultivatable land by “putting everything in one place” - shops, theaters, hospitals, schools, recreation, sports arenas, etc. Perhaps a million or more people could live in one of these “mega-buildings.” In the United States, for instance, once the ideal population level is reached, it would only require approximately one hundred of these structures to be built and the entire population will be moved into them. All other buildings will be torn down. The mega-buildings will be built on land that cannot be put into agricultural use such as deserts, areas with poor soil quality and salt flats.

 Travel will no longer be necessary except between one mega-building and another. People and goods will travel through underground tunnels or on above ground monorails in environmentally friendly, electrically powered rail cars. However, such travel would rarely be necessary because everything one could ever want will be contained within the mega-buildings. This would free the land for agriculture, solar farms, wind farms and other types of environmentally friendly types of energy. Fossil fuels will be rendered obsolete. People will no longer need to own automobiles and will be free from the huge expense of purchase, maintenance and insurance. The carnage of traffic accidents will be a thing of the past.

 A birth control program will be established to stabilize the size of the population. Perhaps the best way to do this is to selectively administer certain chemical compounds during routine vaccinations which would prevent women from producing eggs and / or men from producing sperm. It would be simple and completely painless. No one would even know it had been done until they tried to have children. The selection process will be based on genetic characteristics in an effort to weed out the more troublesome aspects of the human condition such as genetic deformities, mental illness, intellectual disability as well as social issues such as diversity.

 An extensive education program will be established which will contain curriculum to be sure that everyone is made thoroughly aware of the necessity and importance of the steps being taken to save the Human Race and the planet. It will also be used to educate people of the evils of racism, toxic masculinity, misogyny and other destructive behaviors as well as wean the population off of superstitious religious beliefs which conflict with various aspects of the program such as birth control. To this end it would be best to remove children from their parent’s sphere of influence. Schools now provide most meals for children and supervise much of their activity. It is a few simple steps to modify the school system to keep children under the careful and nurturing supervision of the educational system all of the time. Parents would be allowed to visit of course but the object is to prevent them from teaching their children falsehoods and destructive behaviors such as the aforementioned religious superstition, intolerance, bigotry and racism. It would prevent parental child abuse. Alcoholic, uneducated, poorly educated and mentally ill parents are notorious for abusing their children. How many times have you heard news stories about parents doing unspeakable things to their children?

Once the above measures are in place, the population has been relocated and the land has been cleared, agriculture will switch to plant production exclusively, becoming sustainable and eliminating the highly inefficient, wasteful, inhumane and environmentally unfriendly production of animal products. Fishing will be banned so that the oceans can recover. This is not to say that everyone would be forced to be a vegan vegetarian. That’s just not practical and many people would balk at the idea. Plus there is the aspect that a vegan diet holds many dietary deficiencies. Vegans have to be careful to find alternate sources of protein and the vitamins and minerals which are usually supplied by meat, eggs and seafood. This is not something that you can expect a large population to do. Our global government will have detailed records on everyone; location as well as age, height, weight and health status. Based on these factors and the ability – or lack thereof – to contribute to society in a useful way, individuals will be carefully selected for humane harvest. With modern technology a human being can be compassionately and painlessly euthanized and the body can efficiently be processed into many different wholesome and palatable types of food. There is nothing gruesome or morbid about this. This is not the stereotypical, cliché cannibalism of the Donner Party, Hannibal Lechter and Jeffery Dahmer. For instance, the head and hands will not be processed. This is for two reasons. 1. To allow the next of kin to have a funeral with an open casket. The head and hands will be mounted on a dummy body. Afterwards they will be removed and cremated.  Burial will be outlawed; it is wasteful of valuable land which can be otherwise used for agriculture. 2. Many of the diseases associated with the consumption of human flesh are transmitted by brain and nervous tissue. The average human body contains between fifty and seventy five pounds of usable meat. A rate of one billion humane harvests per year will provide an adequate meat supply and pare the global population to an acceptable level within five or six years. This solves both the starvation and the overpopulation problem. It’s a win-win situation.  Obviously only mature people will be selected for harvest. No one will be eating little kids. A minimum age, say 35 to 40 will need to be established. Of course a few people may object to this but over time it will become routine and people will accept their fate. Once the global population is stabilized and clean environmental practices are established, the practice of humane harvesting could be gradually phased out and we could once again begin farming cattle, pigs and other livestock. But we must be vigilant and not let things get out of hand again. We must be strict but gentle. The educational system is key to shaping the thought process so that a tolerant, diverse population is maintained which has the courage to make this plan successful.

 Truly, we are in trouble and truly the plan I have set out here is neither that complicated or difficult. The outcome would be an Earth that could only be described as paradise. I have heard other plans. At best they are patchwork / Band-Aid solutions. Here is a plan that guarantees peace, sustainable, long term human happiness on a green, environmentally sustainable Earth.

[emmaekay]

Keiyaku III for TPTH Vegebul Smutfest

AN: It’s gettin’ fuckin’ seeeeeeeerious now. All my @tpthvegebulsmutfest fans, please enjoy this exposition heavy chapter! I promise there’s still some nice smut.

Day 3 – Tornado

 “And so, Nappa, that is my plan.” Vegeta summarized for his subordinate, with a self-satisfied smile as he leaned back into the plush couch in his sitting room.

“But Vegeta,” Nappa began, “What if they call your bluff? And why is your father so insistent on this happening now? He has never indicated illness, weakness or abdication, not to me. You still have many moon cycles before your 30th sun cycle, and many royals don’t even begin the selection process until their last moon.”

Vegeta glowered darkly. Nappa had known his father longer, and had fought with him in many campaigns during the Cold War. He had hoped that the older man would be able to tell him why his father was threatening him into a fasting. “If they call my bluff, I guess she dies.”

“You guess?”

“I guess.”

Nappa studied the prince, still in his estimation quite a young Saiyan. A young Saiyan who Nappa had watched battle his way across the galaxy in tournaments and death matches, and in great battles as a general in his father’s army. Vegeta had lived his life like a true Saiyan – fighting for honor and riches and the sheer exhilaration of it. He had often killed and twice nearly died, yet never had Nappa seen his face twist up into such a grimace as it did when Vegeta said I guess she dies.

“Vegeta, are you attached to this woman already?”

The grimace left Vegeta’s face, immediately replaced by a look of utter contempt and shock, his brows high into the widow’s peak of his hair and mouth agape. “Shut up, Nappa.”

 ***

 Bulma emerged from her second shower of the day to find a tall, well-muscled woman waiting for her, with lengths of fabric in her arms and various gold and silver trinkets laid out on the bench that just a while ago held her own, and Vegeta’s , naked body.

“His Highness the Prince Vegeta bade me come and teach you the appropriate manner of dress before your meeting with the King and Queen,” the woman said, handing Bulma a fluffy cloth that she assumed was, and she used as, a towel.

“Oh,” Bulma said. “Well, thanks, I guess?”

“The Prince said you were unable to arrange your kulthan so that it would remain on your body properly.”

Bulma couldn’t help but laugh at that. Sure, she thought, blame the kul-thingy. “Well, I appreciate the opportunity to learn. Thank you.” Bulma walked a few steps toward the woman, the fabrics and the trinkets. The woman held out the fabrics for Bulma to see and feel, so she could choose whatever she liked best. Bulma selected a liquid smooth gold fabric that was very like silk – maybe it was silk, who knows.

The dressing woman nodded her head with a slight smile. “I would have chosen that for you. Your taste is appropriate. Your coloring is … rare.”  “Is it? Are there no women here with bright hair or eyes?” Bulma wondered aloud. It was true – the dressing woman’s coloring was like Vegeta’s. Dark hair, dark eyes, tanned skin several shades darker than her own. Her hair was thick, like Vegeta’s, and stuck out in spikes.

“No, all Saiyans have black hair and eyes.”

“Saiyans? Is that what you call yourselves?” “Yes. As a people, we are Saiyans. As a person, I am Beri.”

“Beri, that’s a lovely name. I’m Bulma!” Bulma smiled at the dressing woman, at Beri, and felt herself breathe a little easier. At least she had a friend. “What planet are we on?”

Beri’s eyebrows drew up, but she didn’t vocalize her surprise. She had helped many of Asket’s strange visitors, and Vegeta’s were always the strangest. His penchant for intergalactic travel far and wide often lead to him bringing odd men and women back to the royal residence, which she then needed to make decent before turning them loose on the royal court, or official feasts, or even just in town. “We’re on Vegetasei.”

“Vegetasei,” Bulma repeated. “As in Vegeta.”  “Yes. The firstborn son of the royal house is always called Vegeta. The Prince Vegeta was named after his father, the King Vegeta, who is the 112th King in the line of Kings.”

“Guess that keeps the monuments accurate!” Bulma quipped, holding a green fabric up to her chest. No, the gold, I think. She placed the green fabric back on the pile, and Beri nodded imperceptibly, but approvingly. 

“Shall I teach you how to wear it?”

 ***

Beri had finally answered the question of underwear, and the answer was – not really. The Saiyans wore form fitting suits to train or to battle, and the suits were outfitted with protective… accoutrements in tender areas. For all other modes of dress, the Saiyans either wore tiny form fitting shorts under their clothes, or nothing at all. Bulma didn’t like the shorts and she really didn’t want to walk around going commando.

“Beri, is there a small length of fabric I might be permitted to cut and fashion into something for myself?” Bulma asked. If I can make Capsules, I can make panties.

“I think that would be permissible. Here, use this.” Beri handed her a short length of black fabric, the same liquidy silk. “This is intended as a hair wrap, but I hope it will suit your purposes. Do you require tools?”

“Scissors, needle and thread.”

“What are those?”

Bulma pursed her lips. This was something that had actually been bothering her even more than the lack of underwear. “How can you understand me? Don’t we speak different languages?”

“The 110th King Vegeta was a man of science and of intergalactic trade. He traded a powerful protection relic to a scientist from the planet Ecilps in exchange for an alteration to the atmosphere of Vegetasei – a chemical is present in our atmosphere and in what we breathe that allows for the free understanding of all language. The 110th King felt this would prevent spies from landing here, and would help decrypt enemy code.

“Interesting!” Bulma exclaimed. She already felt a lot more at home – on a planet that appreciated science, the scientist could serve a purpose.  “So… why don’t you know what scissors are?” Beri smiled indulgently, “Some things, we don’t have an exact word for. You’ll have to describe it.”

Bulma quickly described what she needed and Beri, being the royal dressing woman, had all three. Bulma set herself to work and quickly fashioned a pair of comfortable panties from the black silk. Cute, too! I’ll have to think about a bra, later. Maybe.

“Those are,” Beri peered at Bulma as the blue haired woman did a twirl and angled her hips prettily, “strangely arousing.”

Bulma grinned at Beri. “Want me to make you a pair? Bet your husband goes wild!”

Beri flushed. “Perhaps another time, I should begin your dressing instruction now.”

****

After at least an hour of fold this here and never tuck this there and always finish with this end, Bulma was sheathed in gold. The fabric had been arranged full over her hips and with a tulip opening whose shortest point was at her knees and longest edges kissed the floor. Wound tight around the waist, but barely draped over her breasts, leaving a deep V of chest visable. The remaining length trailed behind her shoulders, like a caplet of liquid gold. Her hair was left down, long over her shoulders and straight.

Bulma wasn’t sure she could ever replicate the process, but she looked as good as she ever had. Maybe better.

Beri chose a gold bracelet with white stones inlaid and a matching necklace – a simple gold chain with another white stone, large and teardrop shaped.

Vegeta opened the door to the bathing chamber and stepped inside. Beri took two steps backward, away from Bulma, and greeted him.  “Prince Vegeta. I believe she is ready.”

“Hm. She looks very … appropriate. Almost too appropriate,” he said, raking his gaze over her animally. “Shall I unmake you?” The flowing gold fabric hid nothing of her curves – her magnificent hips, the swell of her round bottom, two twin handfuls of her breasts just peeking out of the sides of the fabric that barely contained her chest – and suddenly, everything he wore felt too tight.

Bulma couldn’t help but crack a smile, as Beri’s hand rose to her mouth. “Uh, p-p-prince Vegeta, she only now finished and – “

“Calm down. I will leave her intact,” he smirked, devilish grin spreading, “for now.” As Beri breathed a possibly-too-audiable sigh of relief, Vegeta crooked his arm. “Come, woman or spy or dragon-sent temptress – let’s go trick a King.”

***

Vegeta’s royal housing was separate from, but on the same estate as, the King and Queen’s. Whereas his home was grand, comfortable and opulent – but still “home-sized,” the ruling family lived in an honest to goodness castle. Stone walls and high battlements surrounded an inner courtyard, and indoors – black marble inlaid with silver and plush velvet accents in jewel tones. Vegeta lead her by the arm through the massive gate and through the foyer – directly into the throne room.

King Vegeta sat on a high backed throne atop the dais. The throne was black marble and looked – well, uncomfortable, despite the seat draped with furs and cushions. Queen… Hey! What’s the queen’s name? Bulma thought. The queen, whatever she was called, sat in an equally high backed throne at her husband’s side, but hers was gilt totally in gold with jewels inlaid. A fluffy cushioned seat and back rest made the queen’s throne look much more comfortable, in Bulma’s estimation.

“King Vegeta, father,” the prince at Bulma’s side began, “and Queen Pea, mother. I have been instructed to choose a woman for the fasting, and I have done so. I choose Bulma Briefs of the Planet Earth. Please set the date of the antefasting battle immediately.”

King Vegeta flushed with rage, fists curling into tight sledgehammers. The man looked like Vegeta, but had time, height, breadth and strength beyond his son’s. Vegeta looked dangerous, sure, but the King looked positively murderous now. Bulma resisted the urge to run. She forced steel into her spine. She forced herself to remain still, not to quail, not to quake. She was Bulma Briefs – and Bulma Briefs is no coward.

“This is NOT,” the King boomed, “a GAME, Vegeta! You cannot seriously be presenting this weakling as your choice – she will die immediately in the battle for your fasting! Probably before that – any host of Saiyan women, real Saiyan women with power to match you – will kill her the moment they hear of this farce!”

Bring it, bitches. Bulma thought. Wait, aren’t I supposed to be happy about this rejection? It means I get to go back to Earth and Vegeta gets to go gallivanting off in the universe for another few years.

“I should have you JAILED!” The King continued his tirade, “I will have chains brought and you will sit in STOCKS for your disobedience, your disresp-“

The Queen placed her hand on the King’s forearm as he made to stand up. “Enough.” Queen Pea’s voice was calm, and smooth, and warm like caramel and carried through the throne room easily without blustering. “Enough.”

The King sat down on his throne, visibly calming and the ready-to-brawl tension leaving him at her touch. “Vegeta, my son. My firstborn Prince,” Pea spoke. “Is this your choice? Are you sure this woman is your choice.” Vegeta straightened his back and looked his mother in the eye. “Yes… mother.”

“Vegeta.” Pea began to step from the dais and walk directly toward her son. Her skin was the same sunkissed tone as Vegeta’s and her black hair fell in a smooth waterfall to her hips. She was well muscled, but lithe instead of bulky and more feminine than Beri. She walked lightly, like a sprite or a spirit and she was beautiful. Her voice now carried a dangerous tone – like a mother who is giving her child one last opportunity to stop his fit before a punishment is carried out. The air around Vegeta began to crackle – Bulma could feel the electricity through their still linked arms. She watched as Vegeta continued to make eye-contact with the Queen, but also noticed a single bead of sweat begin to drip down his forehead. She squeezed his arm with her hand – to reassure him, to remind him that she was still here – and very breakable, she thought.

Vegeta gave Bulma a sideways glance and the barest hint of his cocky grin.

Queen Pea stopped, two steps in front of her son and Bulma. She stared at Bulma, analyzing her and with a haughty sniff, looking away and at Vegeta. She walked back to her throne on the dais, and arranged herself leisurely into a comfortable sitting position. She took her time, arranging this fold of her gown, fluffing that pillow, rearranging her jewels. The tension slowly melted out of the room, but no one spoke.

Finally, after the queen had settled on her throne, and placed her hand again on the King’s arm, she broke the silence. “I approve.”

Mouths dropped open, beginning with the King’s and ending with Bulma’s own. She what now?

“Mm.” The queen nodded happily. “I approve. This woman will have the right to battle for fasting to my son, the Prince Vegeta. I will announce the terms and date of the battle after consulting with the King in private. You are dismissed.”

Vegeta spun on his heels, wheeling Bulma around with him and made quickly for the exit, fury steaming from him in waves. He didn’t speak a word, not as they left the castle, not on the walk back to his quarters. It was night, sudden night, as whatever sun illuminated this world seemed to cower from the prince’s rage.

“Vegeta.” Bulma wrenched her arm away from his, but he gave no acknowledgement. “Vegeta!” The man continued forward, stomping back into his home. “VE-GE-TA!”

Wild eyed, he turned to face her in the doorway. “You’re going to die.” He turned away and went inside, slamming the door to his bedroom behind him.

Motherfucker! Bulma raced after him, banging the door open. “Don’t you walk away from me! Don’t you slam doors on me! Who the fuck do you think you are!”

Vegeta was standing at a small table below his window, glaring up at the castle through the dark of the night. “Who,” he growled, “the fuck do you think YOU are? I am the Prince of all Saiyans! I have killed, and battled, and fought for honor and glory all my life! What have you ever grappled with – a jar lid? A gown? You’ll be murdered, vivisected before my whole RACE because of me!” He snatched a crystal decanter from the table and smashed it against the wall, snarling in rage.

Bulma’s eyes were wide with anger, and fear, and shock as Vegeta tipped up the table, smashing everything on it and kicking the table into the wall, where it was obliterated into splinters. His tantrum continued unabated – walls, furniture, floor, nothing was safe as he radiated furious light and the waves of power coming from him peeled paint from walls and whirled papers and folders full of fasting candidates around him. He screamed, deep from a primal place within him, and Bulma could only stand – stuck to the spot – and watch.

Some object caught up in his furious whirlwind swung wide and struck Bulma in the forehead, hard. She fell backward onto the bed, and the bluster stopped.

“Bulma?” Vegeta’s voice was hoarse from the screaming, and quiet now from shame. “Bulma?”

“You. Fucker.” Bulma pushed herself up on one elbow to glare at him. “You son of a bitch. You fucker! This hurts!” Tears began to prick her eyes, from pain and from rage. “Prince of all Saiyans, big fucking deal. You throw tantrums like a baby!” Blood trickled down her face.

Vegeta crossed the room to the bed and sat next to her. “You bleed so easily,” he muttered softly, reaching down to wipe the blood away from her eye. “I do not…”

Bulma turned her eyes up to his, and was shocked to find sadness etched painfully into his features. She felt her rage begin to melt away, as he tucked her wild hair behind an ear and deftly wiped the blood from her face with a corner of the bedspread. His mouth was drawn into a hard line and he was scowling, but his touch was delicate – gentle and so, so careful.

“I did not intend for you to become injured. Not by my wrath, and not by the trick I thought I was playing. I do not wish to watch you die. I do not… wish for any harm to come to you.” He kissed her wound gingerly, then her nose, then her lips. “You are rare and beautiful, and such things should not die.” He kissed her again, gently, agonizingly slowly. “I will not ask you to forgive me.”

“Good,” Bulma breathed. “Because I don’t forgive you. And I’m not about to die.” She pulled him on to her, his weight delicious against her, and snaked one hand up into his hair. She kissed him again, his tongue surprisingly cool and light against hers. He ran his hands over the liquid smooth softness of her dress, fondling her breasts and tweaking her nipples as they peaked underneath it. Gooseflesh rose on her arms, as she felt the pressure of his hardness against her. He kissed her throat, down and down into the exposed V of skin that her dress left on display. He pressed his lips and his tongue to the flat of her breastbone, as if he could infuse her with some of his strength.

As if he could save her.

Bulma sighed and panted, arching her back against him as he wrapped one strong arm underneath her, clutching her tightly to his chest and running his tongue over her breast as he slipped the loose fabric away from her body. He picked her up from the bed and pushed the bodice and skirt of the dress away, and Bulma reached up to run her hands against his chest underneath the shirt of his suit. “Take this off.”

In a flash, Vegeta’s suit was on the floor, and Bulma was lying nearly naked in a pool of golden silk that used to be her dress. Only her silky black panties remained. Vegeta was on her in the next instant, running his hands over her and under her and down the length of her body, stroking her sensitive spot through the silken underwear, the sensation of softness on top of softness filling Vegeta’s erection with a powerful hunger. Slipping first inside her panties, he slid inside her. One, two strong fingers rocking in and out of her as his palm slicked against her nub, thrilling her until she squirmed and cried out, throwing one leg over his hips to thrust his hand deeper into her.

Vegeta pulled off her panties, then pulled her closer still, up onto one of his thighs so that they were pinned together – by each other’s bodies and each other’s need. He buried his face between her breasts, swiveled his hips and thrust himself inside her. Bulma wrapped her arms around his neck and he began moving inside her, more deeply and yet more slowly, savoring every smooth thrust into her wetness. Bulma pressed against him, moaning low and lustily. “Vegeta… more.”

He twisted his hips and thrust again, again. Twisting and grinding against her, lips and mouth upon her, tasting every inch he could reach and relishing in the way she tightened and tightened around him – the wet walls of her, lingering on and clinging to him in need and desire. She breathed and moaned and every sound he drew out of her pierced him moreso than the nails she drove into his back as she clung to him and cried.

The sweetest vice around him throbbed and shuddered while Bulma cried out and drove her teeth into his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms underneath her, crushing her to him as he growled and moaned out his own release inside her.

He bent his elbows, hovering low over her, and kissed her again as he drew himself out of her, laying her gently on the litter of gold that gleamed now with their sweat and their scent. He cradled Bulma in his arms as she began to drift off to sleep, soothed in the afterglow of something that felt like more than sex.

“You will leave this planet tomorrow.”

[themissouch]

In 2001 after my first foray into a mental health institution I was admitted on the 16th of May on a sunny evening at 5pm. I had been hearing voices for three days and asked for help. I was prescribed an injection of ativan, diazapam, risperidone and largactyl on my first dosing and entry when assigned to a well known facility here in Dublin. At 9pm that first evening I was awoken to a nurse screaming at me, with a large figure on top of me. The nurse started screaming at me for my bad behaviour and commanded the man to leave my room. She asked me what happened and I couldn't find any words to comprehend what had just taken place or even to explain. I stressed I didn't do anything wrong but had no ability for fighting or stating of my innocence. I got back into bed after her verbal assault and went back to sleep. In subsequent and later retrieval of files under the freedom of information act 2001 I would find out to my distress it therein stated that both patients were found in a state of undress with the male abuser fondling me and kissing my head while I lay asleep in bed, four hours after being injected of ativan for diagnosis of psychosis. In latter years I would find out to the institutions detriment they later on omitted the abusers name from foia files and I was horrified they had protected him with their approach in blackening out his name to protect his identity. Being the sharper end of the stick I had printed off a copy of those files and already had his name and lack of retribution brought down on his perverted ways and predatory nature on a woman sleeping.

I screamed blue murder at the facility in later years after strength prevailed that occurred in those ungodly corridors and which I could not escape. I suffered admissions in committal situations in 2003 2007 2011 2013 2019. In the year 2011 I was very badly sexually degraded and assaulted by a man in his father's property in Dublin. I was on a breakdown at the time of meeting him. It was one of the most disgusting incidents of my much varied life and I was traumatised and broken so badly by the filth I had to witness and experience I rang the Dublin rape crisis centre seeking help and a hope to recover from a terrible night and I suffered ptsd without diagnosis. The rape crisis centre found out I was diagnosed with schizophrenia and point blank stated they could not permit a session with me and it was their requirement in 2011 I get permission from my appointed psychiatrist stating an appointment was allowed. When I stated that the previous foray into abusive situations also occurred prior to the 2011 incident they immediately shut down their interaction with me. Sickening in spite of irish institutionalisation is, was and ever prevelant in Irish histories of crimes perpetrated against women children men and still to this day, lack of safe accommodation for vulnerable women and people who abuse in their posts and administrations. In fact they're are still rapists running around the nuthouse and this is fact, in wards grounds or higher echelons. The rape crisis centre were contacted by me again after I stated who I was, enquiring if they still prevented abuse survivors from receiving appointments in care or support. They knew very well the errors of the past and I made my case and still not have received an iota of benefit from 20 years of treatments, neither do their drugs work within mental health practices here in the public system.. Theyre shitty approaches to mental health patients their chemical restraints squalor and treatment centres are not safe, they are not secure and they are decrepid and weary and not fit to practice an important community requirement. I have nothing good to say in the instances of those experiences and went years later to lodge formal complaints to police shaking like a leaf with fears of retribution.... Nothing has changed, I have though... I have stormed this issue both in complaints, and utilized every trick in the book to keep finding need for change and aspects of telling the truth.. Its been a tough walk along the way, and I'm only beginning to get used to my god given strengths

Don't ever take the needle, heed it with your fucking life, that bright blue Ativan should be banned.. Im a true as god born survivor, I'm hoping for a quieter life, more peace more kindness more life... I was borne to fight... If I swear the truth I honour the truth... I am battling still to remain resilient returned and fighting fit more than ever...

I shake like a tree in the fiercest of storms

Still finding balance

Weighing up the good and bad

EQUAL

[jennacha]

here’s a big rant about The Child Thief

ok i have a big confession to make

I’m kind of obsessed with the book The Child Thief.

It’s not a particularly good book. In fact, I would go as far to say it’s poor. The writing has the cadence of 15-year-old-going-through-their-novelist-phase. I guess I could say it reads like fan fiction. The plot is very messy. The characters are badly written. It feels like a book that wasn’t edited. The word “magic” is used a lot, and it’s embarrassing. There’s a part where a character slams their fist on the ground and yells “WHY?!” and it’s embarrassing. The dialogue feels like it came out of a 1990s teen adventure fantasy movie trying to imitate the success of a Corey Feldman/Haim movie. Several times throughout the book the thought, “Why did the author do this?” popped in my head. However, the author is a fantasy illustrator, so the descriptive writing is a plus. He knows how to illustrate the landscape with words as well as he would in painting. The book is not a special unit dumpster fire piece of shit insult to literature; in fact, as far as I know a lot of people like it and it has gotten a decent amount of praise. It’s just not very good, in terms of the surface level writing. But I can easily see a lot of people enjoying it for basic entertainment value.

So that would be my YA-focus blog summary review of the book.

My public outcry summary review of the book is this:

I’m obsessed with the book because it’s so fucking weird.

It’s so fucking weird in that it’s a perfect shitstorm of the author not knowing what he’s doing, and thinking he’s knowing what he’s doing. Like a perfect bad B-movie that exhibits textbook schlock where the director is incompetent and clueless but lacks any self-awareness, in terms of style, layout, and production.

But also, the author thinks what he’s doing is…cool.

The book is about evil Peter Pan.

I could end this whole thing right there. But I must release these hounds. I’ve been needing to let all this out.

My wretched insanity craves affirmation.

This book should be a carbon copy of every other average to below average dark fantasy novel that you see on the bookstore shelves and never heard of and wonder what the author is doing now with all their not-fame. This book should be one that could’ve been written by anybody and it wouldn’t have made a difference. This book should be one of sixty million examples of nothing special. In a way, it is definitely 100% yes definitely yes all those things. The universe decided that I would be the bearer of the burden of having much stronger feelings about it then necessary. I probably feel more strongly about it than the author ever did. It is in my life now.

The biggest thing about this book being so fucking weird is the mind boggling tonal inconsistency. There are a number of shifts in universe-encompassing moods, which go from “Christopher-Nolan-but-also-kind-of-Stephanie-Meyer-dark-gloomy-the-world-is-unhappy-and-I-like-it-that-way”, to “David-Fincher-the-world-is-ACTUALLY-awful”, to “Oh-right-this-is-a-Peter-Pan-story-whimsical-fun-Goonies-meets-Disney-Channel-original”, to “A-worse-version-of-The-Hobbit-movies-with-some-redeeming-qualities”, to “Quentin-Tarantino-literally-wrote-this.” This isn’t hyperbole. The writing language can be REALLY EMBARRASSING and straight out of a Disney movie. That tone of a fun romp for the whole family is cradled by an abundance of swearing, unsettling fantasy-horror, and extreme, shocking violence.

You know when you’re watching Beetlejuice, and you’re like “Okay this movie is for children” and then out of nowhere Michael Keaton goes “NICE FUCKIN’ MODEL” and grabs his dick.

In The Child Thief, THAT washes over you every time you finish reading a sentence. Only, it’s as if you’re watching Hook, and at one point Robin Williams slices a person’s face off, and the camera stays on the faceless person for a minute and Steven Spielberg walks into frame and points to the gurgling faceless head and describes to you how you can still see the holes where the mouth, nose, and eyes were.

(Yes that actually happens in the book.)

Or if you’re watching Neverending Story and at one point you get expository dialogue explaining how Atreyu was pimped as a boy and had to live on the streets because his mother was, uh, a drug addict or something?. 

(That also happens.)

Or if you’re watching Indian in the Cupboard and the film opens with a little girl about to get raped by her dad.

(I’m serious.)

Or if you’re watching Hocus Pocus and Bette Midler is a vampire and she preys on a 6-year-old kid and neither of them have shirts on.

(I swear to god.)

Or if you’re reading a modern re-imagining of Peter Pan and the story involves blatant themes of gore in acute descriptive detail, mass murder, torture, and scenes with naked women and perverted fantasy-creature-men.

(Oh, wait.)

You’re probably thinking, “All those themes are found pretty much everywhere in every medium, especially the naked women and perverts. Big whoop.” I’ll add, then, all those themes, involving children.

Now you’re thinking, “Jenna don’t you love that movie Drag Me To Hell which involves a child being murdered within the first 2.5 minutes?”

Just hear me out and yes.

The Child Thief is entertaining in how CAPTIVATING the strangeness is. The tonal mishmash of kid-friendly meets rated-R is something I actually like, when it's a hit. I like things that have a quality of whimsy amidst dark themes. Movies such as Temple of Doom, Gremlins, Return to Oz, Darkman have this quality…basically almost every movie from the 1980s during the period when audiences had grown up with movies after censorship was abolished and half the world said “think of the children” and the other half said “no.” There are tons and tons of other examples in every medium of how general tonal contrast makes for unique and effective works of art. My point is, this specific type of tonal contrast also can be done well.

But those movies don’t open with attempted child rape, and they don’t end with children literally being mowed down in a grisly battle scene (I’m serious). I’m making a lot of comparisons to movies because the book almost feels like a movie, in that the author isn’t a novelist, he’s a visual story-maker who wrote a book because he knew that no movie studio would pick this shit up. Maybe the films I listed didn’t intend for tonal contrast to be a calculated driving element for their stories, but the subtlety of tones in those movies allows for one encompassing, harmonious tonal blanket to wrap them in. There is no subtlety in The Child Thief.

The tonal confusion of The Child Thief is, I almost wanna say coincidental. I think the author just didn’t know how to write well, but he’s a very dark visual guy and had all these dark visuals in his head ready to be unleashed. All the horrible violence and awful themes are fine in and of itself, but they aren’t earned if the attitude of “I’m gunna turn the children’s book foundation on its head” isn’t committed to, and “I’m gunna subvert everything you know and love about Peter Pan” isn’t calculatedly plotted out. The author has a bad sense of humor, a poor understanding of what is required of an epic storyline, and treats violence, horror and revenge less like a literary device and more like a fetishization of coolness in a vulgar display of power as a writer.

The misguidedness goes as far as the character writing. None of the characters’ motivations make sense. The author couldn’t keep track of either committing to one motivation or the other, a lot of the times for the sake of the plot. Especially with the Peter Pan character. He’s basically literally the anti-christ (this is 100% canon, if the author says it isn’t then he’s a liar and an idiot) and written like a “troubled villain” but then gets these VERY polarized directions of unrelenting psychopathic Cause It’s Die Motherfucka Die Motherfucka Still, Fool villainy and ham-fisted humanism and victimhood. It’s a case of like, the author meant for him to be the charming bad guy who tricks the audience into being on his side because that’s what Peter does to the characters in the book. But the author found him too cool and wanted to be his friend, but in order to justify being friends with a character who wants to murder everybody, he inappropriately gives him remorse and forces the reader to feel bad for him.

And like all the kids in the book are supposed to super love Peter Pan but the version of Neverland is like this horrific, NIGHTMARE HELL of a place and the kids are basically being used to fight in a war, and all the kids are totally okay with it, because their lives in the real world were really awful and the whole thing is that Peter “saves” them and they’ll do anything for him. And it’s like, okay???????????????????? But wouldn’t it be cooler if the kids were like okay this guy is a fucking psycho and Neverland is a horrific, nightmare hell and I’m learning a lot about myself right now having once trusted him???? And then in their retaliation Peter would show his true colors and enforce aggression onto them in serving as his personal enslaved militia? And it becomes like this inner circle of conflict? And since Peter is the only person who can bring them back to the real world, they play ball but hope to steer their own agenda out of the situation? OH, right, that DOES happen, but with ONE of the characters. ONE. Conveniently, the main character. And god knows there can’t be more than one smart human being at a time.

But if you want to SUBVERT the BELOVED CHILDREN’S STORY FORMAT wouldn’t it be fun to do PETER PAN VS. THE LOST BOYS? Instead of MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE PETER PAN AND THE HOT TOPIC LOST BOYS VS. THE ONLY SEMI-SMART MAIN CHARACTER? Like wouldn’t it be GREAT if the characters WEREN'T DUMB? And the author put in some CONSTRUCTIVE, CHALLENGING CREATIVE EFFORT and treated the interactions like a CHESS GAME instead of a CONTRIVED MISUNDERSTANDING BETWEEN JOEY, ROSS, CHANDLER, RACHEL, MONICA AND THE OTHER ONE? Wouldn’t it be GREAT if ALL THE CHARACTERS TURNED AGAINST PETER but then Peter SLOWLY CHARMED SOME OR ALL OF THEM BACK IN, to make him MORE like an UNEARTHLY MONSTER? Like the lost boys became SELF-AWARE LITERAL VICTIMS OF THE ORIGINAL TALE FORMAT, where Peter Pain is this IMPOSSIBLY CHARMING CHARACTER THAT IS BELOVED BY THE LAWS OF THE UNIVERSE? ALSO, the MAIN CHARACTER is supposed to be the MODEL OF REASON FOR THE READER TO RELATE TO, but the main character still gets CHARMED BY PETER PAN, WHILE WE KNOW AS RATIONAL ADULTS WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING TO HAPPEN? LIKE THAT’S SUPPOSED TO BE HOW READING BOOKS IS? When we KNOW WHAT’S GUNNA HAPPEN? BUT THE AUTHOR WANTS TO BE PETER’S FRIEND SO HE DOES IT ANYWAY? AND LIKE SEVERAL OTHER CHARACTERS THAT THE MAIN CHARACTER IS FRIENDS WITH ARE ALSO SUPPOSED TO BE FIGURES OF REASON BUT THEY’RE ALSO 100% PARTISAN IN SIDING WITH PETER? SO IT’S LIKE HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO LIKE ALL YOU DUMB, DUMB KIDS?

LIKE OKAY, SO HOW IT GOES IS THAT PETER CAN LIKE WALK ACROSS THE DIMENSION BETWEEN NEVERLAND AND THE REAL WORLD AND THAT'S HOW HE GETS THE KIDS? SO AT ONE POINT IN NEVERLAND THEY ALL HAVE TO SCAVENGE FOR FOOD BECAUSE THE VEGETATION IN NEVERLAND IS DYING, AND THEY MENTION HOW PETER USED TO BRING THEM FOOD FROM THE REAL WORLD? AND IT'S LIKE, HOW ABOUT YOU JUST KEEP DOING THAT? OR LIKE, WHY DON'T ANY OF YOU WANT TO JUST LEAVE? YEAH THE REAL WORLD SUCKS, BUT IS IT WORTH STARVING TO DEATH JUST SO YOU CAN STICK IT TO THE MAN? LIKE ARE THERE PEDIATRICIANS IN NEVERLAND? ARE THERE AT-RISK YOUTH SHELTERS? FOSTER CARE? NEVERLAND SOUP KITCHENS? NEVERLAND SOCIAL WORKERS? NEVERLAND CHILD PROTECTIVE SERVICES? NEVERLAND POLICE? NO? JUST MONSTERS THAT PAINFULLY KILL YOU, ZOMBIE PIRATES, NO FOOD, AND LITERALLY THE ANTI-CHRIST?

AND THEN THERE’S RIDICULOUS SHIT LIKE, AT ONE POINT ALL THESE MAGICAL FANTASY CHARACTERS HIJACK A NEW YORK CITY FERRY TO GET TO THE HARBOR AND IT’S LIKE, THIS IS SO RIDICULOUS IT SHOULD BE AWESOME, BUT IT ISN’T AWESOME BUT IT SHOULD BE SO WHY ISN’T IT?

AND LIKE ONE OF THE CHARACTERS IS A FAT USELESS KID NAMED DANNY AND THERE IS NO REASON FOR HIM TO BE IN THE BOOK BESIDES TO BE THE TOKEN FAT USELESS KID NAMED DANNY?

BUT DANNY IS LIKE ALSO THE ONLY OTHER SMART CHARACTER IN THE BOOK BECAUSE HE’S LIKE WHY DID I SAY YES TO THIS WHY ARE WE STILL FOLLOWING THIS GUY WHY DON’T WE JUST LEAVE AND IT’S LIKE YEAH PUT DANNY IN CHARGE BUT NOBODY LISTENS TO HIM AND HE’S JUST COMPLETELY UTTERLY USELESS?

AND THEN CAPTAIN HOOK ADOPTS DANNY AND IT’S LIKE OH MY GOD THE AUTHOR FORGOT HE NEEDED TO GIVE DANNY SOMETHING TO DO?

AND LIKE I DON’T EVEN REMEMBER THE MAIN CHARACTER’S NAME?

AND THEN AT THE END OF THE BOOK, SO, THERE’S THIS BIG HUGE BATTLE SCENE WHERE CHILDREN DIE LEFT AND RIGHT, LIKE THE “ANTAGONIST” (NOT PETER) HAS A HUGE SWORD AND IS SWINGING AT THE KIDS LIKE HE’S HARVESTING WHEAT, OH AND YEAH, BY THE WAY, AGAIN, THE REAL WORLD IS LOCATED IN NEW YORK CITY AND THE BATTLE HAPPENS ON LIKE THE FRONT LAWN OF A LIBRARY OR SOMETHING. LIKE THE STORY KIND OF TOTALLY GOES OFF THE RAILS INTO FANTASTIC SCHLOCK. AND AT ONE POINT THE BATTLE IS ABRUPTLY INTERRUPTED BY NYC POLICE AND IT’S LIKE ARE YOU SHITTING MY NUTS THE NYC COPS ARE INVOLVED IN THIS FANTASY BATTLE THIS IS AMAZING, BUT THEN THAT DOESN’T HAPPEN AND IT GOES NOWHERE. AND ALL THE MAIN CHARACTERS ARE DYING, AND NONE OF THEM HAD ARCS, LIKE NONE OF THEM REALIZED WHAT THEY GOT THEMSELVES INTO OR WHAT PETER REALLY WAS, AND AT THE ACT 3 POST-LOW POINT THE MAIN CHARACTER DIDN’T GO OFF TO DO HIS OWN THING AND TRY TO SAVE THE DAY, HE JUST GOES WITH PETER TO DO WHATEVER HE WANTS, AND THEN HIS ARC IS BASICALLY NOTHING AND THEN HE DIES. AND *PETER* WINS. AND AGAIN HE’S LITERALLY THE ANTI CHRIST SO THE BOOK ENDS WITH HIM BRIDGING THE REAL WORLD WITH NEVERLAND, AND BASICALLY BEING THE BRINGER OF HELL UNTO THE EARTH. AND UP UNTIL THEN THE BOOK HAD ABOUT 68 INSTANCES OF THE READER SWITCHING BETWEEN FEELING BAD FOR PETER AND THEN ACCEPTING THAT HE IS HITLER NURSE RATCHED MAO STALIN. SO WHEN ALL THE KIDS DIE, HE HAS A SCENE OF FEELING REALLY BAD AND THE READER IS SUPPOSED TO BE ALL LIKE AW HE REALLY DOES CARE! AND THEN NEVERLAND GETS BRIDGED INTO NEW YORK CITY, AND HE’S LIKE HA HA HA HA I DID IT I WON. BUT IT’S WRITTEN IN SUCH A WAY THAT LIKE, THE AUDIENCE IS SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE, WHEEEEEE! LIKE THIS THING THAT HAPPENED IS THE DOOM OF MANKIND, AND THE TONE SHOULD REALLY BE “OH GOD NO.” BUT THE AUTHOR WAS HAPPY THAT PETER WON IN THE END BECAUSE HE WANTS TO BE HIS FRIEND, EVEN THOUGH LIKE FIFTEEN PAGES AGO PETER CAUSED THE DEATH OF AN ARMY OF CHILDREN (AFTER ANOTHER 600 PAGES OF ALL KINDS OF OTHER AWFUL SHIT). SO NOT ONLY ARE WE SUPPOSED TO FEEL SAD THAT PETER FEELS SAD, BUT THEN WE’RE SUPPOSED TO FEEL HAPPY THAT PETER FEELS HAPPY. HOW ABOUT GO FUCK YOURSELF? HOW ABOUT IF YOU’RE GOING TO MAKE PETER A CHALLENGING UNRELIABLE ANTI-HERO, DON’T MAKE HIS DARK QUALITIES SO INCONTESTABLY EVIL, OR, EITHER CHOOSE TO MAKE PETER HATED BY THE AUDIENCE, OR MAKE THE AUDIENCE FEEL FOOLISH FOR BEING CHARMED BY PETER AND PARTLY RESPONSIBLE FOR ALL THE BAD SHIT THAT HAPPENED AND GO FUCK YOURSELF?

...

I’ll give a different example of both tonal incongruence and bad character writing.

So, the opening scene of the book that involves attempted child rape, so. What happens is that Peter saves the little girl in time by killing the dad, and gains her trust to go to Neverland. The way the story regards the introduction to Peter is that of wonder and curiosity through the little girl’s eyes, as if it was derived from the original children’s tale. So the opener is meant to establish: a gritty “realness” to the book (which is never earned but i digress), and Peter as a mysterious magical hero. Then, the story carries on into describing Peter’s motivation in saving (the book uses “stealing”) children, which vaguely mentions his villainous indulgence (he’s saving children to recruit them in an army in Neverland to fight captain hook because his mommy is the president of neverland and there’s almost-Oedipal themes going on). Fine. However, the cadence of Peter actually being villainous is very very…undermined. Like the actual voice of the NARRATION is misinformed. Like the narration sounds more like Peter’s inner monologue speaking in the third person. Like the third person is in on it. Like the author is painting Peter as this wicked wrongdoer as if it’s a cool thing and he wants to be his friend (Oh wait).

This is how the voice of the opener is handled: Child rape —> Peter prevents child rape and saves child —> Peter is a good guy for doing this —> Peter is still a good guy for doing this but he did it maybe not for the right reasons. As it turns out, Peter is unquestionably the bad guy. Peter was the bad guy from the start, Peter was the bad guy while he was saving the little girl.

The rest of the book is handled like this: Peter is cool and badass  —> Peter is mischievous but still the person we want to follow —> Peter is a psycho...but still cool —> Oh shit Peter has a super awful past and his psycho-ness is the result of being a victim so I forgive him —> Wow Peter’s both a psycho and an asshole—> Okay I dunno about Peter —> The author keeps having Peter save people from being raped as if he’s not an asshole but he’s still a psycho and an asshole so I still don’t know —> The plot has a a lot of stuff so I guess I’m still with Peter —> Okay Peter won but everyone is dead because of him and he’s still an asshole so I still don’t know.

Peter tricks victims of rape, abuse, slavery, etc. into thinking they’re being saved when in fact he objectifies them for his personal needs. Remember how I said this book’s insane tonal confusion isn’t subtle? Well, from the book’s perspective, putting a finger on Peter’s good side and bad side...is subtle. Problematically subtle. Which, on a literary standpoint, sounds like a good thing, but...

This is the part when I say the thing you ACTUALLY SHOULDN’T BE SUBTLE ABOUT is PETER. You CAN be subtle about his tragic backstory. Be subtle about sprinkling his good qualities over his CAKE TOWER of BADNESS. Give him some KICK. Have the flavors INTERACT. Make the audience be like “OOOH, is that cumin?? Interesting! HMMMM! INTERESTING! CUMIN! ON DORITOS! YEAh I am definitely eating Doritos, this is absolutely Doritos, but there’s some CUMIN in there! Okay, back to eating my DORITOS! OOOOH, IS THAT CAYENNE?????” But whatever you do, make it CLEAR what you are SERVING. You should not have a MIXED BAG, a MEDLEY, and try to sell it like not-a-medley. You should NOT make half your plate super spicy and half your plate super sweet and make the audience roll the dice on each bite they take. Peter Pan isn’t some complexass Faustian character study, it’s SUBVERSIVE HYPERVIOLENT DARK FANTASY PORN. IT’S DORITOS

This is how the voice of the opener should've been handled: Child rape —> Peter prevents child rape and saves child —> Peter is the bad guy.

This is how the voice of the rest of the book should've been handled: No matter what happens —> Peter is the bad guy.

I don’t have and never will have the literary criticism credentials to say anything with credible boldness, but I’m going to say this anyway: Using child rape to force the reader to feel a certain way about the tone of the world and the first heroic impression of a character is wrong. Forcing an act of heroism (especially for you to then later say “Just kidding not the hero”) in that context is inappropriate and wrong. That’s like throwing 9/11 into the background of a love story to force the audience to feel extra emotional. 1) There are many, many, many, many ways you can establish “realness” in your opener with or without violence. I’m not saying there is a hierarchy of what kind of awful things involving children are okay to write about, but opening your story with attempted child rape is an unnecessary extreme if parts of your story reads like an episode of Saved By The Bell. Revenge alone isn’t cool. John Wick is cool because of the way revenge is handled. Writing about attempted child rape and then immediate revenge on the rapist is the Epipen-shot-to-the-brain method of forcibly getting your audience to go “I LIKE PETER!”, which isn’t at all earned and probably shouldn’t be in your story… 2) ESPECIALLY if you don’t simultaneously establish with slats nailed on a wall that Peter is the bad guy. The author basically deceived the audience into liking Peter in the worst way possible, ironically, which is what he had Peter do to the other characters. If you want to cleverly deceive the audience into liking Peter, do it through his dialogue, personality, the externalized product of the relationship between him and his environment. Be inventive about it. It’s a book. You got words. Use...words to your advantage. If you want to open your story with attempted child rape at the very least as a way to tell the audience this shit’s serious, don’t.

Just don’t. It’s fine.

The Child Thief can’t be pinned as So Bad It’s Good. It’s poor, but it’s not Tommy Wiseau-acclaim-bad. The only way I can describe it is So Disorderly It’s Weird. But it has potential for being SO Weird It’s Kind Of Genius. Which makes it So Almost SO Weird It’s Kind Of Genius It’s Frustrating.

The book’s biggest detriment is that it takes itself too seriously. The author’s motivating in writing the book (this is fact) was that he recognized that the beloved original tale of Peter Pan has a lot of dark elements, but continues to be celebrated as a children’s story. And he wanted to take that notion and run with it. What happened was that he selectively fell in love with elements of that concept, and instead of writing a story that was meant to pull the rug from under us, he ended up writing a run-of-the-mill edgy dark fantasy that he was obliged to pepper with Peter Pan references. Instead of pulling the entire rug beneath our feet and hauling us onto our asses, he took a small handful of rug here and there and just occasionally tugged at it roughly, so that we’d almost lose our balance and get annoyed and tell him to stop.

The book lacks its own conceptual self-awareness that it built for itself, and the result is two different bodies trying to be forcibly shoved into the same book-sized box, when it should’ve been a new gross, satirical, humorous, unique body entirely.

In that sense, I really think this book could’ve been truly unironically awesome. I love the idea of cartoonishly exaggerating the dark elements (especially the violence) of the original tale that have been culturally ignored, like a lot of (or most) (or all) old children’s tales. My ideal solution to this book would actually be making it even more ridiculous in every way, but strung together with self-awareness and intention, where the author could acknowledge that the absurdity is instrumental, not indulgent. There are many aspects of the book that I really like thematically, and none of them are fully (or at all) seen through to their potential. These ideas aren’t really intentionally presented in the book, but: I like the idea that Peter is a sadistic volatile killing machine because he’s cursed with being riiiiiight on the cusp of hitting puberty, and his body is trapped without that natural sexual/psychological release, turning him into an aggressive animal constantly teased by unfulfilled subconscious heat. I like the idea that the lost boys element would be subverted into an inevitable Lord of the Flies esque shitstorm. I like the idea that the danger and villainy are at first generalized in adults but eventually presented in the children. I like the idea that every single possible fucking thing in the world—both the real world (mostly nyc LoL!) and Neverland—are a threat and are actively trying to kill the children, and the children treat it like an adventure before the horror becomes real. I like the idea of illustrating the outcome of blindly following fun naive figures of leadership. There are even a number of character interaction scenes that I like format wise. Just minus the embarrassing dialogue. That stuff's easy to rewrite in your head as you read it. Also I would take out that part in the book that I described as Bette Midler not having a shirt on while preying on a 6 year old. That part was really fucking uncomfortable. Seriously wtf, Gerald Brom.

I must concede this notion: The writer didn’t set out to create a masterpiece. He wrote the book to have fun. He succeeded, and his readers expected the same thing and received the experience they wanted. Of all the things that could’ve landed in my hands and tickled me in a weird enough way to make me wish it was better, for some reason it had to be this.

I could keep going, but...eh, (sigh).

But lastly—again, the descriptive writing of the world is very lush, and at times effectively horrific. The reading experience is a constant stop and start call-and-response of really great potential, really clumsy writing, and really misunderstood tonal directions. All those things put this book directly on the edge of FRUSTRATING. Uniquely frustrating. It couldn’t have been salvaged by the hands of a more competent writer, because the product came to light specifically out of the author’s unintentional confusion, not his laziness. A lazy product with potential can be salvaged through additions and tweaks, but The Child Thief cannot because the story was seen through the way it existed in the author’s head and heart. It is exactly what it...is. It can’t be imitated, or inspired by, or re-re-imagined. This weirdass fucking book is just sitting on this planet, being read by people, and shit. 

…..Anyway. This was all just meant to be the caption for my fan art. http://jennacha.tumblr.com/post/172559227502/i-made-fan-art-of-a-book-i-both-love-and-hate-lol

[the-green-haired-fellow]

Heaven is a Place on Earth  Joker X Reader

“I can see my baby swingin’

His parliaments on fire and his hands are up 

On the balcony and I’m singing  

Ooh baby ooh baby 

I’m in love”

“Come on baby it’s getting to hot in here” I heard him say glancing around the loud and glittering club, seeming to distrust everyone in the room. Some sort of silent exchange was made between Frost and himself due to the eye contact he made momentarily with Frost who only nodded back.. I slowly turned my head to him releasing myself from romantic thoughts of him and I that danced in my head. I smiled looking into his scared and tattooed face. His blue eyes met my green ones for a weird second before he came to a stand. He looked sharp as always. Black dress pants a crisp white button up. I swooned inside watching him walk so perfectly through the crowd taking my hand when I started to fall behind; being to busy caught up in how the muscles in his shoulders flexed as he moved. I held his icy cold hand firmly in mine; his grip was relaxed yet seemed to be ready to pull the trigger on any funny man that tried something. I giggled saying  ‘funny man’ out loud to myself. What an odd way to describe someone. The bouncers pushed the doors open and we entered Gotham’s cool night air that sent shivers up my exposed legs. “Where are we going honey?” I said playfully. He smiled then kissed my hand. “Oh just for a little drive” he said walking to the drivers side of the Lambo. I nodded becoming weary of the situation. It was always a toss up with J I never knew if he was ditching a scene to avoid a ‘vacation’ at Arkham, possibly a beat down from batsy or he was finally going to cut my neck and leave me to dry like he always threatened when he was angry. I swallowed hard noticing the two armed thugs standing behind me. I looked to J who was still standing by the drivers side in a trace, eyes locked on the ground. “Baby what’s going on?” I said weakly. Maybe this was it. He looked at me something sad coming to his face. “Nothing doll” he said “Get in the car so I can get you home. I’m not losing my doll again” I nodded compliantly getting in the luxury car his word echoing through my head. Lose me again? 

Two or three months ago I had been taken by Black Mask being used as a hostage until J, like the good man he is agreed to kill the mayor of Gotham. Since Black mask lacked the means to do it himself he needed J to do it, being he was gifted in anything having to do with murder though not gifted in being bossed around. If J completed the task Mask would return me safely home. Ultimately the plan failed miserably. I was locked in a damp basement for I think about a week until one day the steel door on the joint was blasted off of it’s hinges. Frost stepped in with a machine gun taking out the two creeps that guarded me then ushered for the other men to come down, J came down last making him vulnerable for one of Mask’s men to stick a gun to his head, which they did. All and all guns went a-blazing and Black Mask escaped the shoot out. Maybe he really did miss me? I bopped myself on the head dismissing the silly thoughts, my presence was an option for him not a necessity.   

J took no time starting up the car and jamming it down the street. The sheer power of the vehicle slammed me back in my seat ripping my focus from my thoughts. “J what the hell” I said smacking his shoulder. There was an odd silence between us until our eyes met putting a smile on both of our faces. This turned into giggles and in a few minutes we were two laughing maniac’s zooming down 12th street. “Oh baby” he said caressing my face with a smile. The lights from the buildings we drove past threw a sort of beautiful Aura around him. I smiled back leaning forward connecting my lips with his. 

The moment we made contact it was as if everything exploded. All my fears and insecurities gone with the touch of his icy hand and sound of his purr. We continued on kissing (and driving) until there was a violent crunching sound and I found myself being hurtled through the air. My eyes only connecting with the night sky, squinted a little trying to avoid their horrible glare. This was an unfamiliar situation usually I loved to gaze up and see the twinkling lights of other worlds but my eyes couldn’t take it. The initial impact of the ground didn’t hurt being so my brain was still trying to comprehend why the stars were acting the way they were. Then the sliding began and suddenly none of that astronomical mumbo-jumbo mattered. My skin felt like it was being lit up fire then dosed in chemicals over and over again. All 115 pounds of me slid a crossed the black top only being stopped when my head smacked off a brick building knocking me temporarily unconscious. When I came to I could hear gunshots around me but no person came into view, until I saw a black caped figure stalking towards me, his eyes seeming to glow a blue color. My heart quickened as my arms attempted to drag me away from him until the pain hit. I screamed in agony looking down at my body. Parts of my arms and legs were completely skinned and bloodied seeming to create a pool of my own life source below me. He scooped me up looking quickly round him before firing what I now know to be his bat-claw “J!” I screamed looking down below as the Dark Knight whisked me through the air. I spotted J for a short second he was slumped up against his car completely still. “Baby!” I screamed fighting Batman’s grasp. I kicked my legs and writhed around until I broke his hold falling freely down until I found myself rocked by a black nothingness. 

For a quick second I thought I was dead; my eyes opening to be stared down by a fuzzy light above me. Was this heaven? To my dismay it wasn’t A pretty brown haired nurse came and stuck a needle in my arm. “Ow lady watch it” I said weakly. She simply smiled at me and continued about her business. Sorely I looked around the room it was that of any basic hospital. A beeping machine stiff white blankets, the smell of cleanser. The only difference was I seemed to be in a sort of solitary confinement room. It was completely cement and had a heavy metal door locked tight instead of the flimsy blue curtain they usually had. I peered through the little window that that was on the door spotting the bat’s black cowl. Anger vibrated me and I felt my legs coming to a stand forcing me to run to the door. “I’m going to kill you Bat-freak let me out of here!” My bloodied fist pounded on the glass until I felt it crack underneath my fist. I smiled a sense of encouragement enabling me to hit harder until I was able to crash my fist through the window my hand grabbing the first throat I could. It was the nurse that had poked me before, the bat was completely gone. Most likely due to the fact he wasn’t there to begin with, only being a figment of my imagination. 

A week ago I had a nail technician due my nails longer and sharper for no reason really besides I saw the ones Cat women had and thought eh why not try something new? J when he saw them held my hand in his a mischievous grin coming to his face. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me in tight. “Whaddya say we go in the back and break those puppies in? hmm?” I laughed kissing him on the lips as he lifted me up laughing as he made his way to our bedroom. I grew sad at the memory digging my nails deeper and deeper into the nurse’s neck hoping that maybe the harder I squeezed he would come strolling down the hallways machine gun in hand, Frost to the side of him taking out any loser that came at them. Her warm blood trickled in between my fingers making it harder to keep my grip turning her whimpers into deafening screams. 

A team of cops suddenly lined up in front of the door. Their guns drawn. “Open the doors boys and the lady gets to keep her neck” I peered into the cops faces recognizing one to be Jim Gordon. He was talking harshly into a walkie talkie. “So what are we supposed to do let this crazy bitch walk free. She’s practically got a staff members throat completely ripped out.” Whoever was talking on the other end seemed to easy Jim’s conflict which worried me. Was my Price okay? Was this one of their tricks where they say if I cooperate I could see J but when  they let me out he’s laying dead of a stretcher. My nostrils flared, anger boiling in my stomach. “Okay boys you have one more chance let me out of the nurse is going to have a serious throat ache.” I watched the police their shoes shining excellent off of the polished speckled floor. Gordon nodded giving the ‘go ahead’ nod to an officer who opened the door. I stepped out smiling at Gotham’s finest dragging the nurse with me. “Now could any of you tell me where my Prince is?” I made steady eye contact with every officer. They kept their justice loving mouths shut. “Fine then” I said squeezing the nurses throat harder. She fell to her knees with a scream. All the police officers lunged forward looking to Gordon for directions. I locked my eyes on his. “God dammit. Y/n stop. He’s in route to a different hospital.” I smiled at him “See was it really that har-” everyone's attention was pulled away when the hospital doors flew open revealing a patient with pale skin and green hair.. 

My heart dropped “How in the- Why is he here” Gordon shouted talking excitedly into his walkie talkie.Everything in my brain broke loose not being able to fathom the emotions the coursed through my body. My grip tightened on the nurses throat until I was able to completely tear a section of her jugular clean out. Blood splattered a crossed everyone's faces. None of that mattered though my legs broke out into a full sprint. “J!” i screamed. He looked back. “Y/n!” he sat up quickly and took out the doctors surrounding him. I was just feet away from him. No not feet inches both of us reached out our hands about to touch when I was pulled back. My eyes looked down to see two nightmarish rubber black arms then up to J. “No!” he yelled trying to fight the swarm of cops that was subduing him his eyes looking into mine with panic? or fear swarming in them. I called out his name over and over again until a pinch on my arm brought me back to the nothingness I had just broken out of. 

Thanks for reading! More to come Same Bat-time Same Bat-channel :) To honest I’m not sure why I put the song lyrics in the beginning but I just felt like it. The Song it “West coast” by Lana Del Ray. All credit for the song lyrics goes to her. 

[gaiatheorist]

“Yes”, and “No.”

When I was 15, a very kind, and slightly goofy 21-year-old man offered to sit with me in the doctor’s and claim responsibility for what might be happening in my uterus. As it turned out, there wasn’t anything happening, it was stress, and nerves, and being very underweight that had delayed my period, not the actions of the other man, the older man, who wouldn’t take ‘No.’ for an answer. 

I’m in England, I was seven months shy of my 16th birthday, and the legal age of consent, it would have been a toss-up, then, as to whether my GP would accept my competence to consent. Many, many years later, having worked in safeguarding children for over a decade, I know what a messy minefield that is. A child, under the age of 16, cannot consent to sexual intercourse, but it’s widely acknowledged that teenagers will experiment.  Various background-clutter here, but I didn’t need the abortion when I was 15, and the doctor dispensed the contraceptive pill with minimal questioning just before my 16th birthday. (I didn’t even have to lie about painful periods, or any of the other ‘tricks’ the rest of my peer group claimed, we just walked into the surgery, asked for the pill, and came out with a prescription. Top-up condoms available from the nurse, too.) 

I had that choice, I’ve always had that choice, from the couple of slip-up slip-ins in my teens, requiring the ‘morning after pill’, to that time in my thirties when I woke up with wet thighs, and realised that the ex had been less-drunk than I had. That one was awkward, I knew I wouldn’t be able to get a GP appointment within the 72 hours for the morning after pill, can’t quite remember why I didn’t just buy it at a pharmacy, other than the possibility of the ex questioning what I’d spent the £20 on. I had a meeting in the Town Centre on the Wednesday, as that particular incident had occurred on the Saturday night/Sunday morning, that fell within the 5-day limit for an ‘emergency’ coil fitting. Yes, I said ‘coil’ not IUS, hormonal contraception has never suited me, and the ex didn’t like barrier methods. Poor lamb. I didn’t particularly like him trying to stick his penis in me on his terms, at times of his choosing, but I’m getting my ‘yes’ and ‘no’ crossed over too soon. 

Was that an abortion? There’s no way to know. I assured the doctor carrying out the procedure that I was in a long-term, monogamous relationship, and that I understood the potential risks of perforation, complications and infections of having a piece of plastic shoved into my womb, with nylon ‘threads’ trailing through my cervix, into my vagina. “It’s like a ladder for infection.”, the doctor said, Yeah, OK, love, I do wash. There was a vague “What does your partner think?” question, not much of anything, really, I don’t suppose the coercive/abusive flags go up until you’ve presented repeatedly for emergency contraception. “He thinks that the contraception is my department, and doesn’t like condoms. That coil can stay in for 5 years, by which time I’ll be nearly 40, and can be sterilised, I’m saving the NHS money on pills and check-ups.”   

I was exceptionally careful. The ex, apparently, wanted more children than the one we had, but didn’t communicate with me like a human about that until the kid was about 8 years old, and I’d already established something like a career for myself. I was ‘acting on last instruction given’, which was him saying “What are you going to do about it?” when I showed him the positive pregnancy test 21 years ago. Life would have been different if I’d taken the telephone directory he’d shoved towards me to look for ‘a clinic.’ He wouldn’t have been disgusted by my pregnant body, the birth process, and the breast-milk. He wouldn’t have felt displaced by the baby, and perhaps he might have been more involved with a ‘planned’ child. Things might have been very different if the pregnancy had been his choice, rather than his choice having been to assume I would ‘take care of things.’ I did take care of things, I took care of his son, his house, him, his annoying-intrusive family, I didn’t take very much care of myself, but, I was careful not to conceive again, wary of having the phone-book shoved at me again. I took away his choice, 21 years ago, and carried that child to term, that child is now a man, an absolutely amazing human being, it remains to be seen whether he’ll find a cure for cancer, or be the next Hitler, but I carried him carefully, I was a vessel for nine months and three weeks, then I raised him. I had the choice, I had the option to abort. I was very young, and not in secure employment. The timing of the pregnancy was all wrong, but I didn’t know if I’d ever conceive again, so I made the most of that cluster of cells. I don’t think I did too badly.

I would vote ‘Yes’ to repeal the 8th amendment. For all the times my period has been late-or-missed, and I’ve been beyond-terrified that I’d be cornered-coerced by the ex into continuing to carry. My vote would be ‘Yes’, because my ex had a problem with ‘No.’ 

I don’t know if he’d class himself an ‘Incel’, but there’s a fair chance he’s joked with his blokey-mates about the ‘enforced monogamy’ line being spun out of that camp, or, at least he might do, when the story eventually makes it to Facebook. “Haha, yeah, free wives for everyone, a chef in the kitchen, and all that!” (The poor force-wife would struggle, his oven broke nearly two years ago, and he hasn’t fixed it, he just bought another microwave, grown man, with two functional hob-rings, a Lidl Raclette-grill thing, and two microwaves. Not my problem.) 

The ‘no’ thing, with the incels, and their strange assortment of hangers-on. The Toronto case, where the young man had been rejected, and, due to his affiliation with the incels, decided to express his displeasure by killing people, referencing another of his ilk as ‘the supreme gentleman.’  As much as the #MeToo movement has raised awareness amongst the more sentient members of the human race, it appears to have pushed the Troglodytes further back. From “Smile, love!” to “Grab them by the pussy.” and “How to talk to a woman wearing headphones.”, a small, but significantly dangerous proportion of the population still have an inflated sense of their own entitlement. The incels have taken a worrying lurch into the ridiculous, with dire consequences. I had thought, working with adolescents for almost 15 years, that we were coming out of the Dad/Lad/banter rubbish, that my generation ‘Grrrl-powered’ our way through. Elegant as pissed flamingoes, but most of the 40+ males have had enough slapped faces, and slung drinks, to know that ‘we’ won’t giggle coyly at their harassment like their Dads say their Mums did. The try-ers are the minority, and the majority of us just aren’t having it any more. It’s a very small minority of people who think that ‘no’ means ‘not yet, keep trying’, and an even smaller proportion that thinks women are prizes, chattel, property, an automatic right. 

That’s where the yes/no issue is taking me, that some people believe that abortion is murder, and are posting the most disturbing pictures in plain sight, claiming the moral high ground, and traumatising vulnerable individuals, and those who may have experienced miscarriage. There’s a ludicrous view being spouted that women WANT to have abortions, that we’d prefer chemical or surgical procedures to, you know, not being compelled to carry the children of rapists, family members, babies with fatal abnormalities that will never be born breathing. Nobody schedules an abortion on a whim, or because they just can’t be bothered to use contraception. Making abortion free, safe, and legal isn’t going to create a flurry of women throwing caution, and condoms to the wind, we’re not suddenly going to be at it like rabbits, with no regard for the consequence, because the regard for the consequence has always fallen disproportionately on the female. Off the top of my head, I can think of ten different temporary/reversible methods of contraception for females. For men? One, and then there’s the whole ‘stealthing’ unpleasantness, where men are reported to have started intercourse with a condom on, and then removed it. Not. All. Men. 

Not all men are the established churches. Not all men believe they’re entitled to a sexual partner. The rest of us, the more moderate and balanced examples of humanity (stop laughing, I *am* balanced, I’m just balanced differently to some folk.) are floating in the middle, the bubble in the spirit level, between the ones who don’t want us to say ‘Yes.’, and the ones who don’t want us to say ‘No.’ 

[israel-jewish-news]

Pathologist: North Korean Had Low Enzyme Due to Poisoning

New Post has been published on http://hamodia.com/2017/10/03/pathologist-north-korean-low-enzyme-due-poisoning/

Pathologist: North Korean Had Low Enzyme Due to Poisoning

Kim Jong Nam (L, seen in Narita, Japan), exiled half-brother of North Korea’s leader Kim Jong Un (R). (AP Photos/Shizuo Kambayashi, Wong Maye-E, File)

Outcast North Korean scion Kim Jong Nam had extremely low levels of an enzyme vital for nervous system function in his body due to poisoning, a Malaysian government pathologist testified Tuesday at the trial of two women accused of smearing VX nerve agent on Kim’s face in a brazen airport assassination.

Blood tests on the two murder suspects showed they had normal enzyme levels, said chemical pathologist Nur Ashikin Othman on the second day of their trial in Malaysia’s High Court.

The potency of VX depends on the dosage or concentration, the type and duration of exposure and whether decontamination measures such as washing hands or taking an antidote were made, she added.

Gooi Soon Seng, the lawyer for Indonesian Siti Aisyah, told reporters the normal enzyme levels supported their assertion that the two women were not exposed to VX.

Siti Aisyah of Indonesia and Doan Thi Huong of Vietnam pleaded not guilty as their trial opened Monday in the killing of Kim, widely thought to have been orchestrated by his half-brother, North Korea’s third-generation leader, Kim Jong Un. The women have said they thought they were playing a harmless prank for a hidden-camera show and were tricked by men suspected of being North Korean agents.

North Korea has a history of ordering killings of people it views as threats to its regime and its chemical weapons arsenal is believed to include the banned VX nerve agent. Pyongyang has denied any role in the killing and hasn’t even acknowledged the dead man was Kim Jong Nam.

Nur Ashikin told the court that tests on Kim’s blood showed a very low level of 344 units per liter of the cholinesterase enzyme, which breaks down neurotransmitters in the body that send signals to the brain and controls the muscles. The normal level is above 5,300 units per liter, she said.

The low level of the enzyme “in Kim Chol’s body could be caused by poison such as pesticide or [a] nerve agent,” she told the court.

She said poison such as VX will inhibit the enzyme level, cause heart and lung problems and symptoms such as profuse sweating and vomiting.

Earlier, airport clinic doctor Nik Mohamad Adzrul Ariff Raja Azlan testified that Kim suffered from sudden respiratory failure that caused his heart to eventually stop. He said Kim was clutching his head in apparent pain before a seizure. Nik said he administered atropine to boost Kim’s heart, though he didn’t know at the time that atropine was an antidote for nerve agents like VX.

The atropine and other medical treatment partly helped to stabilize Kim’s blood pressure and oxygen level so he could be taken to the hospital.

Kim, who was 45 or 46, was the eldest son of the family that has ruled North Korea since its founding, yet he reportedly fell out of favor in 2001 when he was caught trying to enter Japan on a false passport, saying he wanted to visit Tokyo Disneyland. He had been living abroad for years and at the time of his death was traveling on a North Korean diplomatic passport under the name “Kim Chol,” the name being used in court.