#I already had a phobia of dead things in water... just.... fuck man

[wherevermyway]

step out! do what you want (chapter two)

pairing: reader/bang chan
 side pairings: established changbin/minho, past jisung/reader, a moment of changbin/chan flirting but it’s brief and not serious rating: explicit | 18+ warnings: alcohol, party drug use, violence (fist fights), a little angst because everyone loves drama, lots of profanity, smut, unprotected sex, a bit of exhibitionism, minho is definitely a bit of a hoe and a bad influence word count: about 11,100! also on my AO3 here! chapter/series navigation

chapter two: hello stranger, who the hell are you?

recommended tracks: just disappear by takayan, the last by agust d, phobia by stray kids, fairy of shampoo by tomorrow x together, dynamite by bts, dumb litty by kard. playlist can be found here!

note: this chapter is much longer than chapter one and it’s a wild ride. I hope you enjoy it as much as I loved writing it!

disclaimer: any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.

side note: for the love of minho’s cats, don’t mix party drugs or drugs with alcohol.

The soft light of dawn comes through the window behind you, gently causing you to wake up. For a brief moment, you forgot where you were, but last night comes crashing down on you like the slight headache you have from your body being mad at you for having a bit too much fun with drugs last night.

The bed shifts next to you as Christopher starts to wake up. He reaches his hand over your abdomen and pulls you back into his chest. “Morning,” he sleepily grumbles, half-awake, “how’d you sleep?” You smile, enjoying the warmth of his embrace.

“This bed is really nice.” You run your hand across the sheets, then slowly turn to face Christopher. “I think our escapade last night helped me sleep pretty well. What about you?”

He grumbles and ducks his head under your chin. “You absolutely wore me out last night. I feel like I slept like the dead. What time is it, anyway?”

“I’m not really sure, let me check.” You say, starting to roll over when Christopher stops you, his grip tightening on your waist.

“I thought we agreed to have a repeat of last night this morning?”

“Yeah, yeah, but maybe we should eat something first,” you manage to squeeze out of Christopher’s grip as he groans dramatically with feigned despair, pulling yourself to the side of the bed and reaching down to your jeans. It takes some skilled fumbling to get your phone out of your back pocket with only one hand, but you manage to get it. Miraculously, when you press the side button, your phone comes to life - there’s still some semblance of battery left.

‘Holy shit,’ you think to yourself as you see your screen. Eight missed text messages from Minji and three missed calls. You expected the mass of texts, but she must have had a really good time last night if she called you.

As you open your texts, you briefly scan through them and your stomach falls to the floor.

What?! No way!

Eonni, you seriously can NOT be hanging with THE Bang Chan?

Babe, he is dangerous, you need to get out of there.

Oh my god. Why aren’t you answering my texts?

Chan’s a kkangpae, like, he sells a lot of drugs and shit. Why do you think I broke up with Hyunjin last year? He got involved in that and I wasn’t gonna deal with it anymore.

Oh, I never told you I dated Hyunjin, did I? Oops.

Eonniiiiiiiii I swear you better not be dead. I’m going to bring you back and kill you if you’re dead.

Seriously, I thought after you were done with Jisung you swore off music producers?? Girl, you have bad taste lol.

“Well?” Christopher’s voice scares you and you involuntarily drop your phone to the floor in surprise. “What time is it? Hey, are you okay?”

You shake your head in disbelief, but somehow compose yourself enough to nervously laugh it off. “It’s, uh, like 10:30.”

Your answer doesn’t really convince Christopher that you’re actually fine. He places a hand on your shoulder, gently giving you a squeeze, and you flinch in response. “Are you sure you’re okay? You dropped your phone and you look like you’re gonna be sick.”

Chan’s a kkangpae. It feels like Minji’s text is burned in your head; it’s all you can think about. A bout of nausea washes over you - the red flags you had pop up last night were right. The nice apartment, the drugs, the cool demeanour, hell, even the way he looked - everything clicked into place. This man wasn’t just a music producer, he was something way more serious.

Christopher gets up out of bed and walks to the kitchen. He shuffles around for a minute before he comes back with a bottled beverage in his hand, kneeling down in front of you. “Babe, you look terrible. Drink this, it’ll help you feel better.” He takes his other hand and gently rubs his thumb over your knee. The look on his face is deceptively calm and inviting. How was he so dangerous?

You shake your head and grab the drink, briefly glancing over the label. Some cold ginger tea blend that you’ve had a thousand times before. The thought of drinking something right now was really off-putting, not due to nausea, but this crippling, suffocating feeling in your stomach.

“The washroom’s through that door back there,” Christopher says as he points behind his shoulder. “I’ve gotta check on something, but I’ll be back in a minute. If you need anything, just yell for me, okay?”

You still can’t manage to look him in the eyes, but you will yourself to nod your head weakly. He pushes himself up onto his toes, kissing your forehead softly before he walks over to his closet, ruffling through the clothes hanging up. It’s a good moment to take off to the washroom, if anything just to wash your face and get your bearings straight.

Time seems to stand still. You’re not sure how long you stand with your head hanging over the sink, water starting to dry on your face. The fact that Christopher was a kkangpae seemed foreign and odd, like the word didn’t actually exist anymore, the more you mulled over it in your head. You came to the conclusion that he himself couldn’t have been that dangerous, but that the people he involved himself with were probably really dangerous. Right?

Knowing that you had slept with someone with dangerous connections didn’t bother you as much as the fact that you liked sleeping with him, that he was arguably one of the best guys you’d fucked. If the circumstances were different, you would probably try and keep whatever you had going. The thought of dating someone like him didn’t seem so terrible, except for the fact that he was a goddamn drug dealer.

“Fuck,” you groan as you look at yourself in the mirror. You decided you had to get dressed, come up with some excuse and get out of there. “Right.” Instilling a fake air of confidence, you straightened up and opened the door back to the bedroom. As you walked through the doorway, you could see Christopher in the kitchen through the corner of your eye. In the time it took you to get your head on straight, he had dressed himself back up in a nice button up shirt and some dark blue jeans.

“Oh!” He calls after you from the doorway, “I grabbed a shirt of mine and a pair of pants that I think will fit you? They’re on the bed.”

‘Great,’ you sarcastically thought to yourself, ‘I’ve always wanted to wear a drug dealer’s clothes. Very cool.’

You grab your underwear and bra from last night and slip them on, feeling gross and like you needed to get back home now, if anything, so you could shower and wear fresh clothes. Since you were already pretty deep in, you decide to just wear Christopher’s clothing and hope that he didn’t want it back. It was kind of cute, an obviously worn band t-shirt, and comfortable, yet somehow flattering black joggers. If this were another lifetime, you could see yourself stealing Christopher’s clothes more often.

Alright, you were nearly ready to go. However, when you went to grab your phone to respond to Minji and let her know you were okay, you were foiled by fate and it was dead. “Motherfucker,” you grumble as you grind the heel of your foot into the ground in frustration. Life was not on your side today.

You decide to suck up your pride for a bit, after all, shit was already bad enough, how could it get worse? With a bit of a lazy shuffle in your step, you make your way out to the kitchen, weakly shaking your phone. “Hey,” you squeak out, “I don’t suppose you have a charger, do you?”

“Wow!” Christopher’s eyes light up at seeing you in his old clothes, “You look really cute in that. Yeah, I’ve got a charger in there, come here,” he walks over towards you, grabbing your hand and guiding you towards the far side of the bed in the bedroom. “Here,” he says as he bends down and hands you the end of the cord. “I think this will work? Looks like you’ve got an iPhone too.”

“Thanks,” you say, plugging your phone in. The way that he looks at you so softly warms your heart a bit - it’s been a long time since you felt so cared for, and you felt guilty that you were going to try to dash out of here as soon as possible and leave all this behind. “Of course,” Christopher smiles and kisses your forehead again. “I’m gonna make something for breakfast real quick. It’ll be ready in a bit, so try not to fall asleep again, alright?”

The pit of regret in your stomach grows a bit. “Yeah, sure thing,” you say with fake enthusiasm.

Christopher’s footsteps fade from your ears and you have a moment’s reprieve before you hear a ringtone that isn’t yours. “Oh shit,” you hear him exclaim from the kitchen, “What happened now?”

“Changbin,” his voice turns dark as you hear him answer his phone. “Shit, yeah, no, I got your text messages. Wait,” he sounds slightly panicked, “you’re here? Goddammit, this is that bad, isn’t it?” There’s a lengthy pause. “Yeah, yeah, it’s fine. Whatever. You know where I am.” You hear his phone hit the countertop as Christopher sighs heavily and shouts, “Fuck!”

‘This is bad,’ you think, unconsciously gripping the sheets beneath you. The silence in the apartment is deafening; you swear you could hear your heartbeat beating out of your chest. Then, suddenly, footsteps come back into the bedroom as Christopher says your name, firmly and seriously, before sitting down next to you on the bed.

“I’m so sorry for this, but,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair, “someone I work with is coming over and it’s serious. Can you stay in here for a bit? After he’s gone, I’ll order us something for breakfast, something nice. Okay?” As you space off, lazily gazing towards Chris, you notice that he’s staring down at your right hand, gently placing his atop yours and softly wrapping his fingers around your hand. You noncommittally nod your head yes in reassurance, too distracted to really answer.

He’s a kkangpae, the reminder pops up in your head again. You swear that you can hear it in Minji’s voice. You know should get out of here, just bolt up and leave, but you can’t bring yourself to leave quite yet.

A pounding on the front door rips you from your thoughts. As Christopher bolts up to his feet, a chime comes from his phone. He pulls it from his back pocket, glancing at it briefly before relaxing the tense look from his face for a second. “Don’t worry, he’s friendly,” he says, getting up and walking out of the bedroom. “Well, friendly enough, at least. Stay here, I’ll deal with him.”

A moment passes, and you hear some light shuffling.

“You dense motherfucker,” an unfamiliar voice comes from the entryway, immediately followed by the door slamming. “The Chan I remember was never this stupid.”

“Changbin,” Christopher’s interjects, his voice terse.

“You went out after I explicitly told you not to and you brought a complete stranger back to your apartment? You absolute moron.” The voice, you assume belongs to Changbin, sounds more irritated than angry. “Hyunjin was spotted at that party last night. I don’t know who took it, but that photo of you and that woman is making the rounds in the group. Who only knows who all saw that? I thought I told you both to stay away from all of Itaewon-dong this week?”

The name Hyunjin causes your breath to hitch in your throat, piquing your interest. You pull yourself up to your feet, quietly walking towards the bedroom door. Cautiously, you poke your head over the doorframe, glancing into the kitchen. Christopher is standing behind a barstool, his hands ruffling through his hair before he casually tucks them in his pockets. A shorter, lean man with dark brown hair walks on the opposite side of the countertop, nervously pacing back and forth.

“Changbin, look, it was a mistake,” Christopher tiredly pleads, “I admit that I fucked up, yeah, but-”

“You fucked up?” Changbin cuts him off, punctuating his sentence a sarcastic laugh. He turns back to face the fridge and you hear the door opening, the sound of items shuffling echoing through the quiet apartment. “Yeah, you definitely fucked up. I’m drinking some of your beer. Gonna fucking need it. You know,”  he slams the door shut, “you’d better hope you weren’t tailed. If they find out where you live, well, I can’t protect you from that.”

A soft tss comes from what you assume is Changbin opening a can of beer. Christopher catches your eye as he reaches down to the can that Changbin placed in front of him. He looks down, then looks back up, his eyes meeting yours for a brief second, lips parting and his eyes widening in surprise. You quickly hide behind the wall, knowing you shouldn’t have spied on their conversation.

“What?” Changbin’s voice perks up for a second. “Oh my god. She’s still here?” He somehow sounds more annoyed at this and lets out an exasperated groan. “Goddammit, Chan, what happened to you? Oi,” he stresses, footsteps coming closer to the bedroom, “Get out here, this involves you too.”

“What, you thought the high heels were mine?” Chris sarcastically scoffs as you walk out of the bedroom. “Changbin, this is-“

“Yeah, I know.” Changbin cuts Christopher off, throwing his free hand up in frustration, as if he was dismissing Christopher, “trust me, I fucking know.” He grumbles out your full name and adds, “Some model from northern Japan, Korean mom, Japanese dad, right? Graduated from Todai a couple years ago; bachelor’s in economics.” He glares at you as he takes a swig of beer from his can, clicking his tongue in disapproval and muttering something under his breath. “Typical, just your fuckin’ type.”

“W-what?” You stutter out, completely floored that he knows so much about you. “Chris, how does he know all of that?” Panic starts to overtake you and your hands start to tremble.

“Babe,” he whispers, a look of pity painted on his face. Christopher stands up and walks over toward you, but you step back into the wall, waving your hands in a frenzy.

“No, no, no, don’t do that. You don’t get to do that until I know what’s happening.”

Changbin sarcastically chuckles and crushes his can. “Here we go,” he says, digging in the fridge once again. He pulls out two cans of beer and puts one of them on the corner of the counter closest to you. “You’re gonna need one of these, too.”

Your head is spinning, from the window, the skyline of Seoul seems to blur together as you try to make sense of everything that’s happening. If you understood it correctly, Christopher was indeed a drug dealer, just under Changbin in their group’s hierarchy. Hyunjin was also involved, but sold trafficked guns and other weapons in and out of the group.

Christopher went out to that house party in Itaewon last night when Changbin ordered him not to (he stressed that point several times), someone from a rival drug dealing gang saw both him and Hyunjin, snapping photos of them both, as well as a photo of you sitting next to Christopher, his arm around your shoulders, clearly enjoying yourselves.

What made it worse was that someone mistakenly spread a rumour that you and Christopher were an item, that you were a close girlfriend of his, and it put a target on your head so that they could specifically shake up Christopher. Changbin had said that he was unsure exactly how much danger you were in, but it would be best if no one knew where you were. Neither of you were to leave this apartment without someone escorting you.

A nervous laugh came bubbling up from your stomach, erupting into a full-blown, wild cackling fit. There was no way that any of this was real - you were just out with a friend last night, you left with someone else to have a one night stand, and now you were having some sort of crazy fever dream thanks to the drugs you took last night.

“This is crazy,” you say in between laughs, “Christopher, you can’t be serious. This is a joke, right?” You calm yourself, no longer laughing as you look at both Changbin and Christopher, their faces stone cold and free from expression. “Oh my god,” the realization hits you and you sink further into the couch, hoping that it will eat you alive so you don’t have to deal with this mess. “What about Minji? She ran off with Hyunjin last night. Is she okay?”

The men looked at each other with confusion. “I only heard about one woman, and that was you,” Changbin says, leaning back in his chair, throwing his arm over the back of it. “If there was someone with Hyunjin, this is the first time I’m hearing of it. What’s her family name? I’ll have one of my guys keep an eye on her.”

“Moon. Moon Minji. She models with me. Lives in the apartment across from me.” You were somewhat relieved, shaking your head in disbelief. Naturally, you were happy that Minji was safe - for now - but you couldn’t believe this was happening to you.

Changbin stands up, pulling his phone from his back pocket, “Alright. I’m gonna make a call. Don’t go anywhere, either of you.” He starts tapping on his phone and ducks off into a room on the opposite side of the kitchen.

Christopher gets up and sits next to you on the couch. He cautiously reaches his hand out to your thigh. You want to swat his hand away, but you don’t have the energy to do it. “I am so sorry,” he says in a soft tone, his voice sounding like it’ll break at any second, “If I had known, I wouldn’t have brought you here, wouldn’t have risked this.” He sounds genuinely apologetic, but you don’t really register it. He takes his free hand to brush your hair back behind your ear, rubbing his thumb soothingly on your cheek.

Honestly, this conversation had exhausted you. Your life was turned upside down because of this man, this dangerous, but wonderful man. Part of you resented him, but the way he tried to calm you by stroking your face made you less angry at him. For all the shit he put you through, his genuineness did make you forgive him - at least somewhat.

“Chris,” you start to say, looking up at him, before Changbin opens the door and loudly walks back into the room.

“Your friend’s going to be fine. I’ve got one of my best guys following her,” he interjects, walking to the fridge, grabbing another can of beer, “she’s gonna be tracked until we get this shit sorted out. Hyunjin texted me and apologized, for whatever the hell that’s worth. You two are idiots.”

Christopher sighs heavily, furrowing his brows in frustration as he looks up at Changbin. “Oh, yeah? That time we were in Shanghai? Want me to bring that up?” He drops his hand from your face and stands up.

Changbin closes the fridge door and loudly slams his unopened can of beer on the counter. “You bastard, that was entirely-” Christopher cuts him off, advancing towards him.

“Entirely what, different? You easily lost us, what, a hundred million won? Or was it three hundred?” You swivel your head around to see the two of them get in each other’s faces. “And for what, Minho?”

Whatever that meant, it snapped something inside Changbin. “You motherfucker,” he gritted, taking fistfuls of Christopher’s shirt into his hands before shoving him backwards. “I’m gonna fucking kill you. Don’t you dare bring him up like that again.”

A growl came from Christopher as he rolled up his sleeves, “It’s your fault that he got shot and you know it. You’re lucky he didn’t die.”

Changbin managed to take his elbow and ram it into the side of Christopher’s face, causing him to collide with the kitchen cabinet. He wound his arm back and threw a fist towards Christopher’s face, trying to get him one more time. He ducked, running his shoulder into the shorter man’s chest, pushing him back a few steps before he fell to the floor with an audible thud. Christopher towered over Changbin, fists tightly clenched. He knelt down and drew his right arm back, ready to deck the smaller man.

“Fuck you!” Changbin shouted as he flailed underneath Christopher, grabbing a fistful of his shirt with one of his hands, pulling his right arm to the side, winding up another punch.

You started to panic, yelling at them to stop. You did not need this happening on top of everything else. However, your words fell on deaf ears as the guys kept yelling at each other, thrashing around on the floor.

Suddenly, the movement stops, and you hear Changbin pound on Christopher’s chest. “I’m never going to forgive myself,” he chokes out, his voice laden with regret, and it almost sounds like he’s holding back tears. “I can’t even look at him without seeing him lying there, dying. And I know it’s my fault. You don’t have to fucking remind me. Knowing I almost got  Minho killed haunts me. I’d give anything to trade places with him so he didn’t have to experience that pain.”

Christopher sits back on his heels, offering Changbin a hand to sit up. “I know, I know, I’m sorry. That was a low blow, I’m just fucking panicking.” The brunette accepts his hand and sits up, his face red and slightly puffy. His eyes were red and glossy as he rolls them in your general direction.

“I’ll make sure nothing happens to either of you. I know you barely know her, but if she got hurt or killed, I know you’d never forgive yourself either.”

“Thanks,” Christopher says, pulling Changbin to his chest. “I’ll make it up to you somehow. Not by blood, by the code, yeah?” Changbin grunts in agreement, slapping his hand against Christopher’s back.

“Not by blood, by the code.” Changbin repeats back to Christopher, who is offering his hand to help Changbin stand. You could tell there was an exhaustive history between them and you were only scratching the surface of it.

“Alright,” Changbin says, setting a couple of bags down on the coffee table. “I grabbed some jjajangmyeon from that place you like and some more alcohol since I’ve been drinking all of your beer.”

“You didn’t need to do that, we have plenty in fridge in the studio,” Christopher sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Whatever, I didn’t say it was for you anyways,” Changbin continues, looking at you, “Minho’s gonna swing by in a bit. I asked him to go out and get you some clothes since you’re gonna be here for a while. I’d have done it myself, but I don’t know shit about clothes. He always goes shopping for the two of us.”

You’ve been sitting on the couch for a few hours now, barely moving. The sun was behind the building now, so you assumed it was probably some time in the early evening. Christopher was nice enough to bring you your phone so you could tell Minji that you were fine, but you were sick so you wouldn’t be around for a while. Thankfully, you didn’t have any gigs planned for about a month and a half, but you knew you’d have to get a hold of your boss eventually.

Christopher was on the couch next to you, an awkward gap apparent between the two of you. Neither of you had spoken much to each other today, conversations mostly happening between Christopher and Changbin. He has, however, kept his hand on top of yours the entire time. Before Changbin returned from his errand run, Christopher apologized to you several times, genuinely upset that he brought an innocent person into this. You were thankful that Changbin returned when he did, because if you had to listen to Christopher apologize one more time, you were ready to lose it.

“Here you go,” Changbin says as he starts emptying a paper bag, placing a couple takeout boxes of jjajangmyeon and side dishes in front of you. “I grabbed some soju and beer for us, think we could use it.”

“Haven’t you had enough beer today?” Christopher sarcastically says, reaching over to grab a pair of chopsticks and a box of food, putting both in your lap before he reaches for his own food.

“Look, man,” Changbin started, bringing a few bottles to the table, “after the day we’ve had, there ain’t enough beer in the world to deal with what’s happened. Might as well have fun for now, yeah?”

You don’t say anything and just reach for the closest bottle of soju, tilting it back and forth a couple times before opening it, lifting the bottle to your lips and taking a hearty chug. The aroma of strawberry perfumes your mouth as the alcohol burns all the way down. You didn’t really like strawberry soju, but tonight was gonna be different. You slam the bottle down on the table and smile widely. “Let’s do it.”

Christopher and Changbin are staring at you with their mouths hanging open. This is the most active you’ve been in over an hour, and it had taken them by surprise. “Alright, that’s my gal,” Changbin says with a smirk, grabbing his own bottle of soju and downing an equally long swig. He shakes his head, scrunching up his nose in disgust, and coughs, “Oh shit, that’s a terrible idea. Why the hell did I get flavoured shit?”

You grab a bottle and put it in Christopher’s hands. “Your turn,” you say before turning to open the takeout box in front of you. The warming smell of the black bean sauce brightens your mood a bit, excited to eat one of your favourite meals.  

Christopher’s pensive, although he decides to suck it up as he reaches down to a fresh bottle of soju, shaking it, “Yeah, fine, whatever,” he says, cracking open the bottle and sucking down a couple of hearty gulps. “Fuck, Changbin, blueberry?” He coughs before reorienting himself, “Really? The fuck is wrong with you?”

You stifle back a laugh, taking a bite of your jjajangmyeon. “You’ll be fine, you can do it,” you say, reaching back down to the bottle of strawberry soju in front of you. “This will help make things a bit more bearable, yeah?” You look at Christopher with a toothy smile, hoping he’ll lighten up at least a bit.

There’s a soft knock at the door, and Changbin perks up. “That’s probably Minho.” He stifles a smirk, looking down at his phone as it chirps. He gets up, walking to the door with purpose. It takes a minute, but he eventually opens the door. You casually look over your shoulder, trying not to obviously stare, noticing the small man embrace the dark-haired man that walks in. The man isn’t much taller than Changbin, maybe only a couple of inches taller. Their embrace is soft, warming, like you can tell that they care about each other.

“Hey there,” he says softly, and you catch him plant a soft kiss on Changbin’s cheek. His voice is low and calm, “I grabbed the things you asked me to grab, but are you sure you’re alright?”

“Aish,” you hear Changbin shush him, “I’m fine, don’t worry about me, baby. Come in and hang with us. I got some soju for you.”

The shorter, black-haired man comes up in front of you, “Hi, I’m Lee Minho. Changbin’s probably talked about me by now.” He bows slightly before dropping the bags he has behind the table, taking a seat across from you, opposite from the chair Changbin’s was occupying. The man grabs a bottle of soju off the table, shaking it up and down twice before cracking it open and drinking a quick swig from the bottle.

“Oh, ew,” he groans, a clear wince on his face, “Peach? Binnie, what the hell’s wrong with you?” He whines, looking at Changbin as he grimaces.

“Yeah, yeah,” Changbin waves a hand in the air dismissively as he sits back down, “I know, I wasn’t looking when I grabbed the alcohol, okay? I was a bit distracted. Fuck you guys,” he grumbles, reaching down to his soju bottle. “If you don’t like it, go to CU and get your…. oh.” He stops in his tracks, bottle halfway to his mouth. “Shit, my bad. Want me to go get something different?”

You’re about to dismiss it, but Christopher looks at Changbin, “Yeah, go get something better, especially if Minho’s gonna be here for a while. We’re gonna need it.” He sounds cold, taking a quick drink from his bottle. “We’re gonna need to stay entertained tonight somehow, yeah?” He turns to look at you, reaching out to grab your thigh again, a sly smirk on his face.

You can’t help but blush. You turn down towards your lap, grabbing a large amount of food with your chopsticks and shove it in your mouth. “Mmmpfh,” you manage to grumble out, in a seeming sense of agreement.

All of the guys share a soft chuckle, then Changbin excuses himself with a grumble before walking up to the front door. “I’ll be back in a bit, alright? Don’t go anywhere.” The door closes with a soft thud, and a few moments pass as the three of you sit there quietly.

“So,” Minho smiles, looking at both you and Christopher with purpose, “Changbin told me that you two seem to have taken a liking to each other already.”

You swear you hear Christopher choke on a mouthful of food before looking at you through the corner of his eyes. “Um,” he manages to squeak out, swallowing the food in his mouth, “I suppose you could say that? It’s only been a day, though.”

“Well, I guess you’re going to get to know each other really well here soon.” Minho shrugs his shoulders, grabbing the peach soju he was drinking earlier. “Oh,” he exclaims, beaming with a smile, “when Binnie gets back, we should play a drinking game. That’s a good way to get to know someone, isn’t it?” Admittedly, it did sound fun at the beginning. However, when you were on your third bottle of soju and Changbin and Minho were getting flirty and handsy with each other, you were a bit jealous. You and Christopher were starting to get closer and you were really feeling good, but it would be weird to be that playfully touchy-feely with someone you’ve known for less than 24 hours.

“I have an idea,” Minho turns to look at both of you, “you know what’ll help you even get closer?” He gets up, walks towards the kitchen counter and starts rifling through Changbin’s bag.

“Oi! That’s my stuff!” Changbin proclaims from his seat.

“Relax, babe, not like you don’t go through my stuff,” Minho quips, waving his hand dismissively in the air. “Ah,” he exclaims, “found ‘em.” He comes back to the coffee table and puts a film canister on the table, the container rattling the entire time. Changbin sighs and rolls his eyes, realizing what’s in it.

“Aish,” he groans, “what is with you and this stuff when you drink?”

“Oh, shut up. You still love me, especially after one of these.” Minho says, with a laugh, suggestively looking at Changbin for a moment. He pops the lid of the canister and pours out the contents on to the table. Out comes a few baby blue tablets, similar to the ones you took last night.

A memory of you sitting on Christopher’s face, struggling to stay upright, shouting his name, flashes through your head. Your face gets hot and you look down, visibly flustered. He must have noticed, because Christopher squeezes your thigh, then moves his hand up to your shoulder. “What’s up?” He asks.

“Oh,” you look up at him, then back down to your lap. “The pills just reminded me of something.”

Christopher looks at the table, letting his thoughts register for a moment. It must have hit him, because he sucks in a breath through his teeth and giggles a bit. “Ah, yeah, last night, right?”

“Oh my god,” you groan with frustration and put your head into your hands.

“Hold up,” Minho perks up, a giddy smile on his face, “What happened last night?”

“That’s a bit rude, Min.” Changbin says in a disappointed tone, playfully shoving Minho’s shoulder.

“You both know that I’m nosy. So, what happened last night?”

Christopher rolls his eyes, then sits back on his hands. “We took some ecstasy and had a couple lines last night, so we were rolling pretty hard. We felt pretty good, one thing led to another, you know.” You feel eyes bore into the back of your head, and turn to look at Christopher. He’s got a big grin on his face, clearly happy with himself. “Any time I can make someone shout my name at the top of their lungs is a good time.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you groan and drop your forehead to the top of the coffee table, sighing in embarrassment. You sit back up and glare at Christopher, ready to be mad at him, but the way he smiles melts any anger you had towards him.

“Nice,” Minho hums as Changbin nods his head in approval. He grabs the pills on the table, and gives one to everyone. The guys immediately pop theirs into their mouths, and you sit there, pill in hand, just staring at it.

“You alright?” Christopher asks, rubbing a hand on your back. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, baby.” The word ‘baby’ slipped from his lips naturally; he clearly didn’t mean to say it, it just happened. “Uh, um, sorry.”

The next thing you know, the pill is halfway down your throat and you’re finishing up your third bottle of soju. “It’s all good, baby,” you say, jokingly mocking Christopher. You turn to look at him, and give him a wink. He smiles back to you, scooting himself up next to you and wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

“Ugh,” Changbin grumbles, rolling his head back, “you’re already insufferable.”

Christopher picks up a lid from an empty soju bottle and tosses it at the brunette. “Oh, shut up. You and Minho were all over each other just a few minutes ago. Not to mention, you’re going to be even worse once the E kicks in. The last time we were down in Busan and we all were tripping and you started fucking each other in front of me, remember that?”

“You enjoyed watching it, though, quite a bit from what I recall, “Changbin quips, “I very clearly remember you whipping out your dick and taking things into your own hands while we were putting on a show.” Hearing this makes your eyes widen in surprise, spinning your head to the side to look at Christopher, who’s blushing and covering his face with his hand.

Minho starts laughing really hard, and it causes the frown on Changbin’s face to crack into a smile. “Aish, you’re so cute when you laugh.” He leans over and gives the dark-haired man a peck on the cheek. “And I don’t care who knows how I feel about it,” he smirks as he turns to look at Christopher, raising his eyebrow in jest.

“Yeah?” Christopher taunts, slipping his hand down your shoulder to your waist and pulling you closer. “You should hear her when I -“ Before he can finish his sentence, you take your elbow and dig it into his ribs.

“They don’t need to know everything,” you whine.

“Yeah,” Christopher smirks, “They’ll probably get an earful of it tonight, anyways.”

Both of the men across the table groan in feigned disgust. “Anyway,” Minho stresses, trying to change the subject, “Why don’t we bust out a couple beers and play some truth or dare?” Changbin stands up, walking to the fridge. “Sounds like we’ve already opened up quite a bit, yeah?”

“I’m on it, I’ll grab a couple for everyone. Don’t say I don’t do anything nice for you,” he scoffs as he enters the kitchen. Minho starts putting all of the emptied soju bottles, except for one, in a bag. The last bottle, he takes and lays it on its side, putting it in the middle of the table. You look at the bottle, then turn to look up at Christopher.

“Hey,” you whisper in his ear, “was that story actually true?”

Christopher blushes again and stifles a laugh, “Yeah, yeah it was true. Not my proudest moment, but have you looked at them? Anyone would’ve done it, too.”

His honesty makes you laugh a bit, and you lean up next to him, nuzzling your head up against his shoulder. He’s warm, and comfortable, and he rests his head on top of yours, reaching down to grab your hand.  Even if you were stuck here in this near-stranger’s house for longer than you’d like to be stuck, the little moments of comfort like this were helpful.

“Alright,” Changbin chirps up, setting down a couple cans of beer in front of you and Christopher. “Perk up, lovebirds, let’s party.”

“Okay!” Minho excitedly claps his hands together before cracking open his beer. “We’ll spin the bottle, and whomever it lands on gets to choose between telling the truth about something or a dare. If you back out, you’ve gotta take a drink of your beer. Got it?”

The game started off innocent enough, all of you were sticking to truths, and the questions were relatively mild. However, things started to take a turn when the drugs started to kick in. Minho wouldn’t stop touching Changbin, his fingers constantly trailing over the brunette’s chest. When it’s his turn, he spins the bottle, landing on Changbin.

“Dare,” Changbin says, confidently looking directly into Minho’s eyes.

“You’re gonna regret that,” Minho says, smirking as he turns to Christopher. “I dare you to make out with Christopher, if he’s okay with it, of course.”

“What?” Christopher spits out in shock.

“Aish, baby,” Changbin groans, “Why do you get like this every time we roll? You just want to watch me make out with other men and make them miserable.”

Minho grins, leaning over to Changbin to kiss his cheek. “It’s because you’re hot and you know it.”

You can feel a look of complete bewilderment being plastered on your face. Your mind couldn’t help but wonder, ‘Was this seriously about to happen? Have they done this before?’ Almost as if it was on cue, Christopher turns to look at you.

“Are you okay with it? I know we’re not, like, dating or anything, but,” his voice trails off and he bites his bottom lip in, darting his eyes down to the floor.

“Yeah,” the word slips from your mouth before you have a chance to actually think about it. You were admittedly curious, thinking it would be kind of interesting to watch Christopher be a bit physical with someone else.

Christopher gives you a quick peck on your cheek before he turns to Changbin, “Do your worst.”

Without saying a word, Changbin crawls over towards Christopher, straddling his lap and taking his hands to Christopher’s face. The smaller man presses his lips to the blond’s lips, almost timidly at first, until Christopher takes his hands and grabs Changbin’s hips, pulling him in. “You can do better than that,” he whispers.

“Oh shit,” Minho says, leaning onto the table with a grin. “Binnie hates being teased, Channie.”

Changbin grumbles under his breath, reaching his hands up to Christopher’s hair, pulling his head back as he grinds down into his lap. Christopher lets out a small whimper from the pain and looks up at Changbin with half-lidded eyes. “Don’t talk back to me, hyung,” the brunette warns with a serious tone.

Changbin licks Christopher’s bottom lip before taking it in between his teeth. He bites it somewhat firmly, eliciting a gasp out of the man beneath him, then goes to let his tongue explore his mouth. The men let their hands travel on each other while kissing with a burning passion.

Admittedly, this was one of the hottest things you’d ever seen, all of this was causing you to feel warm and tingly as you watched it. This is what Christopher looked like when the two of you were rolling around in bed last night, and it was hot. You made a mental note to take control of your makeout session and to pull his hair the next time you were able to.

“Oh my god,” Minho groans, “Okay, that’s enough, I can’t watch anymore, it’s too good.” He sits back and takes a drink of beer from his can, dramatically fanning himself with his free hand. Changbin pulls away from Christopher and smirks, and Christopher has a blissed out smile on his face.

“You’re not my type, but I’ll admit you’re good,” Christopher says, wiping his lips with the back side of his hand.

“Yeah, I know,” Changbin says with a laugh as he gets up and walks back to his spot. He sits down, a wide grin on his face, before he takes a hearty drink from his beer. “Minho tells me all the time.”

Christopher turns to you, gets a bit closer, and pulls your face to his, kissing you passionately for a good few seconds. He breaks away from the kiss and moves to your ear. “I want you,” he whispers quietly, so Minho and Changbin can’t hear, “I’m going to make you mine again tonight.”

His words make you blush and smile. He pulls away from you and takes a drink from his beer. “That was something else,” you say, looking at Changbin, then Minho, then Christopher. “You’re all… close?”

Minho laughs, “Nah, we’re not normally like this. When we’ve been partying a little hard, though, things get interesting between us. Nothing more than this, though. I don’t wanna share my Binnie that much, just enough to make him squirm and come crawling back to me.”

Changbin rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Yeah, you’re insufferable when we party hard like this. It’s always, ‘Binnie, make out with me, Binnie, make out with that hot guy over there, Binnie, Binnie, Binnie’ with you.” Minho playfully shoves Changbin’s shoulder and laughs.

“I wouldn’t do it if you didn’t like it, or me, so much,” he says, taking another drink of his beer. “Alright, Channie, it’s your turn.”

“Okay,” Christopher says, reaching out to spin the bottle. It takes a couple rotations, then it slows, and stops, pointing at you.

“Oh,” you say, looking at the bottle, then looking at Christopher. You weren’t feeling brave enough to do a dare, so you say “truth” with an upward inflection, almost like you were asking a question.

“You’re no fun,” Minho pouts. “Make it a good question, Channie.”

“Hmm,” Christopher brings his index finger to his chin, thinking for a moment. “I’ve got it, what’s the most embarrassing sex story you’ve got?”

Your face flushes and you look down to the floor in embarrassment. You begrudgingly admit there was the time a couple years ago with your last boyfriend, Jisung, that you had gotten a bit too eager and a bit too drunk, sneaking off to the nightclub’s washroom. Your boyfriend had propped you up on the sink, one of your legs was up in the air and over his shoulder. Right when you two were in the middle of having the fuck of your lives, some guy had walked in and immediately walked back out, since neither of you had remembered to lock the door. There was a definite walk of shame as both of you immediately got dressed and left as soon as possible.

Christopher busts up laughing, because apparently he’s walked in on something similar to that before. “I mean, it’s kinda hot to see something like that in public, but if it happened to me, I’d be mortified. I’d never show my face in public again.”

Changbin looks at Minho and grins, “Yeah, sounds like that one time I came back from Taiwan and you were too excited to see me that you couldn’t wait until we got home and demanded that I take you in the airport parking lot.”

Minho laughs in response, playfully slapping Changbin’s shoulder, then moving to spin the soju bottle. “You had a good time, so you don’t get to complain.” The bottle spins, eventually landing on Christopher. “What’s it gonna be, Mr. Voyeur?”

��Get bent,” Christopher scoffs, “let’s do a dare this time.”

“Ooh, fun,” Minho says. He opens his mouth to speak, but Changbin leans over to whisper something in his ear, slyly looking at you as he whispers. “Oh, good idea,” Minho chirps, grinning deviously at the both of you. “Go into the studio and record the vocals of you both having sex, then play it back for us when you’re done.”

“What?” You yell out in surprise, your face turning beet red.

“Challenge accepted,” Christopher says cooly, grabbing your hand and pulling you up before you can wrap your head around it.

“Wait, I don’t get to say anything about this?” You shriek out, slightly panicked, as you stand up and follow Christopher.

“C’mon, baby,” he says soothingly, “I’ve got you.” He stops in front of the door that Changbin was in earlier, opening it and turning the lights on. He guides you through the door, closing the door behind you. “Just sit in that chair right there,” he points to the chair in front of the control panel. “I’m gonna get some stuff set up behind the mic and then we can get started, okay?”

If you hadn’t taken the ecstasy tablet earlier and had a few drinks, you definitely would’ve said no to being recorded, but you figured it would be funny to see the reaction on Minho and Changbin’s faces when they heard both of you. Something about it really got you excited. Christopher adjusted some things in the recording booth, then came back out to the control panel, opening his laptop and flipping some switches on.

“Okay,” he says as he turns back to you, reaching his hands out to yours. “Let’s go.”

You let Christopher pull you up and lead you into the recording booth. Your stomach was doing backflips as you entered the room, taking in the atmosphere. It was calm and relaxing; the spotlights were dim and it made everything seem comforting. The foam padded on the walls absorbed most of the ambient noise, making everything seem abnormally quiet.

Christopher sat down on the padded chair and pulled you into his lap. You crawled on top of him, straddling his hips. The positioning was probably going to be uncomfortable, but you didn’t mind. He takes his hands and slides them up your shirt, pulling you closer to him. “Let’s give them a show, baby,” he says in a low whisper before he brings his lips to yours, kissing you with an intense need.

You decided to not waste any time, reaching down to pull the shirt you were wearing off, tossing it behind Christopher. Your bra follows in succession, and the man beneath you sighs as he stares at you, slowly looking you up from your torso to your eyes, “Fuck, you’re beautiful.” He kisses you again, this time in short pecks, before he moves his fingers to grab the waistband of your pants. You get up on to your feet, helping him pull your joggers and panties off, then go to undo his jeans, slipping them along with his boxers down to his ankles.

Christopher sucks in a breath as his cock springs up, free from his clothing. “I’ve been sitting out there so hard since Changbin wrecked me. I can’t wait to have you ride me, baby.” He looks down at you, his eyes completely glazed over as he bites his lip.

“I’m gonna make you feel amazing,” you say in a breathy voice, kneeling down in front of Christopher, your face right up next to his cock. He looks at you, eyes widening, about to say something, but you take him into your mouth before he can say anything. You slowly work him completely into your mouth, and he lets out a primal groan as he throws his head back, gripping the sides of his chair with a vise grip.

“Fucking hell,” he moans out, “that’s incredible, baby, don’t stop.”

You come back up, sucking your cheeks in and letting his cock leave your mouth with an audible pop. “I want to feel you, too. I’m just getting you prepped.” you whisper in a sultry voice as you crawl back over him. Christopher looks up at you with a pleading face, upset that you stopped giving him head. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll give you all the attention you need later. I want you right now.” As you say that, you reach down and guide him inside of you.

Christopher grabs your hips, helping get himself into you. As you slide down onto him, there’s a warmth that spreads throughout you, making you feel like your nerves are on overdrive. A breathy, shaky moan unintentionally escapes your lips. You open your eyes and look down at Christopher; the blissed out look on his face is something you could drink in for days. He looked like only wanted you, that you two were meant to be together, at least for now.

He breathes out your name as you slowly grind your hips down into his, then take them up, almost removing yourself from him completely. You bite your lip, smiling at Christopher, before you thrust yourself right back down on him.

“Fuck,” he groans, digging his fingernails into your hips as his chin falls to his chest. “Baby, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he says as he looks back up at you, taking one of his hands to the back of your head, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss. It’s passionate and messy and you can’t get enough of it; the way his tongue rolls around in your mouth as you ride him up and down causes your nerves to tingle from head to toe.

Just when you think you have enough stimulation to start building you up to your orgasm, Christopher removes his hand from your head, interrupts your kiss to lick his thumb, and he starts rubbing it up against your clit. Your eyes snap open and roll backwards as you groan into his mouth, your entire body starting to feel like a supernova with all of the stimulation.

“I’m gonna make sure you come with me,” he breathes out, continuing to roll his thumb in circles against you. “You’re mine and only mine. Fuck,” he moans as you grind up on him, “Tell me who you belong to.”

Your mind is reeling from all of the stimulation, the ecstasy and the alcohol causing everything to feel magnified, like you would never feel something so good in your entire life again. “You, Christopher, you,” you breathe out, panting heavily, “I belong to you.”

“Yeah,” he groans, taking control and thrusting in and out of you faster, “You’re mine. Now come for me, baby.”

Something about the way he demanded you to come made all the tension inside of you release, caused all of your nerves to sing in harmony for a moment. Christopher did one more rotation of his thumb against your clit, and that was it, it was enough. Your orgasm completely took control of your body, making you arch your back and writhe against him. You shouted his name so loud, you were sure that Changbin and Minho could hear it through all of the soundproofing in the studio.

“Good girl,” Christopher praises, breathing heavily, “I’m gonna come inside you, baby, I want you to take it all for me.” His voice seems like it’s across the room, like you’re so far away from him that it’s difficult to hear. Everything, even the air, feels soft against you. You manage to mumble out something, although you’re not quite sure what it was, as you collapse into Christopher. His breathing speeds up as he digs his fingernails into your back as he grinds up into you one last time, and you feel his cum fill you up.

It takes a few minutes for both of you to come back to reality. When you do, you notice how sore and sticky you both are, like you could use a shower right now. You nuzzle up to Christopher’s neck, giving it a few light kisses before you sit up and look at him. “Wow,” you say, “that was mind-blowing.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, looking at you with a silly grin on his face, “that was somehow better than last night. But I definitely need a shower. Who would’ve thought that this studio got so hot?” Both of you laugh in agreement, and peel yourselves off of each other. You both get dressed and walk out into the control room; Christopher fumbles with his laptop and turns off some of the switches on the panelling.

“Shall we?” He says, walking up to the door. “We can make them listen to it in here.” He opens the door for you, and you both see Minho kneeling on the floor in front of Changbin, his head bobbing up and down in a familiar motion.

“Shit! Minho, stop!” Changbin exclaims with a whine, trying to get Minho off of him. They fumble around a bit as you turn around in secondhand embarrassment.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Christopher groans, “Really? You couldn’t wait until we went to bed?”

“You two are loud,” Minho whines in protest, “And with you and Binnie earlier I couldn’t help it!”

“Oh my god,” you groan, bringing your hands to rub your temples.

“Well, the recording’s saved to my laptop, so we fulfilled the dare,” Christopher says before grabbing your hand and walking you both towards his room, “We’re gonna shower and go to bed. Have fun, lovebirds.”

“Fuck off,” you hear Changbin groan as you both walk into Christopher’s bedroom.

“Well, that was,” your voice trails off, still in disbelief from what you had seen, “unexpected?”

Christopher groans again, removing his clothes, “Nah, they do this all the time. If it’s just the three of us and we’ve been drinking or taking drugs, Minho can’t control himself around Changbin. It doesn’t bother me, but I’m sorry you had to witness it firsthand. C’mon, let’s go shower.” He wiggles his fingers in a come-hither motion before he slips off into the washroom.

“It’s fine,” you say, disrobing as you make your way to the washroom. Christopher is already in the walk-in shower, setting the temperature to something tolerable. “It was unexpected, but it didn’t bother me. They obviously care about each other and I respect that.”

Christopher laughs, motioning for you to get in. “Yeah, they’re really good for each other.” You step in the shower behind him, enjoying the warm water as it splashes on your skin. “Changbin was an absolute asshole before he met Minho, though. You might think he’s abrasive now, but he was completely cold and closed off back then.”

You stick your head under the shower head, wetting your hair down, then turn to look up at Christopher. “I’ve known Changbin since we were in middle school. He was always quiet and nobody really wanted to be friends with him because he was so standoffish. Always rubbed people the wrong way.

“We didn’t mean to become kkangpae, it was just a matter of survival. Producing music got us nowhere financially, but one of the connections we had said we could make enough money to live if we just sold some stuff now and then. Turns out, we were really good at it. But the bigger you grow, the harder you fall.” Christopher sighs, sticking his head under the water for a minute before he leans up against the wall.

“A couple years ago, we were in Shanghai. Changbin and I were ordered to secure this big deal with the Triad, worth a couple hundred million won. It was a big fucking deal, and incredibly dangerous. Shit went south really fast. One of the new guys, Minho, was ordered to come with us to learn the ropes. He wasn’t supposed to come with us when we met with the Triad’s higher ups, but Changbin was angry that shit wasn’t going right and he ordered Minho to come with as a ‘learning experience’.”

You listened attentively with bated breath, watching the water bounce off of Christopher’s skin as you focused on his story. Based on what you heard earlier between the argument between Christopher and Changbin, you knew this wasn’t going to go well.

“It was horrible,” Christopher sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “The Triads were pulling out of the deal and Changbin got pissed. I’d never seen him so angry in my life. We were working on leaving, trying to get away before things got violent, but one of the guys on their side was trigger happy - must’ve been new too. He pulled out a pistol and aimed it directly at Changbin. Fucking Minho…”

Christopher sucked in some air through his gritted teeth, and you could tell that reliving this experience was painful for him. He was biting back tears and his eyes were turning red. “Minho pushed him out of the way, which is what you’re supposed to be willing to do for your superior, but he got shot in the lung and in the leg because of it. Changbin was furious, he wasn’t gonna let them kill one of his men. He had his gun in his hand, ready to shoot at them, before I intervened, somehow getting us out of there. Honestly, I don’t know how we made it out of there alive. Minho was in the hospital in Shanghai for a couple of months, then was sent to a rehabilitation facility here in Seoul when he was stable enough to travel.”

Christopher looks over at you, seeing the look of concern on your face. “He’s fine now, but he doesn’t work in the field anymore. Changbin helped nurse him back to health once he was back home in Seoul, visiting him at the rehabilitation centre every day for three months straight. I think there was something going on between them before Shanghai, but after they spent all of that time with each other, they really fell hard. They’ve been living together ever since. Changbin doesn’t want Minho out of his sight, understandably.”

“Holy shit,” you say, shaking your head, “that’s horrible. I never would have guessed.”

“Yeah,” Christopher says, standing back upright and wiping under his eyes, “this life isn’t for the weak-willed. A couple of brothers have died just in the past two years. Most of us have gotten shot or stabbed or had the shit beaten out of us. We’ve got enough money to bribe the cops to stay off our backs, but it’s exhausting to never have the comfort of security. I’m so sorry to have brought you into this. I never wanted to drag another civilian into this.”

You reach up to his face, stroking his cheek with your thumbs. “It’s alright, Christopher. We couldn’t have predicted this. Now, we just need to get through it one day at a time.”

He looks up to you and smiles weakly. “Well, in that case, I hope I can make you happy during the time we’re stuck here. I’m here for you.”

“I’m here for you, too. How about we finish up showering and go to bed? It’s gotta be late.”

“That sounds like a plan,” he says, leaning down to give you a short, soft kiss.

You wake up in Christopher’s bed, wearing an oversized, well worn t-shirt of his. The voices of Changbin and Christopher float in from under the closed door, but you can’t really make out exactly what they’re saying. After a minute of slowly waking up, you slip on the pair of joggers Christopher loaned to you yesterday and head out to the kitchen.

“Morning,” you groggily say as you make your way to the countertop.

“Oh, morning. Did we wake you?” Christopher says in a hushed voice, standing between the island counter and the refrigerator. Changbin is sitting on a barstool on the opposite side for Christopher. You look around for Minho and see that he’s still passed out on the couch, softly snoring away.

“No, no, I needed to get up.”

“Ah, alright. I’ve got some stuff in the fridge. Changbin was nice enough to grab some groceries and prepped food for us, so I’ll make something nice for lunch in a bit. There’s some mugs up here and I have coffee pods for the maker right here,” he pulls open a drawer and there’s an array of various different types of coffee, which is just what you needed.

The idea of a home-cooked meal sounded really nice. You wondered if Christopher was a good cook or not; judging by the fact that his fridge was pretty empty yesterday, you assume that he’s probably too busy to cook, and likely eats a lot of takeout, you weren’t confident that he was good at cooking.

You fumble a coffee pod into the maker and grab a mug from one of the cupboards. Christopher gives you a soft peck on the top of your head and turns back to Changbin.

“Anyway, it wasn’t a big deal,” Changbin continues their conversation, taking a swig of coffee from his cup. “After your call with Xiaojian the night before last, Han reached out to me and said he’d come here later today to take care of the deal you’d been working on. He just got back from Beijing last night.”

Han. Hearing that family name made you do a quick double take. It had been a year since you and Han Jisung had split, coming to a mutual agreement that your relationship wasn’t going anywhere. You were busy travelling thanks to your career, and he had just taken up a big job that he didn’t like to talk about. The way he acted over it, you assumed he was probably having an affair and just used his new job as a cover.

The coffee maker made a gentle ting noise as it finished brewing your cup. You take the mug and immediately bring it up to your lips, grateful for the warm beverage to help wake you up.

“Han?” Christopher questions, shifting his weight on to one foot. “You really trusted Han Jisung with that?”

Holy shit. You spit out your coffee as soon as it touches your lips and haphazardly slam the mug on to the counter. “I’m sorry,” you exclaim, “Did you say Han Jisung?” There was absolutely no way that they were talking about your ex-boyfriend. No way. He had a relatively common name, but hearing it still shocked you.

Changbin and Christopher turn to look at you, surprised by your question. “Yeah, Christopher says, an alarmed tone to his voice, “You probably don’t know him, though. He’s quiet, introverted, and doesn’t get attached to people.”

Oh shit.

“The Jisung I knew was introverted but he would bleach his hair every month or so; he likes to stick out a bit from everyone else. Looks cute when he eats because his cheeks puff up like a squirrel. He also produces music and he’s about your height.” You ramble off random facts you remembered about him, but the more you divulged, the wider Changbin’s eyes got.

“Fucking squirrel,” Changbin sighs. “How do you know him?”

Your heart sinks into your stomach as you look at Changbin, the look on his face making you uneasy. “We dated for a few years before he left me for a new job. I thought he was just saying that because he was having an affair and felt guilty, though.”

“Shit,” Changbin sighs, and lets his head fall into his hands. “He said he had broken up with his girlfriend when he joined up with us. She was a model, too.”

Christopher looks mortified. “What?” He shakes his head and looks at you, wide-eyed and taken aback. “You dated Han?”

Just when you thought things couldn’t get any worse this week, it seems like your expectations had been lowered yet again.

#stray kids smut #bang chan smut #chris bang smut #skz smut #stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #bang chan x reader #chris bang x reader #drug dealer au #i am so emotional over this chapter holy shit #putting the bang in bang chan lol #changbin x minho #seo changbin x lee minho #step out do what you want #skzsmutnet #skzsmutnetwork #wherevermyway

[threeletterslife]

Don’t Look Back [Request]

→ summary: It’s friends with benefits and no strings attached—the strings are burned and the ashes are swept and hurled into the sea where all evidence of love drowns in the depth of the waters.

→ pairing/rating: seokjin x reader | PG-15

→ genre: angst | mafia!au

→ warnings: gun usage, gunshot wounds, blood, pain, mentions of sex and multiple partners, profanity

→ wordcount: 2k

→ a/n: my first request! i may or may not have cried writing this fsdfsdl let’s see if i’m just an emotional bitch or if this is aCTUALLY tear-worthy

♫: Once Again by Mad Clown & Kim Na Young

cr.

This, this is your end. Though you would never admit it out loud. Nor would Seokjin as he, with trembling hands, struggles to locate where the bullet had penetrated your skin and lodged itself painfully into your leg. You hiss sharply when he grazes over the gushing wound. It's impossible to see the scarlet-red blood gushing out—it's too dark out at night. But you can feel the viscous wetness of it pour out of the gash, continuously. There is no promise of it stopping any time soon.

The harsh sound of gunshots ricochets off the suffocating night air behind you and Seokjin. He's scared too, but he would never admit it. You're struggling to breathe; to you, your panting is louder than the thunderous bullets flying through the air.

"You'll be alright," Seokjin whispers so quietly that you barely hear him over the guns in the distance. "I'll get you out of here." He presses his hand against your bullet-wound on your thigh, attempting to stop the steady flow of blood. But it's no use. And when you start to whimper, clawing at his hands to stop him, he's left with no other choice but to pull away.

"You can't do this, Jin..." you whisper. "You have to go... You have to leave me."

"Seokjin! Get the hell over here!" Jimin yells. He's ahead of the two of you, already running off from the murderous scene. "Come on!"

It had been an unexpected ambush. A mission failure before the mission even really began.

"I'm hurt like you, Y/N," Seokjin says urgently. "I have to stay. I'm not leaving you."

Tears sting your eyes as you bite your lip to transfer the pain in your leg to somewhere else. "You got nicked on the arm, Jin," you say as your hand reaches up to touch the sleeve of his jacket—a bullet had scathed his skin just barely, but it had left a hole in the cloth. Your hand falls limply to your side as you cast your head down, watching the black blood ooze out of your wound. The puddle underneath you begins to creep down towards the rest of your leg, soaking your jeans with blood. "Seokjin... I can't even walk."

"No..." Seokjin whispers. "No, Y/N..."

He watches as your eyes flutter as if you would slip from consciousness at any moment—as if you were fighting to hold in the torturous agony.

It's nearly midnight and it's pitch black outside, the darkness had made it easier for the enemies to attack. And now the dark tenebrosity was the only thing keeping you and Seokjin from being shot. They couldn't see you now.

But you've always been afraid of the dark. Even when Seokjin first met you. It was strange. You were a fierce and independent woman—the only woman to enlist a career as a hitman. You did not demand respect but you earned it from every male in the hitman crew the moment you walked in and bulls-eyed every single target in your path. You were the type of woman who didn't need any man to hold open the door for you. You'd be the one to open the door yourself and slam it shut in their faces. You didn't flinch at the sight of bloodbaths, either—after all, it was part of your job to make others shed blood before your eyes. It was a part of you to watch people die.

Yet behind that serious façade was a girl who was still afraid of the dark. The girl who insisted on having the lights on during sex because the gloom of a black room scared her. The girl who would grit her teeth and momentarily ignore her intense phobia when she was forced by her Boss to take on missions at the devil's hour—the tense dead of the night. You were a girl who liked soft kisses over heavy making out; a girl who loved making love over fucking; a girl who loved praise and whispers of sweet endearments rather than name-calling and degradation. A girl who would never leave anyone behind because—even though you never admitted it—the hitmen were like a family to you. You were—are—a girl who would fight to your last breath to keep everyone on the same page.

Seokjin's heart shatters into pieces when he sees your exterior had broken down. You're crying, sweating, hair in a frenzied mess and bloodstains on your face. You shake so hard in his arms that he feels cold.

"G-Go," you keep pleading at him. "Leave."

Again and again, he shakes his head, refusing to leave you. The others are yelling at him too, but Seokjin can hear nothing but you. He wishes it weren't night. He wishes he could see your face. He wishes it were morning so you had one less thing to be afraid of. Most of all, he wishes he had more time. After all, he never even got to tell you that he loves you.

Love is never good in this type of business. It's always friends with benefits and no strings attached—the strings are burned and the ashes are swept and hurled into the sea where all evidence of love and care drown in the depth of the waters. You've probably fucked every single damn hitman under your current Boss. But Seokjin's the one you keep coming back to. Because with him, you feel appreciated, welcomed, cared for, loved. And not used.

He's loved you for five years, but he couldn't tell you. Nothing was worth ruining your friendship and maintaining a business-like exterior. You were his closest friend out of the hitmen. Though his loyalties shifted every time he worked for a new boss, his loyalty stayed with you. Seokjin knows everything about you.

You love reading cheesy romance novels in the morning while consuming too-salty hotdog sausages and drinking mixed berry smoothies with extra sugar and ice. You love having your lamp on by your bedside before you turn off the lights in your room to go to sleep—so it wouldn't be completely dark when you snuggle under your covers. You love, absolutely love cats and you've always wanted one. Seokjin was going to buy a kitten for you too, but that's all in the past now...

"Jin..." you breathe shakily. "You have to go."

"I can't leave you."

You push him away, gritting your teeth when your leg shifts position. "Yes, you fucking can, you bastard. I'm fine!" you yell over the shooting in the background. "Move before I make you." You're trying to sound intimidating, but there's a tremor to your voice that Seokjin can't ignore; your eyes are watery from the pain, the fear—Seokjin doesn't know—and there are wet streaks running down your cheeks.

"You can barely walk," he answers. "Get on my back. I'll carry you, then."

"What the fuck, Kim! Hurry up before we all get killed!" Jimin yells at him again.

Seokjin ignores him, peering into your eyes to convince you, somehow, not to give up.

"Get over here!" Namjoon shouts. "Seokjin!"

You shake your head. "Every moment that you're spending with me, you're wasting time. If you take me with you, I’ll slow you down. Jin, I'm not worth saving. Not when the risk is so high." On cue, a bullet flies past your heads, almost grazing Seokjin's ear.

"N-No," he stutters. "No, Y/N. They're gonna get you. They're gonna torture you."

You force out a mischievous grin, clenching your fists tight against your body as you keep your pain to yourself. "I'm a good liar. I'll say I'm not part of the gang. Here," you say, handing Seokjin your handgun and dagger from your boot. "Take my weapons so they don't suspect me."

"Y/N... You'll be defenseless."

"Maybe it'll make my lie sound more convincing," you argue, biting your lip. "I'm serious, Kim Seokjin. Leave." You try to push him away again. But tears spring to your eyes when your leg shifts once more. "Please..." you beg him. "Leave."

"FUCKING LEAVE HER, MAN!" someone screams in the back.

"YOU'RE GONNA FUCKING DIE!"

Seokjin turns around to see the others frantically waving at him to go. He lets out a deep breath and gives you one last look before he stands.

You smile. "That's it... Just, leave me..."

But your voice is so quiet, he can't hear you over the gunshots that are heightening in volume as the seconds fly past.

You mouth something to him—so softly, so delicately that he misses it.

"What?" he says.

Your lips repeat the motion, but the sound does not come out. Your eyes are bloodshot, and your head begins to lull to the side. Still, you repeat the inaudible phrase over and over again until the motion of your lips is ingrained in Seokjin's mind. He will never be able to kiss them again.

"W-What?" he tries again, but it's no use. Someone's got a strong grip on his arm, and Seokjin feels himself being tugged away from you.

He never breaks eye contact. It's so dark that even though he's only a few feet away from you, he can't see your face; but he can hear you cry loudly.

"GO!" you suddenly shriek. Your voice sounds ragged in the edges, stern but so full of misery and pain. "DON'T YOU DARE FUCKING LOOK BACK!"

Seokjin nods. He nods at the barely-visible figure that you've become. His hands, clothes are drenched in your blood. He can't remember the last time he's seen your face in the light. When was the last time you'd kissed him during sex? When was the last time Seokjin dreamed that one day, you and he would break the oath and leave the mafia for good? When was the last time he fantasized that he'd confess his love for you and then you would scream happily and tell him you love him too? He can't remember anything except for the last movements of your thin, cracked lips, whispering the same phrase over and over again.

After hesitating and Jimin urgently dragging him away, Seokjin finally turns his back to you, letting out a shaky breath. He was never supposed to abandon you. He feels the urge to look back—at least see your face one last time. But it's no use. It's too dark.

He closes his eyes, his legs moving against his will as he lets his friend take him away from the scene.

You would've stayed with him if it were Seokjin who was bleeding to death. But he's selfish because he'd listened to you—it's too late now. If he turns back at this moment, he'll be shot dead before he can even get near you.

His eyes sting from tears, but he keeps them shut. In the pitch-black darkness beneath his eyelids, he can visualize your face—though blurry in the dark. He can see your lips; he watches as they move, repeating the inaudible phrase over and over again.

Suddenly, it clicks.

He almost chokes on the night air; being alive has never felt more torturous.

You'd told him you love him.

I love you, you'd said over and over again. I love you. I love you. I love you.

You love him.

And he was never able to give you the relief you deserved by saying it back. Seokjin bites his lips so hard he can taste blood. The wound in his arm hurts less than the pain in his heart. You're going to leave this world without knowing that he loves you.

That all the times he'd kissed you in bed, he'd meant it. That he wasn't just being nice when he checked up on your health in the middle of the night and helped you with target practice at the break of dawn. That he was supposed to confess to you.

But you'd done it first.

Tears flood down his face as he sobs. But no matter how urgently his heart tells him to turn around, he can't. He won't look back.

He can't. Not when guilt consumes his body and eats away at his mind.

He loves you, and you had loved him back. But it's too late now. You're dead. And Seokjin won’t look back.

masterlist

#ficswithluv #btswritersnet #btswriterscollective #bangtanfairygarden #btswritingcafe #request #seokjin #jin #seokjin imagine #seokjin fanfic #seokjin angst #bts #bts fanfiction #Don’t Look Back #don't look back

[quakerjoe]

LAST CALL ON FACEBOOK

I’m done. I’ve had it with Facebook, so fuck this shit; I’m out. Here’s the final publication...

THE LAST CUPPA JOE SERVED ON FACEBOOK:  TUESDAY 10 MARCH 2020

Perhaps you’ve noticed that it’s been quiet around here despite all the political excitement. If you’ve guessed “He’s in facebook jail again”, you’d be right. Being put in a childish “time out” because I pissed off someone who came to MY page uninvited is the name of today’s game, and I’m done with it. I already lost the original Quaker Joe page with well over 10,000 followers without an opportunity to say good-bye, so I’m doing so here and now to you all and to share some final thoughts about what I’ve learned about America, its people, and the political process in a collection of simple, straightforward observations. Here it goes.

First, it has become abundantly clear that America simply does NOT want to make this “a more perfect union” as prescribed in the Constitution that everyone claims to hold so dear. My whole life I’ve watched the GOP sink the economy and destroy civil rights and worker & environmental protections while making massive money grabs. While doing so, they’ve enacted shit laws to benefit the rich while screwing “the help”, meaning YOU in general.

This brings me to “Democrats are feckless” and suck-ass at delivering a clear message or any sort of show of strength. While they’re busy trying to clean up the mess left by the GOP every turn of the tide, the GOP points at them and they shout “Look at the mess the Dems are responsible for!” and Dems say nothing. Civility, I guess. It only goes so far before you get the reputation for being wimps. You know, like today.

Democrats are yesterday’s Republicans. They’re scared, angry and afraid of taking chances. Bold leaders like Bernie Sanders want to bring us ALL to a new, all-time high. Democrats are now his #1 enemy, trying to tear an honest man down. “He hasn’t accomplished anything” the same way Jesus didn’t in the N.T. No, I’m not comparing the two, but it’s funny how a “Christian Nation” isn’t rallying behind a Jew who is a former carpenter and is trying to lead a movement to tend to the poor and heal the sick. Fuck, Bernie could walk on water and turn water into wine all while bringing a dead man back to life and the Dems AND GOPers would still shit on him.

Liz Warren. She’s a brand. Granted, her brand is taking a royal shit on the rich and powerful by calling them out on their bullshit, and she used to be a hero to me, but we’ve got to face it- she ignored the call in 2016 when Bernie urged her to run for POTUS. She was either afraid of Clinton or she was playing the “But I’m A Woman” card and secretly wanted to back HRC. Either way, Warren was out for Warren, not a Progressive agenda and clearly wasn’t behind the cause. When Sanders picked up the torch for the Progressive Cause, she fucked him over and backed HRC, all while calling herself a Progressive. Again, she saw HRC as the inevitable victor and ponied up with her, probably hoping for a cabinet position. She’s doing it now, only more cautiously. This round, however, she thought it smart to shit all over Sanders EARLY in the game and when she did it cost her and her campaign tanked. She’s dropped out. So why hasn’t she openly endorsed Sanders, a fellow Progressive? She won’t. She’s waiting to throw in with Biden after the Primaries and we ALL know it. She’s no champion of the Progressive cause. She’s a brand and she’s looking out for her own ass and nothing more. She’s fallen from grace, if she ever truly had some. She WAS GOP before and clearly nothing’s changed much.

Biden. Fuck me, are we seriously considering fronting this next generation “W”? Why not just hand the election to trump now and get it over with. 2016 all over again. He’s already lining up his potential cabinet with Wall St. tycoons, and has OPENLY admitted that he’s going to slash Social Security (even though the Fed. OWES it a fuck-tonne of payback from all the times it has dipped into YOUR paid-in benefits) and Medicaid/Medicare, but do Americans find this a threat? With typical GOP mentality on BOTH sides of the aisle, it’s only a threat when a Dem. wants to do it, but if the GOP tries, well then it’s all good and fine. Biden is a fucking REPUBLICAN. Just because he CLAIMS to be a Dem, it doesn’t make him so. He’s racist, and twats like Kamala backing him already after the whole “I was that little girl” jab in the debates only shows that she’s not for “We the People” but her own ass. Shocker.

I could go through the list of formerly anti-Biden hypocrites who’ve jumped on board to support Biden and shit on Sanders. All the moneylenders are organizing and ganging up on the ONE true delegate trying to save YOU and not the RICH. Again, this is a CLEAR example of how America doesn’t WANT to be saved.

This has taught me that Americans are not only deluded and hypocritical, as a people in general, but that they seem to LOVE being put into position of strife and misery. It’s where they’re the happiest; embracing the stupidity and ignorance instead of trying to find a way to make us ALL safer, healthier, and happier. Americans HATE being happy with the “others” are happy too. Instead of reaching down to help a fellow American up, it’s the “American Way” to punch down and blame the poor and powerless for their own failings while the rich at the top keep pissing and shitting down on them all while making money grabs.

Next, there’s all this infantile bullshit about “Bernie Bros”. Seriously, shut the fuck up. Hypocrisy in action, yet again is what this is. I’ve found in my personal experience that if I call out another Dem on their bullshit, I’m labeled a “BB”. No matter how you try to point out how Pelosi’s asleep at the wheel or Schumer’s a babbling idiot or how Biden’s a declining fuckwit who can’t string words together and that trump will eat him alive on the debates if he’s the nominee, because I back Sanders, I AM THE ONE getting labeled. The media and the fuckwits out there who are tender little snowflakes who can’t handle criticism or having dirt on their picks dug up and called out cry and cry and cry until someone puts an admin in FB jail for days or even weeks or months.

So to them I say- “Fuck ALL y’all!” I’m done here. Cry me a river because I’m sailing off of Facebook and leaving you all with this cesspool of social mania run by a cunt who backs trump. It’s bad enough knowing that the game is rigged when electing who’ll be our nominee in the Dem. party, but it’s fucking stupid trying to fight the battle here on social media when there are thousands of people following who don’t have a problem with my postings, the description WARNS that I cuss here, yet it only takes one or two fucktards to shut down your page. Fuck this bullshit. I’ve got better shit to do, and my posts on other platforms like Tumblr and even Twitter never get me blocked or locked out. Childish as this whole notion of social media is, at least virtually every other platform is infinitely less riddled with whingers, bitchers and cry-babies who can’t take the heat and instead of clicking to go elsewhere they feel the need to fuck up a page. Enough is enough.

So for those of you who’ve even made it this far and still want to follow me, you can find me on Tumblr, a much more grown-up platform, here at https://quakerjoe.tumblr.com/. If you’re into Twitter (yuck) I’m there too for who knows what reason. https://twitter.com/QuakerJoe2020 will get you to me. I hope to see you all at one of those places. It’s been a real adventure and learning experience, but all I’ve learned is that America is a dirty, filthy nation with a dark and sinister past that it refuses to acknowledge and accept, let alone apologize for because admitting that you’re wrong is UNAMERICAN. Trying to do some form of penance is considered weakness, and turning to truth instead of lies and deceits only leads to the revelation that you’re all up to your eyeballs in selfishness, racism, misogyny, all sorts of phobias, and that you’re only happy as a nation in general when you’re literally given the liberty to tear each others throats out legally.

Good-bye, Facebook. I hope you ALL get a chance to get the fuck out and perhaps regain some sanity one day because if there’s one thing that trumplefuckstick did that was good, it was that he took off the covers and the gilded paint and showed us all what Americans REALLY are, it we’re not pretty.

-Quaker Joe

[barb-aricyawp]

1 with steve and 14 with Bucky please! 😊😊❤❤

Sorry for the wait, but I combined them and got carried away.(for torture tuesday)

triggers for: nonconsensual drug use, hallucinogenics, waterboarding, drowning, body horror, sleep deprivation…this is just a fucking nightmare

1. Exploitation of phobias. Steve.

Steve is well known for being unafraid. He’s not scared, not ever, not of anything. 

But he does have one, great phobia. And HYDRA somehow knows it.

First, they dope him up on drugs. A chemical cocktail that has reality spinning out wildly away from him. One moment Steve is fighting tooth and nail to avoid being strapped to the operating table, the next he’s floating.

High. He’s high up. He stares up at the blue sky. Blinks.

Someone is looking at him. Two blue eyes. They blink at him, and then the rest of his face appears. Steve blinks that face into slow focus.

Bucky. It’s Bucky. Thank God.

Bucky smiles at him, brilliant and confident, but the smile doesn’t stop. It keeps growing, bigger and bigger until his jaw hangs open off its hinges. Water pours from his mouth. Gallons and gallons of water. His face is swollen, bloated and missing chunks of skin like a drowned man.

A drowned man. A dead man. This isn’t real.

When he blinks again, waterlogged Bucky is no longer in the room. But he still feels there. Steve’s heart is a wild creature, frantic with panic. He was just here, he was just here.

Steve jerks his head up to the HYDRA agent monitoring him. “What the hell was that?”

“Just the beginning,” the agent says.

—-

Steve has another fear too, this one a well kept secret: he’s afraid of suffocating. Has been since he was a little boy.

It’s the asthma. Of all his myriad ailments, Steve hated his asthma the most. He knows what it’s like to have no air in his lungs, no oxygen in his brain. He knows the panic that air may never come again. Steve knows.

And so does HYDRA.

They tie a sack around his head. Burlap. Coarse and thick. Difficult enough to breathe through dry. When it’s wet it’ll be… Steve takes a deep breath, knowing that it will be a while before he gets another.

They dump water over his face. It gets into his nose, trickles up his sinuses. The first spluttering attempt at inhalation isn’t so bad; he almost gets half a lungful. But the third and fourth feel shallower. Within minutes, hypoxia settles in. He spasms.

But he doesn’t pass out. Even when they pour more water, ice cold water, and the room drops away, Steve doesn’t pass out.

—-

He has another hallucination. A memory this time. He’s crashed into the ice, but there’s water underneath. Steve escapes the ship, but when he swims up with the bubbles, there is a solid ceiling of ice. So thick and hard that not even his super strength can burst through. 

Frantic, running out of oxygen, Steve searches for the entry point. The ship had to crash somewhere. There has to be a gap in the ice.

This is where the memory splits off into hallucination. He finds the crash site, where the ice cracked open. And Bucky waits for him on the edge. Oh thank God. He can help haul Steve out of the water.

For a moment, just a moment, Steve has Bucky’s hand in his. He can breathe.

But Bucky’s hand slips. Just slides right out of Steve’s grip. 

“You dropped me,” he says and places his palms atop Steve’s head. Almost like a benediction. “You dropped me.”

He pushes Steve down and holds him under.

—-

When Steve surfaces from the hallucination, he’s still coughing up water. He doesn’t beg for it to stop, he just lies immobile on the operating table. Shivering and gasping, though his lungs are full and his body is dry.

Then they pull the hood down again. There is more water.

—-—-

14. Sleep deprivation. Bucky.

Things start getting weird after three days of lack of sleep. That’s when the hallucinations start up. 

After four days, his body temperature plummets and he shivers all over. 

After five days, he is all but lost to the world, adrift in his own mind. His body is just a cramping, throbbing afterthought. The whole physical world is an afterthought.

For five days, the asset has been tied with his arm above his head and his calf strapped to his thigh so that he must balance on one foot. Right arm up, left leg up–the position doesn’t allow him to slacken to the side or droop. 

For the first day, he was able to stand upright and solid. 

By the second day, he was forced to wobble back and forth to maintain balance. 

By the third day, none of it mattered.

The stress position serves its purpose; he’s awake. He’s still awake. Oh God help him, he’s still awake.

The asset is awake when they bring the man in. If they really do bring a man in.

Just moments ago, the asset was having vivid hallucinations about technicolor lightening jagging through the room. Through him. 

Before that, the walls were bleeding. 

Before that, there is an American sergeant standing in the corner. The figure lounges against the side of the wall as if he owns it, tips his hat at the asset. And then the sergeant is gone again. Who is he? The asset’s addled brain can’t keep up.

Sleep deprivation is strange like that.

And now there’s another man. Not a sergeant, but a prisoner bound up and flanked by agents. He’s wearing a wet burlap hood. His breathing is shocky and aborted. The asset’s stomach clenches with empathy. He knows how much it hurts.

I know, buddy. If asthma had an ass, I’d kick it.

They rip the bag off his head, and recognition prickles through the asset at the sight of the man’s face. 

Steve, his delirious mind supplies. That’s our Steve.

The asset smiles, big and dopey at the sight of him. For a moment, it looks like the man, Steve, is smiling too, but then the asset blinks and Steve’s face is pulled down into an open-mouthed mask of horror.

“Is that Bucky?”

Buck, is that you? Quit fooling around.

And Steve, his face seems to be melting. Or maybe he’s just upset. He certainly sounds upset. His voice a deep, wavering tenor. Wet. The man sounds wet.

“That’s Bucky,” Steve says with his wet voice. “You have him? But how, but why, but…”

It hurts the asset to see Steve like that. An actual tightness in his temples.

“It’s okay,” the asset says, though talking isn’t allowed. “You’re okay, pal.”

The asset is struck over the face for speaking out of turn. It doesn’t hurt—his body is all hurt now, hard to distinguish the hurts from each other—but the slap is inconvenient. Irritating even. 

His head is already dizzy and the impact seems to knock it loose. The room launches into a spin. He loses time, not quite asleep, but blanked out.

God, if spins aren’t the fucking worst. Don’t let me drink again, Stevie.

When the asset rights his head and the room settles into place, the bag is back around Steve’s head. No more face. Water stands in a pool around Steve’s feet. His head is soaked, his breathing labored; wet burlap clings to his open mouth. He’s sucking all his air through the water.

The asset is cut down and the blood rushing to his foot and hand makes his whole body tingle. He stumbles.

There’s a bucket of water in his hand. How did that get there?

“Last mission before cryo,” the asset’s handler says. It’s a promise.

Cryo. The asset glances to the corner where the hallucination of the sergeant is staring at him. Disapproval haunts his face, and he shakes his head once. 

The asset looks away. Cryo means sleep. After this, the asset can sleep. It could weep for want of sleep.

“Mission report?” the asset recites, but that isn’t the right phrase. “Status update,” he tries again. Wrong again. He’s confused. His head pounds. His tongue is unwieldy and swollen. Lightening flickers through the room.

What do ya want from me?

“What do you want from me?”

The handler slaps the asset again. “Pour the water on the man’s head.”

The asset blinks down at the bucket. Its surface is smooth and black, like a mirror. When he peers down into it, the asset can see the sergeant in there. Huh.

“Pour the water…” he repeats and drags a foot forward.

The man, Steve, tenses, fists flexing. Bracing himself. For some reason, this posture triggers a flash of memory. 

You’re braced for a fight you can’t win.At least I’m fighting.

“I’m sorry,” the asset says to his handler, “I don’t understand.”

His handler sighs, grabs the rim of the bucket and pulls it towards the man. The asset stumbles along after it, stupid and uncoordinated.

“Pour the water,” the handler says with patronizing slowness. “On the man’s head.”

Right. Right. Pour the water. “On Steve.”

The room seems to expand and then shrink, like the snap of a rubber band.

At the sound of his name, Steve’s head jerks up under the bag. The asset looks to his handler, who stares back at him with something like fear. 

But why would his handler be afraid of him? All he has is water. He looks down into the bucket, into his reflection again. He sees the sergeant. He sees Bucky.

Oh. There’s a person in there. In here. In himself. He was a person once.

The asset hasn’t slept in a long time. His brow crumples, confused. “Is this…is this real?”

Steve is torquing his body back and forth now, trying to pry himself lose. The handler is retreating, paging in for backup.

Bucky drops the bucket. Water splashes over his bare feet, shocks his senses. For a moment, there’s startling clarity. As if he’s only just now woken up.

He reaches over and pulls the bag off of his head, off of Steve.

Well, huh. Thought this guy was smaller.

Somewhere between himself and the asset, Bucky’s eyes slide over to his handler. For the first time, suspicion races through him. He doesn’t really know this guy.

But he knows Steve. Doesn’t know much about him, but he trusts his best interests are in that man’s heart. All the best things are in Steve Roger’s heart.

Bucky sets him loose.

#stucky #drabble #torture tuesday #writing #this got way out of hand #thanks anon that was challenging and so so fun #edited for typos and mobile reading

[commentaryvorg]

Danganronpa V3 Commentary: Part 3.10

Be aware that this is not a blind playthrough! This will contain spoilers for the entire game, regardless of the part of the game I’m commenting on. A major focus of this commentary is to talk about all of the hints and foreshadowing of events that are going to happen and facts that are going to be revealed in the future of the story. It is emphatically not intended for someone experiencing the game for their first time.

Last time, as chapter 3’s trial reached its, uh, “climax”, the usually-irrelevant intermission contained delightful foreshadowing, Tenko finally posthumously got through to Himiko for good, Keebo did not remotely singlehandedly save everyone oh my god, and everything was kind of boringly predictable because Kiyo is the worst. (You can tell how relatively bored I was from the fact that Kaito wasn’t even relevant enough for me to have a reason to mention him in this summary bit, until I did so just now anyway. 

Now for Kiyo to continue to be the worst in the post-trial wrap-up until we can be rid of him for good.

Monokuma:  “Wow! Seriously!? You’re correct again!”

Don’t sound so surprised, Monokuma. This one was boringly obvious.

Himiko:  “I haven’t… heard his answer yet. Kiyo… why? Why did you kill Angie and Tenko?”

Ugh. I totally get Himiko wanting answers to get herself some closure, but knowing the reason Kiyo did it isn’t going to make anything better at all.

Tsumugi:  “Did your motive have something to do with the transfer student who was resurrected? Even if it did, though… How did that trigger a murder?”

That sure is a good fucking question now, isn’t it, Tsumugi?

Kiyo:  “Because we’re friends, I’ll tell you…”

NONE OF US ARE FRIENDS WITH YOU. FUCK OFF.

Okay, Kiyo does not deserve Moon on the Water, aka the BGM piece that is presumably named that as a reference to Clair de Lune, for his goddamn backstory.

Kaito:  “So to see this lover of yours, you had to escape…”

Kaito is trying to fit his mental picture of Kiyo’s character into someone who had somewhat sympathetic reasons for doing this. Even after learning he killed two people and seeing him show no remorse, Kaito’s giving him the benefit of the doubt and trying to understand him instead of just writing him off as a bad person. Kaito is so good.

Kiyo:  “The one I love is… inside.”

Shuichi:  (Inside?)

…

Maki:  “…Is it really one of us?”

Not sure why it isn’t immediately obvious to everyone that the person he’s talking about is his other personality who began to show up towards the end of the trial.

Kiyo:  “That is why… for my beloved sister… I had to—”

Kaito:  “Y-You had to escape from here, right?”

Kaito is still trying to understand and see Kiyo as someone vaguely reasonable! I’m sorry, Kaito, but you should just give up on this asshole. He isn’t worth your time.

Kiyo:  “Even if I could be her little brother and her lover, I couldn’t be her friend.”

THIS IS ABSOLUTE BULLSHIT, by the way. Of course you can be those things and also someone’s friend! If you are those things with someone without even being friends, then your relationship is shallow as fuck and doesn’t mean anything.

I could maybe sort of slightly kind of sympathise with Kiyo’s grief at losing his sister driving him to madness like this if his relationship with her was presented as a genuine, touching relationship. But instead they just shove in this unnecessary incest angle and present it like it’s all about all the sex they had and apparently they didn’t even care about each other platonically and I just… ugh. Why.

(I can sort of see that there could be an argument here that Kiyo’s sister was actually abusive and manipulating him and that’s meant to be the point, but, eh. I just don’t personally care enough about Kiyo to think thoroughly about how much sense that may or may not make.)

Kiyo:  “For Sister’s sake… I’ve killed many! To send her 100 friends!”

I should also add that, even accepting the fact that Kiyo truly believes spirits exist, this is still a ridiculous motive. First off, if his sister’s spirit is inside him, then how would all of the people he’s killed even be able to meet her and become her friend? Second, and far more importantly, how in the fuck does he think any of the girls he’s killed would want to become friends with someone whose brother murdered them and tore them away from their own still-living friends just to make them befriend someone they’ve never met and have no reason to care about? That’s not how friendship works, what the actual fuck. Kiyo is the absolute fucking worst and I don’t understand why the writers thought this was a remotely good character to include in this story.

Kiyo’s sister:  “That’s wonderful, Korekiyo. Your love made the impossible, possible.”

NO. SHUT UP. YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO SAY THOSE WORDS.

Kaito:  “A-Are you… serious!? Is this… really a spirit!?”

Aaand Kaito’s given up on understanding him. Though I think he probably would have done so by now even if he didn’t happen to have a phobia about this.

Maki:  “He’s just delusional…”

Kiyo’s sister:  “Hmhmhm… What a sad girl who can’t even believe in the power of love…”

Maki:  “…”

…Ugh. The writers probably intend this to be foreshadowing, given the romantic feelings towards Kaito that Maki is going to develop. As if they’re saying that she was so cold and closed-off from everyone because she didn’t understand romantic love, and her opening up and becoming more trusting and co-operative towards everyone is all due to the power of the romantic love she awakens to! Which is absolute bullshit, because that happens due to the friendship and trust she feels for Kaito and Shuichi, and while the romantic feelings are also there and also contributing, they are absolutely emphatically not the main factor, and most of this story’s writing is able to understand and appreciate that.

Kokichi:  “You said you killed a lot already, right? So it wasn’t just the two you killed here?”

Himiko:  “Wh-What?”

Kokichi:  “Nee-heehee… Seems like he was already crazy before he got here…”

Yes, and that’s exactly why this is such a terrible case! One of the main draws of a Danganronpa game is seeing what it takes to drive an otherwise decent person to murder. If a case’s culprit was already a serial killer in the first place, then it completely defeats the entire fucking point! Why would you even have this?!

…Though I should point out that the wording of Kokichi’s line here implies he’s aware of the notion that being stuck in here can drive a person crazy, which might be him subtly referring to what being in here has done to him, while not remotely admitting it to himself, of course.

Kiyo:  “I spent my time evaluating all the girls here… And besides Maki and Miu, they were all worthy!”

Well then you can’t be very good at evaluating people, because if you were a good judge of character you’d have been able to tell that Maki is a good person too. What, is your problem with her that she’s killed people?

Himiko:  “Then… the second victim… could’ve been me? Tenko… died in place of me?”

Ugh, let’s just heap even more survivor’s guilt onto poor Himiko, shall we? This sucks for her so damn much.

Kiyo:  “Her noble, earnest heart made her a perfect friend for Sister.”

Yeah, and if Tenko’s spirit actually does exist, then her noble, earnest heart is also exactly why she would absolutely fucking refuse to become friends with someone whose degenerate brother murdered her, oh my god.

Kiyo:  “Though… I was planning on having you become Sister’s friend too… eventually.”

Does it work if someone else kills them? He can’t possibly see it that way, or else there’d be no point killing people himself. So, no, he couldn’t have been planning on that, because if he got away with it in the class trial then everyone else would have been killed by Monokuma and not him.

Kokichi:  “You were interested in The Caged Child just so you could use it to kill someone, right?”

Kiyo:  “It interested me as an anthropologist, of course. But more than that…”

See, on my first time through I somewhat suspected that the entire seance was just something Kiyo made up to have an excuse to use it for his murder plan, since all of the details were just way too convenient. But then there’s this here, which confirms that Kiyo believes it was a genuine thing, when he has no reason to lie any more. So instead it’s just way too convenient because Tsumugi is kind of a lazy writer (especially in this chapter).

Kaito:  “…”

Shuichi:  “Kaito, are you okay? You look… kinda pale…”

Kaito:  “D-Don’t worry about it… Let’s focus on Kiyo right now.”

Hang in there, Kaito, this spirit bullshit is almost over. I enjoy Shuichi noticing and being concerned even though Kaito really isn’t the focus right now. And Kaito continuing to insist that they shouldn’t worry about him, of course.

Kiyo:  “I did not plan to kill both of them. I knew I would have plenty of chances after escaping this place.”

No, you wouldn’t! They would already be dead if you escaped! Did you not read the fucking rules or something?

Himiko:  “It’s not fair! Why did Angie and Tenko have to die for something so unfair!?”

Right? This is so fucking unfair. I mean, the killing game is unfair in general, but this one just takes the cake. It’s so pointless.

Monokuma:  “Why do you think news stations get such high ratings when they’re reporting about death? Because… everyone likes unfair deaths.”

As someone who is basically in the same position as the in-universe audience to your killing game that you’re secretly referring to, I sure fucking don’t when it’s only unfair because it’s narratively meaningless, Monokuma!

Kokichi:  “Well if you look at it like that, this whole killing game embodies that philosophy, right? Gifted high school students forced to play a killing game… Man! If people were watching this, they would get a kick out of it!”

Yeah, Kokichi’s not even being subtle about having figured that out by now. The fact that he definitely knows by this point that this is being watched is going to be extremely important going into next chapter.

Also, it sure would be nice if he actually told everyone, “hey by the way I’m certain that this game is being shown to people for entertainment, maybe we could use that knowledge to our advantage to escape,” instead of just hinting about it. Buuut of course not.

Kokichi:  “Hell yeah! If I wasn’t in this killing game, I would have so much fun watching!”

That I can believe, even if there’s no real fourth wall and actual people were dying. It’s all good so long as nothing bad’s happening to him.

(He is also very indirectly implying here that he’s not having fun because he’s part of it. Which makes his statement that he’d enjoy it if he was just watching it more likely to be the truth, since this isn’t part of his lie to himself.)

Kiyo:  “As your friend, I will watch over you!”

YOU’RE NOT OUR FRIEND SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE HOW FRIENDSHIP WORKS

I’m weirdly fond of the taiko drum elements in Kiyo’s execution music.

I should, uh, probably also talk about the part in the execution with the spirits. I still don’t buy that spirits actually exist in this universe which is otherwise very sci-fi-focused, what with Flashback Lights and robots and such. So my interpretation is that everything from the moment Kiyo’s “spirit” appears is just special effects, to let the in-universe audience see Kiyo getting the karmic retribution that most executions usually have. (Plus, even if Kiyo’s spirit were real, his sister’s spirit would still have to be somehow faked, since his sister never existed.) It would be satisfying to think that Kiyo actually experienced getting melted with salt by his sister’s spirit and spent his last conscious moments in despair instead of thinking he was going to meet her, but, no, I believe he just straight-up died and that was it for him.

Monokuma:  “I’m gonna take back this here Necronomicon. Seems like a waste, though. You guys sure you don’t wanna use it?”

Even if it would have worked, I still don’t see how it would have been a motive. Especially now, now that Kiyo’s dead and nobody else is going to try and propose a murder-seance if the resurrection doesn’t work. Maybe that’s why Monokuma takes it away now.

Kaito:  “Sh-Shut up! How long are you gonna keep talking about that?”

Maki:  “Ignore him. The whole resurrection ritual is obviously a lie. He’s just trying to shake us mentally to get us to panic.”

…Well, mostly to get Kaito to panic. Good thing Monokuma seems to have finally decided there’s no point doing that any more.

Kaito:  “What people believe in is up to them, but… Living people shouldn’t have to suffer because of the dead! The living are more precious than the dead! No matter what!”

Putting aside the fact that Kaito obviously doesn’t like thinking about the dead as still being “alive” in some sense because it creeps him out, this is along similar lines to what he said at the end of the second trial, about how life is infinitely valuable and living things should never be ashamed of wanting to live. Of course he would think of those who are still capable of living as being worth more than those who sadly can’t anymore. He’s not just saying this because of his phobia.

Maki:  “…That’s not something a coward like you should say.”

Kaito:  “Sh-Shut up… Leave me alone.”

Apparently Kaito has finally reached the point of not even trying to deny his phobia and just wishing Maki would stop teasing him about it. Which really, you should, Maki. You’re just making him beat himself up even more over something that isn’t his fault.

Shuichi:  “Well, that’s why we have to work together, right? Face it together. Our Ultimate talents are the best weapons we have.”

Mostly yours, though, Shuichi. And some others. Some people’s talents are not particularly useful in this situation. Still, this shows Shuichi’s becoming proud of his talent and happy that he’s able to use it to help everyone, which is progress!

(Other talents that are extremely useful for figuring out and escaping this killing game: Kokichi’s and Miu’s. Shame neither of those people are capable of co-operation.)

Maki:  “…I’ll work hard, until everyone trusts my Ultimate talent.”

Kokichi:  “Huh?”

Maki:  “It may not be possible now, but I’ll put in the effort so everyone can trust me. I… I won’t run away anymore… I want to survive and escape this place with everyone.”

Maki Roll! Look how far she’s come already! She’s outwardly admitting that she wants to earn people’s trust and work together with everyone!

Honestly, that in itself should be enough to earn everyone’s trust. I don’t think anyone except for Kokichi really distrusts her any more at this point – after all, she’s kept her word about not killing anyone.

Kokichi:  “I seeee… I wonder how long that’ll last. What if your true calling as a killer shows?”

Yeah, fuck you, Kokichi. We’ve been over how she would only ever have a reason to kill someone if she gets ordered to do so by her assassin cult which she has no contact with in here. He’s still just convinced that she’s inherently the kind of person who would turn around and kill someone with no provocation, because obviously she’s got to be the worst possible person.

(And okay, fair enough, he’s not completely wrong and this line may well be foreshadowing of what Maki tries to do in chapter 5. But that’s still entirely Kokichi’s fault for painting a huge target on his forehead and setting himself up as the kind of person that Maki has been raised to believe can only be effectively dealt with by being “removed”, so well done Kokichi for making that a self-fulfilling prophecy.)

Kaito:  “Don’t underestimate her! Maki Roll’s one of my sidekicks!”

Maki:  “I don’t remember being your sidekick. Also, didn’t I tell you to stop calling me Maki Roll?”

Being Kaito’s sidekick isn’t something you agree to, Maki. It’s something Kaito decides. It’s entirely about how Kaito views you and not the other way around. In that sense, Maki’s been his sidekick since the moment she agreed to train with him; he’s just only mentioning it now.

(I believe this is also the last time she ever complains about being called Maki Roll.)

Kokichi:  “Ooohhh, you guys are so close now. This must be the powerful bond of friendship.”

That’s exactly what it is, Kokichi, no matter how hollow and meaningless you’re trying to make it sound.

Kokichi:  “But I would’ve preferred it to happen sooner. Especially not after losing seven people.”

Gragh, and even when Kokichi does pretend to care about the notions of friendship and trust, he brings it up in a way that’s all “but you guys haven’t been good enough at friendship!”, still trying to act high and mighty above everyone else. Well maybe if you really thought friendship and bonds would have helped avoid some of those seven deaths, you could have contributed to that yourself, Kokichi.

Kokichi:  “Humans are like weeds – too numerous to count. Seven of us dead doesn’t mean much in the end. …That’s totally what the heartless robot is thinking! Right, riiiight!?”

No, Kokichi, that’s clearly what you were thinking to try and deflect some of your basic-human-decency-driven guilt and pain at the deaths – and then you go and even deflect that justification of yours by trying to project it onto someone else.

Kaito:  “I know we’re all gonna escape! I’m not gonna rely on a god, spirits, or the dead. Just you guys! I believe in all of you!”

As much as I adore your optimism, Kaito, you… probably shouldn’t believe in Kokichi or Miu. (Or Tsumugi, of course, but she hasn’t given any reason not to be trusted so far.) That said, Kaito is probably making this statement about how much he believes in everyone to try and encourage them all, even the ones less inclined to co-operate, to trust him back and work together. And it also goes to show that, even though Kokichi and Miu are unco-operative as hell, Kaito still believes that they’re fundamentally decent people who don’t want to kill anyone, which is true, very deep down.

Shuichi:  (It seems like… everything is settled for now. Even though we’re missing her…)

It’s not entirely clear which “her” Shuichi’s talking about. The obvious answer would be one of the two girls who died most recently, but then you’d think he would specify which of them or refer to both of them. So I think that Shuichi’s actually referring to Kaede here, and he’s saying that even though Kaede isn’t here to encourage everyone and rally them together like she was trying to do at the beginning, everyone’s still managing to band together and keep going.

(That’s at least partly because of Kaito. Have I ever mentioned he and Kaede are similar.)

Himiko:  “…”

Gonta:  “Himiko… You okay? Anything Gonta can do to help? You can tell Gonta.”

Gonta is so good. He’s still just trying to help as much as he can, and right now the most obvious way he can see to help is by helping Himiko with her sadness.

Shuichi:  “I think… we should let her have some space for now. That might be best for her. …I remember how I felt…”

And then Kaito punched you in the face (which didn’t help) and then encouraged you to go to Kaede’s lab and let your memories of her support you (which did help). So maybe Himiko does still need something other than to be completely left alone to wallow in her sadness right now.

Kokichi:  “God, Himiko is such a liar!”

Kokichi’s about to do a thing. Hold this thought, we’ll get back to it in a second.

Kokichi:  “Personally, I don’t think lies are exactly a bad thing… Let’s face it, you wouldn’t have any free will if the world was comprised with just the truth.”

Um, no? That’s not how free will works? Sure, I can completely understand how you could say that the world would be more boring if it was only comprised of the truth, but people would still be able to make choices! There are more choices in life than just “do I lie or do I tell the truth?”.

If anything, the world being full of lies makes it have marginally less free will, since lies can be used to manipulate people and make them think they only have one choice when they actually have several. This is even part of the point of this story! Tsumugi tries to insist during the final trial that everyone’s actions were all completely scripted and according to her outline, meaning they never really had any free will. While most of that claim is blatantly wrong and oh boy am I going to talk about that when we get there, it’s true that she did manage to manipulate some events to fit with her plans, and she did so using Flashback Lights, which contain lies.

Anyway, that was a Kokichi’s-philosophy-is-bullshit interlude, now back to what he’s doing for Himiko.

Kokichi:  “But even then… I don’t think it’s good to lie to yourself, y’know?”

Himiko:  “…”

Tsumugi:  “What are you saying!? Think about Himiko’s feelings a little bit—”

Kokichi:  “I only said this *because* I thought about it. Himiko has been lying to herself about her own feelings, so she’s been holding back. Hey, what are you repressing? Why are you trying so hard to hold back?”

This… is actually Kokichi helping Himiko out, in a being-cruel-to-be-kind sort of way. Himiko did need to hear this.

But the thing is, this is pretty much the only time in the entire game that Kokichi does something that’s apparently genuinely helpful. So I cannot in good conscience assume that that’s really Kokichi’s only reason for doing this, because if he were actually a person who wants to help people, even if it’s in a cruel-to-be-kind way, he would do this more often. Plus, the game goes on to flash back to Tenko’s final words to Himiko about expressing her feelings, which Kokichi was witness to. If Kokichi had really taken that speech to heart and genuinely cared about helping Himiko fulfil Tenko’s final wish, then he wouldn’t have tried to argue during the trial that obviously Himiko’s only pretending to care about Tenko now because she’s the culprit and trying to protect herself. He would have been able to actually comprehend the notion that she cares now because she regrets not listening to Tenko’s words before and now it’s too late.

So there has to be some reason Kokichi’s doing this other than because he wants to help, and it’s really not that hard to figure out. Kokichi’s words about lying to yourself about your true feelings are a perfect description of what’s going on with him. He’s being a gigantic hypocrite by telling Himiko this. So I think the main reason he’s doing this is that, just like he does so many other times, he’s deflecting and projecting his own feelings onto someone else. He’s saying this about Himiko so that he can tell himself it’s only Himiko who’s lying to herself about her true feelings, because obviously he wouldn’t be giving this advice if it was something he’s incapable of following himself, right?

It’s also apparent that this is really about Kokichi’s own issues and not about him helping Himiko because he’s not actually framing this correctly at all. Himiko is not lying to herself about her feelings. She knows she’s feeling sadness and pain over this; the only problem is that she’s struggling with how to express that and deal with it. She is not pretending that she’s fine like Kokichi always does. She used to, when she was hiding behind Atua, but that’s not what’s happening now. If Kokichi was really only doing this to help her, he’d understand that and phrase this differently. He says he thought about her feelings, but the conclusion he came to as a result of that thinking is that she’s obviously doing exactly what he does, because he deflects his issues onto everyone.

Regardless of his intent behind it, Kokichi is one of the few people who’d even have been able to help Himiko right now, since everyone else is too busy tiptoeing around her feelings to be blunt enough to tell her what she needs to hear. But Kokichi shouldn’t be the only one – Kaito should have been capable of it, too. Kaito had no qualms about bluntly telling Maki that she’s a coward and she’s running away in order to get her to finally start facing up to her issues earlier this chapter. It’s a little surprising to me that Kaito isn’t also the one to try and do something similar for Himiko here; you’d think he would have got there and done so before Kokichi said anything. I wonder if the reason he doesn’t is that, since Himiko’s pain is being compared to Shuichi’s at the end of the first trial, Kaito is still feeling awkward and guilty about the time he unhelpfully punched Shuichi in the face. That could be why he’s also tiptoeing around Himiko’s feelings more than he normally would right now – because he doesn’t want to make a similar mistake.

If Kaito had been the one to help Himiko here, then he wouldn’t have made it about her lying to herself. It would have been more about how it’s okay for her to feel this way but she needs to face those feelings head-on, like he was saying to her earlier in the trial. Which would also have been somewhat hypocritical of Kaito given what’s going on with him, but hypocritically deflecting his own issues would not have been the point of him doing it. He’d be framing it that way simply because it’s a perfectly reasonable way to frame it, since he understands her actual problem.

Himiko:  “Tenko… Angie! I’m so lonely! I’m so lonely… without you two! But… I gotta survive! I… still can’t go to where you are! But… I’m lonely! I’m so lonely without the both of you!”

I enjoy how this is Himiko being really raw and open and direct with her emotions, repeating herself and contradicting herself and stating how she feels with no filter. It’s just what she needed to do.

I still think that Angie never really truly cared about Himiko as a person and doesn’t really deserve to have Himiko remember her this way. But the fact is, she’s dead, so Himiko can never get confirmation of how she felt any more – and given that, the only thing that matters is what Himiko wants to believe. If believing that Angie cared about her helps her more than the truth, then let’s let her believe that.

Shuichi:  (Before we knew it… As if lured by her doing so… we began crying.)

Shuichi’s narration doesn’t specify who exactly is part of this “we” who join in with Himiko’s crying. The implication is that it’s everybody, but it can’t include Keebo, and I kind of doubt it includes Maki either, since there’s a big point made at the end of chapter 5 about that being the first time she’s cried that much in a long time. If it includes Kokichi, his are probably mostly overexaggerated fake tears, to lie to himself about the fact that his basic human decency is making him somewhat genuinely upset. But one person it definitely does include is Kaito.

Kaito’s face isn’t visible here, but the way his shoulders are hunched makes it clear that he’s crying too. That stance of his is the most in-focus thing in this shot other than Himiko herself, even. And his line just a little bit before the illustration shows up…

Kaito:  “D-Damn it!”

…rather sounds like it could be his reaction to realising that he’s about to start crying and can’t stop it.

Anyway that’s just a fun fact that I wanted to point out even though the narrative doesn’t draw attention to it.

Shuichi:  (The tears we shed… I can’t even describe it. We were crying about what we had been through, and what was to come… Sadness, hatred, frustration, discord, anger, love… Tears filled with emotion. But at the very least… they weren’t tears of submission. They were tears to push us forward.)

My inordinate focus on Kaito aside, I do really like this moment in general. It’s nice to have a moment to really let us see just how torn up everyone is by this awful situation they’re in, even though they usually try to put on a brave face and not show it. There’s no adequate words for everything they’re feeling, but just by sharing in this emotional outburst together, it feels like a bonding moment for everyone.

Gonta gives Himiko a piggyback ride back to the dorms after she falls asleep in exhaustion from all the crying. He is the absolute sweetest bestest gentleman.

Maki:  “…She probably felt better after letting it all out, don’t you think?”

This means a lot coming from Maki, whose own issues that she’s been starting to work on involve having supressed her own emotions about the awful things she’s been through.

Shuichi:  (While we were heading back to the dorms, I suddenly noticed… Kaito had stopped in his tracks.)

Kaito:  “…”

Shuichi:  “…Kaito, what’s wrong?”

Kaito:  “Hm? Oh… Nothing. I just… wanted to get some night air. Don’t worry about me. Go on ahead.”

It’s definitely not that he’s about to cough up some blood or anything. He’s fine.

Maki:  “Anyway… don’t do something like this again, okay? If you dislike scary things, then you should’ve said so earlier. I thought you were sic—”

Kaito:  “You worried about me?”

She was worried about him! She’s saying this because she wishes he hadn’t worried her over something she thinks was so unnecessary!

Except for the fact that she has even more reason to be worried about him now, which is exactly why Kaito cuts her off right there. He can’t have anyone worrying about him, especially not when Maki’s just made a point about how she wishes he hadn’t worried her so much.

Maki:  “Yeah… worried about your stupidity.”

As you should be! He is going to continue to be incredibly more stupid with regards to not letting you two know that there’s something wrong with him that you should be worried about!

Kaito:  “Hah! Still haven’t warmed up to me, huh?”

Oh, she definitely has, Kaito. That’s why she’s worrying about you.

Kaito has to know that she only appears so cold here because she’s frustrated that he made her worry. But he hates having done that, so instead he’s pretending that her response to his question totally proves she’s not worried about him at all.

Shuichi:  “Maybe not… but I feel like the walls we had up are coming down a little, you know? Perhaps those walls were her enemies… It seems like she doesn’t want to wait anymore.”

Kaito:  “Yeah! Cuz of me!

Shuichi:  “…Yeah, maybe, but you sound like you’re bragging, Kaito!”

Her walls are coming down and it is because of Kaito and he should be proud of himself about that! (Especially as it’s the only thing he managed to achieve this chapter next to Shuichi effortlessly saving everyone in the class trial yet again.)

Kaito:  “But like I said, I’m… gonna get some air before I go back. You can go on ahead.”

Shuichi:  “Sure… got it. See you tomorrow.”

Kaito:  “Yeah, see ya tomorrow!”

He’s wearing one of his usual casual smiles for that last line like nothing’s wrong. For the most part, Kaito is genuinely really good at pretending that he’s completely fine when he is absolutely not. I’m going to be joking about it a lot, but that’s only because I find it delightful how absolutely goddamn stubborn he is about keeping up this façade.

Shuichi:  (I didn’t notice what was going on with Kaito…)

Here’s another rare instance of Shuichi’s narration suddenly being from a future Shuichi who knows everything that’s going to happen, rather than just being told from the present. At least this time what he’s saying is right, but I really don’t think this is necessary since we’re about to see what’s wrong with Kaito for ourselves. It’d have been much more fun if they’d ended this with the present Shuichi innocently thinking something like how he’s relieved that Kaito’s feeling better now, only to immediately whiplash it with the following scene.

Kaito:  “I… don’t have time to be dying…”

I love how, even though this is presumably the moment Kaito properly realises that oh god, he’s dying, he phrases it like this. The idea that he’s going to die and there’s nothing he can do about it is so terrifying that he can only acknowledge it in this way that’s full of defiance and denial. He’s going to find something better to do with himself than this bullshit thing like dying that his body has apparently decided is a priority, dammit! Accepting his impending death just like that would be giving up, and that’s inconceivable to Kaito.

Kaito:  “I still haven’t gone into space yet.”

Fourth reminder that KAITO CANNOT DIE BEFORE HE’S GONE TO SPACE. This is still very, very important, and it makes the knowledge that he’s dying even harder to bear. Everyone wants to keep living, but Kaito has a specific thing he wants to do more than anything and has been working so hard towards that he’s never going to be able to reach if he dies here.

Kaito:  “Damn it… No way am I gonna die here! No way…”

Even though he’s being as stubborn and defiant about this as he can, you can hear his voice wavering a little in that final “No way…”, betraying how scared he really is, and I love it.

I also just generally love the fact that the writers made this chapter-end stinger be “Kaito is dying”. Every chapter except the first and the last has an ending stinger like this that isn’t strictly related to what just happened in the trial: Maki is an assassin, Kaito is dying, Kokichi is plotting to end the killing game, Keebo has gone rogue. Of those, most are more of a plot-related hook, to keep the players interested in the overall goings on in the story. But this one is only relevant to Kaito’s character arc. I am delighted that the writers saw Kaito’s character arc as an important enough part of the story that they felt it deserved a stinger like this anyway, something that helps you understand what’s going on with him now, while it’s happening, rather than only retroactively realising it later. You’d have been able to appreciate what’s going on during a second time through even if this stinger didn’t exist, but apparently the writers thought that a sense of dramatic irony and painful infuriation at Kaito hiding what he really should be telling his friends should be the only way to experience chapter 4, and, yes. Yes, it should be.

So anyway chapter 4 is one of my favourite chapters particularly in terms of the type of things that this commentary exists to talk about and I am very excited that I’m finally going to get into it next time.

---

[Chapter-end bonus ramble] [Next post]

#danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #drv3 #ndrv3 #chapter 3 #class trial #commentary

[pumakaji64]

day be so fine,,, then boom,,,, I remember the sc*tt discourse (tw: death mention under the cut, specifically of immigrants )

I feel so bad for getting so upset because I dont want to seem like im overreacting cuz I have adhd and I do have a bad issue with controlling my rsd but god...... some people dont know how fucking traumatizing it was during that time I literally have tr*mps name fucking blacklisted because I just get reminded of the shit I would see online or on tv during that time and it makes me panic so badly

I just think back to the dead fucking bodies, they were real those were real fucking dead bodies of immigrants just floating in the water just fuck fuck fuck the bodies of a fucking salvadorian and his daughter jsut triyng to find a beteter life jsut christ fuck I fucking part Salvadorian, my grandfather on my motehrs side is a salvadorian, im first fucking generation and I had to sit through hearing about babies born in states being called 'anchor babies' and dehumanized daily fuck fuck just fuck

its not just a harmelss opinion when it enables fucking people who casually talk and share pictures of dead immigrants to be in posistions of pwoer over thsoe immgirant the shit they did to them fuck man I hate it I hate it fnaf meant so much to me but i cant think about it now without thking about the dead fucking bodies the shit they said and did to people of my ethnciity

it wasnt like the tr*mp administations disdain for hispanics were a fucking secert fuck I remember the day that campaign got popualr because he started villifiyng us and people were saying 'finally someone who isnt afraid to say the truth' fuck I was a teenager, I was just barely getting into young adulthood when I saw the dead fucking bodies, I know I jsut need time but I can't think about fnaf without thinking about the dead bodies

#sorry I know im probably overreacting but it really was such an awful time of my life #I already had a phobia of dead things in water... just.... fuck man #and i was already severely thanatophobic and necreophobic #im sorry #I know I shouldnt be making it so personal and I feel wrong for reacting so strongly but fuck man #it was no secret that they hated people like me and he supported them anyway #I'll be okay I jsut need to get it out I dont wanna cry in front of my mom she jsut got home #sorry for being so venty and annoying all the time I jsut need to get it out of my system okay #sorry #vent #negative #death tw #( shocking: seeing the de*d bodies of people of your ethnicity isnt good for your mental health and can affect you long term who kenw) #(( so why do I still feel so guilty reacting as strongly as I am right now... )

[kagaintheskywithdiamonds]

EVERY pokemon type matchup EXPLAINED

(or at least, some way to remember them all)

Water > Fire: water puts out fire

Ground > Fire: you can also pour sand on a fire to put it out.

Rock > Fire: sand is made of tiny rocks.

Water > Rock: rocks sink

Water > Ground: “ground” = “earth”, “earth” in this case meaning “the rock that makes up the earth” (which makes it nearly indistinguishable from rock-type but whatevs), and water erodes rock to carve up the land

Grass > Rock: if you plant a seed in a crack in a rock, its roots may have the power to break that rock into pieces when it grows bigger

Electric > Water: water conducts electricity

Bug > Grass: bugs eat plants

Flying > Grass: birds eat plants

Flying > Bug: birds eat bugs

Electric > Flying: lightning strikes in high places

Ice > Flying: birds fly south for the winter

Ice > Dragon: maybe dragons also fly south for the winter? scientists still aren’t sure

Ghost > Ghost: you know how Danny Phantom had to turn into a ghost in order to fight the evil ghosts? it’s like that

Dark > Ghost: messing with ghosts is some dark shit and only those proficient in dark magic can control them.

Bug > Psychic: spiders are a common phobia, so you could think of it like a psychological fear thing. also there’s the fact that gen 1 was crazy unbalanced and that bug-types were kind of useless and psychic-types were crazy OP and the usually-weak bug-types were SUPPOSED to be the Achilles heel of psychic-types but in practice it really didn’t work out.

Bug > Dark: the psychological fear thing applies here too. also there’s the fact that dark and steel types were added in gen 2 to fix the balance issues in gen 1 and bug-types needed another thing to be strong against.

Dark > Psychic: Dark Pokemon show me the Forbidden Power that can defeat the crazy OP psychic-types of gen 1.

Ghost > Psychic: ghost-types were also supposed to be the Achilles heel to psychic-types. but then the coders in gen 1 made psychic-types immune to ghost attacks, somehow. anywho they fixed that in gen 2 and onwards.

Fire > Grass: fire burns plants/wood

Fire > Ice: heat melts ice

Fire > Steel: greater amounts of heat will melt metal

Fire > Bug: did y’all ever go camping with your family and watch some kid in the neighboring campsite gather up a bunch of live bugs and then throw them into their campfire?? that’s what this makes me think of. but yeah if you throw a bug in a fire it will most likely die.

Rock > Bug: it would be more efficient to kill a bug by crushing it under a rock

Ice > Grass: plants die/trees hibernate during winter

Dragon > Dragon: dragon-types were also OP in gen 1 and they needed to nerf themselves (and this didn’t happen in gen 1 because the only damage-dealing dragon-type move was dragon rage which always deals 40 HP of damage sooooo)

Fighting > Normal: imagine a Machamp using a Snorlax or something as a punching bag. it makes more sense than trying to use any of the other types as a punching bag I suppose.

Rock > Flying: “kill two birds with one stone”

Fighting > Rock: imagine some guy karate chopping a brick in half.

Fighting > Steel: imagine that same guy karate chopping a steel bar in half. it doesn’t really work, since the steel bar just kinda bends instead of snapping in two. but he still managed to fuck that thing up so I guess it still makes sense.

Fighting > Ice: exercise and physical activity keeps you warm and that helps you tolerate the cold. …or you could imagine karate-guy chopping a brick of ice in half. that works too.

Fighting > Dark: I read somewhere that dark-type pokemon are actually called “evil” type in Japan, and that dark-type moves are often about “playing dirty.” meanwhile, fighting-type pokemon/moves are based more on martial arts, which is a more respectable and honorable form a fighting that often goes hand-in-hand with certain moral codes and philosophies. so basically, a good, clean, honorable fight trumps dirty cheaters.

Flying > Fighting: “have you ever tried to punch a bird”

Fairy > Fighting: I like to think of this as a defeat of toxic masculinity

Fairy > Dragon: it’s like a fairy tale where the hero slays the dragon in the end

Fairy > Dark: good overcomes all sorts of evil in fairy tales

Poison > Fairy: remember Ferngully? that movie about those fairies who lived in the rainforest and then their home was threatened by man-made pollution? it’s like that.

Poison > Grass: pollution also kills plants. both in the Ferngully rainforest and elsewhere.

Grass > Water: plants drink water.

Grass > Ground: plants also take in nutrients from the soil

Ice > Ground: “that thing where water gets into cracks in the ground and then freezes and that breaks the rock up”

Rock > Ice: after the ground is broken up by the ice, the ground becomes rocks. rocks are all that remain. rock wins.

Steel > Ice: ice can’t break up steel the same way it can break up rocks. steel does not fear ice.

Ground > Electric: lightning rods “ground” electricity so it isn’t dangerous

Ground > Poison: imagine a venomous snake trying to “kill” a clump of dirt. it won’t be a successful hunt for the snake.

Ground > Rock: ROCK IS JUST GROUND. GROUND IS ROCK. YA HEAR THAT, ROCK?! I OWN YOU

Ground > Steel: if you take a robot or your computer or phone or really anything electronic and then bury it underground without any protective casing, it probably won’t work anymore when you dig it back up.

Psychic > Fighting: “mind over matter”/“brain over brawn”

Psychic > Poison: if you’re psychic then you can see into the future and that means you might see a vision of you dying from eating food that was poisoned or you getting bitten by a snake in a certain location and then you will know to avoid those foods/locations (idfk, you got a better explanation?)

Steel > Rock: metal is the refined version of rock. metal is superior.

Steel > Fairy: can a fairy fight its way through a steel wall? no? I thought not.

Rock being resistant against Normal: if you’re not the karate guy from the earlier examples, then punching a rock isn’t going to do much for you.

Steel being resistant against Normal: again, if you’re not the karate guy, punching a slab of metal won’t go well for you.

Fire being resistant against Fairy: how is a fairy supposed to put out a fire. it’s too smol.

Dragon being resistant against Fire: FIRE CANNOT HURT A DRAGON

Dragon being resistant against Water: WATER ALSO CANNOT HURT A DRAGON, I GUESS. MAYBE BECAUSE SOME DRAGONS ALSO LIVE IN WATER?

Dragon being resistant against Electricity: dragons are the masters of all elements and I guess we just have to accept that at this point.

Dragon being resistant against Grass: foliage cannot hurt a dragon

Steel being resistant against Grass: if you cut down a forest, and lay a foot-thick blanket of steel on the ground where the forest used to be… those plants aren’t going to grow back very easily.

Water being resistant against Ice: water is one phase away from BEING ice. there’s not much ice can do to bother water.

Steel being resistant against Ice: I don’t RECOMMEND putting your smartphone in the freezer but it would probably survive the process

Poison being resistant against Fighting: punching a snake isn’t going to get rid of the venom that has already been injected inside your body

Bug being resistant against Fighting: I mean you CAN punch a bug but I wouldn’t recommend it because you’re probably going to hurt your fist from punching whatever surface the bug was sitting on.

Rock being resistant against Poison: a snake that bites a rock would also have little success. but apparently slightly more success than if it were to bite a clump of dirt. because it’s only a one-way resistance this time.

Ghost being resistant against Poison: you can’t poison something that’s already dead

Bug being resistant against Ground: I mean. bugs live in the ground. I guess they’re pretty familiar with the place. it doesn’t throw them off their routine too much.

Steel being resistant against Flying: when a bird flies directly into a skyscraper and dies, the skyscraper doesn’t take too much damage.

Steel being resistant against Psychic: you can’t play mind games with a computer

Water being resistant against Steel: water usually isn’t too annoyed by the objects that enter it.

Flying being immune to Ground: if you’re flying then you’re not touching the ground. the ground can’t bother you.

Steel being immune to Poison: you can’t poison a robot.

Ghost being immune to Normal and Fighting: so the idea here is that ghosts are intangible. you can’t physically touch a ghost, much less punch one. you’d have to blast it with fire or electricity or something instead. but making ghost-types immune to all physical moves would’ve been OP, especially in gens 1-3 when a move counted as physical or special entirely based on what type it was. and instead of ghost being immune to ALL physical types, they made it immune to the two that are most easily associated with physically attacking things.

Normal being immune to Ghost: listen… normal-types have like nothing else going for them. they might as well get to be immune to the type that is already immune against them. (fighting-types can still fuck up rocks pretty well so they didn’t need this kind of extra immunity)

#pokemon #I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS GOT SO LONG #shitpost #nintendo #gaming

[icarusatmidnight]

Oleander, Thyme, and Daed? :D

Absolutely!! :D Sorry, this took a few days too! I had many words, heh.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Full Name: Oleander Everclear Wormwood.

Gender & Sexuality: Agender + Grey-aromantic pansexual.

Pronouns: He/Him or They/Them

Ethnicity/Species: Child of the Inbetween?? is his best guess??

Birthplace: Northern Iceland.

Guilty Pleasures: Ha, Oleander doesn’t do guilty pleasures. He likes what he likes and what he likes is nunya business~ :P

Phobias: Water in the sense of being wet; not being able to breathe.

What They Would Be Famous For: He’s pretty infamous as Lund’s former apprentice (har har) and for being an Archmage at a terribly young age, at least in the sense people know of him in a really vague sense.

What They Would Get Arrested For: He can be so lazy at times, I’m going to go with just plain ole trespassing or being Daed’s accomplice.

OC You Ship Them With: Thyme!! Kingcup too in that good brotp way, but Thyme’s the only person I ship him with ~*romantically*~.

OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Hahahahahahahaha!! Best of luck ‘cause you won’t succeed. Lund has the most motivation to do so though, just out of pure spite, but he’d never get close enough.

Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Horror, horror, horror! From classic and shitty, he loves bingein’ on horror films. Reading is basically a chore though so he doesn’t have a favorite there.

Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: Mhm. I don’t think Oleander is well-versed in the language of cliches enough to know what his least favorite is. He doesn’t like it when the hidden big bad is revealed to be an Inbetweener (so so lazy and overdone!) or when people just split up. He’s always gonna death-glare while muttering to himself ‘why do you want to die?’. It’s just madness.

Talents and Powers: He’s absurdly talented with Anima Magic for his age and there’s …other… things… too… :)

Why Someone Might Love Them: He’s sturdy like a rock! That’s definitely a huge reason both Kingcup and Thyme like him. It’s really hard to honestly rattle him and that’s kinda nice to have in a friend, you know? He’s also a massively sarcastic little dipshit with a sharp but not cruel tongue and a love of truly bad things. He knows how to have a good time, you know? :P

Why Someone Might Hate Them: I wanna say the massive sarcastic little dipshit thing sarcasm (and it’s definitely a possibility) but I honestly feel the monotony of his voice would probably get to people first. In high doses, I imagine it grates real easy.

How They Change: Out of the three mains, Oleander probably changes the least. He starts as a deadpan snarky kid who goes to support club to basically shut up his roommate and at the end, he’s still really similar to that person. But~! That’s okay. He ends knowing more about himself and what happened to him in his past and he’s on a much healthier path for healing because of that knowledge and that kinda overjoys me a lot. c:

Why You Love Them: !!! I love his silliness! I love his bluntness!! I love his monotone sarcasm and his love of ugly awful things that he sincerely feels are wondrous!! He’s been such an old character of mine for years and years now and I still just love learning new things about him and seeing how far he’s come from his original pissy protective edgelord beginning and I’m so so so happy I finally wised up and made him the main character of Icarus. It works so much better now. Just! /love love love

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Full Name: Thyme René Oxeye!

Gender & Sexuality: Cisguy and bisexual!

Pronouns: He/Him

Ethnicity/Species: He’s from a werewolf clan, though not technically one himself. He’s a junk wolf and has a bit of fae in him too. \m/!!

Birthplace & Birthdate: Romneya Backwoods and March 20th!

Guilty Pleasures: Tabletop RPGs. He needs to run a game for Oleander and Kingcup one day, needs!!

Phobias: He has a lot of general anxieties and a nasty habit of internally catastrophizing most of his actions but as for actual phobias, not really.

What They Would Be Famous For: Raising the Dead? Unfortunately??

What They Would Get Arrested For: I’ve mentioned it before but stealing dogs, for sure! He hates seeing them neglected and he has no qualms stealing them to give them some joy~ 💕

OC You Ship Them With: OLEANDER! 😭💕💕  I love them together so much but for less obvious choices though, him and Deacon are my strictly fwb guilty pleasure and I think him and Volkamenia would be good together too. They’re both just so cute and dopey.

OC Most Likely To Murder Them: I wanna say Kingcup just because but she’s really not the type to murder. So Thyme’s roommate Deacon is gonna be my choice! They have a fun relationship. :’D

Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Thyme loves documentaries so damn much, that nerd!! 😭! He knows so much useless and stupid info because of them, especially given how many bad ones he watches it. It’s ridiculous. Like Olea too, he’s not a huge reader but he likes …absurd queer adventures like River of Teeth? He’d love that kind of book.

Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: Mhm. He’s really bored by gritty grimdark cynicism? Just, no.

Talents and Powers: He has his death empathy thing and Thyme totally does the Elle Woods ‘What, like it’s hard?’ thing when it comes to natural magic too, lol.

Why Someone Might Love Them: Despite his anxieties and insecurities, he’s a very outwardly bright and compassionate young man who does honestly try his best to bring some more warmth and happiness into the world.

Why Someone Might Hate Them: Oh ho ho. Outside of his anxieties and insecurities which feel like unfair hits, Thyme comes off as a little goody two-shoes at times and someone who is more nice than he is kind. It’ll rub people that wrong way for sure but honestly? Kingcup is screaming that Thyme is far too reckless when it comes to his magic!! He took a miles width chuck of the Backwoods into the Inbetween, raised a rabbit from the dead, got burned and took none of that to heart!! What the Fuck, Thyme!! Any one of those things would be bad but all of them combined?! What were you thinking!!

How They Change: 😭😭😭💕💕💕  Thyme starts off treading through a sea of guilt while spiraling downwards in anxieties and chipperly trying to pretend ‘Everything Is A-Okay! :)’ It’s not, at all. I love seeing him grow the most of out of the three, coming to terms with his connection to death and what happened in the Backwoods and actually accepting kingcup isn’t wrong about him being a reckless little shit either thyme what the fuck. By the end, I’m basically rolling on the ground in glee and pride about how far he comes in maturing into and working towards that better version of himself that’s still uniquely Thyme and It’s Wonderful!

Why You Love Them: I love his sincerity! I love his anxieties! I love his compassion and I love his recklessness, oh my god! He is my darling bisexual disaster of bisexual and the type of character I’d fell over heels for as a teen. His journey is so so much fun and while he’s no longer my main character for Icarus, I still have a massive soft spot for him (clearly). His family back in Romneya is also extremely dear to my heart, lol. I adore puppy-like werewolves who just adopt every misfit in sight because ‘we’re your family now!! :D’. Sue me.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Full Name: Ira Myrrh Young Daedalus York

Gender & Sexuality: Cisguy & Aro Ace!

Pronouns: He/Him

Ethnicity/Species: He’s pretty human.

Birthplace & Birthdate: In the woods and he’s pretty sure it was like July 25th. Probably. 

Guilty Pleasures: See his favorite genres except like Olea, he ain’t that guilty over it. :P He really loves living domestic life too.

Phobias: Having his horror rub off and fuck up Oleander is kinda high up there. Also, he doesn’t like insects or iguanas.

What They Would Be Famous For: He’s pretty famous for his ability to break things and his vague detective skills too actually!

What They Would Get Arrested For: ….everything. Grand Theft Auto is real high on the list though.

OC You Ship Them With: No one, not his thing! I do think him and Thyme’s mother Dahlia would bond  (and drink) over their mutual aro-ness and their delinquent children though! FRIENDSHIP! FRIENDSHIP! FRIENDSHIP!

OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Lund? His folks? Other Knights of Pandora? There’s plenty of options.

Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Trashy Romance Novels and Rom-Coms until he dies!!! \m/!!

Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: Blood-Family is Absolute. Some people you need to cut out of your life and cut them out viciously. Also, just badly written love triangles?? You can do so much better than ‘x loves y and likes z and can’t choose between them’.

Talents and Powers: He has a natural talent for breaking things. \m/

Why Someone Might Love Them: He’s an effortlessly kind soul who tries his best to put some good back into the world. After all the Hell his folks have tried to raise, it’s the least he can do, you know? He’s also a great drinking buddy and the type of person who won’t ever leave you to feel sorry for yourself. He probably won’t actually help much but he’ll be there for you.

Why Someone Might Hate Them: People who figure out he’s a (former) Knight of Pandora tend to avoid him like a plague. Like there’s no need to get involve with them, and Daed doesn’t blame any of them any one bit. And while he is honestly very kind, he’s still blunt as fuck and doesn’t have the best handle of how to socialize politely.

How They Change: In the story, not much. He’s already dealt with his demons the best he’s ever gonna by then start so he doesn’t have much of journey. He’s actually more the mentor type to the three leads and I love him being the figurative dad/uncle type to them all. :’)

Why You Love Them: Daed’s Daed!! Oh my gosh, he’s a frickin snake in the best way. You see him and just thinks he’s a drunk idiot weasel and he kinda is but he’s also using that as a cover to map out your whole life and motivations and plans and figuring out if he needs to Deal With You or not.

But, you know, just for fun! :D

He’s just a strange character that you wouldn’t think sincerely wants to be a dad and dreams of having a cliche as fuck family but he does?? So so much?? Living in Dead Leaves with Oleander is like his dream come true and he’s so ready to help him be the very best Oleander that he wants to be! He’s also so ready to Beat The Ever-Loving Shit Out Of Anyone Who Dares to Hurt Oleander too. He knows Oleander can handle himself but he’s been through enough already. No more, no more.

#indecentpause #thank you!! #this is a little crash course into these lovely fools #i'll probably do kingcup too later just to have the complete set so to speak~ #thyme oxeye #daed york #icarus at midnight #oleander wormwood

[greetingsfromthebottomofthewell]

PHOBIAS ARE SHAPED LIKE LITTLE GREEN PILLS - PART 1: ABLUTOPHOBIA

[source] [triggers]

hayong has a fun story to tell

Ablutophobia- Is the fear of bathing, washing, or cleaning. It’s one of the phobias the little green pills have caused me to experience.

Let me start from the beginning, my name is Hayong, and I was given an opportunity to experience fears that few people have gotten to experience. I have never had a phobia in my life, except for heights, and I have never experienced anything paranormal. A large part of me has always wanted to experience any sort of situation that is absolutely terrifying, but yeah, I guess it’s true that those things never happen to the people that search for it.

It all started with a message on Facebook. It was a guy by the name of Max Erckle.

”Hey man, I see that you are into horror, and I was wondering if you were interested in a new drug I developed. I work as a researcher at Vanderbilt University, but of course, this was created on my own free time, and I would really appreciate it if you could take a 7-day sample.”

Vague as hell, but still, the message gained my interest and I responded back after an hour.

”What kind of drug? I mean, what does it do?”

I waited anxiously for a couple more hours before I finally received a message back from him.

”Why don’t you meet me at 100 Oaks Mall, outside of the PetSmart. Let’s say, hm, in one hour? It is a unique drug, it draws out fears that you thought you never had. Of course, it won’t ever get approved by any institution but I felt like this could be our own secret research.”

I tried messaging him back with a couple more questions, but the profile was deleted.

I only lived around fifteen minutes away from the mall, and I had the day to kill, so I thought, “What the hell” and threw on some clothes. You may think I’m absolutely insane to even consider meeting the guy, but to be honest, I am just a bit insane. I really am being honest when I say I want creepy shit to happen to me. I want to experience near death experiences. I have lived a far too mellow life, and I know I have a lot of catching up to do. Anyways, I gave my cat a couple of treats and lovins’ and headed out.

I waited in the car for around 30 minutes, before I saw an older man walk up to PetSmart and look around. Nervously, I grabbed the door handle and got out of my car. As soon as I started walking towards the store, the man stared at me and gave me a small wave. I returned the wave and walked up to him. With my arm extended out I said, “You must be Max, nice to meet you.” He stared at my hand for a couple of seconds before he extended his out as well and gave it a limp shake.

Max: ”I didn’t think you would show up. I’m glad you did. Let’s go to your car and talk.”

Me: ”Um. I don’t really like having people I don’t know get in the car with me. Can we do this somewhere else?”

Max: ”Haaaa, stranger danger. Smart man. Well, we can just sit on one of these benches and talk, but I would like to give you the pills in the car like I said, it needs to be a secret.”

I walked over to the closest bench and sat down. He stood completely still for a couple of seconds before shaking his head a couple of times and sat down next to me.

Me: ”You seem a bit nervous. What exactly does the pill do?”

Max: ”It opens your eyes. It creates phobias that people experience every day, but it only lasts for 24 hours. I wanted to see if experiencing different phobias every day would drive a man insane, or if it would make them understand the world in a different light.”

Me: ”Sorry, but I’m a bit confused. Aren’t the pills all the same? Or do they activate random phobias?”

Max: ”If you keep listening to me, I will explain everything to you. Please try your best to not interrupt.”

He takes a deep breath, gives me a small smile, and continues.

”The pills are all different. I have them labeled as 1-7, and each pill releases a different phobia for you to experience. They are the 7 phobias I have found most interesting. Take, for instance, the first pill will make you experience what it would be like to have Ablutophobia, which in simple terms is, the fear of taking a bath, washing your hands, or taking a shower. Keep in mind, you are the first person to test this drug. I don’t know if it will drive you insane, and I will not take any responsibility for whatever happens to you. If you do take all seven pills and write out what you experienced from each drug, I will pay you $43,000. An odd amount of money, I know, but it is all of the money that is in my bank account.”

He didn’t talk for a couple of seconds. Instead, he just stared out into the parking lot and took a couple of deep breaths.

As soon as I started to speak, he put his hand up and asked, “I’m sorry, but I don’t have time to answer any more questions. Do you want to join my research or would you like to decline?”

Twenty minutes later, I found myself sitting on the couch with a white paper bag in my hands. There were seven green pills with small numbers on them. Yes, I felt dumb for trusting a man I never met in my life, but I knew that if it was real, I would be able to experience absolute fear.

After taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and swallowed the pill marked as “1”. It was 14:45 and I was nervous as fuck.

I felt like making a log was the best possible way to record what happened to me.

15:04 - You know how dirty fingers get? Holy hell, three of my fingers have little spots of black on them. I want to wash my hands, but for some reason, I don’t even want to think about having to wash my hands. I feel like if I do, I’ll die, and no. Nope. Fuck that.

16:28 - I usually take a shower at this time, but have you noticed how dirty the water probably is? I never noticed it, but now that I think about it, the water is dirty. Bacteria, potential diseases, dead bodies in the river, I don’t need to clean, I don’t. There isn’t a reason to torture myself like that.

18:02 - I know, I know it’s the fucking pills. I ran into the bathroom and filled up the bathtub. Sitting on the couch now. Sweat is all over my face, I know I need to clean myself, but every time I get close to the bathtub, I feel like my stomach is going to explode. I already cried twice. Not of sadness, but because I’m fucking scared.

19:44 - No, no, no, no, I can’t do it. I finally managed to muster up enough courage to get to the bath, but I saw him. My father. He was lying in the bath and asking me to come over and help him. I love my dad. I love him so fucking much, but I couldn’t. There were roaches running all over his body. They started to rip up his skin and crawled into his flesh. There were dozens of open gashes all over his body. I ran out. I’m back on the couch. I called my dad, but he didn’t answer. Crying. Sweating. Fucking scared.

22:12 - My dad called me back. He was on a little vacation with my mom. They were celebrating their 28th anniversary. Before he hung up, he told me he was going to take a bath and go to sleep. I begged him to just wait to take a bath. He hung up while I was sobbing on the phone. Figures, he never really liked it when I cried.

07:08 - I had a hard time sleeping. The dried sweat mixed with my feeble attempt at masking it with cheap cologne caused my bedroom to smell like a YMCA locker room. I tried to convince myself to just wipe myself off with water, but I can’t. I ate some breakfast. Eggs, toast and a couple of pieces of bacon. Some yolk got on my hands, but I just wiped it on my pants.

11:52 - I called out of work. My manager was a bit pissed, but after talking to me for a couple of minutes, he could tell I was not well. He told me to get better and hung up. I could hear the sink running on the other end of the line, and it took everything out of me to not vomit.

13:41 - I can feel the phobia draining out of me. It’s a weird feeling. I managed to wash my hands, and rub some water on my neck. I stopped when it felt like I was being strangled by the water. It’s okay. Progress.

15:28 - I took a shower. I was fine. I still couldn’t get the mental image of my father out of my head. I tried calling him again, but he didn’t answer.

18:34 - My mother called me. Dad slipped while stepping out of the bath. He hit his head on the sink, gashed his head, and bled out. She was asleep at the time. She begged me to come see her. She couldn’t get the image of my father out of her head. She said that roaches were walking in the gash of his head and walking back out drenched in his blood.

That was the last log from the first pill. I am still trying to figure out if my father’s death is real, or if the pill is still fucking with me. Just to check, I tried calling my dad’s phone one last time, but he didn’t answer again.

I received a call at 9 in the evening. It was Max. After letting out a couple of deep breaths he said, ”How’d you feel about the first pill? Actually, don’t tell me yet. Tomorrow is going to be a bit more fun. Do you like walking? Maybe you do, Maybe you don’t. Doesn’t matter to me. Just prepare yourself. Again, whatever happens, while you take the pills, I am not responsible for. I just know your life was going to get shitty, and maybe the pills will help you stop a couple of the tragedies. Don’t ask me any questions. It’s not how it works, but keep that in mind. There is more than science involved with this research.”

I know I may be breaking rules posting on here, but I really feel like I should get this out to you guys. Of course, I know the guy’s name isn’t Max. I am also fairly certain he doesn’t work at Vanderbilt, but like he said, it might just help me. For right now, I’m fucking scared of what could happen, and I’m trying to figure out how Max knew what was going to happen to my father. By preventing tragedies, did he mean my phone call could have saved my dad if he had just listened to me? It may be already too late, but shit, if anyone has any knowledge of what I am going through, I would really appreciate any help I can get.

As always, it’s nice talking to the NoSleep community. My name is Hayong, and I am starting to feel like my life is about to get a shit ton more interesting.

#horror #scary #scary stories #stories #creepypasta #nosleep #phobias are shaped like little green pills #ablutophobia

[8147]

reading hamlet for the first time (act 5: the finale)

masterlist

none of you told me it was going to be this painful . none of you.

a5s1

“Ophelia’s dead.” “Enter CLOWNS!”

Like im sure this has a different meaning in EMA but im gonna make fun of it because it’s fucking hilarious. (future (present? (now past once more (?))) antares coming back to say i did look at nfs and yeah theyre gravediggers)

“First Clown: What is he that builds stronger than either the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter? Second Clown: The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a thousand tenants.” damn not even just this one quote but these are some depressing clowns

hamlet and horatio!

okay there’s something about all of hamlet’s skull talk that makes me uneasy. like, not even the topic, just something in the words and how earnestly and (pardon my pun) gravely hamlet’s speaking about this. and it’s almost a mournful tune, too. it’s a huge difference from his “we’ll all be eaten by the same worms” speech to the point that it’s almost haunting.

“HAMLET: I will speak to this fellow.” C O N F R O N T

“HAMLET: I think it be thine, indeed; for thou liest in't.” (incomprehensible scribbling)

HAMLET, NOT IN ENGLAND: oh yeah lol he was sent to england huh u know why lmao

wait. did the. did the pirate situation get resolved. before act V.

I mean i think hamlet mentioned something about three years but the pirates are so fucking glossed over like what the fuck

“First Clown: 'Twill, a not be seen in him there; there the men are as mad as he.” HOLY SHIT ROAST THEM JFC

“HAMLET: Let me see. (Takes the skull)” THIS IS THE SKULL SCENE! I fucking KNEW it was bullshit that holding the skull was in the to be/not to be speech. I saw it being presented as such like once or twice while reading and I KNEW IT

hm okay so hamlet picks up this guys skull, of someone he used to know, and sure maybe i could ignore the “those lips i have kissed” but then he goes on to mention alexander the great and i mean come on

but jesus like i feel like im not doing justice to the stuff hamlet’s saying. just, the gravity of it all. Its kinda hitting home a bit hard bc like ive had a crippling fear of what happens after death and being forgotten etc since i was like in fourth grade and this is @ing that phobia

like, with that julius ceasar thing. “O that that earth which kept the world in awe / should patch a wall to expel the winter flaw,” it’s so strange. like, every fucking human who has lived, whether they be emperors, murderers, inventors, peasants, or philanthropists- as long as they weren’t blind, they’ve all looked at the same sky. like. It doesnt matter what the fuck you did or didn’t. It’s wild.

“First Priest: No more be done: We should profane the service of the dead To sing a requiem and such rest to her As to peace-parted souls.” hey i get that there are cultural taboos around suicide but like this guy’s a dick it isnt even clear if it was suicide, like, she was so fucking crazy she might not have even known she was, y’know, in a lake or w/e

laertes, dude, my guy. maybe jumping into a grave is cosmic foreshadowing for something you don’t want to happen to you. js.

“HAMLET: [Advancing] What is he whose grief Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow Conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I, Hamlet the Dane. (Leaps into the grave)” hamlet is NOT one to be out-extra’d (posting-antares here to say, wait, ‘whose phrase of sorrow conjures the stars? is this my aesthetic-speeches-summon-ghosts theory? probably not, but i havent mentioned it for a while)

“LAERTES: The devil take thy soul! (Grappling with him)” IN A FUCKING GRAVE. THEY ARE FIGHTING. IN A GRAVE.

all because hamlet doesn’t want to be out-extra’d. my god.

“QUEEN GERTRUDE: This is mere madness: And thus awhile the fit will work on him; Anon, as patient as the female dove, When that her golden couplets are disclosed, His silence will sit drooping.” Ah yes gertie just talk about the distraught and angry madman as if he isn’t there. that’ll diffuse the situation.

You know what? We still haven’t discussed the pirates.

a5s2

“HAMLET: So much for this, sir: now shall you see the other; You do remember all the circumstance?” If this isn’t gonna be about the pirates im gonna. scream.

“HAMLET: My fears forgetting manners, to unseal Their grand commission; where I found, Horatio,-- O royal knavery!--an exact command, Larded with many several sorts of reasons Importing Denmark's health and England's too, With, ho! such bugs and goblins in my life, That, on the supervise, no leisure bated, No, not to stay the grinding of the axe, My head should be struck off.” god, though. imagine that. being exiled to another country by the person who killed your father, only to find out that they were going to have you killed, anyways. that’s fucking terrifying. jesus christ.

Damn this idea that pretty handwriting is ~beneath~ nobles confuses me so fucking much. I got called haughty once just because my main handwriting is cursive. I mean, they were right, but their evidence was circumstantial at best.

“HAMLET: That, on the view and knowing of these contents, Without debatement further, more or less, He should the bearers put to sudden death, Not shriving-time allow'd.” Hamlet’s Revenge. 

but also, what the fuck, dude. two wrongs dont make a right.

damn i kinda lost myself while reading but it really doesn’t sound like hamlet’s insane anymore. Like he’s… tempered himself. he doesn’t feel insane, just solemn.

“OSRIC: Your lordship is right welcome back to Denmark. HAMLET: I humbly thank you, sir. Dost know this water-fly?” goddamn ROAST HIM HAMLET (also what a fucking mood)

Osric put on your fucking ha--

The wind is

The wind is northerly

“HAMLET: No, believe me, 'tis very cold; the wind is northerly.” I remember someone saying that this is important

Okay here: “HAMLET: I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw.”

oh no

Osric just wear ur fucking hat u doof

“OSRIC: Exceedingly, my lord; it is very sultry,--as 'twere,--I cannot tell how. But, my lord, his majesty bade me signify to you that he has laid a great wager on your head: sir, this is the matter,-- HAMLET: I beseech you, remember-- (HAMLET moves him to put on his hat)” excuse me a WAGER

but alas all hamlet cares about is osric’s fucking hat

“HAMLET: What's his weapon? OSRIC: Rapier and dagger. HAMLET: That's two of his weapons: but, well.” hamlet u sarcastic little shit i love you

I mean so is horatio. I love him too.

This stuff with the competition is. not gonna end well. not at well.

“HAMLET: I do not think so: since he went into France, I have been in continual practise: I shall win at the odds. But thou wouldst not think how ill all's here about my heart: but it is no matter.”

hamlet no. listen to your heart or whatever. jesus christ don’t do it.

“HORATIO: Nay, good my lord,--” HAMLET LISTEN TO HORATIO

Ohhh hamlet

okay reading what laertes said, you know what? i’m giving laertes one last chance. please do not prove me a fool, laertes. 

everything is giving me mad anxiety. e v e r y t h i n g.

claud’s speech is insanely sketchy

“KING CLAUDIUS: [Aside] It is the poison'd cup: it is too late.” One, so that’s why it was sketchy. Two, the POISONED CUP?

IT’S TOO LATE?

Gertie’s. Dead.

Shit, shit, shit

“LAERTES: [Aside] And yet 'tis almost 'gainst my conscience.” YES! SO PLEASE! STOP FIGHTING!

“LAERTES wounds HAMLET; then in scuffling, they change rapiers, and HAMLET wounds LAERTES.” Oh no oh no oh jeez eheu they’re hurting each other, shit, fuck,

“LAERTES: ...woodcock…”

“KING CLAUDIUS: She swounds to see them bleed. QUEEN GERTRUDE: No, no, the drink, the drink,--O my dear Hamlet,-- The drink, the drink! I am poison'd. (Dies)” one, i love how claud is desperatley trying to stick to the plan, its almost adorable in a childish sort of way. two, oh god. ohhh god. gertie. 

Oh no. 

this is the bloodbath. THIS IS THE BLOODBATH.

BODY COUNT: 1

“HAMLET: The point!--envenom'd too! Then, venom, to thy work. (Stabs KING CLAUDIUS)” ...

BODY COUNT: 2

wait and hamlet’s on death row, as with laertes. Oh no.

“LAERTES: He is justly served; It is a poison temper'd by himself. Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet: Mine and my father's death come not upon thee, Nor thine on me. (Dies)’ oh my god already??? I haven’t even really accepted king claud’s death?? jesus christ??

My friend just sorta nudged me and asked if i was alright and i. I’m not. i’m in shock. goddamn. what?

BODY COUNT: 3

goodness thats three in like less than thirty seconds JESUS CHRIST

“HAMLET: Heaven make thee free of it! I follow thee.I am dead, Horatio.” that’s chilling. just, the poignancy. that’s so fucking spectral. i’m not okay.

“HORATIO: Never believe it: I am more an antique Roman than a Dane: Here's yet some liquor left.” No no no on no nononon NO NO oh my god are you going to-

“HAMLET: As thou'rt a man, Give me the cup: let go; by heaven, I'll have't. … If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart Absent thee from felicity awhile, And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, To tell my story.” hey i’m crying in study hall. i’m actually crying. what the fuck. I don’t cry unless i’m thinking about that one pair of 18th century shoes with the really good photo quality (transcribing-antares here. I fucking love those shoes. I’m looking at them right now and they’re so fucking beautiful. they look how velvet feels, which is odd, bc they're apparently silk. I don’t care they’re just so fucking lovely)

F O R T I N B R A S?

“HAMLET: O, I die, Horatio; The potent poison quite o'er-crows my spirit.” I’ve identified my emotion. Dread. pure, unadulterated Dread.

for all of you that’ve listened to the penumbra podcast: do you remember the concierge, right before final resting place, saying “you do realize you can just like, leave, and everything will be hunky dory and you won’t have to deal with the emotional consequences this episode will bring you” because i’m seriously considering doing that right now.

“HAMLET: The rest is silence. (Dies)” shit. (posting-antares here to say that i forgot to do the body count but honestly im crying while formating because of this goddamn fucking 400 year old play)

“HORATIO: Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet prince…” oh god. horatio.

“Good night sweet prince…”

(yet again tis transcribing-antares here to say that im fucking sobbing right now, the shoes are no match for this, and ‘goodnight sweet prince’ is actually never going to leave my head.) (editing-antares here to say im fucking crying again god fucking damn it) (posting-antares back again saying that this fucking line. this line. my god.)

“HORATIO: What is it ye would see? If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search.” oh, horatio. god. that isn’t something said without tears staining your skin and a bitter tone hard-won, not that its possession is a victory.

oh my god. this can’t. no. this can’t end like this. What. no. people must have rioted. No. no!!

i typically hate it but i would GLADLY accept a deus ex machina right about now!!

okay my friend just took my phone away from me and shut it off because i kept on trying to scroll past the end

jesus christ

okay so i’m not going to be okay for like, several eternities, so im going to play the sims until i. until i die, probably. my god.

masterlist

#shush antares #antares reads hamlet #thE PIRATES WERE NEVER ADDRESSED #also im crying but im STILL ANGRY #mostly in shock tho

[quicksilver-rain]

Toni and Thor!! Im lov them

This is long because I am verbose:

Full Name: 

Toni doesn’t actually have a last name, but at some point she made one up because she assumed that because everyone else had one, they must be important. So I guess her last name is technically Frewin

As far as Thor is concerned, words like, “beast,” and “eldritch terror” and “ohmygod, what the fuck is that?” get thrown around a lot. He’s usually introduced to people as “Thor, the Mechanical Beast,” if someone Toni’s travelling with is feeling particularly dramatic, or more often than not, “my dog, Thor,” by Toni

Gender and Sexuality: 

Toni’s cis-female and either aggressively ace or too busy trying to survive to worry about things like feelings and relationships.

Thor doesn’t technically have a gender, being that he’s made of metal and magic, but Toni’s always called him by male pronouns and he’s never corrected her. He doesn’t have a sexuality at all, also due to being a one of a kind metal/magical doggo.

Pronouns:

She/her and he/him respectively. Though people also tend to call Thor “it” as well.

Ethnicity/Species:

Toni as a character started out half-elf in the first D&D campaign I used her in, but now she’s a human. She’s from Summerfell, so I guess that’s her ethnicity, if she was out and about in the real world, she’d probably be Hispanic/Irish or Spanish/Italian.

Thor’s…um… breed? Is something akin to a shar-pei, and he looks like a walking Fu Dog statue. I guess technically, he’s a war-forged, but we’re running 5e and that’s not a race anymore.

Birthplace and Birthdate:

If you were to ask Thor where and when she was born, he would tell you that she was born screaming and crying and bloody in the tunnels of Moonhold pleading with the Gods for a miracle or several. Toni would tell you that she doesn’t know where she was born or who her parents were, but that the Miner’s Camps and Tunnels are the only homes she remembers. 

If you asked Toni where when Thor was born (made?) she’d tell you that she thinks he was forged in the mountains by the a mysterious man and brought to life by his magic and that he wasn’t born so much as he opened his eyes and there he was. Thor would agree with this statement. 

Guilty Pleasures:

Toni’s basically a scavenging urchin that steals to survive, so her guilty pleasures are things like sleeping in beds and stealing nice soaps from shopkeepers that yell at her and taking baths. She also has a fondness for sweets and likes to be read to. 

Thor’s guilty pleasure is chewing bald patches in Inn rugs and scaring people that deserve it. 

Phobias:

Toni used to be a miner in Moonhold, because that’s basically the only “job” the poor have around there. One day there was a cave-in, pretty much everyone got out safely, except for Toni, who was pinned beneath the fallen rocks and couldn’t free herself. She screamed for help, but the wardens of the mine simply cordoned off the tunnel and sent the miners elsewhere. Toni kept up yelling for someone to help her until she passed out from blood loss and shock, and the next time she opened her eyes, she was alive, missing pieces, and was being stared at by Thor. Later, she was kidnapped by mages (doctors) that wanted to figure out how her shiny new prosthesis were attached to her and nearly died a second time because people are shitty and some of them like to experiment on people. Because of this, Toni has severe claustrophobia (mostly in cave-like environments). She’s also scared of boats and deep water, because she’s heavy now and sinks like a rock, and is scared absolutely shitless of anyone that calls themselves a doctor. She also has a not insignificant fear of being forcefully separated from Thor. 

Thor, for what it’s worth, is terrified of losing Toni and is scared of what might happen to her if the Bad People take her again. 

What They Would Be Famous For:

Toni actually won the Belt of Fortitude during a bare knuckle brawl against some Joseph Jostar lookin’ motherfucker. She was exceedingly lucky and made a lot of money that day that she doesn’t know what to do with. She does know the criminal underbelly of Raven’s Warf is in awe of her skill and power.  

Thor, by virtue of being Different, is famous simply for existing. Doubly so because Toni’s the Grand Champion of the Raven’s Warf Fight Club.

What They Would Get Arrested For:

Stealing, probably. Or illegally participating in underground fighting rings. Or trespassing.

No one could arrest Thor. He’d rip them apart. Also I don’t think they make handcuffs for dogs.

OC You Ship Them With:

There’s no one for either of them, really. One of my friend’s character’s, Raenon used to flirt with Toni a lot, but nothing came of that. 

Thor is uninterested in ships, unless they’re the little paddle boats that look like ducks, because those look just like big ducks.  

OC Most Likely To Murder Them:

I personally don’t have an OC that wants to kill either of them, but there are plenty of people that want to see how each of them works. Dead or alive doesn’t matter. 

Favorite Movie/Book Genre:

Toni actually can’t read anything but thieve’s cant and the occasional stray word, but she likes listening to fairy tales and ballads. 

I feel like Thor’s favorite book is probably either some really trashy romance novel, or Pride & Prejudice, no in-between.

Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche:

If Toni was ever inclined to watch a movie, she’d probably hate forced romances that are convenient to the plot, if only because she wouldn’t get why the idiot protagonists are making out when there’s a countdown timer to the end of the world. Also, she’d probably yell, “LET DISABLED CHARACTERS BE DISABLED!” at the television at least once. Probably more than that. She’s thankful that she has her prosthesis, but while they help dramatically with her every day life, there’s a lot of compensation and general fuckery related to them. She’d also really hate disaster movies, too, for obvious reasons. 

Thor would not be into the humans vs. robots trope, and he would also high-key hate any movie where a robot begins questioning its humanity. Thor is alive, as far as he can tell, he can feel the sun on him and thinks for himself and  loves Toni more than anything. He doesn’t need to debate the philosophy of the human soul and life, he’s already experiencing it. And that is enough for him.

Talents and/or Powers:

Toni’s got the power of highly volatile and not wholly understood magic. Also she’s got one metal arm/shoulder, one metal leg (from mid-thigh down) and thre metal fingers on her otherwise flesh hand. She has a very high threshold for pain, and also is squirrely as all fuck. 

Thor has magical energy constantly clouded around his head and tail, functions as both a space heater and a bag of holding, can speak auditory binary (which is how he communicates with Toni), and can reduce a stone keep to rubble in a day and a half if given a reason to.

Why Someone Might Love Them:

Toni tries her hardest not to give people reason to dislike her, because she doesn’t think she has a lot going for her. She’s no nonsense, but kind to people and likes to take care of people she doesn’t think can take care of themselves. She’s also very comfortable with herself and Thor and has a sort of angry confidence about her. 

Thor, need I remind you, is a giant doggo, and also a good boy.

Why Someone Might Hate Them:

Oh man, there’s a lot, the least of which is just that Toni doesn’t trust people very easily and sometimes comes off as being really rude or blunt, when she’s just stating facts as succinctly as possible. She doesn’t mean to be mean, but sometimes when you’re being chased by mages, you don’t have time to spare people’s feelings. She also tends to bottle things up until she has a minor freakout that’s usually set off for a good reason. She also collects stuff like a magpie (she used to be an artificer and this was how she got components) and aggressively hoards her things. 

Thor has a lot of teeth, and when he growls, it sounds like thunder. 

How They Change:

Well, aside from the species swap, Toni’s a little more accepting now, though she’s not even remotely trusting. She’s not quite over her claustrophobia, but she can function well enough in a cave if there’s a need for her to. She’s gotten better at listening and can read at least a few of the smaller words.

Thor’s pretty fluid as far as changes go, he doesn’t age or grow like everyone else does, but he’s learned the nuances of sass and has finally figured out how to work doors in a way that doesn’t involve them being torn off their hinges. 

Why You Love Them:

Oh dude, Toni and Thor are my first D&D characters, and even though pretty much every campaign I’ve played in with them has been cancelled, I just really like playing as this scrappy little street rat just doing her best to get by. It’s just so nice. It’s also really nice playing a team of people that love and look out for each other and sort of have this forged by fire relationship. 

I'll add a picture of them latee, perhaps, I'm on mobile right now and don't have access to any references I might have of them.

#asks #ask thingy #quicksilver writes things occasionally #d&d

[starlingstories-blog1]

The Scared and the Scarecrow

“Die on a hilltop… eyeing the crows… waiting for your lids to close… but you want to watch as they peck your flesh… Ironic that they go for the eyes first.”  ~ Eddie Vedder 

I know she’s the girl Marissa would want me to choose.  I can tell all the way from the other side of the room, from behind my tall mug of cheap beer.  She is skinnier than the girls I usually bring home, but she makes up for that in the way her eyes wander into the dark corners of the desolate bar; in the way she hugs herself, like she’s cold; in the way her eyes locked onto the bartender’s forehead but never meet his gaze.

Marissa taught me to look for signs like these.  This was before we traded New Orleans for Maine - before she stopped hunting and made me our sole provider.  We were in a bar not unlike this one, with its musty aura, creaky floorboards, and questionable patrons.  I coughed when Marissa deliberately blew cigarette smoke into my face.  In old movies, it looks sexy to inhale what’s expelled from your lover’s lungs; in reality, it smelled like shit and made my eyes water.

“The girls I hunt have been waiting,” Marissa had told me, “like deer with their white tails in the air, certain they heard something rustle in the leaves.  They spend their entire lives listening for a growl or twig-snap.  They pass the time - graduate college, marry protective men, and contributing to overpopulation.  They keep night lights on and they shrink from familial hugs - they never walk in the woods alone.  They hold their breaths for a horror-movie jump scare that never comes.  Half the time, they don’t even fight me.  It’s their destiny; they are prey - cogs in nature’s indifferent machine.  They find peace in finally submitting to a predator. ”

I had wanted to remind her that she was the predator.  I had simply stepped into a slaughterhouse and forgotten where the door was.  Five years later, I’m still gaping in awe at her museum of fleshless, grinning corpses, trying to determine what species they once were.  I’m still chasing Marissa through a forest of meat hooks, following her like fabled travelers follow the manic laughter of dancing pixies.  If you eat fairy food, they trap you forever.  I ate whatever Marissa offered me, ate it like I’d been starving my whole life.  I’ve stopped looking for a way out.  I can barely remember ever wanting one.

I - obedient and hungry predator’s pet - take a sip of my now-warm beer and walk slowly across the bar.  The only other patron - a regular - sits hunched forward, his forehead pressing into the counter.  He looks like he’s about to vomit and can’t decide if he should run for the bathroom.  I vaguely remember his unwanted, meaty hand grabbing my ass last weekend.  I briefly contemplate vomiting with him.

I sit down, uninvited, beside the girl.  “Hi,” I say. “Chilly night, huh?”  It’s only early October - the first frost hasn’t even hit - but she looks like she’s cold in her oversized sweater.  She looks like a scarecrow with the knitted atrocity to fashion hanging off her willow-tree frame; if I were a crow, I wouldn’t be the least bit scared of her.

She doesn’t sit down, seeming to prefer the awkward, liminal space between the barstools.  “Yes,” she whispers, “very chilly.”  She folds her little hands together on the bar like she’s praying - probably praying for me to fuck off.

I take advantage of her phobia to eye contact and study her.  She has too-short hipster bangs that frame her pointy face and accentuate the bruise-like bags under her eyes.  I wonder if she really does, on some level, grasp that she is destined to die tonight.   Maybe she’d been lying in bed for hours, unable to sleep - feeling drawn to this bar.  Or, maybe, she’s just a boring old insomniac.

“Are you a local?” I ask.  I’ve already guessed the answer: you wouldn’t catch a Mainer dead in a sweater until at least November.

She shakes her head no.  “I’m visiting my aunt.”

Alfy, the bartender, brings her a glass of white wine.  I ask him if I can please have a fresh beer and he grunts an affirmative.  The glass looks huge in the girl’s hands; she uses them both to bring it carefully to her mouth like she’s sipping from a chalice in some arcane ceremony.  I suppose that’s appropriate for tonight - for her last drink.

“I’m, um, looking at colleges,” she offers, apparently deciding small talk is preferable to silence.

“What would you major in?”

“Maybe English Literature,” she says.  The “maybe” beards her complete certainty.

“Do you want to teach?” I ask.  I’ve met enough English majors to know that asking certain questions in a certain tone - a tone that implies their future includes barista training and crushing debt - puts them on the defensive and gets them talking.

She shakes her head. “I could never teach.”  She goes on to talk about working for a publishing company, becoming a freelance editor, or writing novels.  I stop listening before she gets to freelancing, but at least she’s saying something.

When her eyes finally, hesitatingly, meet mine, they are dark pools of unrest.  I begin to rethink whether or not I would fly away if I were the crow to her scarecrow.  “I wanted to go to this art school,” she says.  “It’s got an amazing creative writing program… but my aunt needs me here.”

“She old?” I ask.

Alfy slides my beer across the counter.  I let the condensation cool my sweaty palm and ignore him when he shoves a coaster at me.

The girl blinks and for a second I think she might be offended. “She has cancer.”

Oh.  I nod sympathetically.  As women, we are supposed to bond over the mutual fear of one day finding that dreaded lump in a breast and ending up with no breasts at all.  We’re supposed to huddle together against role-of-the-dice anomalies and genetic inevitabilities.  I feel no such kinship.  I have known since I met Marissa that one day she will grow tired of my bullshit and become hungry for my vital organs.  I don’t have the luxury of fearing death by disease or the traitorous-snake-oil of chemical healings.

The girl taps her fingernails lightly against her wine glass; some of her chipped, black nail polish flutters down onto the counter.  She wipes it away quickly, as if she just accidentally spat.

“You and your aunt close?” I ask.

“Not really, but my mom can’t move here and my sister is married with kids.”

“So they dubbed you the sacrificial lamb.”

She shrugs and makes an almost unseeable smile out of her dry lips.

“How old are you?” I ask.

“Twenty-three.” Her eyes start doing that darting thing again; she doesn’t look twenty-three.

“No husband or kids?”

“I don’t want a husband or kids,” she says, no “maybe” about it this time.  “I-I couldn’t handle that kind of responsibility,” she stammers, as if she owes me an apology or an explanation for not wanting a man to put something inside of her that will eventually grow arms and legs and rip its way back out.

“Sometimes, there’s no way to avoid winding up responsible for someone,” I say.  “But nobody’s counting how many burdens you break your back with, martyr girl.  Don’t think you’re gonna get some golden halo or ticket to heaven out of it.”

Her cheeks turn red, contrasting with her alabaster skin in a way that makes her look like an embarrassed cartoon character.  “I don’t think of sick people as burdens.”

“Yes, you do.  You do because they are.”

Her eyes turn glassy and I think she might cry, but when she blinks they are matte again.  For a moment, I wonder if her reluctance to make eye-contact has less to do with a fear of people peering in and more to do with preventing something from peering out.

“What about you?” she asks.  “Are you responsible for someone?”

“Like I said, sometimes there’s no way to avoid it.”

She glances at the cracked clock about the bar and furrows her brow.

“We have a few minutes,” I say.  Alfy never rushes people out.

“My aunt keeps the house so dark now,” the girl sighs.  She rolls her head back on her anorexic neck and squints up at the water-stained ceiling.  “She has this hoard of Victorian china dolls, all lined up like they’re waiting for something.”  She swallows. “She keeps talking about leaving me the house.  It’s so full of stuff.  It’s suffocating… I don’t want a house.”

She looks at me again and I know I’m not going to have any trouble getting her to come home with me.  This girl is trapped and tonight Marissa will free her.  Maybe it really is fate.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Alice,” she says.

“I’m Tara.”  I finish my beer in one big, messy gulp.  “Do you want to come to my apartment for a bit?  My roommates will be there.  You’d like them,” I say, like I have any idea what kind of people she likes - as if I have roommates, for that matter.

She studies my friendly mask of a face with her bottomless-well eyes - searchlights tracking malintent.  I’ve been with Marissa so long I have trouble remembering if I have any malintent towards the girls I hunt.  I have no more animosity towards them than a pig farmer has towards his livestock when he leads them to the butcher.  He can appreciate their floppy ears and friendly squeals, but his mouth also waters for bacon and pork roast.  Is that malintent?

“You don’t want to go home.”  I give her my best imitation of a compassionate and motherly smile.

Alice nods and wraps her sweater tightly around her shoulders.  She forces her quivering chin still with a clench of her jaw.  “No, I don’t want to go home,” she whispers.

She doesn’t object when I pay for her wine.

She knows, I think.  She knows.

She doesn’t object when I hold the door for her.

Do pigs know?

She doesn’t object when I button her sweater for her, or when I hold her tiny hand.

This one does.

She doesn’t even object when Marissa slits her throat with a serrated Spyderco Harpy knife.

They find peace in it submitting to a predator.

I put Alice’s dead-girl eyes in one of Marissa’s sickly-sweet smelling preservation jars; the way they look at me is no different than when they were in her skull.

#writing #shortstory #lit #horrorwriter #writers on tumblr #writer #horrorstories #cannibalism #hannibal inspired #lgbt fiction #lesbianfiction #queerhorror #originalstory #mywriting #prose #spilled ink

[alchemyxnotxmagic]

Arsonphobia

Phobia Drabble Prompts

Arsonphobia: Our muses are trapped in a burning building

Status: Accepting

@strawberryfitzsherbert

⚛ “I fucked up.”

It was the understatement of a lifetime. Strong language, though it was, it could not adequately describe the series of events that lead Varian to being trapped in this walled off little cavern. If the cave in was not bad enough on its own, the reason for the cave in was the fire blazing all around. 

“It’s damp, how did you even catch anything on fire!?” Flynn had come to try to rescue him- classic Flynn- but the cave in had trapped them both with inevitable, fiery demise. And of course it was Varian’s fault.

Wasn’t it always?

“Water doesn’t stop chemical fires.”

“Well... good to know for when we get out of here.” Flynn was remarkably optimistic given what was happening. “Because burning to death is not on my schedule! I have dinner with Rapunzel tonight!”

It was a poor attempt at humor, Varian smiled, but his mind was elsewhere.

“You most likely won’t burn to death. Asphyxiation will kill you before the fire does.” In his morbid line of thinking, an idea emerged. “Wait! My breathing mask! It’s not much but if you put it on, that should keep you alive until help can get here!”

“Shouldn’t you be wearing that?”

“I’ve got little lungs. I won’t asphyxiate.” Nothing about that sentence made scientific sense, he was just hoping it would buy him enough time to get Flynn to wear the mask. If one person made it out...

“I don’t think you’re telling the truth.”

“I am. That’s science. Little lungs. Won’t die.”

“Don’t lie to me Var.” The tone was rather severe and Varian found himself rather taken aback by it.

“I’m not-” he cut off those brown eyes boring holes into him. “Okay... it’s not true. But you need to take it okay? You’re the princess’s boyfriend. She wants to spend the rest of her life with you. She loves you!”

I love you.

“She wouldn’t love the kind of man who would take air from a kid.”

“Now is not the time to play hero, Flynn! You have a life to get back to and I swear if you don’t take it-” Before Varian could finish Flynn had him in a headlock. He took the mask from the ground and forced it on Varian’s face.

“There. Solved it. Now we can focus on a way out. We need the clean air going t that smart brain of yours so we can get a way out of here.”

That ass... well two could play dirty.

“Fine. You look for a weak point in the wall, I’ll see if I can make something...” He went to the remains of the lab table taking one of his instruments in his hand. Flynn was already coughing, the smoke was becoming too thick to see and who knew what sort of chemicals it had inside?

Varian approached, for a moment, he hesitated. What he was about to do felt so wrong... but he knew it was the right thing. In one of them survived... it had to be Flynn... no... Eugene. It had to be Eugene Fitzherbert... reformed thief, prince consort. It had to be the man that made the world a brighter place.

Varian took the blunt end of the instrument and brought it down hard on Flynn’s head. It only took one hit to knock him out cold. He took the mask off his own face and placed it over Flynn’s. The smokey smell hit him hard and instantly the coughing began.

Still, none of this would do any good if he couldn’t find a way out.

He took the handle of his tool trying to pry the rocks open.

Nothing.

He threw his weight against them till he could not take a breath.

Still nothing.

Desperation filled him as he went back to the destroyed table. It had been the highly unstable reactions of his chemicals that caused this. Perhaps... it was a dangerous, stupid plan but he had to do something.

He couldn’t let Eugene die...

He began mixing chemicals the best he could in a half broken beaker. The glass cutting through his gloves, into the flesh of his hand. But still he worked. The smoke was killing him- he couldn’t breath, couldn’t see.

He took the broken beaker and brought it to the caved in walls using his gloved hands to spread the chemical all over the earth and stone. It was burning his skin, the mix of flame and unstable ions was agonizing.

But it was nothing compared to the expression on Rapunzel’s face if she lost Flynn because of Varian’s stupid mistake.

He ran to the unconscious rogue on the ground, shielding him with his own body. For a moment, nothing happened. Varian was getting dizzy. He found himself unable to think clearly- unable to make full sentences.

BOOM

The rocks exploded in all directions. He was hit in his back, his leg, the side of his head. He didn’t have the time or mental capacity to take inventory of his damages. He hoisted Flynn up as best he could and half carried- half dragged the man behind him, through the tunnels rapidly filling with smoke and toward the exit.

Adrenaline could only carry him so far. He had no air, no thought- his lungs were burning his body ached. Eventually he collapsed. The last thing he remembered was simply thinking that: now... maybe... Eugene might make it out... and that thought left him with a slight smile as his head hit the ground.

Eugene woke up with something on his face. His head hurt, but he was breathing a lot better than before- his hand touched metal, uncomfortably hot but firmly supplying ventilated air into his lungs.

“Varian you sack of shit!” He turned to face... no one. This wasn’t even the same room he had left. “You fucking brat.” His eyes fell on Varian, out cold on the ground behind him. There was some kind of burn on his back, his hands looked like they were bleeding. The alchemist had obviously made some stupid choices. Stupid choices that got them out, but that didn’t make Flynn any less mad.

He grabbed Varian, pulling him up into a bridal style hold and making a dash down the tunnels toward the exit. Kid had spunk. Made it far.

He got to the blue sky- fresh air- and dropped to his knees and put Varian on the ground. “HEY!” he tried to get the attention of someone nearby. Anyone who might be passing. “Get the guard! Get help.”

Stupid kid. Stupid fucking dumbass kid.

He leaned his head down to check for breathing.

Nothing.

“God damn it kid!”

He started to chest compressions . Being in life or death situations had its advantages, he knew what to do when things were at their worst. He paused, opening Varian’s mouth and forcing breath into him, until the boy’s chest rose. Twice.

Then again.

And again.

And again.

“If you are fucking dead I will NEVER forgive you.”

Again.

“Varian...”

Again.

“Come on...”

Again.

“Please....”

Again.

Varian coughed and Eugene nearly jumped. He quickly leaned down, checking breathing once more.

Alive. Oh god he was alive.

“...” Varian opened his mouth, trying to speak but Eugene shook his head.

“Don’t, just breath.” It was quiet save for the labored sounds of Varian trying to catch his breath.

“...” Eugene looked over a him, the tears in his eyes he would later claim to be from the sting of smoke and not the sweet relief washing over him. “I’m glad you’re okay. But if you ever scare me like that again. I will kill you.”

[katalyria]

1. What's your middle name, and do you like it? -Marie, I it’s my second favorite name. 

2. are you artistic? -is water wet?

3. Have you had your first kiss? -ha nope

4. What is your life goal? -To be successful and happy.

5. Do you have any experiences with a famous person? -do voice actors count? I’ve met some pretty cool voice actors like J. Michael Tatum, Vic Mignogna, Brina Palencia, and Trina Nishimura.

6. Do you play any sports? -used to play softball

7. What's your worst fear? -failing at what I want to do the most.

8. Who's your biggest inspiration? -Ed Sheeran, that man knows what life is about. 

9. Do you have any cool talents? -I guess that singing is considered a talent, idk if it’s cool tho.

10. are you a morning person? -mornings can suck my butt

11. How do you feel about pet names? -uhm I like them, just don’t be like weird about it idk;;

12. Do you like to read? -I like the idea of reading but it puts me to sleep cause I suck;;

13. Name a list of shows that have changed your life. -Parks and Rec, Supernatural, Doctor Who, That ‘70s Show, SAO

14. Do you care about your follower count? -not the number, the people yes.

15. What's the best dream you've had? -I had me a mans.

16. Have you ever kissed someone of your same gender? -kinda? idk I was kid and we were playing house so I don’t count it.

17. Do you have any pets? -5 actually, 2 cats and 3 dogs.

18. Are you religious? -fuck no

19. Are you a people person? -I like people but only in moderation

20. Are you considered popular? -absolutely not

21. What is one of your bad habits? -eating when I’m bored

22. What's something that makes you feel vulnerable -talking to someone I have a past with.

23. What would you name your children? -Paisley and I haven’t thought about a masculine name yet

24. Who's your celebrity crush? -Jay Park. boi.

25. What's your best subject? -History and English

26. Dogs or cats? -cats

27. most used social media besides tumblr? -always on twitter @littlebitofkat

28. best friends name -Andrea

29. who does your main family consist of -Mom, Dad, older sister, little brother.

30. Chocolate or sugar -uh sugar?

31. have you ever been on a date? -lets tell the boy I curved that I have.

32. Do you like roller coasters? -indeed

33. Can you swim? -mild aqua phobia, so I don’t go under water.

34. What would you do in the event of an apocalypse? -cry

35. Have you struggled with any kind of mental disorder? -depression

36. Are your parents together? -yup

37. What's your favorite color? -black and white but I also like purple, and red so idk

38. What country are you from/do you live in? -The United(divided) States

39. Favorite singer? -yet again, Ed Sheeran

40. Do you see yourself being famous some day? -actually yes.

41. Do you like dresses? -crying because it’s cold and I want to wear one

42. Favorite song right now? -Bad Things by the one that got kicked out of 5H

43. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable? -not really

44. How old were you when you first got your period? -12

45. Have you ever shot a gun? -nope

46. Have you ever done yoga? -yes and it was incredible

47. Are you a horror girl? -idk what that means but it sounds fun

48. Are you good at giving advice? -I try

49. Tell us a story about your childhood. -one time I ran out of my house naked while my neighbor had guests.

50. How are you doing today? -pretty ok

51. Were you a cute kid? -I’m not even a cute teenager.

52. Can you dance? -when my director asks me to

53. Is there anything you do that you can't remember ever not doing? -singing

54. Have you ever dyed your hair? -nope

55. What color are your eyes? -blue/ with a little green in there

56. What's your favorite animal? -cats

57. Have you ever made a huge fool of yourself? -is that even a question?

58. Do you have a good relationship with your parents? -yep

59. Do you have good friends? -the Farquad Star Squad is real

60. Are you close with anyone of the lgbtq+ group? -most of my online friends are gay and I love them 

61. What's your favorite class? -History

62. List all the tv shows you are watching. Parks and Rec (re-watching cause I have no time)

63. Are you organized? -in a messy way that only I understand

64. What was the last movie you saw? Opinion? -god it’s been a long time, probably Finding Dory, it was Gucci 

67. Which tv character do you relate to most? -Ben Wyatt from Parks and Rec.

68. What are some things that stand between you and complete happiness? -my location, my appearance, my financial status, and my skills.

69. If you received enough money to never need to work again, what would you spend your time doing? -helping people

70. What would you change about your life if you knew you would never die? -probably nothing 

71. What would you do differently if you knew that no one was judging you? -speak my mind and act myself around everyone

72. If you could start over, what would you do differently? -learn to keep my mouth shut sometimes, and to be active as a kid

73. Would you break the law to save a loved one? -yeah

74. When was the last time you traveled somewhere new? -went to Hermann MO a few weeks ago

75. When you think of your home, what immediately comes to mind? -my bed and wifi

76. What have you done to pursue your dreams lately? How about today? -today I set goals for my musical passions, yesterday I got my learners permit so I could focus on music without feeling guilty.

77. What did you want to be when you were a kid? - a singer, or a ballerina, or a vet; I can’t remember

78. If you dropped everything to pursue your dreams, what would you be risking? -a high school career, give me another year and then I’ll do it

79.When did you not speak up, when you know you really should have? -so many times

80. Describe the next five years of your life, and your plans, in a single sentence -Taking the road less traveled, hopefully with a passenger.

81. What would happen if you never wasted another minute of your life, what would that look like? -ew stressful

82. If you could live forever, how would you spend eternity? -doing what feels right.

83. How would you spend a billion dollars? -music school, korean college, a nice house; the rest in savings 

84. If you could time travel, would you go to the past or the future? -uh the past, I’d like to see a few things.

85. What motivates you to succeed? -the idea of rubbing it in the faces of the people who didn’t think I could.

86. What dream that you’ve had has resonated with you the most? -dreaming that I was doing what I love

87. Would you rather live in the city or the woods? Why? -city, I already live in a rural area and it sucks.

88. Do you believe in life after death -who knows.

89. What teacher inspired you the most? How did they? -my english teacher and my honors choir teacher, supporting me. 

90. What’s your fondest childhood memory? -fuck I ain’t got time for this question, spending a summer at my friend’s house and doing some weird shit.

91. If you could have dinner with any one person, living or dead, who would they be and why? -hm, Bernie Sanders, that’s my man.

92. What would you have to see to cry tears of joy? -my dreams coming true, hard work being rewarded, love.

93. What is the hardest lesson you had to learn in life? -patience

94. What do you think happens after we die? -you already asked and I don’t really care, we dead.

95. What would you do if you would be invisible? -commit robbery.

96. What's something you can't do no matter how hard you try? -be apolitical

97. Would you want to choose the sex and appearance of your offspring? -no, this isn’t sims.

98. How did your first crush develop? -he was nice to me

99. Is there a feeling you are trying to ignore? What is it? -eh I don’t have feelings for anyone rn

100. Do you live or do you just exist? -exist, hit me up in a few years tho.

#ask me #100 questions #tag #this took too long and I have homework #i make poor life choices

[trendingnewsb]

5 Horror Movies That Made Up Rules Midway Through The Film

Any good movie needs to establish the rules of its universe. The viewer absolutely must know what happens if zombie blood gets in your mouth, or if you give a gremlin a boner. Unfortunately, not every movie can keep its own rules straight. Some make stuff up right in the middle and hope you won’t notice. Spoilers ahead, of course.

5

In Get Out, The Villains Must Vet And Seduce Their Victims Carefully … Or Just Kidnap Random People?

One of the major reveals in Get Out is that even white people who voted for Obama can be racist. Another big one is that Chris’s girlfriend, Rose, only dated him so that her family could hypnotically trap his mind and auction his body off to wealthy brain-rapists. It’s an amazing movie, is what we’re saying here.

Anyway, we’re first tipped off to the evil plot when Chris discovers a troublingly large stack of photographs of Rose and all her (black) exes, including her parents’ weird servants. You might not immediately think, “These are people she’s mentally enslaved,” but it’s worth bringing up.

Universal PicturesAlso, what’s with the box of physical photographs? Are you a hundred years old?

Rose has been dating Chris for five months. And judging from the intimate photos, she’s convinced over a dozen other people to fall for her. This means she has been in the family business of debauching African Americans since she was, at best, a teenager. Forget about how creepy that is; it’s sort of incredible. They’ve been asking this girl to constantly convince strangers to fall in love with her and then betray them since before she could buy beer. She’s the Meryl Streep of brain transplant crime.

Using Rose as a honeypot sounds extremely inefficient, but what else could the family do? The movie clearly establishes that they’ve got to get those people to their house somehow, and it’s not like they can simply abduct anyone on the street.

Except … wait, that’s exactly what they can do.

Universal PicturesTo this guy. This poor son of a bitch right here.

The man in the picture above is Andre. Andre is nabbed while wandering around an upscale suburban neighborhood, presumably looking for an Olive Garden. Rose’s brother, Jeremy, lacks his sister’s bubbly charm, so he apparently knocks out random black pedestrians and stuffs them in his car.

And it’s not like Jeremy’s method is any less successful than Rose’s. Andre was clearly hypnotized, brain-transplanted, and sold with no real problems. Jeremy achieved in a single night what took Rose five full months.

Read Next

6 Classic Movies That Get Ruined By Grade-School Science

On top of all of that, Jeremy’s method is significantly safer. While she was dating Chris for half a year, she met all the people in his life — like his friend, Rod, who might wonder why his friend didn’t come back from her house. A bisexual girl who dates only black people is already going to generate some gossip, but if every single one of those people mysteriously goes missing, it’s safe to say that story would get picked up sooner or later. And a string of abductions linked to the city’s most famous interracial sex addict is a much easier crime to solve than a few seemingly unrelated disappearances.

4

In Freddy Vs. Jason, Jason Randomly Becomes Afraid Of Water

Freddy Vs. Jason was supposed to be the horror villain smackdown to end all horror villain smackdowns. But before the two really go at it, Freddy enters Jason’s dreams to see what he fears most. After decades of murder, Jason has been beaten and mangled, sometimes to death, so obviously the thing he fears most is water. Wait, water!?

Specifically, harmless cascading water. It’s … it’s weird.

Later in the movie, Freddy uses this knowledge to his advantage. Right when Jason is about to machete the shit out of Freddy, a pipe bursts, spraying wetness between the supernatural forces of death. There’s nothing special about this water. It’s just water. And it stops Jason right in his tracks. Now, this rule makes sense on paper … if you’ve never seen a Friday The 13th movie. As a boy, Jason first died by drowning, so a phobia of water would not be out of the question. Now here’s a picture of a very relaxed Jason chest-deep in his greatest fear:

New Line CinemaOr maybe he’s scared? It’s hard to tell, of course.

Here he is in Jason Takes Manhattan, wherein he hitches a ride to the big city on a boat’s anchor with no problem whatsoever. This is almost certainly the wettest way to get to Manhattan.

New Line CinemaLook at the poor thing: Scared to death.

Even in a Friday The 13th video game, Jason has no problem getting in the water to do some good old-fashioned lake slaying.

Gun Media“Oh thank god! Rescue me!”

Is it possible Freddy reawakened some dormant fear in Jason? Maybe, but the more likely explanation is that there needed to be some kind of tension in a fight between two immortal fear monsters, and they didn’t hire the world’s most creative writer to develop the story every seven-year-old horror fan thought of first.

3

In It Follows, Shooting The Follower Doesn’t Work (Until It Does)

It Follows is about a monster that follows you if you fuck someone who was already being followed by the monster. Then, if the monster catches you, it fucks you to death. It’s uh … it’s better than it sounds. The whole thing is a not-so-subtle metaphor for STDs, so you would imagine the solution to the problem would be some kind of poetic, maybe metaphorical thing, like convincing teens to practice abstinence, or maybe burning off your genitals. But no. Instead they shoot it.

They straight up shoot the thing dead.

RADiUS-TWC

Now, shooting isn’t a bad idea if you’re looking to kill something, but they establish early in the movie that bullets don’t work on the Follower. Instead of getting on a plane to Australia to wait it out (because the entity can only very slowly walk wherever it goes), the main group of kids decide to hang out at a nearby beach and let it catch up. Naturally, the monster shows up, and the main character, Jay, shoots it in the neck.

This doesn’t keep it down for long. It gets right back up and continues following Jay. This should communicate that it’s a mystical being that can’t be stopped with mortal techniques, but it doesn’t. In fact, the movie soon gets straight up Scooby-Doo. During the big final showdown, the heroes attempt to electrocute the creature in a pool. But when that plan goes belly-up, they decide to finish it off once and for all … by shooting it. Again.

Maybe it’s not a metaphor for STDS, but for how nothing matters and everything’s stupid.

When the pool fills with blood, the kids decide the entity is defeated once and for all. Now sure, there’s a scene at the end which shows it may (or may not) still be following the characters, but the monster inexplicably showing up at the end of the horror film is a tried and true cliche. It means practically nothing. It’s as pointlessly ridiculous as having the monster leap out of the pool on a surfboard and go, “I’ll be back in It Follows 2: Beach Bods!”

2

In 2004’s Dawn Of The Dead, People Turn Into Zombies Just, Like, Whenever The Hell

A lot of zombie movies play their “zombie rules” pretty fast and loose, but the 2004 Dawn Of The Dead remake reeeally stretched the boundaries of zombification science. Basically, when people get bitten, they turn into zombies whenever it’s most convenient for the plot.

In the opening scene, Ana’s husband gets bitten in the neck by a zombified neighbor child and collapses on the bed. In the time it takes for Ana to call 9-1-1 and get a busy signal, he dies and pops back up as an undead maniac:

Universal Pictures“HEY! We’re out of toilet paper! I TOLD YOU YESTERDAY WE’RE OUT OF TOILET PAPER! YOU ALWAYS DO THIIIIIS!!!”

Later, when the gang is in the mall, they bring in a truck full of eight people, two of whom have been bitten. One is a lady in a wheelbarrow, best described as 300 pounds of moaning rotten meat long overdue to die from any number of things. The other is TV’s Max Headroom, who has a little bite on his arm.

Universal Pictures“Wait, in what zombie story do you bring me into an enclosed space!? This is fucking crazy!”

Universal Pictures“Wait, someone remembers Max Headroom? This is fucking crazy.”

Max Headroom dies very shortly, but another character, the pregnant Luda, has a similar wound on her arm, and she lasts days, maybe weeks? The movie doesn’t give a clear timeline, but within one montage set to a lounge cover of “Down With The Sickness,” it’s made clear the party is in there long enough to get suicidally stir-crazy.

The point is, Luda lives hundreds, maybe thousands of times longer than other people with the same wound. Maybe her pregnancy had an effect? Meanwhile, the lady in the wheelbarrow seemed to rot into a corpse puddle long before she hopped up as a zombie. Maybe her weight problem had an effect? Is diabetes the cure for zombism?

The characters spell it right out for the audience that bites transit the disease, and yet not a single infection seems to follow the same rules. For instance, the gun shop owner gets bitten on the arm, describes it as “not bad,” and turns undead in minutes. Can the zombie virus tell when it’s time to speed up the plot?

Universal PicturesZombie for “Wrap it up.”

So turning into a zombie can take several minutes, a few hours, or literally weeks, based on whatever reveal is coolest. Maybe the silliest dramatic transformation happens in the climax, when the Ty Burrell “rich dick” character gets jumped by a zombie and moments later comes back as a hissing monster. Which means that within seconds, a zombie kills him, decides to stop eating him, and leaves the area completely. This goes against everything we’ve learned about zombie behavior and most of what we’ve learned about bite timelines, but it allows him to get shot in the face for a callback to earlier in the movie, when Ana said she was going to shoot him in the face.

Universal Pictures“Ha! I knew that line about shooting me in the face would pay off!”

1

In Saw, Jigsaw Lets People Live If They Appreciate Life. Except No, He Doesn’t.

Saw‘s central villain, John Kramer, conducts sinister tests on human beings, only allowing them to live if they learn what life really means. The movies clearly want us to think of Jigsaw as a complicated character. Yes, he’s a murderous criminal, but also sort of a free life coach? Which may be how they justify letting him win at the end of every movie. (Sorry for spoiling Saw, Saw II, Saw IV, Saw 3D, and Jigsaw.)

There’s always some reveal to explain how all the people in Jigsaw’s traps deserve it, and unlike his insane proteges, Kramer himself has a single guiding philosophy he’s trying to carry out. Supposedly, he forces people to appreciate what they have, and if they demonstrate that they’ve learned this, he lets them go. But is that really what he does? Is all of this as stupid as it sounds?

Yes. In one movie, he forces a man to tunnel through a maze of razor wire to prove that he wants to live. The man in question does indeed want to live, and is so determined to do so that he slices his stomach open while fighting his way through. So he proves it, right? No, Jigsaw lets him die. It wasn’t any kind of test; it was a weird murder with torture and puppets that would have killed him less if he wasn’t so motivated to live. Enjoying life isn’t the same as being immune to barbed wire, Jigsaw!

The movie is full of traps built around how much damage a body can take, not how determined the body is to seize the day. For instance, the man covered in flammable jelly and made to tread on broken glass without flinching. Jigsaw watches that poor guy through a peephole and doesn’t once intervene, even as the guy clearly demonstrates his willingness to endure pain to save his own life. He passed, you dick! Call off the murder!

At one point, Kramer leaves a victim in a chair designed to drill into the man’s head if the detectives following him don’t call off the case. What kind of zest for life is that supposed to test? Drills don’t magically stop working when they hit a brain thinking about how it hates dying.

In the history of Jigsaw’s arts and crafts murder spree, only a small handful of people are actually tested on how much they appreciate life. The rest of them are killed in pointlessly unpleasant ways. It’s like Jigsaw created the world’s most infantile, half-baked philosophy solely to justify thousands of hours of death trap construction and bicycling puppet maintenance. How did they make eight movies about that, and only seven about an evil Leprechaun?

Jordan Breeding also writes for Paste Magazine, the Twitter, himself, and with a dirty, dirty spray can in various back alleys. Mike Bedard does a lot more than point out flaws in movies. He also makes his own. Here’s a short he made about Indiana Jones saying it’s okay to punch Nazis. If you like what you see, then follow him on Twitter. Dan Hopper is an editor for Cracked, previously for CollegeHumor and BestWeekEver.tv. He fires off consistent A-minus tweets at @DanHopp.

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[noncompliant-fuckery]

1-99, it's been a while :)

I know :) but mostly cause all the ones I’ve been seeing are ones we already done or are kinky as shit and that’ll possibly be awkward.

1: 6 of the songs you listen to most?

-Batman-Jaden Smith. Retrograde-James Blake. H.E.R- Focus.  Loyalty-Kendrick Lamar.  Location-Khalid. Blind Man-Xavier Omar.

2: If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

-All of my ancestors.

3: Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17.

-I don’t know where I put my books and technically the only book I have near me right now is two of my diaries which are strategically hidden in my room and that's a book, right? So anyways, “I think she was talking about me, I hope. I've been thinking about it with a smile on my face since.”

4: What do you think about most?

-college and everything i'm neglecting to do

5: What does your latest text message from someone else say?

-”Your glasses should be here in a day or two.”-dad

6: Do you sleep with or without clothes on?

Without. Just underwear. The less the better honestly 😉

7: What’s your strangest talent?

Lol Nothing will prepare you for what I have to say... So every once in awhile but not very often something will happen to my eye and if I press the part by my tear duct next to the bridge of my nose it’ll make a squeaky sound. I think it’s linked to my allergies lol

8: Girls… (finish the sentence); Boys… (finish the sentence)

-Boys go to mars and girls go to jupiter? Haha idk

9: Ever had a poem or song written about you?

-Never had the pleasure.

10: When is the last time you played the air guitar?

-Probably last week tbh

11: Do you have any strange phobias?

-fear of having someone slice the back of my knees

12: Ever stuck a foreign object up your nose?

-I was always more of a sticking foreign objects in my mouth kind of kid (that sounded so bad lol)

13: What’s your religion?

Agnostic I think.

14: If you are outside, what are you most likely doing?

-Fucking around on my ripstik. At the beach, or just walking around exploring.

15: Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

-Neither honestly.

16: Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band?

-Not much of a band person but my favorite artist right now is Chance the Rapper. Green day was good at some point though.

17: What was the last lie you told?

-Probably that I support my dad getting a second job and that I stayed home all week when I didn’t. Both told to my parents. You may be an angel but I am a horrible person inside lol

18: Do you believe in karma?

-Yes.

19: What does your URL mean?

I’m half stud, and half muffin. Style wise. Named by my sister.

20: What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength?

-weakness: no perseverance. strength: finding the good in every bad situation and coming up with clever ways to do things either for fun or to solve problems.

21: Who is your celebrity crush?

-Michelle Rodriguez 😍

22: Have you ever gone skinny dipping?

-Nah

23: How do you vent your anger?

-A frustrated scream, a lot of cussing, a strong urge to punch something. But this only happens if I'm completely alone and can’t hear me and i'm not thinking about consequences. Which is quite literally never. Otherwise, I get very very quiet.

24: Do you have a collection of anything?

-I have a collection of empty water bottles littering my bedroom floor right now?

25: Do you prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online?

-Depends on the conversation and person. But I like video chatting with you to remember what you look like and sound like sometimes. Its also fun 😊

26: Are you happy with the person you’ve become?

-I’d say it’s a nice improvement.

27: What’s a sound you hate; sound you love?

-hate: pure silence because it is most definitely not silent. Love: the sound of grocery bags being carried into my house lol

28: What’s your biggest “what if”?

-What if I stayed in gymnastics or tae kwon do

29: Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens?

-Thats complicated. I believe something happens to the dead and I’m not sure “heaven” is the end destination. Humans are aliens. We are not special and if people believe we are a lone here, their dumb af.

30: Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm.

-My fan and Bob the teddy bear

31: Smell the air. What do you smell?

-Nothing, my allergies are killing me right now.

32: What’s the worst place you have ever been to?

-Nothing's quite made that much of an impression for me to remember such a place.

33: Choose: East Coast or West Coast?

-Theres no snow on the East Coast..I think

34: Most attractive singer of your opposite gender?

-Jidenna. He has an interesting look.

35: To you, what is the meaning of life?

-Life is a grand experiment to test all that can make or break us.

36: Define Art.

- A ketchup stain on a white t-shirt.

37: Do you believe in luck?

-Depends but yes.

38: What’s the weather like right now?

-Blue skies, the sun is shining, a couple baby clouds and the wind is blowing the leaves outside my window. Seems hot.

39: What time is it?

-3:30pm

40: Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed?

-Yes. So many close calls but no not yet.

41: What was the last book you read?

-Book 3 of The Testing series called Graduation Day by Joelle Charbonneau. College interrupted my finishing it.

42: Do you like the smell of gasoline?

-Love it.

43: Do you have any nicknames?

-Shoshoes, Worm.

44: What was the last film you saw?

-Dawn of the Plant of the Apes or maybe Kidnap

45: What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?

-Sprained my neck and back

46: Have you ever caught a butterfly?

-No there scary up close but one landed on my ass once.

47: Do you have any obsessions right now?

-Starting old shows that have like 10 seasons

48: What’s your sexual orientation?

-Lesbian

49: Ever had a rumour spread about you?

-Don’t quite remember but possibly. Nothing to crazy I’m sure

50: Do you believe in magic?

-I believe that there's a possibility for it one day.

51: Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong?

-Yes

52: What is your astrological sign?

-Aries 😈

53: Do you save money or spend it?

-Both. Not a good combination

54: What’s the last thing you purchased?

-Movie tickets

55: Love or lust?

-Lust

56: In a relationship?

-Nope

57: How many relationships have you had?

-One real one.

58: Can you touch your nose with your tongue?

-lol no.

59: Where were you yesterday?

-In my room

60: Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you?

-My shorts are pink and black.

61: Are you wearing socks right now?

-Less clothes the better, remember.

62: What’s your favourite animal?

-Turtles

63: What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you?

-Make em laugh

64: Where is your best friend?

-Home finally I think?

65: Give me your top 5 favourite blogs on Tumblr.

armyofchaos of course, elaxisfae, prettyboyshyflizzy, aniefiok, sixpenceee

66: What is your heritage?

-Who knows.

67: What were you doing last night at 12AM?

-Talking you and playing Assassins Creed

68: What do you think is Satan’s last name?

-Watson

69: Biggest turn ons?

-lol

70: Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend?

-Yes

71: You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do?

-Sorry little guy, I’ve got bills. But I'll call the cops or get someone's attention to do it for me.

72: You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid?

-A: the important people will know. B: Complete my promises. C:Hell yea, the hell is after this life??? What happens to my inner voice? Me???

73: You can only have one of these things; trust or love.

-Trust is love.

74: What’s a song that always makes you happy when you hear it?

-Off the top of my head, Yoga by Janelle Monae and Jidenna.

75: What are the last four digits in your cell phone number?

-5703

76: In your opinion, what makes a great relationship?

-Laughing and communicating

77: How can I win your heart?

-By giving a damn.

78: Can insanity bring on more creativity?

-If I’m to be honest, those pills.

79: What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far?

-Being friends with you

80: What size shoes do you wear?

-All my shoes right now are men's and those are size 8

81: What would you want to be written on your tombstone?

-”Here lies a gay potato”

82: What is your favourite word?

-Fuckernaut. I call ppl that in my head quite often. Yes, that includes you.

83: Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word; heart.

-Fuck.

84: What is a saying you say a lot?

-Oh my god, honestly, definitely, seriously, jeez… I have a problem, help lol

85: What’s the last song you listened to?

-Currently,Drake-Marvins Room.

86: Basic question; what’s your favourite colour/colours?

-Black, army green, burgundy.

87: What is your current desktop picture?

-Some kind of stone stairway/hallway. I should really update it.

88: If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be?

-That fucking orange cheeto with legs.

89: What would be a question you’d be afraid to tell the truth on?

-Depending on the person “How do you really feel?”

90: Turn offs?

-Trump supporters

91: You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power?

-Telekinesis.

92: where are your parents from?

-America

93: You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?

-When my mom started getting sick

94: You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be?

-We’ll go with Kehlani today.

95: You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go?

-You already know where 😊

96: Do you have any relatives in jail?

-Yup, a couple of dumbasses.

97: Have you ever thrown up in the car?

-Not inside the car but out the door on the side of the road.

98: Ever been on a plane?

-When I was little.

99: If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say.

-You stupid fucks.