#Because like... It's not HUMAN singing...

[the-queen-of-geese]

Oh my god. My time has come. It has come. I can finally put to use that one book on animal senses that I reread 80 times.

The notes that the bird is singing might sound repetitive to you because they’re the same 5 notes again and again, but that’s because you can’t hear the temporal fine structure of the note. The kinds of sounds that instruments create are pure notes, meaning the sound oscillates smoothly and looks something like a bunch of hills and valleys. Humans hear this and perceive a single note.

Birds, on the other hand, do not produce pure notes. The structure of the notes they produce looks more like a mountain range—jagged and uneven, like a heart rate monitor but a million times more chaotic. They are able to hear the structure and control it, changing it with every note. To humans, all the notes sound the same. But to the bird, it’s full of tiny nuances that convey massive amounts of information. So no, they aren’t actually singing the same five notes.

How do I communicate to this bird outside our window that its song is repetitive, derivative, and frankly kind of ass. You can't get bitches by just repeating the same five notes over and over, buddy.

[sunderwight]

KPop Demon Hunters theory on the Honmoon & Rumi's powers:

Okay so I am like 75% sure that Celine was full of shit when she said that the Golden Honmoon would remove Rumi's patterns. Rumi seems to be a largely unprecedented hybrid so it's far more likely that Celine herself doesn't know what will happen to her when the Honmoon is fully sealed, especially given that the Honmoon has also never been fully sealed either. It's unclear what all the ramifications of that would be and those ramifications just being purely positive and happening to have the ideal outcome according Celine seems implausible.

To that end, I think the real reason that Rumi's patterns kept increasing as the Honmoon got closer to completion was because something else was going on. The patterns seem to connect to Gwi Ma and the Honmoon seals away everything connected to Gwi Ma, so the most plausible supposition based on that information is, I think, that anything with that Gwi Man connection would get permanently sealed away with him by the Golden Honmoon.

But are all patterns indeed connected to Gwi Ma?

I think not, actually.

Rumi doesn't hear Gwi Ma the way that other demons do. This could be because she's spent her entire life on the other side of the barrier, but as we see with Jinu, Gwi Ma can grab demons connected to him and yoink them across whenever he feels like it. It could then instead be that Rumi was protected by Gwi Ma's ignorance of her existence -- she didn't hear him because he never even thought to look for her -- but if that was the situation, then Gwi Ma definitely would have grabbed her as soon as Jinu reported on her patterns.

Even after Rumi goes full demon, she doesn't seem to be connected to Gwi Ma or susceptible to his influence.

So my theory is, Rumi's dad was a demon, yes, but not all demons are connected to Gwi Ma. Gwi Ma is just one demon king, the one that the hunters focus on especially because of his habit of devouring souls (and because their powers seem to work especially well on him). The patterns are demonic but only those who have made bargains with Gwi Ma have their demonic natures bound into servitude to him. Thus, Rumi is not connected to Gwi Ma.

But Rumi is connected to the Honmoon. For the past five years she's helped strengthen it. Her voice is part of it and her soul is part of it. When her demon powers start to manifest, they ripple through the Honmoon.

So I think Rumi's patterns were starting to spread because her powers were increasing, because she is a demon connected to a massive spiritual network that is powered by human souls. Her voice failing at the same time was a consequence of her anxiety and burnout, not the patterns actually doing anything to her singing (except indirectly). In fact the reason her demon powers were getting stronger was because the Honmoon was getting stronger.

A fun idea to go with this interpretation: if Rumi's voice hadn't given out and Huntrix had rested up and resolved some stuff before properly completing the Golden Honmoon, Rumi would have still ended up going Full Demon Mode because she would have unwittingly created like a perfect base of power for herself. She would have become a demon king, comparable in might to Gwi Ma. Maybe that's even part of what was going on -- through her connection to the Honmoon, that was sealing Gwi Ma away, Rumi was also unwittingly taking his power for herself. This gets way more fanfic-y but I think it's quite fun to contemplate. Rumi thinks she's going to turn herself full human and instead she ends up usurping a millennia-old demon king and stealing his seat of power. Surprise!

[adamsrcnan]

my personal jeremy headcanons because i miss him SO MUUUUCH and he deserves all the love in the world.

he has freckles EVERYWHERE. he hates mushrooms. he can dance really well. he sleeps with his mouth open & drools. he uses emoticons not emojis. he's a leg bouncer when nervous. he can throw a mean punch. he's killed every plant he's tried to keep. jean's lap is his favourite seat. he runs really warm when he sleeps. he's so star fish sleeper, foot hanging off the bed coded. he loves lazily sleepy morning sex. he's a cuddler. he can never be caught in all black - he'll wear bright coloured socks to combat it as long as he knows there's a splash of colour. he's an excellent kisser. his face is way more expressive than he'd ever realise. he's a messy crier. his smell combo is coconut and vanilla. he likes to dig his feet deep into the sand and feel it between his toes. he never has to brush his hair, it annoyingly falls perfectly into place. he sings in the shower. he has messy handwriting. he's bad at math. exceptionally BAD. he's never surfed before but if he tried i know he'd be good at it. he's really good at eating and driving. jean thinks it's a bad habit that he should kick but jeremy doesn't listen. he pouts. HE POUTS. he has annoyingly soft hands (it's unfair but jean loves them, he likes to trace the lines on jeremy's palms). he's such a gross boy sometimes he'll smell his clothes to determine if they need a wash or not (this is after he moves out with jean and has to learn how to do chores like a normal human and not a pampered white boy). if he can't make anything to eat he'll just eat cereal. he bites into ice cream and never gets brain freeze. blowjob KING!!! when he's older he'll need to wear reading glasses and he likes the super old fashioned ones with thick frames. he's a generous tipper. he's the annoying "feet on the dashboard" passenger. he loves being called "jean's boyfriend". he's a jealous little bean that WILL introduce himself as "the boyfriend" if someone is getting too close to his man. he's not ticklish at ALL & it's very weird (contradicting my last post it's fine). he's a "sit on the floor" guy and loves a good fluffy rug. he'd be one of those kids that always had scrapes and bruises bc he'd be falling all over the place, off trees, off bikes, you name it. leaf eater as a kid! he likes to steal laila's scented body oils and perfume oils. his favourite flavour of ice cream is vanilla (basic ass bit-). if he sits next to you on a couch he will stick his feet under your thighs. when he smiles he looks like his grandma. when jean tells him this he almost cries.

[chosentragedy]

/// SPOILER FOR JOHNNY ENDING BC I AM BEING WHIPLASHED

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You are TELLING ME.

THAT HIS SINGING IS ASS IS BC OF OUR FAULT.

(When he turnt humans he sings great)

AS IT TURNS OUT, HE SINGS LIKE ASS BC OF THE SHOWER IS FALLING APART???

It was also foreshadowed multiple times BC Johnny complains about needing fixing/replacement etc alot.

AND HE IS STILL NICE TO US.

the fucking plot twist. idk how Johnny is still so nice to us because I would have CHOKE the MFK on point if I was him. Years of being bullied and almost giving up on his dream because the fuckass Dookie stinky homeowner can't be bothered to fix the shower despite Johnny keep telling us that he's literally falling apart.

I hope Johnny lives his best life now that he is famous and never talks to us again cause we high-keys deserve it 🩷

[everythingisamazing]

Here’s a "fun" analysis of why Jayce’s first speech in the astral plane doesn’t work — and why so many Jayces before him have failed to convince their partner: Viktor doesn’t care about being saved for his own sake. And as painful as it is to admit: he doesn’t care about being loved for his imperfections.

Why do I believe this? Because the show repeatedly emphasizes what Viktor does care about — across both seasons. And it all begins with one of the very first lines we ever hear from him, as a child in the flashback:

"Can I help?"

Later, when Viktor speaks to Heimerdinger about his impending death, what is his main concern? Not that he’s dying — but that he hasn’t done enough. That he’s only achieved figments.

When he and Jayce experiment with the Hexcore and the plants, it's Jayce who focuses on finding a cure for Viktor. Viktor, once again, talks about saving others.

I don’t even think his decision to experiment on himself with the Hexcore was ever truly about saving his own life — but rather about buying more time. Time to achieve what he hoped Hextech could accomplish for the world.

And while Viktor’s “death” technically happens in Season 1, it’s really his arc in Season 2 that made me read it this way: Because despite everything that changes — from who he is at the beginning of the series to the moment he creates the commune — one thing doesn’t change: His utter disregard for his own well-being in the pursuit of helping others.

From the very first moment we see him use his powers, the show makes it clear: it comes at a cost. His attempt to heal ending with his legs shaking and him falling to his knees.

Singed, when he visits the commune, even talks to Viktor about his "decline," as he calls it — how his power is diminishing with every use. (Viktor answering this by asking whether he believes in fate is... interesting, but that’ll be an analysis for another time.) And what does Viktor do? He pretty much ignores him and keeps trying — which is no different from what S1 Viktor would have done. So, to summarize: I feel like Viktor sees his own survival as a means to an end — as if he is merely a vessel for saving others, not a person worth saving himself. His body, not as something imperfect yet beautiful (as Jayce calls it), but as an inconvenience — something that gets in the way of achieving meaningful change.

Now, I can’t tell you why Viktor sees himself that way — the show doesn’t explain it, because, as mentioned above, he already holds this mindset when we first meet him as a child. To play armchair psychologist, I’d assume it has something to do with his loneliness, and how helping others through his mind feels like the one meaningful way he can connect with them.

And how does his relationship with Jayce play into all this? Jayce, as stated by the writers, connects Viktor to his humanity. In this reading, I’d say: Jayce is the one thing Viktor can’t help but be selfish about. Because when Mage Viktor saves Jayce as a child, he likely does more harm than good in many timelines. And yet — he does it anyway.

There’s no time in the show for Viktor to fully work through this issue. At best, he might have started to realize, by the end, how this approach caused more harm than good. But I don’t think he’s anywhere near caring for himself. That’s why Jayce’s "You always wanted to cure what you thought were weaknesses" speech “fails” — while "Because I promised you" works. I hope I’m not getting too psychological here, but I feel like for someone who’s so committed to helping others, honoring a promise is far easier for Viktor to understand than the concept of self-love.

It might even be a bit of a callback to when Sky warns him about trying to save Vander — and Viktor replies, "He is worth the risk." I think that’s a sentiment Viktor understands deeply. And he sees it reflected back at him through Jayce in that final moment. He can empathize with Jayce’s need to do right by him, even if he can’t yet empathize with himself. (That part — well, that’s for all the angst-with-a-happy-ending fics to figure out).

[momo-kageyama]

When the Silence Breaks

—————————————————————————

Anime: KPop Demon Hunters

—————————————————————————

Garam ( Mystery Saja ) x R.femele.

—————————————————————————

Mystery Saja is a human girl called Y/N, who is her complete opposite: hyperactive, dramatic, expressive - and who loves to sing and dance out of nowhere. The scene is full of contrast, comic tension, silent enchantment and a supernatural touch

Seeing Garam's eyes for the first time is a sweeping experience, almost supernatural, so beautiful, so impactful, that it leaves you groundless

You two realize that you love each other... at the same time. Nothing said before. Only accumulated tension, touches that didn't happen, repressed feelings - and then... boom, the two explode at the same time.

They are still opposites - you: alive, dramatic, noisy. He: quiet, observant, sensitive in silence.

But together... they are something unique.

—————————————————————————

—Abandoned subway station — Seoul underground, 2 am

The metallic echo of the failing lights mixes with the distant sound of a ghost train. Mystery Saja is there, alone, standing, in the middle of the deactivated platform. The shadows cover much of your face. His long hair falls like an opaque curtain, hiding the look that observes the space as if he already knew what will happen.

He is investigating a possible soul extraction point - a quick mission, no surprises. Until...

Y/N literally explodes from the darkness, spinning like a musical dancer.

- "I WANNA DANCE, THE MUSIC'S GOT ME GOING—!" - she sings in loud English, performing with her arms, spinning and almost stumbling on her own foot.

Mystery Saja retreats half a step. Without saying a word.

- "AH!" - Y/N stops abruptly, wide eyes. - "Young man?! Are you... hidden in the pitch or just training for the comeback?"

Silence. The hair still covers Mystery Saja's face. He doesn't answer.

She tilts her head dramatically.

- "Or are you a stalker?" - she asks, but smiles as if it were just another character she plays on the stage of life.

- "You look like an idol in disguise... But like... the dark concept. Like, very dark. Like, 'my heart is a wet cave where love was buried with coarse salt'.”

Mystery Saja gives a slight sigh - or maybe he just moved his left shoulder. It's hard to say. But he won't leave.

Y/N turns again. - "WHAT is it that you have in your hair? Is it a nest? Can I see your face? No, seriously... you're beautiful—”

Mystery raises his hand, in a calm and slow gesture, asking for silence. But it's almost kind.

Y/N for.

Blinking.

As if I were in shock.

For two seconds.

- "Do you speak with your hands???"

- "Are you like... magic mute? Because if it is, TEACH ME! I always wanted to be mysterious, like... 'she never talks, but everyone fears her'!"

She then dives into another theatrical performance. She makes a ninja gesture and begins to move as if she were in a dramatic boy group choreography.

- "Look, I learned that here watching Taemin's fancam."

And dance. In his face.

Mystery Saja doesn't move. But under the bangs, his eyes follow the movements. For a second, she swears she saw the corner of her mouth rise... almost a smile.

- "A-HA! I SAW THIS! You smiled! CONFESS!"

Total silence.

She approaches.

- "It's okey... I'll leave you alone."

Start walking, slowly.

Then sing softly:

- "But if you want to follow me, just clap once..."

PAH.

The dry sound of a lonely palm echoes.

She freezes.

Turn around, slowly.

Mystery Saja is in the same place.

But... his left hand, suspended in the air, reveals that he applauded.

- "... You're kidding me."

She smiles.

- "YOU HAVE PERSONALITY! I KNEW!"

Y/N runs to him.

- "Look, I don't know if you're a mysterious spirit, a misunderstood dancer, or a K-pop demon fallen into my world - but I officially declare that you will be my new project! 'Revealing the cute side of the mysterious emo'. It's going to pump."

She raises her cell phone.

Mystery Saja simply... turns her back.

But it won't go away.

And she understands.

He doesn't want to be seen. But you also don't want her to leave.

Then she sits on the floor, crossing her legs.

It begins to imitate his silent gestures.

Mirroring the arms, the shoulders, the head tilted.

After a few minutes, he turns around again.

Just watch her.

And slowly, very slowly, puts his index finger on his chest - a universal gesture that says:

"You're... different."

She smiles. Dramatically, of course.

- "You too."

———————

The subway lights fail again.

A ghost train crosses from behind, cutting the darkness with its greenish glow.

When the light returns, Y/N is alone.

But on the wall, painted with black fog and demonic magic, a mark appears:

A symbol of theater - half sad, half smiling.

She laughs.

- "There, emo silent... I liked you."

—————————————————————————

—Several meetings over the weeks, in secret places in Seoul

- The alley lit only by neon

You appeared dancing out of nowhere, with a pocket radio playing a Korean trot remix. I was trying to do a choreography that "mixed musical diva with capoeira fighter".

- "Do you see this kick? It's to send the negativity away!"

You're cute. The foot escapes.

You almost fell.

He catches you.

Without saying anything.

Just safe.

You expect a scolding. Or a chuck.

But Garam only holds it for a second longer than necessary.

And then, with a light touch on your hair, he fixes your messy bangs.

You blink, surprise.

He walks away.

But something stayed there.

————————

- The forgotten sanctuary at the top of the hill

You arrived late, disheveled and singing loudly:

- " LET LIFE TAKE ME - LIFE TAKES ME!"

Garam was already there, meditating.

He just sighs... but doesn't leave.

You dance around him. Make voices. Imitations of doramas.

- "Master Garam, why does the heart suffer so much?"

He raises an eyebrow.

And with a theatrical gesture, you collapse on your own arms pretending to cry.

He doesn't laugh.

But that day, when you finally shut up for 10 seconds...

He drew a small symbol on the stone, with demonic energy.

It was a little animal.

With weird hair and open arms.

A caricature of you.

You saw it.

- "Is it serious that you made a chibi of mine???"

He just turned his face.

But you saw the tip of his ear fly fly.

——————————

— Summer rain, deserted street

You showed up with a transparent raincoat, sunglasses and a flashlight.

- "IT'S THE PARADE OF THE STARS IN THE FORM OF PEOPLE! BAM!"

He jumped in the puddle of water.

The water splashed even on him.

Garam stopped.

He looked at the wet body.

Then, for you.

You froze.

- "E-ita. Sorry, it was... it was number 14 of my water soil!"

Silence.

So...

He passed by you.

Wet, calm.

And for the first time, he said something with a hoarse and low voice:

- "You don't match silence... but I like to hear what you don't say."

You crashed.

- "Wait, wait, do you speak?? YOU SAID IT!"

You stumble in emotion and fall on the wet floor.

Garam extends his hand.

And when you hold...

He holds on tight.

Firmer than before.

—————————————————————————

She's chaos. I'm silent.

She shows off to the world. I run away from him.

She dances without fear. I was made to stay still.

But when she smiles... I move unintentionally.

He starts watching you from afar when you're not together.

Find videos of you dancing on the street, making bizarre reels, imitating idols.

Laughing alone.

Being alive.

And without realizing...

He starts to smile.

—————————————————————————

- Secret stage

You drag him to an abandoned stage in the basement of a cultural center.

- "This time, it's your turn. Come dance with me."

He hesitates.

You're getting closer.

- "You don't have to be perfect. Just feel."

And you dance.

Slow, this time.

Dramatic.

He observes.

Take a step.

Then another one.

And finally, dance with you - not like a trained idol, but like Garam: silent, elegant, intense.

And in the end...

With the bodies stood, almost glued...

He leans his forehead against yours.

The eyes still covered by the hair.

And whisper, so low that only you hear:

- "You move me."

—————————————————————————

The night was quiet. An absolute silence hovered over the roof of the abandoned temple, where you and Garam had met, once again.

He was as always: still, his dark hair covering half of his face, his dense bangs protecting his eyes like a sacred veil. He was pure enigma. Untouchable. A marble painting.

You danced.

As always.

Not to impress him.

But because his body didn't know how to stay still.

Because the world was too intense not to be lived with movement.

And then... you stopped.

He felt.

Something changed in the air.

You turned around, slowly.

He was there.

This time... closer.

And with a slow and thoughtful hand, he moved his hair away from his face.

He revealed his eyes.

From that ethereal tone, impossible to name.

They radiated a dark light, sparkling like an eclipse.

It wasn't a color. It was a sensation.

Time has stalled.

You forgot what it was like to breathe.

The body frosted.

The heart melted.

The legs failed.

And then you whispered - low, honest, shocked with yourself:

- "... damn it."

- "I came."

An even greater silence fell.

Your face burned.

- "I MEAN... METAPHORICALLY! MY BRAIN CAME! MY... MY HEART!"

You threw yourself on the floor.

He shermed.

He hid under his own blouse.

- "OH MY GOD, DID I SAY THAT OUT LOUD?"

Garam didn't say it.

But when you dared to look again...

He was smiling.

Not openly.

Not largely.

But the corner of his mouth was there.

Raised.

Subtle.

Accomplice.

And for a moment - just one - he tilted his face and murmured:

- "You always say exactly what you feel."

- "This is rare."

You shrank more.

- "AND YOU ALWAYS SHOW UP WITH THIS DEMON BEAUTY FROM VERSACE!"

He just smiled a little more.

Then, he knelt next to him.

Without saying anything, he stretched out his hand.

You faced it.

Then he laughed.

He put his hand on his.

- "If you show me those eyes again, I'll scream."

- "Like 'scream in five octaves'."

He replied, whispering:

- "Then scream."

—————————————————————————

—An old rehearsal room, covered with broken mirrors

The wooden floor creaks. The air smells of memory.

You're there.

Alone.

Or at least, you think you are.

You turn in the center of the room.

Make poses. Steps without music.

Dance with your breath.

When it stops, he realizes:

He's there.

Leaning against one of the columns, between cracked mirrors.

Watching you.

As always.

But today... he's not still.

He walks up to you.

Without looking away.

The eyes are visible.

Again.

- "Garam..." - you start, with a low voice, not knowing if you're going to speak or cry or sing a romantic song from the 90s just to break the mood.

He stops one step away.

Take a deep breath.

You too.

For a second, the whole time exists between you.

Everything that was felt and not said.

The hands that almost touched.

The looks turned away.

The unspoken "thank you".

The dances you pretended were just a joke.

He raises his hand.

You too.

Fingers almost touch each other.

And then, at the same time, in a weak, nervous, sincere whisper:

- "I love you."

You say it together.

Silence.

A shock.

His eyes widen.

His lips open in a nervous laugh.

- "DID YOU ALSO SAY? I SWEAR IT WASN'T PLANNED, IT WAS JUST—”

He pulls you.

With delicacy, but urgency.

And for the first time, Garam really hugs you.

With the whole body.

With all the feelings.

You feel his chest rise and fall.

Feel his silence saying everything.

And with your head on his shoulder, you say, softly:

- "My heart also dances, okay?"

He smiles against your hair.

And answer:

- "Now he dances with me."

—————————————————————————

—A hidden terrace at the top of an old building, night of clear sky

The city lights are flashing downstairs, but up here everything is quiet.

You and Garam are sitting side by side, without touching each other.

The wind messes up your hair.

His bangs fall over his eyes - as always.

You stayed there for a long time just... existing.

You talked about everything and nothing.

He made faces, imitated an idol getting sick on stage, danced twice without any music.

He laughed. Really.

A light laugh. A rare sound.

And then... silence arrived.

But it wasn't uncomfortable.

It was full.

You look at him.

He's already looking at you.

His bangs move with the wind.

For the first time, you see his eyes completely, without shadow, without filter.

The color - still impossible to describe - shines with something new.

Desire. Affection. Passion. Fear.

You whisper:

- "If you kiss me now, I'll explode."

- "Seriously. Become emotional confetti."

Garam doesn't answer.

He just leans.

Slow.

Mesmerizing.

His hand touches your face as if you were made of glass.

The touch is almost a whisper.

But his heat burns.

You hold your breath.

Time stops.

His lips touch yours as if they were testing the limits between dream and reality.

And then...

He kisses you.

Not in a hurry.

Not with despair.

But with depth. For sure.

Like someone who finally understood what the silence was screaming.

Your fingers close in his clothes.

His hands hold your face as if they wanted to keep you there forever.

When the kiss ends, you still have your eyes closed.

The heart hammering.

You laugh.

Shorty.

Panting.

- "It's. Confirm there: did this happen or was it a fanfic that my freaked out mind wrote in real time?"

He leans his forehead against yours.

And with a deep, low, hoarse voice:

- "If it's fanfic... I want the next chapter."

—————————————————————————

"Picnic on the roof"

You show up with a colorful towel, a bright pink lunch box and giant sunglasses.

- "Today we're going to eat in heaven!"

Garam only raises an eyebrow.

- "I know you don't need to eat, but it will be romantic. So pretend."

You sit on the roof of the Saja Boys headquarters. You serve heart-shaped onigiris, which clearly came out crooked.

- "I tried."

He takes one.

Eat. In silence.

Then, slowly, draw a heart on the top of your hand with your finger.

You die inside.

But smile. Silly.

And says:

- "You're cuter than me, and that annoys me."

—————————

TikTok banned (but he showed up!)

You are recording a video dancing "Feel Special" in the bathroom of Saja HQ.

- "Go, Garam, just a little step!"

He crosses his arms. Neutral.

You pout absurdly.

Pretend to cry.

Throw yourself on the floor.

He sighs...

And then, he enters the board discreetly, just taking that little side step.

The video goes viral.

The fanbase explodes.

"WHO IS THE GUY WITH THE HAIR IN THE EYE WHO DANCES LIKE A HANDSOME GHOST?"

You answer in the comments:

"MY BOYFRIEND. KISSES. HE'S REAL."

Garam just looks at the screen with a neutral expression.

But at night, he shows up in your room.

And whispers:

- "I liked dancing with you."

———————————

"Kisses hidden between the shows"

Between one rehearsal and another, when everyone is focused on the big screens...

He passes behind you, silent.

Just put your finger on your hand.

You turn around.

He pulls you into a dark corner.

And kisses you in a hurry, as if the world were going to end - but only for him.

Then he leaves as if nothing had happened.

You go back to the zonza stage.

- "DID SOMEONE WRITE DOWN THE KISS SIGN??"

—————————

"Rain and laughter"

One night, you are caught in a storm.

You dance.

He... leaves it.

You pull him by the hand.

- "If getting wet together is like... soul pact, you know?"

He just looks at you, wet, hair stuck to his face.

- "Do you want my soul?"

You answer:

- "I already got it. When I saw your eyes for the first time, remember?"

He holds your waist.

Kiss you right there.

In the rain.

In the middle of the street.

You scream with joy.

He holds your hand.

Strong.

Hot.

—————————

Short extras :

• You imitate him perfectly in front of the Saja Boys (with your hair covering your face and everything). He doesn't react. But then, he leaves a note: "I liked it. Your version of me smiles more. Maybe I'll learn from her."

• You steal his sweatshirt. He doesn't complain. Only show up the next day... wearing your cropped with bread print. You faint laughing.

• When you're sad, he doesn't say anything. Just lie down next to you and hold your hand. You cry. He's still there. Until the world comes back.

—————————————————————————

Garam's secret room - dark walls, starry ceiling with magical projections, amber incense in the air

You enter his space for the first time.

He never let anyone in there.

But today... he opens the door.

His hands touch your waist, guiding you inside.

Calm, as always.

But there's something different in the air.

In his eyes.

You feel it.

His body is too hot.

The short breath.

He closes the door.

You turn around, with a joke ready on your lips:

- "Is it my impression or is it getting hot here-"

He shuts you up with a kiss.

But not like the others.

This... doesn't ask for permission.

He takes it.

With the mouth, with the hands, with the body.

You retreat until your back hits the wall.

He holds you by the hip.

With his mouth on his neck, he bites.

You moan - surprise.

- "Garam...?" - you try to ask.

But what comes out of his throat is not a word.

It's a low growl.

Pure desire.

The mask fell off.

The silent, delicate man... is burning inside.

You laugh, nervous.

- "I-I thought you were shy-"

He tears his doubt with his hot tongue on the curve of his shoulder.

Your clothes fall.

Slowly.

Then in a hurry.

He lays you on the bed - huge, dark, fragrant with him.

His eyes shine with an intensity impossible to face.

You try to deviate...

But he holds his chin firmly and says, for the first time with a deep and raw voice:

- "Look at me."

And you look.

And see there everything he never said:

The desire, the love, the hunger, the devotion, the control that he kept for so long...

Exploding now.

He touches you as if he were decorating your body with his hands.

The fingers walk with demonic precision.

The mouth devours, then caresses, then bites again.

You moan loudly.

He smiles - satisfied.

Like a predator who waited for the right time.

You pull it, try to invert...

But he holds your wrists.

Firmly.

With possession.

- "Today, you are mine."

And you feel it.

His every movement, every attack, is firm, deep, burning.

He studies you, feels you, marks you.

There is no more silence.

The bed creaks.

The air smells of body and sweat and desire.

Their names come out as prayers.

Hours later, when you're lying on top of him, trembling body, heart racing...

You whisper:

- "You... you're a savage..."

He just runs his fingers through your hair and answers, panting, with a hoarse smile:

- "You set me free."

——————————

His body still trembles on top of him.

Sweat runs in slow lines down your skin.

The hair stuck to your face.

You are completely surrendered, surrendered.

But Garam...

He doesn't look away.

He's lying on his back, hugging you as if you were the most precious secret he kept for too long.

You whisper, with a tired smile:

- "Did you have this monster inside you all the time?"

- "And you just let go now?"

He puts his lips on your shoulder.

- "I didn't know it was a monster... until you opened the cage."

You feel your skin shiver.

He turns you slowly, putting you underneath again - in no hurry, but with intention.

His eyes burn.

But now it's different.

It's slower. Deeper.

He's hungry again. But now, emotionally.

His mouth runs through his body as if he were apologizing for everything he didn't say before.

His fingers trace the contour of your face, your chest, your belly...

He kisses every curve.

And when you moan softly, almost unconscious, he smiles.

The most real smile you've ever seen in him.

- "I like to hear your voice... when you're not pretending anything."

You answer:

- "And I like it when you talk. Even if it's just to drive me crazy."

He smiles more.

And then, slowly, it climbs over you again.

The hands hold your thighs.

The eyes glued to yours.

You ask, almost in defiance:

- "Again?"

He answers, with the deepest voice he's ever heard from him:

- "How many times can you stand it?"

————————

Hours later...

The dawn turned early in the morning.

You're wrapped up in his black sheets.

The soft body.

The soul flying.

Garam is sitting next to you, touching your fingers one by one.

Watching you.

You joke:

- "Are you going to curse me now? Like, arrest my soul with that demonic touch?"

He leans over.

Kiss your forehead.

Then the lips.

Then the center of the chest.

- "No. I'll just keep you here."

You hold his hand and touch your heart.

- "Too late."

—————————

Small post-first time moments:

• He watches you sleep. For the first time, he sleeps next to you without fear. And even in his nightmares... when he feels his hand holding his, he returns to the present.

Bath together. He takes you to the dark and warm bathroom, with steam and essences. Wash your hair patiently. You sing all the time. Just touch your forehead to your wet back and say:

- "Being with you is like listening to an infinite song."

• Kisses that break routine. In the middle of the day, in the middle of a corridor, out of nowhere - he pulls you, kisses you hard, without explanation.

You just say:

- "Garam, you're making me unaccustomed."

He answers:

- "It's the least. After what you showed me."

—————————————————————————

His dark room, the night, just the two of you

Garam is close to you, the air loaded with tension.

He looks at you with those hypnotic eyes, full of fire and desire.

His body is tense, like a predator waiting.

You feel his warmth, the unique, almost wild perfume.

He advances, whispering in your ear with a hoarse voice:

- "I can't... you drive me crazy."

You smile, hold his face firmly and say:

- "Garam, be quiet."

He blinks, confused for a second, then raises an eyebrow.

- "Quiet? Do you think it's easy, when I want you like this?"

You caress his hair, making him take a deep breath.

He tries to control his voice, but can only growle low, almost a moan.

You joke, biting your lip:

- "You look like a dog in heat, did you know? If it continues like this, I'll have to hold you on a collar."

He gives a mischievous smile.

- "If it's up to you, I'll accept the collar."

You laugh and press an intense kiss, almost telling him to shut up.

He surrenders, but his eyes say:

- "But I'll come back, and with more desire."

—————————————————————————

Inspiring name in the post of:

@filijester

[lushthemagicdragon]

I am absolutely obsessed with how Sammie is shot in this scene in comparison to his father. It's directly tied into a tl;dr I have about both how Christianity is treated in this film and how the magic system works in this story and so, while at some point I might write a whole ass blog post (or even an academic paper) in the future, here's the cliffnote word vomit version of why I think this is so fucking cool:

So basically, this film frames Christianity as one of the villains of the story (along with the white-liberalism-culture-vampires and the Klan), and heavily implies that what Sammie's dad wants from him is the same as what Remmick wants from him: to be used for the power of his music and subsumed into a soulless, cultureless whole. Where Sammie is lit in warm tones and dressed in warm colors, backdropped by green nature, his dad is lit in very stark cool tones with minimal contrast so he's almost in monochrome, surrounded only by the empty whiteness of the chapel. This film very clearly delivers a thesis that Christianity is a real-world culture-vampire that white people inflicted on the Black community, from the way Sammie's dad is shot and lit to look like the vampires do in this film, from Delta Slim's clear delineation that the blues isn't like that "religion they forced on us", to the way that Sammie's return to the chapel at the start and finish is intercut with scenes of Remmick. These flashes of Remmick and the horrors of that night that are cut into Sammie's dad telling him to repent and drop the guitar are the catalyst for Sammie leaving, because he figures it out. And in part he figured it out BECAUSE of the second thing that is fascinating, and that is basically the consistency of the magic system.

Basically, the magic system in this movie is antithetical to Christianity as a whole.

I'm going to preface this by saying that when I talk about Annie's hoodoo I'm NOT talking about real world hoodoo, which I know nothing about. I'm just talking about how the film presents hoodoo, and how the film presents the fae, and how these things all function within the same cohesive magic system.

Annie's Hoodoo, Sammie's music, and the Vampires are all diametrically opposed to Christianity, and are all within the realm of Faërie magic.

So when I say Faerie I don't mean specifically the sidhe, though the sidhe are part of Faerie. By Faerie magic I mean specifically the magic of the natural world, which is often ancestral, and often associated with an Otherworld that is still part of the World itself but is greater than humans. This is as opposed to sorcery (man-made magic) or heavenly/satanic (abrahamic/usually christian magic). When I say the entire magic system is Faërie it is because the Vampires are very CLEARLY laid out as Faërie, while Sammie's magic and Annie's Hoodoo are all part of the same consistent system of magic, laid out right at the start.

So basically right from the very first scene the film puts West African magic, Choctaw magic and ancient Irish magic as existing within the same frame of reality. All three have a concept of the magical singer, and all three (we later find out) know about vampires. It establishes that these all function in the same magic system, which is the Reality of this Secondary World. What is real for one group in this magic system is real for all of them. They may use different language to talk about the same thing, but the concepts are the same across the board in this universe. We're just talking about fictional secondary world magic system building here, and consistent storytelling, not real world understandings of these things.

the vampires are the most clearly Fae creatures (and by this I don't mean Fairies, but creatures associated with Faërie--imo they're like Changelings in that they were once human and then become Fae). Remmick is ancient Irish, out here singing Irish folk songs and handing gold coins to people at a crossroads, saying that the gold comes from an ancient place but it's no use to Mary while she's "alive" (human and not of the fae). It's super on-the-nose almost to the point of being irish stereotype caricature. I'll come back to him.

Annie's Hoodoo is never outright put in opposition to Christianity, but it's significant that she is not a mixed practitioner. There are no clear icons or crosses in her home. The grave marker for their dead child is not a cross but a carved African figure, which is very significant in 1930s Mississippi. She is solely a hoodoo practitioner, who lives in a ramshackle cottage in the words selling magical/natural cures. She's very witch-in-the-wood coded, but is never ever presented as wicked or evil. She's also the only spiritual figure in the film that can be trusted, and she is trusted implicitly. She is also the one who understands the consistency of the magic systems, as the teller of the intro tale and as the one who knows how to fight the vampires. This includes throwing NOT holy water on them, but garlic pickling juice. Crosses are also never used in her instructions on how to push them away (a very common vampire trope), just garlic, silver, fire, and stakes. I would also argue that Smoke's death scene with her and the baby is NOT heavenly, it's just afterlife coded (because white is generally the afterlife color code for visual media). Again, no angels, no heavenly coding, just afterlife coding. You COULD argue that she's virgin mary coded in this scene because she's breastfeeding, but we did see her actively have sex on screen earlier so that's tenuous at best. It's also shot with that same warped camera affect that happens whenever the mojo bag is in-use.

Then there is the Music. Music in general is a very common magical device in Faërie magic, and Tolkien is like the king of this: music holds power than the spoken word does not, music is the truest art of creating enchantment, this secondary world that the fae can produce, a fully realized enchanted art form. tl;dr there's a lot here but that's the cliffnotes version. Delta Slim outright says that the music is brought with them from home, rather than being forced upon them like Christianity. Sammie's music is what Sammie's dad wants to stamp out of him, or at least use to his limited means. It's Sammie's connection to the music that makes him a sinner in his father's eyes. But this is really hammered home in the final scene between Remmick and Sammie and then Sammie and his dad.

So I don't actually think Remmick's final monologue is supposed to be a final villain monologue so much as a final exposition monologue. I think the final villain monologue is Sammie's dad trying to compel him with the power of Christ, based on story structure. Generally speaking, a final villain monologue is supposed to be the peak of their evil plan, which is then foiled and shown to be wrong by the actions of the heroes. That's not exactly what Remmick's final speech does. In the final speech, Remmick explains that Christianity is the reason his culture is dead (and so the reason for the culture vampire void that needs to be filled), but he also says the following:

"They told stories of a heaven above and a devil below, and lies about the dominion of man over heaven and earth. We are earth and beast and God. We are woman and man. We are connected, you and I, to everything."

*if* this was a classic villain finale monologue, the response to this would have been "oh look this weird anti-christian pagan creature is monologuing, so he's evil, and the church is good and correct and the Truth", but that isn't how the film ends. Instead, the Remmick looks into the sunrise and hears the call of the Otherworld and his people (rather than say, heaven, because it's given that same Faerie irish lilt) but instead the music turns and he goes up in horrible flames for his crimes. UP in flames, up into the sky, which is NOT Christian for a "demon" to do in death (because he's not a demon, he's fae, Sammie calls him the devil repeatedly because he hasn't figured this out yet). The film "ends" (prior to the epilogue) with Sammie remembering the torment he went through from these vampires, after hearing this monologue, while at the church with his father trying to compel him to join *his* coven/clan/flock, and Sammie realizing that what his father is doing to him is this same repeated cycle of violence that happened to Remmick and that Remmick was trying to repeat onto him, and LEAVES.

Because of this, I think those lines above are not the typical final villain monologue, but the final bit of exposition that tells the audience the truth: that Sammie's magic and Remmick's magic (and Annie's magic as the one spiritual figure of the bunch) are all connected, you and I, to everything, with no dominion of man over heaven and earth. It establishes the magic system as consistent, and diametrically opposed to Christianlity

Faerie is morally neutral, it is the magic-of-the-World rather than of a moral dichotomy. It can be revelatory and healing, and it can be seductive and destructive. Annie and Sammie's magic is Good, and the Vampires are Evil, but they are all together diametrically opposed to the Church.

This is why the framing of Sammie and his dad in that opening scene is so fascinating, because behind Sammie is the natural world, warm and vibrant and welcoming, and behind his dad is man-made emptiness and shadow. Title of the film says it all, this film is ABOUT the so-called Sinners, the un-Christians. And that's not presented as a bad thing to be at all, but a truly magical thing, and that being a Sinner is joyous activity.

[azonewithu]

Do t teach ur punk nigga ass kids at mathnasiem b try teaching them dome morals which i slready know theyre gonna severely lack. Do t ask me how i know everything i just do. Yeah uour old man aint scary to ke but i know i sm to hommif i font scare youre a godless demon ill squadh like a bug. Fewr me bitch its proper its apt its accurate. Yeah im saun americannkids hot no morals look at you. If i have to go into detail om just gonna put osn oermanent end to LA to solves these problems. Yeah nobody in cali is big or bad to me you yhink you are but youre obviously you were wrong about that. And scrapping me is t an option gor snyone let alone some rapper. Blow it out ur ass ur nit bad ur just bored. Ha ha ha chimp ade chimp ill byry you in hell. The battle ended if you fidnt notice because you are that dumb ya fuckn lost big time. And ill expect yas to shut the fuck up about it snd thats it. Dont dpoil ur kids do bad they fo t stsnd up or look that great. You cant spoil people like that snd exoect thrm yo be human or loved by God. Take away all their shit see how they fuckn do. Put some in a real situation see if they survive. Youre sll right youte diuffwrwnt bbt ill tell ya one thing i font ever need to hear your daughter sing. Therell be nothing new in the vlice thats why. The struggle is what makes great kusic. Its not a formula you can repeat gorever and expect peopke to listen. Spoiled ass rspper kids telling je theyre hard when i can tell they aint.its in the eyes. Mine are hard. But soft too. Ots been twenty year my Ukranian bodyguards tell ke time is up for your husband. Oh youll see when i show up with them. Raguel prepare our way. I lade a deal with you know who. Ill see you soon.

[earthsparked]

Hallo!! Hallo!!

It's me!!! F.T!!

Tomorrow is going to be my birthday:D(June 26)

I randomly want to ask on how bots would feel or how they'd act about their human friends on their birthday!

Like would they give their human companions gifts? Would they willingly sing happy birthday? Etc?

-F.T

Happy birthday, F.T.! 🎉

Hot Rod is a little confused, but he gets the spirit. This is a special day for you because you emerged from an egg delivered by a stork that landed in a cabbage patch or something (he does not need details). Therefore you are being treated to a new competitive sport, which he has created: having the best birthday. This IS a competition and he is going to win it. You’re getting presents (weird ones, possibly stolen). You’re getting food (definitely stolen). You’re getting a very confused bagpiper who has been hired to follow you around and make sure everyone knows it’s your birthday.

Optimus is a lot more low-key. He actually has some grasp on what the day means, and though he’s not much into presents, he definitely wishes you a happy day. Maybe he spends some time with you talking about your life and what you’re proudest of having done. I bet he’d do something like take you for a drive to have a heartfelt talk about where you want the rest of your life to go, while enjoying some beautiful scenery.

Drift would be in the middle: he’d get the specialness of the day, for sure, but he might be hesitant to engage too much out of fear of insulting you somehow or overstepping. He’d definitely invite you to meditate with him, and probably give you some insight into your life through a deep philosophical conversation from his perspective of spectralism. And then he’d solemnly tell you how much better the world is with you in it, and hesitantly give you a present that he got someone else’s help to pick out for you. Something in a color that really represents your best qualities and his hopes that you’ll have a fruitful year.

Whirl is dragging you to the bar. You’re going to do karaoke and shots. Or you’re going to watch him do karaoke and shots. Either way. He threatens everyone into singing happy birthday to you. Ends the night giving you some incredibly expensive present you’ve wanted for ages, and absolutely will not say where he got it from or how he knew.

Bumblebee is more in tune with human culture, so you’re getting the full traditional birthday experience. Fortunately UberEats is a thing. A catered party, balloons, a cake, some small but very funny and cute gifts. He definitely reminded all your family and friends about the party by hacking their phones so nobody forgets. Gets in a little scuffle with Jazz and Blaster over who gets to DJ the party. This leads to some interesting musical selections.

Ratchet acts like he doesn’t care, but he gives you a book on some subject you’ve been fascinated by for ages. Gruffly brushes it off when you thank him. Yeah, yeah, go on, he’s busy. Get out of his medbay. Secretly smiles to himself after you hug his ankle and bounce off to go read your new book.

Jazz throws a rave that turns out to be a trap for the Decepticons. They bust up your party, but you had a killer time first and Jazz has done something insane like hack into your favorite restaurant and given you free food for life.

Prowl also hacks something for your birthday. You get a notice that your student loans, medical debt, credit cards, car payments, parking tickets, mortgage, etc. have all mysteriously been paid off. He will never admit to doing this.

[storyofyourlife-withavengers]

“The Den of Mischief”

(Bucky x Reader)

Avengers Compound, early evening

There was no warning. No mission briefing. No alarms. Just the quiet creak of the compound’s hallway floor as Bucky Barnes returned from a run, towel slung around his neck, earbuds still in.

He opened the door to his room and froze.

Blankets—layers of them—were stacked like a dragon’s hoard across his bed. His socks (mismatched, definitely stolen), several pillows that weren’t his, a tin of mints from Steve’s locker, and what looked suspiciously like one of Tony’s holographic projectors were buried within the chaos. At the very top of this domestic fortress, nestled like a smug deity, was you.

You. A known menace. Mischief in the form of a nine-tailed fox in human skin.

Curled up in the center of his bed like you owned it, your nine silver-white tails stretched out in every direction, twitching lightly in sleep. One tail was wrapped protectively around something shiny. Another dangled over the edge of the bed like a banner of victory.

Bucky leaned against the doorframe, slowly removing his earbuds.

You stirred.

One eye opened lazily, gold and gleaming.

Then you grinned.

“Explain. Now,” Bucky said, voice as flat as the vibranium arm crossed over his chest.

“I was cold,” you said with a sleepy purr, stretching luxuriously like a cat who knew they wouldn’t be kicked out. “And you smell like safety.”

Bucky blinked. “Don’t ever say that again.”

You just chuckled, shifting to prop your chin on one hand, your tails curling slightly in amusement.

“But it’s true,” you said, yawning. “It’s either you or Rogers. And he wears that lemony shampoo. I hate lemon.”

“That’s not an excuse to break into my room and—what the hell—build a fox den?!”

“It’s not a den,” you corrected, insulted. “It’s a nest. Dens are for foxes. I’m far more evolved.”

“You stole my socks.”

“I didn’t steal. I borrowed.”

Pause.

“…For nesting purposes.”

He stared at you. You stared right back, unbothered. Another tail flicked. Your ear twitched.

“This isn’t normal behavior.”

“I’m literally a mythological being.”

He muttered something under his breath and stepped inside, surveying the mess with grim horror. You were very proud of it, especially the string of fairy lights you’d tangled around the headboard.

Bucky tried to tug his pillow from under your arm.

You growled softly.

“Touch it and I bite.”

“That’s my pillow.”

“I drooled on it. It’s mine now.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Charming, I think is the word.”

He gave up, retreating to the armchair by the window with a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose like it physically pained him to be dealing with this. He’d seen intergalactic invasions, killer androids, and Hulk in full rage mode. But this? You? Nesting in his bed like a smug supernatural squirrel?

This was worse.

“Are you going to sleep there?” he asked finally.

“I’m already sleeping here.”

“You can’t just claim my room.”

You cracked both eyes open and looked at him properly now, cocking your head.

“But why would I sleep in my room,” you said slowly, “when yours smells like gunpowder, old leather, and safety?”

“Stop saying that,” he grumbled, looking away—because your voice dropped just slightly on that last word, and he hated the way it made his chest tighten.

He could feel your smile grow wider even without looking.

“You’re blushing,” you whispered.

“Am not.”

“Your ears are pink.”

He grabbed the remote and turned on the TV louder than necessary.

“Do you want the left side or right side?” you asked sweetly, already making room.

“I’m not sleeping in the bed.”

“But it’s warm,” you sing-songed. “And soft. And I only bit people twice last week. I’m practically housebroken.”

He shot you a withering look, then sighed so deeply it sounded like his soul left his body.

“If you’re staying,” he muttered, “you’re doing laundry tomorrow.”

You gasped. “Absolutely not. I’m divine.”

“You’re a raccoon in a crop top.”

You gasped louder. “How dare you—!”

“Lights out in 10,” he interrupted, tossing a pillow at you with far more force than necessary.

You caught it with a grin, curled deeper into your nest of pilfered things, and pulled the blanket up to your chin. Nine tails swirled and settled.

In the silence that followed, Bucky dared a glance at you.

You weren’t just sleeping.

You looked… content.

And despite himself—despite knowing he was absolutely enabling a monster—he couldn’t help the tiny upward quirk of his lips.

Because somehow, somewhere between wars and missions, the menace of the compound had built a nest in his room.

And part of him didn’t mind it.

Not at all.

See my Fox Tales Masterlist

[kuiofficial]

Hello!

How would you think the Saja Boys would or react when are thrusted upon them a new "human" member out of nowhere? That is also from the West. Like this person joins them out of nowhere because his old group simply didn't like him and wanted him gone. S/o is pretty good at what he does but isn't extraordinary. He is just pretty well rounded in all positions. And minds his business. In short, he is just a guy who goes to work and them goes home. Do you think that any of the Saja Boys would genuinely like s/o (platonically or romantically)?

Sorry for it being a bit long

Ooo this is a good request, I feel like they would all romantically but baby would be in the middle.

Saja boys with a human group member

Saja boys x "human" group member male reader

Fluff

⚠️ warnings: none

A/n: thank you for requesting!

This wasn't supposed to happen, it never was. The saja boys couldn't believe it themselves, but a new group member was scheduled to join. Ofcourse they ran their own group; so they were shocked when they got a new message from a younger male auditioning to join the group.

The saja boys were split apart, because it was clear you were human. Abby wasn't too sure, because he didn't want the new attention on you and he thought you would make it more difficult to steal souls.

Baby and Mystery were in the middle, they didn't really know what to say. They were in between because it would get harder to steal souls while hiding their true forms, and it would be easier because they could always get your soul anytime.

Romance, and Jinu were the main people who wanted you to join. They thought that you could be a great cover so that they would look more human. Since Jinu was the leader, he decided to let you join the group.

.... Relationships ....

Abby: He would try and flirt with you all the time, often showing off his abs to you. Despite protesting against you joining, he fell in love with you. He is determined to make you his human.

Mystery: The mystery saja is still a little bit iffy on you here, but he did develop a small crush on you. He tries to show it by sneaking little notes in your pockets. It's a good thing his hair covers his face, or you might just see how red he is when you guys talk.

Baby: He's in the middle because he doesn't really know, he likes you but not like like. He kind of considers you more of as a "replacement" soul. But who knows? Maybe you could convince him that your only his.

Romance: He is more of a platonic kind of relationship, I feel like the act and name would be more for the fans. So he is just kind of a friend. He does talk to you, just not often cause he saves it for the fans.

Jinu: Omg this man would love you so much, I swear he would prevent the other members from seeing you when they were getting souls. He would keep you in his room all night, and even show you his demon form. (Ofcourse you think it's just a cool costume, even if he transforms right infront of you) he would definitely sing to you if you have problems sleeping, even the fans ship you and him together.

(Sorry I'm in love with Jinu lol)

I hope I wrote what you wanted <3

[purrfectkarma]

✦ POWER AND CONTROL ✦

PAIRING — shadow the hedgehog x fem!reader

WARNINGS — MDNI 🔞

PROMPT — you tease him, ride him, and think you’ve won… until he flips you over and shows you who’s really in charge

WORD COUNT — ~3.5k

ART CREDIT — @ cutefish_16y on Instagram

AUTHOR’S NOTE — this was supposed to be a “little teasing moment” and instead it turned into couch-breaking smut + battle for control energy. I imagine mobian or human reader works, as long as she knows how to drive him wild.

🖤🔥 “You act like you’re in charge.”

“You just think you are.”

and that’s how the skirt came off.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

⛓️

You were in one of G.U.N’s remote safehouses, tucked away after a mission that left your adrenaline still humming. The lights were low, casting golden shadows on the walls as you perched on the arm of the couch, legs crossed in your short skirt, a half-read mission report resting in your lap. You hadn't even changed yet—your skirt clung to your thighs, scuffed boots still laced, and your shirt slightly untucked from the chaos earlier.

You flipped a page absentmindedly—until you heard the door creak open.

Shadow stepped in, his silhouette cutting sharply through the dim light. His chest was still rising and falling from the fight, a few strands of fur singed, gloves torn, and eyes glowing faintly beneath his furrowed brow. He looked like a storm held barely in check.

You glanced up, a smirk tugging at your lips.

“Didn’t take you for the dramatic type,” you teased, eyes skimming his form. “You just had to flip over the explosion like that?”

He smirked back, walking slowly toward you.

“Admit it. You liked it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Maybe a little.”

He stopped just in front of you, close enough that you had to tilt your head back to meet his eyes.

“You’re always watching,” he said, voice low, velvet-wrapped danger. “I can feel it. Every time I’m near you… your heartbeat changes.”

Your cheeks flushed, but you didn’t back down. “That’s because you insist on standing in my space.”

Shadow leaned in, his breath ghosting over your ear.

“Funny. You never move away.”

You didn’t. You couldn’t. His presence was like gravity—pulling you in, heavy and hot. And he knew it.

His gloved fingers brushed your jaw, tilting your chin up gently.

“You’re not afraid of me.”

You met his gaze, steady. “Should I be?”

He chuckled low, rich and intimate.

“Maybe. But I think you like the danger.”

Then he kissed you—slow at first, a test. But the second your lips met his, restraint slipped. His hand tangled into your hair while the other wrapped tightly around your waist, dragging you into him with a need that had clearly been building for far too long.

You broke the kiss, breathless.

“I could get used to this side of you.”

Shadow grinned—real, unguarded, and somehow even more dangerous.

“Good. Because it only comes out for you.”

Still holding you close, his breath warm against your lips, his usual icy control was clearly slipping. You felt it in the tension of his grip, in the hunger darkening his crimson eyes.

You let your fingers trail up his chest, slow and teasing, stopping just under his jaw.

“You act like you’re in charge,” you whispered.

His brow arched. “And I’m not?”

You leaned in, lips brushing his—but not kissing him yet. Close enough to tempt. To test.

“No,” you purred. “You just think you are.”

His eyes darkened, but he didn’t move. He let the heat grow, let the tension simmer, let you think you had the upper hand. That was the thing with Shadow—he didn’t rush. He stalked. He waited. Until he was ready.

You grazed your lips along his jaw, up toward his ear, voice barely a whisper.

“You like it when I push back… don’t deny it.”

In one swift move, his hand caught your wrist, firm but controlled. His face was mere inches from yours, his voice molten steel.

“Careful.”

You smirked. “What? Gonna punish me?”

He didn’t respond. Instead, his lips crashed against yours again, harder now, needier. His restraint dissolved as he pulled you down onto the couch beneath him, your back against the cushions, your legs still hooked around his waist.

His kiss stole the breath from your lungs, and when you gasped, his tongue found yours in a slow, claiming dance. His hand slid down your thigh, fingers grazing the edge of your skirt as he pressed himself closer, your bodies flushed and burning.

You broke the kiss with a soft gasp, your voice breathy.

“Still think you’re in charge?”

His grin was wicked.

“No. I think we both are. That’s what makes this fun.”

You grinned back, lacing your fingers behind his neck as you drew him even closer, wrapping your legs around his hips, grinding slightly just to feel the way he tensed.

“Why not take turns?” you whispered in his ear.

Shadow’s breath caught.

Then, slow and deliberate, he lifted your legs, one hand sliding beneath your skirt to grip your thigh. His other hand hooked around the edge of your panties, dragging them down with excruciating patience, his eyes locked on yours the whole time.

When the soft fabric hit the floor, flung somewhere into the dark, his lips found yours again—slower now, more deliberate. His gloved fingers teased lower, between your thighs, finding the warmth he was craving.

Shadow’s words sent a shiver through you—“You’re so wet”—and you could barely respond, your breath catching as his fingers teased you with slow, confident strokes.

Shadow was watching your every reaction, his eyes half-lidded, glowing with hunger and control.

You shifted slightly under him, your thighs still wrapped around his waist, and that’s when you felt it—him, hard and ready against you.

You let out a low, teasing laugh, your hand slipping between your bodies to cup him.

“And you’re happy to see me.”

He groaned, hips jerking slightly into your touch. Your hand wrapped around him and began to stroke—slow, steady, and purposeful.

He let out a deep, guttural moan that sent heat straight to your core.

“You might be more dangerous than I am,” he growled against your neck, voice rough and reverent. Then, smirking against your skin—

“I love it.”

His lips found your throat, kissing, nipping, and tasting every inch of your skin as he slid the head of his length against your entrance, pausing—just long enough to feel your breath hitch.

Then, slowly, deliberately, he pushed into you, inch by inch.

You gasped, your back arching, nails pressing into his shoulders.

“Shadow…”

He groaned your name like it was something sacred, his hips moving with careful control as he filled you completely, the warmth, the stretch, the sensation of him overwhelming and perfect.

Your bodies moved together in perfect sync, each thrust deepening the fire that was already consuming you both.

Shadow’s breath was ragged now, his grip tight on your waist as he buried himself inside you again and again, each movement laced with unspoken desire and raw intensity.

But then, with a glint of mischief in your eye, you placed your hands on his chest and gave him a light push.

He blinked up at you, momentarily stunned as you eased him back against the couch cushions, your hips lifting just enough to make him slip out.

“My turn,” you said, voice low and dripping with seduction.

Shadow let out a quiet curse under his breath, his eyes locked onto you as you straddled him, taking control with a slow, fluid motion. You gripped his chest, your skirt bunched up at your hips, your bare thighs framing him perfectly.

You hovered just above him, teasing, letting the head of his cock brush your entrance before you began to lower yourself—agonizingly slow.

Your eyes stayed locked on his face, watching the way it contorted in pleasure, the way his lips parted with a quiet, broken sound he didn’t try to hide.

Finally, he was all the way inside you again, and you rolled your hips forward, grounding yourself against him, feeling every inch, every pulse.

You leaned forward, your hands sliding up his chest until your fingers tangled into the thick fur there. You gave it a playful tug, smirking down at him as you began to grind your hips in slow, deliberate circles.

He groaned—deep and raw—his hands flying to your hips to steady you, but not stop you.

“You’re going to drive me insane,” he breathed.

You leaned in, lips brushing his jaw.

“Good. You can lose your mind with me.”

You rolled your hips in slow, delicious circles, grinding against him with purpose, loving the way his breath caught, the way his grip on your waist faltered ever so slightly with each motion. You leaned forward again, lips grazing his, whispering just above them:

“Still think you’re in control?”

That did it.

With a low growl, Shadow’s hands suddenly gripped your thighs. Before you could tease him again, he moved—swift and commanding.

He flipped you over effortlessly, pressing your chest down against the couch cushions, your skirt hiked up, panties long forgotten. His hand gripped your hip firmly as he lifted your ass high into the air, lining himself up behind you.

“Let me show you how much I can lose it,” he snarled.

And with one powerful thrust, he buried himself inside you again, deeper than before. You cried out, arching as he set a punishing pace—each thrust driving into your most sensitive spot with near-perfect precision.

Your fingers dug into the cushions, your body trembling from the intensity. Every movement sent waves of heat crashing through you, your moans spilling freely into the room. Shadow's grip on your hips tightened, his claws just grazing your skin as he growled with each thrust, fully lost in the rhythm of your body, in you.

“So tight,” he rasped, voice thick with need. “So perfect…”

Your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth falling open as pleasure surged through you.

“Shadow—ah—Shadow!”

You could feel yourself spiraling, your climax building fast and hot and uncontrollable. Your walls clenched around him, your whole body tensing as the orgasm overtook you, crashing over you like a tidal wave.

You screamed his name, voice breaking from the intensity.

That was all it took.

With a final deep thrust, Shadow groaned loudly, his hips jerking as he spilled into you, the sensation overwhelming. His body trembled slightly as he held you there, his breath ragged against your back, his grip still tight—like he wasn’t ready to let you go.

-

The air was thick with heat, both your bodies still tangled and trembling from the intensity of what had just happened. Shadow stayed there for a moment, his chest rising and falling against your back, breath warm against your skin. You could feel his heartbeat still racing through him.

Then, slowly, he pulled back and flopped beside you on the couch, one arm draped across his forehead, the other still loosely wrapped around your waist.

You turned to face him, completely wrecked and grinning.

“So,” you said, breathless, brushing some hair from your face. “That’s you ‘losing it,’ huh?”

Shadow glanced over, lips twitching into a half-smirk.

“You provoked it.”

You nudged his side. “You liked it.”

He let out a soft scoff, closing his eyes. “I tolerated it.”

You laughed. “Right. Is that why you were moaning my name like you forgot how to speak?”

His eyes opened slowly, glowing with that familiar, dangerous gleam. He turned toward you, raising an eyebrow.

“And is that why you were screaming mine like the world was ending?”

You bit your bottom lip, heat rising to your cheeks—but you didn’t back down.

“I was doing you a favor. Boosting your ego.”

Shadow rolled on top of you again, pinning your wrists gently but firmly above your head, his grin now fully formed, dark and amused.

“You think this ego needs help?” he whispered, nose brushing yours.

You arched a brow, pretending to consider it.

“Maybe just a little.”

He kissed you hard—quick and possessive—before pulling back just enough to murmur:

“Careful. I’ve still got energy to prove you wrong.”

You gasped dramatically. “What happened to recovery time?”

Shadow smirked.

“I recover fast.”

Your legs curled around his waist again, playful, daring.

“Then I guess we’re not done yet.”

He growled in delight.

“Not even close.”

[strawberry-milk-bun]

K-Pop Demon Hunters

Human AU:

The Saja Boys

Saja boys as a group:

•Belongs to a small talent agency.

•Released a few songs before Soda Pop blew up.

•Had a small devoted fan base before blowing up with the release of Soda Pop.

•Enjoys doing game shows.

•Close knit group of friends. Though it took them a while to gain Mystery’s trust.

•Loves playing pranks on each other.

From Oldest to youngest

Jinu:

•Grew up loving music.

•Wanted to pursue a musical career but when his father died shortly after his sister was born he decided he needed a steady job when he graduated high school.

•Did manual labor jobs to help support his mother and little sister.

•In his early 20’s his mother and sister died in a house fire when he had gone to the store to go pick up an ingredient they had forgotten for dinner.

•Heavy survivors guilt.

•Turned to music for solace.

•Started posting his music on social media and ended up getting scouted by an idol agency.

Romance:

•Always dreamed of falling in love like in k-dramas.

•Hopeless romantic

•Grew up with divorced parents as an only child.

•His parents tried to buy his affection with material possessions but he always longed for real love and affection.

•Dated a lot in highschool searching for true love.

•Got a lot of confessions because of his handsome face but their relationships never lasted long.

•Usually got dumped because his girlfriends thought he was too much.

•Started his career as model when scouted in high school.

•Eventually his musical talents were recognized and he was recruited to train to be an idol.

Mystery:

•Only child to a poor family.

•Loved poetry since he was young and started writing his own poems.

•Poems eventually turned into song lyrics that he posted online under an anonymous account.

•Always been incredibly shy and soft spoken

•Got bullied a lot for his quiet voice and girly hobby (poetry)

•Encouraged by his online fans he started singing his lyrics online. Never showing his face obviously.

•His singing blew up online because of his gentle voice.

•Got scouted quickly after though he was reluctant to agree. Only agreeing when he saw how much money he would make once he debuted.

•Happy to be in group so the attention isn’t always on him.

Baby:

•Grew up as the youngest and only son in a family full of women.

•Has three older sisters that used to dress him up all girly when he was little.

•Has a huge complex about his baby face and small physique.

•Tried to work out and gain muscle but had zero results.

•Has adored rap music since he was in middle school.

•Looked up to rappers in idol groups.

•Online friends with Mystery before their debut (He always liked Mystery’s lyrics)

• Auditioned to join an idol group using one of Mystery’s poems as a rap.

•Wanted to be a solo rapper with a cool aesthetic.

•Was very disappointed when he was given the “baby” persona when they formed the Saja Boys.

•Has a pretty snappy personality, but very quickly switches into his sweet persona when around fans or on camera.

•Hates being treated like a child.

•Gets his ID eyed suspiciously whenever buying alcohol.

Abby:

•Spoiled only child to a loving family.

•LOVES sweets.

•Was overweight in his childhood.

•Didn’t start working out until high school after getting bullied for his weight throughout middle school.

•Spiraled into a depression due to the bullying and ended up in the hospital from malnutrition.

•His family supported him through therapy, and his therapist suggested working out not as a weight loss method but as a way to manage stress and anxiety.

•Was skeptical about working out helping his mental health, but ended up falling in love with the way he felt after a good workout.

•Joined the talent agency hoping to be an actor but got recruited for the Saja boys.

•Last member to join the group.

•Became fast friends with Romance, and even has a bit of a crush on the lover boy. Not that he’d admit it.

•Still has a bit of body dysmorphia and freaks out when he gains any weight.

Author note:

THANKS FOR READING

Also if anything seems off or weird about the idol stuff it’s because I don’t anything about the idol industry tbh. 🫢

Anyways y’all should leave some real name suggestions in the comments. 😏

[cherrymoonlights]

okay, so here’s one thing about me: I was not put on this earth to tell women what they can and cannot do. point blank, period. I was raised by parents that let me wear what made me comfortable, and trusted me enough to do so. I was not brought up in a conservative, “make sure you cover up”, household.

that being said, I do agree with you to an extent. I grew up incredibly sexualized by the people around me, which I did not want, and I still have body image problems because of it.

but, were there times I wanted to be noticed? absolutely. but not because I’m a woman upholding the patriarchy, because I’m a human. humans have kinks. humans have different ideas of what is and what is not sexual. Sabrina carpenter getting her hair pulled on an album cover is at best satirical and at worst, kinky.

I think telling women they need to fit inside the perfect feminist box is unrealistic and frankly never going to happen, because we are human beings that like to have sex, that like to express that feeling, that like to sing about it or talk about it, because as women we are actually taught not to do that. we are very much taught that sex is not for us, it is for the enjoyment of men. is taking back that power not feminist in its own right???

I am all for criticizing women when they need to be criticized, but to me, this is a personal choice, so why would I criticize it? she didn’t hurt anyone, she didn’t hurt you, or me, so why should i criticize her?

men are still in a position in this world where they can do whatever the fuck they want, and any criticism is pushed to the side. this is true. but women have to work to break the idea that everything they choose to do, is somehow wrong or anti-women.

If I chose to dress like a tradwife, and act like one, and uphold more family friendly values, you would say I’m anti-women. If I showed up to a party in a mini skirt and a bra, you would call me anti-women. I have been sexualized my whole life simply because of things like my hair or my sexuality.

so my question is, what would you like women to do? what is your perfect world?

this is the only thing I will say on the sabrina Carpenter discourse. that girl is freaky. she’s BEEN freaky. openly. “I found it weird back then too” okay 🫶 then don’t look at it. you’re not the target audience. “but the children” it is not a grown woman’s job to babysit your kids or YOU for that matter. “but the Lolita photo shoot” you mean the one singular photo that the photographer has done with many other artists? you’ve lost me. god forbid a woman likes getting her hair tugged (because in that photo it’s not even being pulled) 💗💗💗💗

[yourfellowhuman07]

Y’all need to get on Netflix now, because I just watched K-Pop Deamon Hunters and it was AMAZING✨

No but seriously, this movie was seriously a 10/10.

The animation alone makes this film Oscar worthy, with the fight choreography and the colors creating a visual masterpiece. The character designs were also stunning, especially with the main girls (And Jinu OMG-)!!!

The music and story were also both amazing. The music especially was just popping off, especially with the climax!

Also, I loved the relationship between Rumi and Jinu! Their romance is adorable, and I love that with Jinu, who’s suppose to be such a selfish guy, ended up being the person who sacrificed themself for the good of humanity!!!!

My only real issue is with the expressions when the girls were singing. Like, during the comedy parts they really push the expressions, but it’s just a little jarring when the voice actresses are singing so passionately and their character’s faces are barely moving. (But really, this is such a small problem that I am totally looking past it to give this movie a 10/10)

Seriously, GO WATCH THIS MOVIE!!!!!!!!

[fanartsofliliput]

The implied mother-daughter relationship in this movie makes me ill. here is a ficlet with them <3

If there is no canon about Rumi growing up beside that one scene store bought is fine!!!

She looked like her father so, so much, that kid. Almost nothing like her mother.

It hurt to look at her. So Celine didn't. Celine just smiled in her general direction, braided her hair, so bright, so unlike her mother's black, and kept singing. She kept singing their old songs, kept returning to her best friend's grave, and kept raising their little girl, their half-demon.

She kept wishing for a better world, one where her adopted daughter had a real mother, and she - her friend. She kept wishing for a world where her friend never fell in love, never gave birth, never died.

She kept wishing that her friend would be still here, on the nights Rumi couldn't sleep, on the days she cried so, so loudly, scared of her own skin, striped and unnatural - Celine kept wishing.

And she kept shushing the voice in her ear, a familiar, dangerous voice, that was whispering ever since her friend smiled happily at her, presenting her boyfriend and looking so, so happy.

Celine would never listen to it that much. Only when she felt the endless hole in her soul trob particularly sharply.

She loved her girl, she really did. But love isn't enough, sometimes. Sometimes it doesn't smooth over all the cracks.

Sometimes daughters sing only because you taught them to. Their eyes are black, bottomless voids that reflect light with uncanny swiftness, pupils constricting in at the ends and out in the middle, glowing in the dark.

For Celine, love was telling her to hide her stripes, curling sweetly under her ribs, it was reminding her to sing and hum and talk with her human voice, sweet and high, not with the vibrating bass of her demon half, rumbling in the little lungs, purring at hugs and kisses and all the loving touch.

That loving touch was taken away quickly every time she showed her inhumane nature - jerked away from amber eyes hands, broken hugs whenever Rumi purred, soft fingers not touching her stripes whenever she needed sunscreen.

Love wasn't a miracle. It couldn't fix all.

Rumi's eyes shined in the darkness, two little moons in the corridors without lightning. She loved singing low notes, screaming to the metal songs in her room. Her hands kneaded soft dresses and skirts unconsciously, clawed at the uncomfortable ones, trying to scratch them off. She hated all strong scents, sneezed and coughing at the galas her second mother forced her to attend.

Rumi tried to be human, she really did. But her father's legacy was rooted deeply, roots hooking in her veins, claws scraping her bones from inside out. She moved like a yearling tiger, softly and desperately trying to be smooth - even tigers are clumsy in teenage years.

Celine loved her girl, she really did. But as Rumi aged, she closed her doors. She moved her furniture around herself and made escape planes on the back of her mind. She touched her daughter less and less, smiled at her papers and pushed the new talents higher and higher, refusing to think about how far the stripes have progressed.

Old, dying star, pushed forward new constellations, letting them shine so, so brightly that it blinded her, and visited her dead. She sent them off on tours, on trips around the world, and stayed home, guiltily feeling relief.

Celine just needed the Hunters to win, to continue her legacy and reach further than that, so she could stop feeling guilty every time her daughter looked at her, and she couldn't look back.

Just a little more, Celine told herself. Just a couple more shows, and Rumi gets rid of her stripes and her amber eyes and all of her demon habits.

Rumi smiled from the screens with unhumanly sharp teeth, sanded down to the standard, and sang with her human voice, making herself take higher and higher notes, and hid her stripes from everyone but her mother.

The tension grew and grew, just like the stripes on her daughter's skin, just like the fans of her songs, and Celine felt it suffocate the remains of her relationship to her daughter.

They never see each other, those days. One would think it would be easier.

But Celine just worries. Will her girl finally break, snap, shatter her humanity on one of her shows? Will she break the Hunters trying to show herself, all of it? Will the demons kill her little girl, caught her under some rooftop and present Celine with her head one of those days?

Rumi will succeed, she's destined for it. But Celine still worries.

Her little girl, her daughter. The last part of her best friend. Soft hair, sharp chin, dark eyes. Purring under her hands, bright amber eyes, creased in happiness.

High notes and low notes. A good song needs both.

Celine sings their old songs and feels like crying every time there isn't another voice joining her.

She visits her dead, thinking of a man's hands kneading her best friend's belly, of dark, low lullabies in the night Rumi couldn't remember. Celine couldn't bring herself to like him, but he made her friend happy. So she let him live.

Celine stops checking on her girl's progress. She knows she will only go up, and it feels pointless to stalk their socials now. Instead, she sends Rumi pictures of her burnt pancakes and badly sewn sheets.

When she visits her dead one night, Rumi comes back, stripes all over and a burning yellow eye filled with pain. She asks for death, for a release, but Celine is so, so selfish.

Her daughter is crying, and Celine can't even touch her cheek when she sees the stripes there. Her hand hangs in the air, unsure, awkward, and drops back down.

Love isn't a miracle. It cannot heal all.

She still flinches when Rumi screams that she doesn't love her. Not all of her.

Celine can't even argue - she trembles all over, staring strictly at her best friend's daughter's feet.

When Rumi leaves, Celine's knees give out. She cries in the charp cold air, guilty and remorseful, and tries to breathe through it.

She stumbles back home only after the barrier comes back up, feeling old and empty.

When Rumi stumbles into her front door with her band, red-eyed and still smiling, Celine pours them tea and looks on, as they devoir half her pantry and fall on her spare couch, falling asleep immediately.

Mira and Zoey don't flinch from already fading stripes on her daughter skin, they just trace them with their fingers while falling asleep. When Rumi starts purring, half-asleep already and clinging to Mira's body with all her limbs, Zoey just eeps in awe and burrows her way into the cuddle.

Celine thinks of her daughter's childhood and feels an old guilt rising up. She doesn't push it down this time, just covers the girls with a blanket and goes to sleep herself.

She thinks of bright amber eyes and still flinches. But she doesn't close her door that night.