#it's also a common fear for a reason!!! anyways

[deoidesign]

.

[kindaorangey]

also i'm coming out as a feverent maharet x jesse supporter. i don't give a fuck that one is technically the other's distant descendant or that in many ways it's basically selfcest. i want to see toxic vaguely incestuous yuri on my screen. do u hear me rolin

[rolandkaros]

interested by aryna's response about iga's ban...

[lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom]

hii I was wondering if u could write something where daeho and reader are already in a relationship and they find eachother after the first round and maybe they are upset with eachother for going into the games.

anc if it could have a bit of fluff that would be nice!!

tyy🫶🫶🫶

At Least We Have Eachother

KANG DAE-HO X READER

Summary- Dae-ho and you both join the squid games for the benefit of the other. Neither of you know about it, until you find each other after the first game.

Warnings- Squid Games, mentions of blood, murder, and death

A/N- Thank you guys for the overwhelming support with my Daeho fic. I am so motivated right now, it's not even funny. He is such a sweet baby, MY SHAYLAAAA

Word Count- 1,192

Your debt was not something you were proud of. To be honest, it crept up on you. It started with medical bills, then Daeho ran into some Ex-Marines, who dragged him into a bad gamble.

From there it kind of went down hill. Struggling to pay bills, borrowing more money, making the wrong people mad. In other words, the two of you were in an extremely bad position.

When a strange man with a suitcase approached you on your way home, you were hesitant. In any other situation you might have ignored him and walked away. But, you had just had another invoice from a debt collecting company. Not to mention the loan shark that came up and threatened Daeho two days prior. The eviction notice was also putting a hole on your kitchen table.

The idea of following the funny-looking card, winning a bunch of money, clearing your (and Daeho) debts. It was too good to be true, you knew that deep down. At the end of the day, you were at rock bottom. Desperate people do desperate things.

So, while slipping Daeho a simple lie about spending the night with a friend... You took off to the discrete location alone. Where you were picked up by a van. You don't remember much after that.

The regret sunk in deep when you realized what you had gotten yourself into. When you awoke seeing hundreds of people around you, all in the same position, you were noticeably scared. You barely left the bed you woke in. Only to stand with the crowd to listen to the guards and sign the needed contract. It seemed too late to back out now...

The first game was lonely, intimidating, and revealing. The only reason you weren't lying head face in the sand dead, was your fear. It struck you stone-cold still on 'red light'. The ring of your ears pressured you to move forward on 'Green light.' Due to the deadly shots to other players. It pushed you to move so you didn't suffer the same fate.

You were much too nervous to talk to anyone, you saw little point in making friends at first. That was until the realization of any team games.

After the first game was officially over and you had returned to the common room, you'd taken a moment to think. To think how it would be if you were able to walk home now. How it probably wouldn't even matter if you had died, so many people were out for your head anyways. It was all looking dark, but Daeho was your light. He was always so positive, he kept you happy. You owed it to him to keep fighting.

To keep fighting for that adorable, handsome, sweet face. That same face that was currently staring you down....

"Daeho?" You questioned, just in case your mind was playing a trick on you.

"What are you doing here!" He ran over, pulling you further behind the layered beds. His grip was tight on your arm, once the two of you stopped, he seemed to notice. At that he quickly loosened his squeeze.

"W-why are you here! I-I thought you were sleeping over at-" You cut him off, your guilty conscience taking over.

"Daeho, what are you doing here?" You rebutted, frantically pushing your hair back. He knew you were nervous.

"To settle some of our debt, but that doesn't even matter anymore. People are dying, you can't be here!" He stressed over you. He did a few takes over your form, making sure you were not hurt in any way. You thought he was finished until he slowly brought his hand up. He stuck his thumb out and seared a few drops of blood off of your cheek. You hadn't noticed them before...

An argument against him was impossible to think of, but you managed. "Well I can say the same about you! You could get killed also. Where would that leave me!" He threw his head back, pressing both hands over his face. He dragged them down, an annoyed expression on his face.

"Ohhh, this can not be happening.. I-it doesn't matter, because you're here, where you were not supposed to be!" He started to fidget with his fingers, a sign he was distressed.

"Dae...I'm also here because... I got fired yesterday..." You looked down, picking at your nails. His head snapped to look at yours. "What?"

"They were... overstaffed and, apparently a younger employee could do the same amount of work for minimum wage... So, they just got rid of me..." He looked sympathetic, but still mad.

"You should have told me. We would have figured it out. You didn't have to lie."

You thought for a second, "Its not like I wanted to lie! I was trying to help us!"

"How reckless!" He said. It was almost comical!

A laugh pushed its way out, "Oh my gosh, don't act like you aren't here too!" You started to raise your voice, frustrated.

He took a single step back, hands on his hips. "You're supposed to be the smart one! I'm fun, loving, a burst of fricken light!" He said, his words contradicting his tone, not joyfully at all.

"Whatever! What matters now is that we were stuck in a death trap! The money is not even our first problem. We might not even be alive before the day is over! Or worse, you'll be dead and I'll be left to suffer!"

He gave another sigh, stepping forward and embracing you. It was exactly what both of you needed. His arms wrapped impossibly tight around you. You could only reciprocate the squeeze. His head fell on top of yours, he nestled in.

"I don't want to argue, I just want you safe... We will be fine." He said, keeping you in his grasp.

"I know, but I just wanted to help... The man seemed so promising, that we could have a normal life again." You wanted to let your tears flow, but you couldn't risk looking weak. You had to remind yourself that there were still a couple hundred other players in the large room.

He shook his head on top of yours, "I would live in a tent as long as I was with you.... I can manage anywhere, as long as you are by my side..."

You pulled back to look at him. Your arms still wrapping around each other. "I just, I know you're not happy... I wanted to clear everything up, one day own our own house. One that we can never get evicted from." He pushed a stray hair behind your ear.

"Oh Dae, I don't care about that. I just want you." You shoved your head into his chest.

"I love you.."

"I love you too."

"What the hell are we going to do here." You questioned, peaking up from his chest slightly.

"Were going to stick together. We're going to get out of this alive." He pulled back and down to press a firm and reassuring kiss on your lips. Maybe things would be so bad after all.

Oh, how naive you both were...

A/N- Honestly, I like my first Daeho fic better. But that's probably because I am a SUCKER for emotional hurt/comfort. Anyways, I hope y'all enjoyed this one. Pls lmk how I can improve!!!

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

──── FIRST KISSES, SECOND CHANCES . ↳ one shot // also part of the no doubt series !

✎ᝰ .ᐟ aka he's this close to passing out because you're way too pretty and he wants to kiss you so bad—but he's an idiot, a loser in love, and totally losing his mind over you.

── sim jaeyun x f!reader ౨ৎ wc. 985 ⌗ fluff, kisskiss, jake is this close to going insane, mentions of jake wanting to die but not literally─poor guy is just losing his mind over y/n

↳ IMPORTANT NOTE .ᐟ ── this is part of my no doubt series ─ a sequel series of short drabbles that take place after the events of my fic no doubt, and show jake & reader's relationship throughout their first year together (& how jake wins her trust & love back hehe) ── THIS CAN BE READ AS A ONE-SHOT, however, there will be some easter eggs if you've read no doubt before!

↳ addie's ✉ .ᐟ ── omg tytyty everyone for the love with this series so far !!! i actually love jakeyn so much im so invested in this in ways that are highkey unhealthy...ANYWAYS! one of jake & yn's many firsts! writing this actually made me cheese so hard god im so single pls. jake is also like borderline unwell HAHA

It’s the kind of day where life feels like it’s straight out of a movie.

Soft sunlight, the perfect temperature, a gentle breeze, birds chirping. 

Perfect.

And yet—Jake wants to shrivel up into a hole and die.

The two of you are just lying there, propped up on your sides across from one another on the plush picnic blanket, an array of snacks and sandwiches (that Jake definitely didn’t wake up at 7AM to buy from the corner bakery you like so much in fear they would sell out before he had the chance to get them) scattered between you two, and you’re laughing at something he said—and god, he doesn’t even remember what he said—when it hits him.

And oh my god, it hits him hard.

He can’t think straight anymore.

Your eyes are sparkling like they always do when you laugh, your face is glowing with that effortless smile that makes him want to explode.

The way your hair blows slightly in the wind—how it catches the light in a way that makes him swear the sun only shines to make you glow. How your laugh just does something to him that makes it feel like the whole world stopped just so he could hear it.

And it’s all too much.

Jake feels his heart rate spike, his chest tighten, and before he knows it, he’s staring at your lips—just your lips—and your words are starting to sound like mush.

God, he wants to kiss you.

Like, really kiss you.

And the thought alone makes him feel like his heart’s about to break through his ribcage and find its way out of his chest.

But then, of course—the voice of reason pops in.

The same, annoying, one that always shows up right when he lets himself want this too much. The same one that fights him in this very, very common battle…almost daily.

Is this even a good idea? What if you’re not ready? What if it’s just too much, too soon for you?

What if he completely ruins everything before he even gets the chance to have it?

“Hey.”

Jake jolts out of his thoughts. You’re staring at him now, an amused smile playing at your lips as you nudge his arm.

“You okay?”

Jake blinks.

Forces his eyes back to your own (not her lips, Jake, not her lips, NOT HER LIPS).

Then, he clears his throat, shifting slightly as he tries his best to act normal.

“Yeah. Yeah, um, just—,” he places his sandwich down, his hands shaking slightly—god, Jake, “Just…still a little hungry.”

A beat of silence.

He immediately mentally smacks himself because, what the hell, Jake?

You raise an eyebrow.

“Jake, you literally just had a sandwich in your hands.”

“…Right, yeah. Right.”

Another beat.

Then—

You giggle.

Soft. Breathless. Perfect.

And Jake?

It ruins him.

He wants to jump off a cliff.

His heart is hammering, his vision is starting to go a little fuzzy, and he’s pretty sure he’s a solid two business seconds away from either a) passing out, or b) spontaneously combusting—whichever comes first.

He can’t focus. He can't think. He just—

He needs to kiss you.

Like, right now. Like, he literally cannot hold it together anymore.

So, without thinking—without giving himself any more time to overthink it—he leans in. Just slightly.

Your eyes widen, his breath catches, because—you’re so close and he swears you can probably hear his heart beating.

He smells your shampoo, his palms are sweating, and he’s definitely about to pass out, but all he can do is stare at your lips, then at your eyes. Then back at your lips again.

Jake doesn’t even think. He doesn’t even say anything. He just does it.

His lips press softly against yours—so gently at first that it’s barely there, as if he’s testing the waters, as if he’s expecting you to pull away.

But you don’t.

You don’t pull away.

And his heart explodes.

It’s instant. Everything falls into place in that very moment, every ounce of tension in his body immediately melts away.

Jake can’t help but sigh into the kiss, finally allowing himself to give in completely, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, holding you as if you’re something delicate—something so beautiful he could never dream of ruining.

And then you do something that completely, utterly, wrecks him—

You kiss him back.

Softly, almost shyly at first, like you’re just as overwhelmed as he is. But then—oh god—

Your hand goes up and your fingers curl into his collar, tugging ever so slightly, pulling him in even deeper, and Jake 100% knows he never wants to go back to what life was like before this moment.

He’s dizzy. Weightless. Completely and entirely yours in every possible way.

He also forgets how to breathe.

But that doesn’t matter.

Nothing else in the world matters except this kiss, except you.

Jake feels himself smiling into it—because, oh god, this is actually happening—and hears you giggle slightly as you finally pull away, a little breathless.

He’s starstruck, paralyzed. He’s still staring at your lips in disbelief, then back to your eyes, then back at your lips before blinking himself back to reality.

“That was—” he starts, but you cut him off.

“That was way too long coming, don’t you think?” you tease, your eyes sparkling, lips still tingling from the kiss.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he grins, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “But don’t worry. I’ll make up for lost time.”

You roll your eyes, but—there’s something about the way you look at him that makes him feel like the luckiest guy on the planet.

“I’m holding you to that, Jakey.”

And then—

You tilt your head up and press another soft, fleeting kiss to his lips before pulling back with the softest smile.

Yup.

He’s definitely the luckiest guy on the planet.

<< past || no doubt m. list || next >>

tag list! (open ! // bolded couldn't be added!)

@bluxjun @ki2rins @why-did-i-just-do-this @favoritten @lovialymisc @xylatox @vivimura @leehsngs @puma-riki @lezzleeferguson-120 @enhaprettystars @laurradoesloveu @sievenderz @somuchdard @kristynaah @hinryh @ltfirecracker @lov4hoon @fangirl125reader @0429jw @dreamy-carat @yuons @thestarinstarbucks @miszes @llearlert @ppeachyttae @hoomin10 @teddybeartaetae @tanisha2060 @therealmrsbahng @beomgyu-bears @ikeulove @jiyeons-closet @youngheejay @wxnderingthoughts @fuevrois @soobundle1009 @isoobie

[coffeepaintwater]

shen yuan, luo binghe and shen jiu the most explosive trio to ever trio i fear (there are two duos in these trio and hint hint both of them feature sy lol)

also this is basically fanart for Shen Yuan of No Relation on ao3 by Gemi bc i'm binge reading/listening to it and it's so good!!! the characterisation is so on point it dragged me back into the svsss fandom by my hair. the character study tag 100% deserves its' place there.

notes, bc how could there not be??:

i saw a post that said that any svsss fanwork's inaccuracy to history can be attributed to airplane's lazy pidw world-building and. yeah. basically.

i was thinking what would the disciple robes look like to both seem regal to the commoners (as described in 99% xianxia novels) and good to train in and i realized that there shouldn't probably be more than two layers anyways because it isn't even really accurate. also, i like the interpretation that each disciple has a subtly different uniform, but i just can't picture how that would work???? 100% the rich kids and older disciples who can actually earn some money would add accesories to their robes, but for shen yuan and luo binghe, i just couldn't imagine where they'd get anything like that, besides the hair pins ning yingying made/gave them (sry if i mix some shit up, i've read 20 chapters in 2 days okey have mercy). plus, with a world that focuses on social standing as much as pidw/svsss does, i think that the sects would naturally aim to recreate that hierarchy in their own society.

with the example of cang qiong mountain, yue qingyuan would have the highest rank, and (as syonr showed!!!) probably boast the biggest estate on the peak, inheriting all the wealth the previous sect leaders had accumulated. and while from what i understand, being a sect-affilated cultivator means your payment is basically getting fed, clothed and having a roof over your head in the sect instead of idk, coin, yue qingyuan would still have monetary means because of, surprise surprise, inheriting it. so, clothes just on the better side from the other peak lords perhaps

next in the food chain would be the other peak lords, except that we see that even the peaks have different 'rankings'. so, while on the outside each peak lord carries the same authority, shen jiu would have been able to be as he was in canon (MASSIVE side eye btw) and no one would have been really in a place to kick him in the gut and say he was a fucking asshole, for example, besides yue qingyuan. that is, from a purely theoretical stand-point, bc all hierarchical order is sometimes broken but that's besides the pointttt. the point is, they would have freedom to dress however they wish and while i believe the disciple robes remain unchanged since the founding of the sect (bc svsss universe is implied to be a largely unadvancing society, regarding anything besides cultivation), the peak lords most likely don't have one set uniform, besides each peak being color-coded apparently??

there was a post i was inspired by (https://www.tumblr.com/svsssfanonarchive/736782613008809984?source=share) that confirmed that the peaks (or at least three of them, but we don't get much of the others anyways) do in fact have the disciples wear robes of one color. qing jing favors greens and teals (see the post for more details pls pls pls it's so good) BUT i love adding white to my art bc i feel like a fabric this vibrant and light would fit the scholars there. also, white seems like the furthest one could get from the gutter to me, bc while it is the color of mourning, it's also the color of purity and shen jiu would take the chance to put one more barrier between shen qingqiu the peak lord and shen jiu the slave. don't ask why i put shen yuan in better robes; there's no reason other to make him more like a mini shen qingqiu lol

the head disciples could probably get modified uniforms or a layer more, to make them really stand out. and i'm not touching on the hall masters and senior disciples bc NOPE. not my problem for now

last thing, fu yue my love, my beauty, my life force, WHICH CHARACTER ARE WE TALKING ABOUT FOR FU?????? i decided on these ones bc there were the closest i could get to the meaning Gemi intended but :(( i have a gut feeling the first character is wronggg

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Playing with fire's only gonna get you burned. Unless you're, like, into that kinda thing.

kai parker x reader

summary: things have been disappearing from your room lately, but never would you think kai is the one to blame.

tags: 1994 prison world, friends to lovers, snooping (it's very 'fuck around and find out'), mild argument, sexual tension, touch starved, kissing, touching, playful sex, teasing, fingering, vaginal sex, relatively mild smut, overstimulation, cuddling

word count: 5.5k

a/n: this fic is sponsored by wellbutrin... kidding. but that's the only reason i've actually been able to sit down and focus / write lately. this was requested eons ago, and with the greatest guilt, i'm just now posting it. also, i wrote it in a day. as in, today. i hope it's okay. <3

It started out innocently. A curious snoop in a big, almost-empty mansion, inhabited by two abandoned people left here by their families. 

He hadn’t expected her to go digging around in his stuff, and she didn’t think he’d come home early. Both were wrong. And as the thin material slips from beneath her fingertips in shock, he gives her an indescribable look. His nails rap on the wood of the doorframe and she stands, speechless. 

“Uh…”

“Hey, princess. Like what you see?”

-------------------------------------------------

The Salvatore Boarding House is where you found him. You wandered for some time before running into him and finding his company relieving. 

Of course, getting to trust Kai took some time. You found common ground in the fact that you both were hated by the Gemini Coven. Both had been sent here by them; Kai, sixteen years ago, you, only one, and both had been frowned upon by their families. But while you shared the same enemy, you were afraid for a while that Kai would be an enemy, too, considering what he did to be sent to the prison world. Apparently, as reported by his own tongue and the daily paper, he had slaughtered four of his siblings in an attempt to kill the youngest two. He didn’t feel much sorrow, nor regret, over his actions, and explained his methods of killing with a rather monotone voice. When asked if he’d kill you, he shrugged. 

“No point in doing that, really. It’s not like you can die, anyway.”

And that was that. 

For weeks, you feared him, but he got better as the days passed. Kai’s actually pretty funny and can cook well. And though you’ve never said it out loud, he’s pretty cute, too. Over time, your companionship turns into a friendship. You swap stories about your past and come to understand each other better. As cold as life has made him, you don’t think he wasn’t always that way. The more you grow to trust him, you start to see a side you’re not sure he’s even seen in himself for years. Sometimes you forget you’re all alone in a prison together, save for the fact you’re the only ones there. Sometimes, it doesn’t feel like a sentence for a punishment you both may or may not deserve. 

But lately, something’s been off.

It’s not that anything’s changed about Kai, but more so that it just feels… different. The young witch is the same playful, unserious boy you’ve known for months, but a few times, you’ve caught a glimmer in his eye you can’t quite decipher. He’s a troublemaker for sure, and though you’ve never seen malicious behavior, your head is filling with questions if he’s capable of some other kind of behavior you haven’t considered. 

Basically, things have been disappearing from your closet. Your favorite bracelets, a few lip balms, and clothes, even some you know you threw in the laundry bin. For a bit of time, you blame it on the same-day repeating thing. Maybe the gloss you stole from the department store has just been returned to its original spot to be sold. Maybe yesterday’s pair of underwear went back to the bottom of your drawer. Maybe the shirt you wore when you entered the prison world got swept through some portal back to the real world, because you hadn’t worn it here yet, so it must not be able to exist. 

One morning, ruminating thoughts swirl in your mind as you try to mentally explain the disappearances. It’s a rather new thing - within the last few weeks - and nothing like this had happened in the first couple months you were still roaming the empty earth. 

At the kitchen counter, you must seem lost in thought, because Kai shuffles a pancake off his spatula and onto your plate then nods. “What’s up?”

“My clothes are disappearing.”

“What?”

“Have you ever had that happen to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Out of my room. I’ll toss a shirt in my hamper, and it’s gone. My favorite chapstick isn’t in my nightstand drawer anymore.”

“Weird.”

“You’ve never lost anything?”

“I mean… misplaced things, yeah. But I know I just put them somewhere where I can’t remember where I put them, y’know? Maybe that’s it.”

“Maybe.” You take a bite of the food and smile up at him. “Ooh, perfect! Thank you.”

He returns the smile with a wink that makes you shyly look down. You eat in a comfortable silence, omit the CD player beside you being just barely audible; Billie Joe Armstrong whispers uncharacteristically rather than shouting into your ear at nine in the morning. 

He starts to speak again while gathering the dishes. “Hey, I need to take a quick trip to the store today, want to come?”

“Wait, why? We just went?” You ask, frowning. 

“That house down the street had a cookbook I’m borrowing-” you chuckle at the word choice, “-and I’m gonna try one of the recipes in it, but we need, like, half the things in it.”

You think about it. Going grocery shopping with him is always an entertaining experience, but you were planning on flipping your room inside out to look for your stuff instead. The most recent thing to disappear was one of your favorite underwear sets, and if you don’t find it, it’ll drive you crazy. Explaining this, though, sounds ridiculous, so you make an excuse. With a shrug, “don’t really feel like being cold today.” Despite no one around to operate it, Bell’s refrigerator section stays cold. 

“You have a jacket. Or you can borrow one.”

“You always take, like, ten years in there, and the cold seeps through eventually.”

He gives you a sassy look, but it’s true, so he knows he can’t really argue. “Alright.”

“Plus if you’re trying a new recipe, it’s going to take even longer for you to find everything you need. And then the recipe won’t have enough detail, so you’ll sit there for five minutes, debating if you should use brown sugar or light brown sugar.”

“Okay, you’ve made your point!” You smile in satisfaction. “I’ll go by myself. Won’t take more than an hour.”

“Two, maybe.”

He glares at you, but you only laugh. Kai, by now, is harmless to you. You can poke and prod him all you want and know he won’t hurt you. Maybe if his family put a little trust in him, they would’ve known that, too. 

“I’m leaving in ten.”

“Okay. Be safe from any vortexes that could contain aliens coming to invade our planet.”

He stares at you, then gives a playful roll of his eyes. You laugh. 

~~~~~~~~~~

It doesn’t make sense. You’ve flipped your room about a thousand times in the last hour and nothing, not a single one of your lost items have appeared. It’s actually driving you insane. On second thought, you might be going insane. You know internally that stuff doesn’t just disappear in this world. Some things might return to the way they were before - the Dookie album annoyingly starts at “Burnout” every morning that Kai presses play; the grocery store is always fully stocked, no matter how many bags of chips you take in a single day - but things don’t just get lost. The prison world has structure, in its own extremely aggravating way. If something’s missing, you lost it. 

But you’ve flipped your room three times to no avail. If something’s missing, it must not be in your room at all. You sigh, sitting in the middle of your now-messy room, and think. It is possible that they got mixed up in the laundry with Kai’s stuff and neither of you noticed. Of course, that doesn’t account for your two missing chapsticks, but maybe those were in pockets that ended up in the laundry, too. You crinkle your nose at the thought. If that’s the case, that chapstick and the hoodie it’s in are definitely ruined. 

With the new idea in your mind, you head to the laundry room to check it out. It’s a rather long walk down the hall and to your left, making you wonder, again, whose house - sorry, mansion - this is in the present day, and could they be living here now, in the real world? You and Kai have talked about it before, made bets on the residents’ identities and personalities. Kai thinks it’s the mayor’s, and that he’s some oldish rich guy with a trophy wife, who needed to live far away from his “village” to exude “dominance,” as if this were the middle ages. That, or a thousand year old witch who moved out here to never be bothered. You swear it’s vampires, but he always shakes his head, “that’s not a thing.” You think otherwise.

But regardless of who lives in the house, you can both agree it’s an insane amount of house for anyone. Though, neither can complain about the dungeon in the basement. It’s a nice touch. In fact, every house should have one. 

The laundry room checks out to be clean. There’s not a single sign of anything missing or out of place, and by this point, you just feel like giving up. Maybe the laundry ate them in the way it always seems to eat one sock. Oh well, because the constant search is only stressing you out. You stand there bored for a moment while trying to think of something to do. You could read; the library downstairs must have a thousand different books. Or, you could snoop the mansion. Kai’s shown you tons of stuff he’s found over the years: diaries, letters, secrets. Whoever lived here has quite the story to tell, but those things aren’t always easily found. The letters had been hidden in books, and between closely stacked books, and the most telling diary he’s found was in the floorboard of the furthest room on the right. Surely there’s more that Kai hasn’t discovered yet. 

You decide, then, that the best entertainment will be to snoop around the old Victorian home, because… why not? You can’t settle down enough to read, and when has anyone not had fun digging into other people’s business? After all, that’s what got you sent to the prison world in the first place. 

A part of you is most curious about the dungeon, so you decide to start there when something in the corner of your eye makes you pause. A lock, uncharacteristically on Kai’s bedroom door. It’s odd, considering the openness between you two; you’ve never felt the need to hide things from each other, and you’re not sure when he started feeling differently. You stare at it, curious and a bit hurt, before inserting your nail into the hole on the bottom. Again, you ended up here by pissing off one Parker, what’s stopping you from egging on another? And what would Kai possibly do to you that would hurt you? Like you told yourself earlier, towards you, he’s completely harmless. 

In a couple minutes’ time, you finally free the lock of its duty and push the door open. Inside, it looks normal. He’s always been clean and his room is no exception. You’ve seen it before, when he didn’t feel the need to put a suspicious lock on it, and it looks the same then as it does now. Still… that little weasel is hiding something, and you’ll be damned if you don’t at least peek. You step further inside, leaving the door wide open so you can hear if he comes back. 

To your displeasure, a five minute search yields no secrets. You’ve looked under his bed, in his drawers, and everywhere else that’s definitely invading his privacy, but hey, you were under the impression that there was no privacy in the prison world. You start your way back to the door, but then open the closet you had previously ignored, just in case. It checks as normal, but then… up high, in the corner, sits a little box out of reach. And by out of reach, you mean even for Kai, who’s rather tall, meaning even he would need a stool to retrieve it. Curiosity quickly gets the better of you and you fetch the nearest stool to grab it. Something this well hidden must be fun. And who knows, maybe it’s the residents’ mystery box, and Kai doesn’t even know it’s there? At least, that’s what you tell yourself to excuse your nosiness. 

Though, immediately upon opening it, that’s proven to definitely not be the case. 

A whiff of perfume floods your nose the moment you take off the lid. It’s familiar, and warm, and quickly, you realize it’s yours. Then, your heart drops at the first thing inside - something he should not have, and frankly, shouldn’t even exist -  which is a polaroid of you. Specifically, of you on your side, asleep, bare chested, with your comforter just barely covering your hips. Your spine is the main focus of the shot, but a little bit of your exposed breast shows. You drop it with a gasp. It flutters down and lands in a different place than where you had picked it up, revealing more. Each polaroid in the stack shows more and more of your body in every shot. Sometimes, your breasts are covered by a thin, lacy piece, but more often than not, your top is completely bare. Your comforter, luckily, stays at your hips, and the one or two times it slips further, you’re covered in your favorite floral set, but then you pause. That particular set disappeared a while ago, and now, you think you know why. 

Dropping the polaroid, you remove all the photos from the box to reveal what’s hidden underneath, and oh, does it shock you. Instantly, you eye your favorite set, causing you to swallow hard. Your perfume’s also in the box, alongside all your missing items: your chapsticks, bracelets, and three more pieces of your clothes. That rat. He’s been taking your things the whole time! Then giving no more than a shrug when you bring it up. Kai has been sneaking into your room at night, taking pictures of you and stealing your things, then acting none the wiser in the day. You try to feel angry, but you’re more shocked than anything. 

Hesitantly, you pick up a pair of your underwear, inspecting it as if you can’t believe it’s really there. You roll your eyes in disbelief as it slips off your finger, back down into the incriminating box. 

A knock raps on the doorframe. You freeze; you hadn’t heard anyone come in.

“Hey, princess,” Kai says, standing there, “like what you see?”

Your mouth falls open, a thousand words rising up your throat, but none of them coming out. You were shocked before, but then his sudden entrance and his laidback reaction makes you angry, and when he stands there, waiting for your response, you only find yourself shocked again. Surprised, that he’s found you digging through your stuff, yet doesn’t seem to care. 

That is, unless, the anger is bubbling underneath his fond smile. You know that Kai has an unpredictable edge to him. Sometimes, he’s quiet in his anger and lets it stew before exploding. You’ve only been on the receiving end of it once, ages ago, when you were still getting used to each others’ routines and you got too much in his way. You’ve seen it since then, but not directed at you: his father, mostly; his lack of magic; his misguidance about the world. But sometimes, oftentimes, he’s short in patience and snappy in reaction. He responds to disruption the same way his father does: suddenly, mercilessly. It’s all he knows, after all. 

But the Kai standing in front of you now, watching you, is neither of those things. He doesn’t seem angry or agitated. Caught off guard, certainly, but while that look is interpreted through his eyes, a small smile counters it. You stare a bit longer. Amused is more like it. He’s amused by your reaction. By you finding your clothes in his room and having no idea how to react to it. Initially, his posture held some indignation, probably because you were going through his stuff and had picked the quite secure lock to do so, but any ill feeling dissipates at the look on your face you’re sure is amusing to him. 

You try to replace your shocked look with a stern one. He only laughs. 

“Want to tell me why my stuff is in a box in your room, which was locked, by the way, not sure if you’re aware. Since when do we lock our rooms, Kai?”

He looks surprised by your sudden snap. Good. Unfortunately, he recovers quickly. 

“Want to tell me why you’re going through my stuff in the first place?”

You scoff. “I think the more pressing matter is the fact that you’ve been stealing my clothes! And- and- not only stealing, but look at this-” you toss a polaroid at him as if he hasn’t seen, taken, them himself- “how long have you been lurking in my room while I’m asleep?! Taking pictures of me sleeping? Not caring if I’m literally nude in half of them?!”

“I’d argue the nude ones are the best ones,” he says with a shrug. 

You scoff again. “What would possess you to do this? Why are you taking my stuff?”

“Y’know, princess… What’s funny to me is that your questions are just questions.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“You’re asking questions simply to know the answers. A playful curiosity. There’s no anger in your tone, no spite in your words.”

“Oh, I’m angry, Kai. I’m pretty fucking pissed off right now.”

He only chuckles. “Still not hearing it. See, I know anger. Anger’s my father, who has a harsh bark but a nastier bite. You, my angel,” he crouches down in front of you now, “have no bite.”

“Fuck you.” You push his shoulder. He barely sways, but you were kind of hoping to knock him over. You wait a moment, then try again. 

Kai, though, easily predicts your actions and grabs your wrist as soon as it comes within his reach. He holds on with a tight grip and you almost lose your balance. 

“Let go,” you grumble, raising your other fist. It only makes it halfway before he grabs that one, too. “Kai.” You struggle in his hands. “What the fuck? Let go of me.”

“Ah, ah.” He tilts his head to the side, a look that means nothing but trouble. “You were a bad girl to go through my stuff.”

“It’s my stuff, actually.”

“It became mine the minute it crossed the threshold of this house. You became mine.”

“What the fuck does that mean? This isn’t even your house!”

“But it is my prison world. Built for me when I committed a crime so heinous, they felt the need to lock me up. But you… what are you in here for? Stealing a book?”

“It was a grimoire, you fuck. Your father’s. So clearly my crime was equally heinous and they sent me here, too. The moment I got dropped here, this no longer became just your world.”

“You raise a good point. But still, I was here first. And I’m the oldest of my siblings, so I can tell you what to do.”

“You have a twin,” you counter, “who’s probably older than you by now, considering neither of us have aged, and you’ve been here sixteen years already. She’s probably… thirty-eight by now? Probably married, has some kids, a nice house.”

“Stop talking,” he snaps, tightening his grip on your wrists. They burn, but it doesn’t bother you. Egging him on is more fun. The tight cord of his control is breaking. 

“I’m just saying. Oh, and your younger twins, the two you didn’t get to kill. They’re, uh, twenty, now, I think. I saw them, actually, when I broke into your father’s house. They’re both blonde, wherever that gene came from.”

“Y/N-”

“Jo wasn’t there. Not sure where she went. Probably does have a house somewhere. Somewhere far, far, away from fucking Portland. Good for her, that place is a shithole.”

His grip tightens, his body almost shaking with anger now. “Stop. Talking.”

“Or what? Are you gonna attack me?” You put on your best puppy eyes. “Show me your bite’s worse than your bark? Because I’m just proving to you that I can bite. Don’t like it, do you? Yeah, well, I didn’t like finding my lingerie in a box in your room, but I guess we all can’t get what we want.”

Whether it was your words or the sass in your tone, he finally breaks. With a sudden force, Kai pushes your fists into your own chest, knocking you to the floor. You gasp a little as your head hits the wood, but you have no time to dwell on it as he climbs on top of you, pinning your fists now over your head. 

“You want to see me bite, is that it? Don’t think I have it in me because you’ve never seen it for yourself? I can be ruthless, Y/N, I can make you regret-” he pauses, jaw dropping as he realizes you’re giggling. 

“Regret what?” You urge. “Were you saying something?”

“You’re playing with fire, Y/N.” His eyes are dark, but not in a way that scares you. Instead, his pupils are dilated so much they look dark. He stares into you desperately, gaze fighting between your lips and your neck, as if unsure where to attack first. 

“And yet I’m just a girl, laying under a boy, asking to get burned.”

He doesn’t get the quote. It’s after his time. But the message is clear: you’re under him and you’re not fighting to get up; you provoked him enough just to send him off the edge; you were never really that mad about the pictures or the clothes. 

He pauses. Okay, maybe you were a little mad about it. He did go out of his own way to creep across your boundaries. But still… had he not, you would’ve never ended up in this position. You should probably thank him for that. 

You swallow, with difficulty because of the way you’re laying, and his eyes drop to the bob in your throat. He snaps out of a daze. 

It happens before you know it, his lips on yours. He starts soft, waiting for you to reciprocate, and the moment you do, he gets rougher, more confident, as if this is something he’s always wanted, but he’s so unfamiliar with being able to touch, that he holds back at first. 

You’re much less hesitant, though. You offer kindness to him through your words, but you’ve never touched him much, knowing how foreign it is to him. You’ve wanted to give in, to hug and hold him and kiss his cheek before you go to bed, but you were never sure how to bring it up. He’s guarded in his emotions. They’re there, but they’re locked away with a key you haven’t been able to pick. But this, maybe, is the first step. 

You’re not sure when you stood up, or if he picked you up, but in a second, you’re off the wood and plopped down on his bed. The pillow beneath you smells like your perfume and you raise an eyebrow at him. He tilts his head again - no comment. He’s kissing you again before you can say anything, effectively distracting you from the whole thing. One hand props himself up over you, while the other lightly grasps your neck. Both of your hands are tangled in his hair, scratching and pulling gently. You break the kiss, out of breath, and he trails his lips down your neck instead. Your back arches instinctively, and a giggle escapes your throat at a sweet spot. In a matter of seconds, he sucks a bruise into your skin before moving down further. Your shirt, very much in the way, is pulled up and off, followed by your shorts. You copy the action, pulling his own off him and immediately letting your hands explore his chest. It’s only fair, you think, considering all the times he’s welcomed himself to the sight of your body. 

Distracted, you miss him pulling off your underwear until they’re dangling on one finger in your face. You tilt her own head in confusion, then feel your jaw drop as he throws them in the box. 

“Mine.” He winks.

“No! Kai-”

You’re cut off by your own moan, provoked by the feeling of his touch on your bare body. He smiles, clearly pleased with himself, and touches again. 

“Those are mine,” you try to argue. 

“Are they?”

With a new bite, you lunge forward and surprise him, bringing him pause. You take control for thirty seconds, unbuckling his belt and sliding off his jeans and boxers. A gasp escapes his throat, the cold air hitting his cold, now exposed body, in addition to you seeing him for the first time. 

“These are mine then.” You toss his jeans on the floor, but keep his boxers like a prize in your hands. 

His look is unimpressed. “You wish.” He tackles you easily, prying the material out of your hands to ball up and throw, laying you back down, crawling over your body, licking his lips, eyeing you like prey. It happens too fast for you to react, and before you know it, you’re forced back into submission, him dominating easily. 

“Y’know, for someone not used to touch,” you pant, relishing in the feeling of his lips around your nipple, “you sure seem to know what you’re doing.”

“Instinct, baby.” 

“Oh, really?” 

He shuts up any further remark by meeting his body to yours, erect cock rubbing against your clit in a way that turns your brain to mush. “Yeah, really.” You don’t fight back this time. “So easy to please,” he mutters, his fingers moving to your clit at the feeling of precum rising up. 

“Stop teasing,” you whine, growing desperate. 

“Not teasing, princess. Just getting you ready.”

Pressure builds like a coil low in your stomach. You squirm, arching your back and shivering in pleasure, at the same time you mutter, “don’t stop.”

“Don’t move, then, baby.”

You try your hardest to listen, but it’s almost impossible with the way he’s touching you. The long fingers you’ve always admired rubbing in perfect circles. The lust in his eyes as he draws you closer and closer. The wetness on your thigh where his aching cock drips with its own need. 

“Kai-” you cry for a second as he stops. He spits on your clit, then laps it up with his tongue, sucking now, while his fingers open you up below. “Fuck.”

“You okay, princess?”

“Mhm,” you nod weakly. 

The coil’s so close to snapping. You won’t survive much longer, not with the way his tongue works so beautifully against the sensitive spot, and especially not when he looks up at you from his position, eyes still dark with lust, yet focused, as if this is the most important thing in the world. 

“Kai-”

“Mhm?” He asks without detaching. The vibration that it causes is what finally breaks you. With an eager moan, you finally come, the force of it shaking your legs and core. Kai sucks you through it and only lets up when you start begging, “please, please, please, I can’t-”

He ceases, and immediately crashes his lips onto yours, letting you taste yourself in his mouth. 

“You okay?” He asks between wet, open-mouthed kisses.

“Mhm.”

“Alright, good girl. Ready?”

“Please.” 

Of course he can’t deny you when you ask so politely. 

With a deep kiss, he distracts you enough to push in. You take him well until you’re almost full, gasping into his mouth and sinking into the mattress. You squirm a bit more, body reacting to the sudden intrusion, but settle around him soon enough. 

“We’re good?”

“Good.”

“Let me know if you need to stop.”

He starts slowly, pulling out a little ways and pushing back in, kissing you sweetly as he does. But then as your body adjusts and clenches around him, he picks up the pace to an even speed. His mouth drops from your lips to your neck, sucking more bruises into your delicate skin. You keep your hands tangled in his hair, pulling, grasping, moaning more as the pressure starts to build again. 

“Y’know,” you stutter, trying to speak as he thrusts. “Making me come once isn’t going to make up for you stealing my underwear.”

You can feel his smile grow against your skin. “Oh really?” He presses a kiss to your neck. “How about twice? Three times? Four?”

The color drains from your face at the thought of coming four times in one day. You really need to learn to stop challenging him. “I-”

“Yeah, four sounds good. Let’s try for that.”

He has slowed down a little to make conversation, but as soon as his mind is made, he picks his pace back up. His troublemaking smirk stares into you, waiting to see if you’ll challenge him again, then falls back on your neck once he sees he’s won. 

In the end, Kai holds true to his promise and coaxes three more orgasms out of you before his hips stutter. He pulls out and releases on your stomach, panting hard. You lay beside each other, completely exhausted and overstimulated, until he finally drags you up and into the bathroom. In a way, you do win, because he dresses you in his own clothes - boxers and a hoodie - before pulling you downstairs with him. You’re still determined to get your clothes back somehow, but as your eyes flutter sleepily still, you decide to table that for another day. 

That evening, when you settle down for your usual nightly movie, you find yourself laying against his chest with his arm around your waist. He seems more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him, and the noticeable difference makes you smile. 

“If you wanted to touch me, you could’ve just asked,” you half-tease. 

“Hm.”

“I like you, too, y’know.” He finally looks away from the tv, eyes dropping to you instead. “Way before all of this. I’ve had a crush on you for ages.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Fear of losing you?” You shrug. “Not only are we the only people here, but… you’re also the only person I’ve felt ever close to in my life. I didn’t want to do something that would make you uncomfortable, or make you hate me.”

“I could never hate you,” he admits. He presses a gentle kiss to your lips. “And I think I’m the one who crossed the ‘uncomfortable’ boundary.”

You laugh. “Yeah, you did. You crossed a very big boundary.” You tilt your head and run your tongue across your lips. “But… it doesn’t make me uncomfortable with you. Nor angry. Maybe in the moment, but certainly not now. Actually… it’s kinda hot, now that I think about it.”

Despite his passing nervousness, he can’t help but laugh. “I did say you’d be playing with fire.”

“Guess I should’ve headed the warning.”

You curl closer into him, adoring the way he responds so quickly, running a hand through your hair and dancing his fingers on your skin. It’s easier than ever to relax around him. Right now, this prison world feels like anything but a prison. 

~~~~~~~~~~

In the night, you sneak into his room, polaroid in hand. It’s rather easy, the lock is gone now and his door is cracked open, practically inviting you in. You tiptoe up to his bed, focusing the camera on Kai’s shirtless form and snap a quick photo, snickering to yourself. But then, as the old machine whirrs in action, your target opens an eye. You back up, glancing between the boy in the bed and the door. He groans, laughing on the tail end of the tired sound. 

“Whatcha doing?”

“Karma, baby.”

“Mhm, good try.” He eyes you in a way that sends a shiver up your spine. “Y’know… the way I got so many of you is because I was quiet.” 

“Uh-” You look at the door again - big mistake. The moment your eyes are off him, his arms around your waist. “Ah, Kai!” You screech, head hitting his pillow for the second time that day. 

He positions himself on top of you, practically sitting on you, and takes the camera from your hands. “Tip number one, snap the picture and leave before the camera starts to sputter.” He sets it on the nightstand. “Tip number two, stalk someone who’s a little less obsessed with you. That way, they might not be able to hear your every move.” Before you can reply, he’s kissing you again, with as much passion as he had only hours ago. 

[mocchii-writes]

hii!! i love your work! i would like to request head-canons with a reader who is an ex cop (could be from the same reason as jun ho, as they failed to investigate the mysterious island) but this time, they’re actually able to infiltrate into the games. you can do separate characters for gi hun, in ho, dae ho, thanos, and nam gyu?!

Squid Game Boys if You Were Undercover in the Games

Paring: Seong Gi-hun, Hwang In-ho, Kang Dae-ho, Choi Su-bong (Thanos), Nam-gyu x fem!Reader (Separate)

Warnings: Drugs

A/n: I hope I understood this correctly, Anon, it's a very cool one! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

~🍡🍡

Hwang In-ho:

This would be very interesting indeed

Since he's also an undercover spy-esc. type, he might not even notice if you act suspicious in that type because he's covering up himself

but he also seems smart enough to figure it out

he would admire your bravery, if so, and originally planned to shut you down once he thought you'd had enough fun

but there was something about the way you looked at him sometimes that made him pause

it took him a while to realise he actually liked you, and the thought didn't exactly comfort him

you guys would play a game of tag in the dark, jumping around the fact that you're on opposing sides of a growing war

and you'd both pretend you knew nothing so you could be friendly guilt-free

he wouldn't hesitate at the chance to save your life, unlike he would for many other "friends"

he's very protective and defensive of you anytime anyplace

if anyone even thought of hurting you, pray for them fr

he's almost ashamed to admit to himself that he cares about you, but the thought hardly crosses his mind when met with false hatred for you instead.

(or what he calls hatred)

Seong Gi-hun (s2):

You knew he could use all the help he could get, and he seemed almost too kind to be in this place

and you knew you could use all the help you could get as well

so you didn't have to think long on it to decide to tell him what you knew

he trusts you, for sure

he's also protective of you, trying his best to ensure your safety even though that's a hard ask

and you protect him too, to the best of your abilities

you both have a common goal, too, and that helps with the bonding

speaking of

you two would bond pretty well imo, sharing your stories and fears with each other at night

he's not very confident in terms of romance, and he'd probably miss most of your hints because he's so used to people never glancing his way

but eventually he would understand

if not your feelings, then his own

and he would probably confess to you by like either exploding a bunch of words out of his mouth that are hardly understandable, or very quietly and clearly, like he's sharing a secret with you

Kang Dae-ho:

If you told him he would be so impressed, let's be honest here

literally star-struck, because an undercover ex-cop is the sickest thing ever??

and not to mention he definitely already admires you

he wants to know everything about your investigation and your backstory

he feels very safe with you, but still holds himself to the standard of defending you if he needs to

you'll probably have to make the first move unless you can boost his ego a little more because like I said, he thinks you're way too cool for him

you would do your best to help him, and he does the same for you

which really makes you two a crazy power couple because when you guys really link up you're unstoppable

I just know yall would devour in the riot omg

he loves loves loves you, and he loves talking to you about all the police stuff you do and his time in the military

Choi Su-bong (Thanos):

It's an understatement to say you were wary of him, and even more wary of telling him your reasons for being here

but it's not like he would notice anything weird, so you'll be alright

you were trying to keep a low profile, but Thanos didn't intend to just let a pretty girl like you get away

He tried his usual charms, and whether or not they worked is... irrelevant... 🤭

anyways

you joined his group because you thought it gave you safety, but that didn't stop Thanos from trying to win you over

after your suspicions died down, he seemed pretty genuine

so you told him your story, and he listened

he told you he'd try to help you, but neither of you know if he could really help that much

but he definitely respected you more after that

and nobody dares to mess with Thanos's girl, but if they did, you know he'd handle it

he thinks of you as a close friend as well, and he trusts you more after you tell him you're undercover

he would want to tell Nam-gyu, but he wouldn't if you didn't want him to

he would think it's hot lmao

he'd be like, "So you're a super secret spy? cool, cool. Where's your earpiece?"

"bro"

"Hm?"

it overall wouldn't really affect how he treats you, but your relationship would sift, probably for the better

Nam-gyu:

Depending on how you met, he would be really gentle with you imo

he's really nice with thanos (though he claims it's for the drugs)

so I think if he liked you he would really like you

we know he's very touchy and probably protective of you

but when you tell him your real story, he's flabbergasted

I mean sure, it makes sense, but what??

his perfect wife? (he's known you 4 days)

he's very proud of it

will probably yap to everyone about it, sadly

you'll really have to hold him back, if you can

he'd say he wants to hear about it but hed probably lose interest lmao

but he'll ask you late at night, and you two will talk for a while about your lives

he'd say he's ashamed of his life currently, and that you have so much more potential

you'd have to comfort him and tell him it's okay

also, please comfort him when he takes drugs from thanos because they make him pretty anxious sometimes

and he just wants to be with you, so hold him ♡

protects you but also knows you can handle yourself, just give him this

Sorry, I'm posting really slow but all the req will be out once I get on that grind ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

~🍡🍡

[ryin-silverfish]

One nerd's musing about Chinese religion and "respect"

-I try to stay away from fandom discourse, but, much like how you can smell the stench from a dumpster fire without walking into said dumpster fire, I've noticed something that seemed to come up a lot in western JTTW + adjacent fandoms: "respect Chinese religion".

-Usually as a reason for why you shouldn't ship a character, because of fucking course it's shipping discourse too.

-And my first reaction is "Man, you are taking Chinese religion too darn seriously, more than people who are born and raised in China."

-My second reaction is "I mean, most of us are atheist/agnostic by default anyways, with a good number of what I'd call 'atheist/agnostics with superstitions': people who said they were not religious, yet believed in Fengshui or divinations and burnt incense at temples for good luck."

-My third reaction: "But why do I get the feeling that when you mention 'Respect', you are thinking about something completely different?"

-Then I reread an essay from Anthony C. Yu, "Religion and Literature in China: The "Obscure Way" of Journey to the West", and the metaphorical lightbulb just lit up over my head.

(Everything below applies more to Daoism + associated folk religions, but by the time most classic Chinese vernacular novels were written, the blending of the three religions had become well and truly mainstream.)

(The conception of gods differs from dynasty to dynasty. What I'm describing here is mostly based on Ming and Qing ones; if you went back to Han or pre-Qin times, most of these would not apply.)

(I am one of the "atheist/agnostic by default" people. I just have an interest in this kind of stuff. I am also just one Chinese person, and an actual Daoist/Buddhist/Religion Studies researcher would probably have a lot more valuable information and perspective to offer when it comes to contemporary practices and worship. Like any people on the internet: take my words with a grain of salt.)

-Even in the past, when society was far less secularized, Chinese gods are not omniscient, perfect beings whose worship is a solemn, humorless affair. Some's worship are Serious Business, but that has more to do with the sort of gods they are and the patronage they enjoy, not godhood in and of itself.

-And even the ones that you are supposed to "treat seriously" are still very human. To use an analogy I've used plenty of times before: you respect and fear them in the same way you'd respect and fear an emperor's official, or the emperor himself, because if you don't, you are not gonna like the consequences.

-However, unlike Jesus, the emperor & his officials were capable of being temperamental, flawed, or an outright asshole, divine or not. Ideally, they wouldn't be, and if you were one of the "serious" believers——people who actually got an official permit, became ordained clergy, and went to live in a temple, you were unlikely to think of your gods in that manner.

-But it wasn't a complete, utter impossibility. The lower you go in the pantheon, the closer you get to popular religion, the less "serious" the gods and their worship become. By that, I mean general attitude, not sincerity of faith. You still shouldn't be rude to them, but, well, they are more likely to take a joke in stride, or participate in the "vulgar" pleasures of commoners because they weren't as bound to Confucian moral standards or religious disciplines.

-To stretch the same analogy further: you should still respect your village head, they could still give your ass a good spanking for being a disrespectful brat, but you were not obligated to get on your knees and kowtow to them like you would do in front of a provincial magistrate, the emperor's minister, or the emperor himself, nor did they have the power to chop your head off just because you were rude.

-On the other hand, the emperor would never visit a random peasant just to help them fix their broken plow or treat them to a nice meal, but your village head could, and your relationship would probably be warmer and a lot more personal as a result.

-Your respect for them was more likely to stem from the things they actually did for you and the village as a whole, instead of something owed to this distant, powerful authority you might never get to see in your lifetime, but could change its course with a single stroke of a brush.

-Now exchange "village head" for your run-of-the-mill Tudis and Chenghuangs and friendly neighborhood spirits (because yes, people worshipped yaoguais for the exact same reasons), emperor + his officials for the Celestial Bureaucracy, and you'd have a basic idea of how Chinese religions worked on the ground level.

-This is far from absolute: maybe your village head was a spiteful old bastard who loved bullying his juniors, maybe your regional magistrate was an honest, upright man who could enjoy a good drink and a good laugh, maybe the emperor was a lenient one and wouldn't chop your head off for petty offenses. But their general degree of power over you and the closeness of your relationships still apply.

-Complicating the matter further, some folk gods (like Wutong) were worshipped not because they brought blessings, but because they were the divine equivalent of gangsters running a protection racket: you basically bribed them with offerings so they'd leave you alone and not wreck your shit. Famous people who died violently and were posthumously deified often fell into this category——shockingly enough, Guan Yu used to be one such god!

-Yeah, kinda like how your average guy could become an official through the imperial examinations, so could humans become gods through posthumous worship, or cultivate themselves into immortals and Enlightened beings.

-Some immortals aren't qualified for, or interested in a position in the Celestial Bureaucracy——they are the equivalent of your hermits, your cloistered Daoist priests, your common literati who kept trying and failing the exams. But some do get a job offer and gladly take it.

-Anyways, back to my original point: that's why it's so absurd when people pull the "Respect Chinese Religion1!!1!" card and immediately follow up with "Would you do X to Jesus?"

-Um, there are a lot of things you can do with Chinese gods that I'm pretty sure you can't do with Jesus. Like worshipping him side by side with Buddha and Confucius (Lao Tzu). Or inviting him to possess you and drink copious amount of alcohol (Tang-ki mediums in SEA). Or genderbend him into a woman over the course of several centuries because folks just like that version of Jesus better (Guan Yin/Avalokitesvara).

-But most importantly, Chinese religions are kinda a "free market" where you could pick and choose between gods, based on their vicinity to you and how efficient they were at answering prayers. You respect them because they'll help you out, you aren't an asshole and know your manners, and pissing them off is a bad idea in general, not because they are some omnipotent, perfect beings who demand exclusive and total reverence.

-A lot of the worship was also, well, very "practical" and almost transactional in nature: leave offerings to Great Immortal Hu, and he doesn't steal your imperial seal while you aren't looking. Perform the rites right and meditate on a Thunder General's visage, and you can temporarily channel said deity's power. Get this talisman for your kids at Bixia Yuanjun's temple, and they'll be protected from smallpox.

-"Faith alone" or "Scripture alone" is seldom the reason people worship popular deities. Even the obsession with afterlife wasn't about the eternal destination of your soul, and more about reducing the potential duration of the prison sentence for you and your loved ones so you can move on faster and reincarnate into a better life.

-Also, there isn't a single "canon" of scriptures. Many popular gods don't show up in Daoist literature until much later. Daoist scriptures often came up with their own gigantic pantheons, full of gods no one had heard of prior to said book, or enjoyed no worship in temples whatsoever.

-In the same way famous dead people could become gods via worship, famous fictional characters could, too, become gods of folk religion——FSYY's pantheon was very influential on popular worship, but that doesn't mean you should take the novels as actual scriptures.

-Like, God-Demon novels are to orthodox Daoism/Buddhism what the Divine Comedy is to medieval Christian doctrines, except no priests had actually built a Church of Saint Beatrice, while Daoists did put FSYY characters into their temples. By their very nature, the worship that stemmed from these books is not on the same level of "seriousness" as, say, the Tiantai school of Buddhism and their veneration of the Lotus Sutra.

-At the risk of being guilty of the same insertion of Christianity where it doesn't belong: You don't cite Dante's Inferno in a theological debate, nor would any self-respecting pastor preach it to churchgoers on a Sunday.

-Similarly, you don't use JTTW or FSYY as your sole evidence for why something is "disrespectful to Chinese religion/tradition" when many practitioners of said religions won't treat them as anything more than fantasy novels.

-In fact, let's use Tripitaka as an example. The historical Xuanzang was an extraordinarily talented, faithful, and determined monk. In JTTW, he was a caricature of a Confucian scholar in a Buddhist kasaya and served the same narrative function as Princess Peach in a Mario game.

-Does the presence of satire alone make JTTW anti-Buddhist, or its religious allegories less poignant? I'd say no. Should you take it as seriously as actual Buddhist sutras, when the book didn't even take itself 100% seriously? Also no.

-To expand further on the idea of "seriousness": even outside of vernacular novels, practitioners are not beholden to a universal set of strict religious laws and taboos.

-Both Daoism and Buddhism had what we called "cloistered" and "non-cloistered" adherents; only the former needed to follow their religious laws and (usually) took a vow of celibacy.

-Certain paths of Daoist cultivation allow for alcohol and sexual activities (thanks @ruibaozha for the info), and some immortals, like Lv Dongbin, had a well-established "playboy" reputation in folklore.

-Though it was rarer for Buddhism and very misunderstood, esoteric variants of it did utilize sexual imageries and sex. And, again, most of the above would not apply if you weren't among the cloistered and ordained clergy.

-Furthermore, not even the worship of gods is mandatory! You could just be a Daoist who was really into internal alchemy, cultivating your body and mind in order to prolong your lifespan and, ideally, attain immortality.

-This idea of "respect" as…for a lack of better words, No Fun & R18 Stuff Allowed, you must treat all divinity with fearful reverence and put yourself completely at their mercy, is NOT the norm in Chinese religious traditions.

-There are different degrees and types of respect, and not every god is supposed to be treated like the Supreme Heavenly Emperor himself during an imperial ceremony; the gods are capable of cracking a joke, and so are we!

TL;DR: Religions are complicated, and you aren't respecting Chinese religions by acting like a stereotypical Puritan over popular Chinese deities and their fictional portrayals.

[maybeiwasjustjade]

Genuinely, perhaps 99% of me, believes that the only reason Condal and Hess made HOTD Aegon a r*pist/have adult Aegon’s introduction the aftermath of the SA of a maid, was because they knew that if Aegon was just a drunk and a cheat—like almost all Westerosi men—he would be too tragic of a character not to root for, and they really couldn’t have that. No, Aegon has to be the monster to Rhaenyra’s saint, because if you took away the act that made him monstrous, he’s so easy to root for, and the TB/TG divide would be significantly larger.

Cheating and visiting brothels are quite common in Westeros, with the vast majority of male characters doing one or the other or both. Drinking is even more so. Aegon would still be palatable with either or both traits because it doesn’t make him worse than Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra had three bastards with Harwin because Laenor’s gay, so it makes her affair understandable and valid. Aegon was forced to marry his own sister as a young teen, and clearly despises the whole targ-incest tradition. Why is it a crime that he doesn’t find his little sister sexually or romantically attractive???

Aegon’s basically a Greek tragedy made flesh. The eldest son conceived to be a long-awaited heir, yet simultaneously cheated out of a birthright. Born wanted yet unwanted, the heir who is not an heir. Meant to be loved, yet raised without it, with a mother’s disdain and fear as his only companion. His father stopped wanting him sometime after his second birthday (probably around the time Jacaerys was born), and his mother never wanted him anyway. His mere existence is a threat to a crown he never wanted, yet nobody cared when they placed it on his head. He wants love but no one loves him, and contrary to popular belief, that lack of love didn’t just stem from adulthood. He was a little boy once too, who very much didn’t deserve that level of apathy.

Married to his sister despite his clear disdain for his family’s incestuous tradition. Forced to father children on her at the grand old age of sixteen (and she fourteen). The only thing he ever really loved was his dragon, and the children he had. And even those he loses to tragedy, and someone else’s doing.

It’s not at all a surprise that Aegon’s defining trait is his love for Sunfyre. A ridiculously strong bond, born from years of having only each other. Moreover, a dragon is the symbol of power, which Aegon has little of. He can’t protect himself from his own family’s abuse or machinations, and unless he claims the crown everyone he loves will die. Dragons also represent freedom, and the ability to just fly away. And if there’s one thing Aegon wants more than anything in the world, it’s to run away from his family and the accursed throne.

In that, he’s not so different than a young Rhaenyra (pre-personality change anyway). Young Rhaenyra hated having to conform to societal standards. Hated having no choice but to marry, and to whom. She too wanted to fly away to freedom. There’s too many parallels between the two, even down to their ages pre-timeskip. Rhaenyra was about 18, and Aegon now is only 20. Yet Rhaenyra at 16’s only problem was whether her infant brother would replace her as heir, while Aegon’s was being forced to play house with his sister and newborn twins.

Perhaps misogyny and society would always be Rhaenyra’s greatest opponent, and the same Aegon’s ally when it comes to their claims, but it was not the only issue. Precedent declared that Aegon would be heir ahead of her, yet it was Rhaenyra’s position and honor that Viserys defied law for, even when she committed high treason against the crown thrice. She got everything; Aegon had nothing. He’s the underdog of the story, not her. So had they not made him an on screen r*pist (unlike Daemon who was off-screen one and merely an on-screen pedo and wife-killer), it would’ve been very hard for the writers to push their “Rhaenyra good, TG bad” narrative. Those two would’ve had too many parallels and foils for it to work, and they really couldn’t have that, could they.

No, Aegon has to be the villain; Rhaenyra has to be the hero. It’s a black and white war, good vs evil. That’s the story HOTD is trying to sell, and not at all the complex tragedy of a family tearing itself and its dynasty into pieces over greed and idiocy.

[mockerycrow]

PACK CUDDLES (Hybrid!141 x GN!Human!Reader)

multiple characters masterlist

summary; the base’s heaters have all broken and aren’t due to be repaired for a week—it’s the middle of winter and you’re one of the few humans on base.

[WARNINGS; hybrid stuff, can be read as platonic or romantic, fluffy, sickness.]

THE BASE HEATERS decided to break at the worst possible moment—during the harshest part of the winter. They’re baseboard electric heaters that line every barracks room; the general community rooms such as the common area and the training rooms have central air and heating, but they didn’t decide to provide the barracks with the same luxury. It was never much of a problem, really. Nearly everyone on base was a hybrid of some kind, usually a bigger animal due to the needs of the military so they would produce body heat hot enough to keep them warm for the duration of when the electrical technicians would come in to fix the wiring, or replace the heaters.

Unfortunately for you, you are not a hybrid. You were born to completely human family members, and you have no hybrid genes in your chromosomes. Also unfortunately for you, you were for some reason one of the ones tasked with shoveling the pathways and roads on base—your station has no snow plows as the winters are usually mild to moderate, but this year decided to fuck you over harshly. You spent hours outside in the snow, bundled up in your warmest uniform with a winter coat, boots, gloves, hats, and even a balaclava on to keep as much warmth as possible. 

On day 2 without a heater, you woke up in the middle of the night unable to breathe through your nose. Your face is aching terribly—likely your sinuses—and it feels like you swallowed glass and gargled salt water right after. Your chest aches and you overall feel terrible, and you feel both hot and cold at the same time. Even after bundling up in your warmest hoodie and sweatpants—you slept with socks on, too—you just could not evade the sickness. Harsh coughs rack your body, your eyes tearing up as pain shoots through your chest and your throat to your ears. You groan and press your face into your pillow for a moment before you slowly kick your blankets off, pulling your hood up after sitting up.

You slip your feet into your slides and you check the time—0328. Fuck. The boys should be returning from a short mission soon. You hold in a sigh in fear of further hurting your aching throat, making your way towards your bedroom door. You grab your keys on the way out, letting your door close behind you. You squint as the hallway lights irritate your eyes, but you lay them no mind, walking down the hall to seek out the kitchen. Luckily, this base allowed basic medicines in a cabinet in the kitchen, so began your search for some cold medicine, and perhaps some sinus medicine too if you can take both at the same time.

To your sickly delight, no one seems to be awake right now—or at least hoarding the kitchen—despite many of the hybrids on base being nocturnal. You aren’t in the mood to really talk.. Not like you could, anyway. You shuffle your way to the counter with a harsh sniffle, opening the cabinet and rummaging around. You find some compatible cold and sinus medications, and you decide to grab a tea bag and the little plastic jar of honey, deciding that you want to soothe your throat. The air running through your throat makes it ache more. 

You put your forearms on the counter and arch your back, laying your head down as you wait for the electric kettle to heat up the water. At least the kitchen is warm. You holy a bit after it must be a few minutes, hearing the kettle heating up. You lift your head and see steam emitting from the opening, so you switch it off and begin to make your tea, stirring honey into the mug. You shove the pills into your mouth and swallow it down with a wince, using the tea. You sip the tea slowly until the mug is empty, so you quickly wash it out and put it in the sink to properly wash later. With your throat feeling a little better and a handful of paper towels, you head back to your room to go back to sleep.

The next time you wake up, it’s slow and uncomfortable. You’re on your back and you first feel the pain rippling through your throat with every wheezy breath you take—it’s a bit harder to breathe than before, even with the sickness—and then you notice the heat. Wait.. the heat? Isn’t the heater broken?

Your eyes flutter open, unfocused and bleary, with twinges of pain due to the dawn shining through your poor excuse of black-out curtains. Something shifts on your chest, causing you to glance down. When your eyes focus, you’re face to face with a wolf looking husky—striking blue eyes that are peering into your soul, the wolfdog’s fur being thick; white and grey, his ear twitching as he stares back at you. It takes you a moment before recognition filters through. It’s Soap!

A lazy smile spreads on your face as you pet his head between his ears, causing him to lick his snout. “Hey, Soap.” You croak. You sound absolutely dreadful. Three more heads pop out of view, making you flinch ever so slightly. “Jesus!” You hiss, looking at the other three. You’re met with a Grizzly bear, a Barbary lion and a Jaguar; Price, Ghost, and Gaz. Your bed springs croak under the weight of all of them—they broke your frame a year ago, still in the search for a frame that can handle a bunch of weight—and they shift closer to you. A low, rumbling noise comes from Ghost. There’s not much noise he truly makes in his lion form, he often is silent—except for the occasional chuff or intimidating growl—so you know the rumbling means something. 

You reach out to him with your other hand, tangling your fingers in his mane, feeling the rough texture between your fingers. His dark eyes stare at you and if you didn’t know Ghost as well as you do, you would likely be shitting yourself right now. He pushes his snout into your palm for a moment before his rough tongue peaks out and licks over your palm, making you wince from how prickly his tongue is. Ghost then lets out a huff, his breath reaching your face as you watch the Jaguar—Gaz—slink up to your face, the three of them; Gaz, Soap, and Ghost invading your personal space. No doubt that they can smell how sick you are. You think absentmindedly about when they returned from their mission. 

“I’m okay.” You say, your voice hoarse. You can’t help but wince at how you sound, but you don’t dwell on it too much when Gaz’s hard head pushes into your cheek, making you smile. “Yes, I promise.” You add on, moving your hand from Soap’s head to Gaz’s neck, your other hand still attending to Ghost’s mane. You glance over to where Price is, seeing his two little ears peering up behind Ghost. You groan dramatically and pat the spot next to yourself. “C’mon, Captain. You guys can be my heaters, I guess.” You weakly joke, earning a whine from Soap, who hasn’t moved an inch from laying on top of you. You make a noise in return, your eyes feeling heavy once again when the heat surrounding you finally becomes comfortable. “Supposed to fix ‘em soon.” You mumble, already half asleep by the time you feel Price’s nose sniff your cheek, checking in on you.

[cherryredstarz]

could u do the lads with a tall mc? i’m talking she’s like 6ft tall, long legs n all that. maybe how they’d be into her height, worshipping how much more of her there is for them to mark up

sylus/caleb/zayne preferably if u don’t wanna do em all

<3

AHHHHH YES OF COURSE ❤️❤️❤️

LaDs men with a Tall MC (Zayne, Sylus, Caleb)

A/n: I’m thrilled to have my first ever request! Tysm! Personally I really like the idea of this trope!!

Cw: tall afab queen x lads men, cheating (you get cheated on but it’s for the lore), mild angst (childhood), loving boyfriends with their tall queen, fluff, slight suggestiveness,

All your life, you’ve been tall. Really, really tall. When you were five? Four feet, one inch tall. Caleb was only three foot eight. By the time you were twelve? You were 5’4’’. Now you are twenty four years old, standing at a staggering six feet tall.

All throughout your schooling, you’d been ridiculed, bullied, and mocked for being taller than your classmates—especially boys. After all, most of the snotty teenage boys you went to school with felt emasculated and felt embarrassed for their genetics—and they took it out on you.

They’d call you daddy long legs. Skyscraper. Freak and bitch were also very common; no wonder you didn’t get into a serious, adult relationship with a man until you were twenty two. Even then, the asshole cheated on you, unable to ‘handle’ standing next to a girl taller than him.

And then you went on a date with him. And everything changed.

Zayne ❄️

Zayne adores his tall lady. Despite being 6’1” himself, outwardly, he was a gentle giant to most of the world. Not necessarily timid, but to an extent he could be. The doctor has never once made any comments about your height, even as children—the only reason he truly notes anything about your solid six feet of height is for the sake of your health.

He is so proud of his girl, and even as a child, he did his best to stick up for you (even though it typically resulted in his glasses being either stolen or smashed). He makes you feel confident—always praising you, practically showing you off. After all, Zayne knows you are absolutely perfect the way you are.

Privately, Zayne would pull you onto his lap, and his cold hands would knead at your thighs, knees and calves, soothing any aches away. How could he dislike any piece of you? It simply meant there was more of this wonderful woman to love.

It’s also very nice to have a tall, confident, pretty lady correct his food order to the waiters when you go out to eat, and he’s brought the wrong meal. (Cue the, ‘excuse me, sir? He asked for the green beans, not the mashed potatoes.’)

Sylus 🐦‍⬛

Sylus likes your tallness. His queen, his powerful lady. Somehow, despite being barely taller than you, he makes you feel dainty—and you love it.

Onychinus’s leader adores every piece of you, including your height—perfect for forehead kisses, and he knows he won’t be developing any back pain from heated make-out sessions anytime soon. The mega-rich man will take you to luxury boutiques, handing you his black card, and happily watches you go ham with his money (what else is he going to do with it, anyway?).

When he catches you ogling a certain pair of 5 inch heels, he can see the doubt in your eyes, that lingering childhood fear of being tall, being bullied for towering over the rest. You’ll watch as he (politely) asks the salesclerk to find a pair in your size and to have it wrapped for you.

You’ll leave the boutique happily, all doubt leaving your mind. Sylus will make sure of it, if the way you are walking funny the next morning is any indication.

Caleb 🍎

Surprisingly, Caleb has spent more of his life being shorter than you rather than taller. Being twenty five and 6’2”, being tall was new to him. With the both of you being tall, it gave him a great excuse to surprise you with a California King sized bed for your birthday, as well as an elaborately planned date.

Growing up, unbeknownst to you, whenever Caleb heard a classmate mocking your height behind your back, he would beat the shit out of them. Caleb would come home from school with bruised knuckles, and younger you would panic, bandaging his hands and applying salve. And he’d just beam at you and claim that he fell, internally proud that he’s successfully defended your honor.

It also gave him more skin to bite. You’d be home, watching a movie, and he’d crawl off the couch and between your thighs, just biting at your soft, squishy flesh, and kneading at it with his hands. When going out with Tara for bubble tea, she’d raise an eyebrow and ask about the pink and purple marks on your long legs, and your blush, saying it was a puppy you’d played with the day before. A tall, needy puppy that just so happens to be named Caleb.

[chadobi]

Hii!! I would have a request if it's ok...

So- I was thinking.. could you do one of the (or all separately) turtles with s/o that is.. kind of autistic, and their special interest are turtles, and they know absolutely ton of fun facts and know their anatomy very well and stuff

And maybe that would be the reason why they didn't freak out when they met em

Yeah anyways, thank you very much!!

Heyyy! Life’s been kinda crazy lately, so sorry I haven’t been around much! I’ve been writing some stuff for you guys when I get a chance tho! Btw, I freaking love this idea!

ROTTMNT boys with an S/O who knows everything about turtles

Rise!Leonardo (Red-Eared Slider)

•When you first meet him, Leo’s fully braced for the usual mix of panic, screaming, or fainting.

•But instead, you look him up and down and immediately say, “Oh wow, you’re a red-eared slider, right? The stripes on your face are a giveaway.”

•He freezes. “Uh… yeah? How do you…?”

•Cue you info-dumping about red-eared sliders being semi-aquatic, thriving in slow-moving water, how they bask to thermoregulate, and how some males vibrate their claws during mating displays—

•“WAIT—hold on—are you calling me flirty or just biologically accurate??”

•You tell him you’ve been obsessed with turtles since you were five, and Leo just falls in love a little on the spot.

•You literally never panic around them, and it makes Leo feel seen. Like… you met him as he is and you were just excited.

•He starts asking you about turtle trivia. Sometimes he’ll quiz you in battle just to distract you from danger (“What’s the average lifespan of a slider again?!” “20 to 40 years depending on habitat—wait, Leo, DUCK!”)

•He starts using turtle facts as cheesy flirting. “You know, some turtles can breathe through their butts. Not me though. But if I could, I’d only do it for you.”

Rise!Raphael (Snapping Turtle)

•Raph is so used to people being scared of him. He’s massive, he’s spiky, he’s got that intimidating edge.

•But when you meet him, you just kind of… blink up at him and say softly, “You’re a common snapping turtle, right?”

•Raph is baffled. “How’d you���”

•And suddenly you’re lighting up as you start talking about the ridged shell, the prehistoric jaw shape, and how snappers have powerful necks with lightning-fast strikes.

•He kind of… melts? Like he’s never had anyone recognize his species in a way that wasn’t fearful.

•You add, “But you’re way friendlier than a snapper usually is. You’re like… a gentle tank.”

•And Raph just turns red. No one’s ever used “gentle” and “snapping turtle” in the same sentence for him before.

•He’s super protective of your special interest. He learns to spot when you’re overwhelmed and helps ground you by letting you gently touch his shell (you tell him the name of each scute and he listens like you’re reciting poetry).

Rise!Donatello (Softshell Turtle)

•Donnie thinks he’s prepared for anything. But when you first meet and don’t flinch or stare, just go, “A softshell! I’ve never seen a living Apalone spinifera so close before!”

•His brain short-circuits.

•You immediately launch into the unique adaptations of softshells: how they’re built for speed, their snorkel-like noses, their leathery skin, and—of course—how sensitive they are to touch and water quality.

•Donnie: “…Are you flirting with me through turtle taxonomy?”

•You: “No, I just like turtles.”

•You: “…But also, yes.”

•He lowkey records your turtle info-dumps and listens to them when he needs to self-regulate.

•You start helping him upgrade his tech with ideas inspired by actual turtle physiology (like better humidity sensors in his suit to mimic softshell needs).

•You two go off on wild biology tangents for hours and the others can’t get a word in.

•“Donnie, did you know some turtles can absorb oxygen through their cloaca?”

•“Babe, if I had a cloacal respiration system, I’d be unstoppable.”

Rise!Michelangelo (Box Turtle)

•Mikey finds you in the lair just casually reading a book titled “Turtles of North America” and doesn’t think much of it.

•Until you look at him and go, “Oh wow, a box turtle. That explains the domed shell! You’re like a walking tank!”

•He GASPS—“You KNOW what kind of turtle I am???”

•You happily rattle off facts about box turtles: their hinged shells, how they’re land-based but still need humid environments, how they can close up completely inside their shells—

•Mikey demonstrates immediately and gets stuck. “Babe, help. The shell got me.”

•You gently help him wiggle out and he’s like this is love.

•He starts calling you his shell-mate.

•You two start a shared turtle scrapbook where you paste pictures, drawings, and funny facts. Mikey adds stickers. You add footnotes.

•You have a habit of using turtle anatomy metaphors when talking to him—like “don’t retreat into your shell” or “your plastron’s showing” (when he’s being vulnerable).

•He responds by lifting your mood with turtle puns 24/7: “You’re turtley amazing,” “Shell yeah,” “You’re the snap to my crackle.”

[hazbinwhoree]

Imagine S/O reader tags along with Adam to meetings sometimes. What if an overlord like Val or GOD FORBID Lucifer made advances towards THE first man’s wife??? Any format u want:). Also ur my fave writer on here by far, so have a good day/night <3

Protective Adam Headcanons

A/N: Thank you so much, that makes my day! I was going to do Lucifer but Val needs his ass beat so here’s that.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to tag along while Adam did his Heavenly duties

That included meetings in Hell

Adam hadn’t said what this particular meeting was about and was actually slightly resistant of you coming, but you wore him down quickly and came along anyway

The meeting was with Vox, Val, and Velvette, Vox had called the meeting to bargain with Adam for Adam to kill Alastor during the next extermination

It wasn’t common that Adam attended meetings with Hell actually in Hell, usually using his hologram from the comfort of Heaven, but for whatever reason, this meeting was in Hell

You stood behind Adam and off to the right while he and Vox were in a heated debate, Velvette occasionally chiming in

You looked at Val, to find him already looking at you

And you didn’t like how he was looking at you

He sidled up next to you, Adam too distracted to notice

“Hello, aren’t you just the prettiest thing?”

Val took a drag of his cigar

“I’d make a lot of money off of you~”

One of his hands had snuck behind you and his hand groped your ass

“DON’T TOUCH ME!”

That gets Adam’s attention immediately

He whips around just in time to see Val retracting his hand from your ass

He’s on Val in seconds

He tackles Val to the floor and sits on his chest as he begins punching Val’s face

“Adam!”

You’ve never seen him like this

He lands punch after punch and Val’s face is getting bloody

Vox and Velvette are yelling at him to “Get off!” but Adam’s in a blind rage

It’s only when you touch his shoulder that he stills

“Adam, he’s had enough.”

Adam reluctantly climbs off of Val and goes to stand, but not before leaning down to whisper in his ear

“Touch my wife again. I dare you.”

Adam stands and immediately makes a portal, grabbing you and pushing you through it

He flips off the room before going through the portal himself and closing it

In Heaven, Adam is still trying to calm down

It takes a look of fear from you for him to finally soothe his rage

“Baby, don’t look at me like that. Come here.”

He opens his arms and you throw yourself into them

He closes his wings around you

“No one will ever touch you again.”

[aritsukemo]

Hold Me

Luka x GN Reader ( Hospital AU )

Summary: After another brutal experiment that leaves Luka dazed and in pain, he seeks out his sole pain reliever, you.

Warnings: If it wasn't already obvious, this takes place in a lab-like hospital. That said, references of stuff like IV's, blood, bandages, etc. are made so if that makes you uncomfy I strongly advise you opt out of this one! This takes place after Luka's heart rate experiment with that sack of shit Herperu so if you aren't aware of what that entails, I also advise you go look into it before reading this. You have been warned!

A/N: I'm thirteen days late, but here is a book with a black covering with planets and dying stars on the spine, a bouquet of red & orange tulips, chamomile tea, and an apricot danish for...Rei! Enjoy @papiliotao and I apologize for the late arrival!

Event: AriTsukemo's 2025 Appreciation STELLARONHVNTERS'S Appreciation Reading Party

Tagging: @tragedy-of-commons

“What are you doing in here?” Was the question that managed to break through the tough silence of the room. It was voiced with fearful confusion. Certainly not the cheeriness Luka wanted, but he’ll take what he can get.

 “I missed you,” He confessed giddily like a schoolgirl with a crush. His pale face stained with a deep, cherry blush which would make anyone believe that he was suffering from the most severe fever of his life. He’s not. You know this, but you still raise your hand to his forehead when he draws near to check anyways.

He has a slight fever despite how much red covers his cheeks, nose and ears and you’re sure you know the cause of it — though you were no doctor.

It was the same annoying reason for his sudden visit, the same irritating reason from last time he broke the rules and was later punished for it; you.

Nevertheless, your heart did sing. Maybe it was due to the foreign look that clouds his visage with no remorse — that glazed over expression that was complemented by glimmering, sunny hues and a wide, eager smile — and the fact that he seemed truly uncaring, but the longer you stared, you could feel your anxiety being flushed down an imaginary drain.

Alas, you only had the pleasure of feeling neutrally empty before this light liquid of relief came pooling in, reminding you of the breath you've been holding this entire time.

You had blocked out the feeling for as long as you could, but seeing him after so long reminded you oh so bitterly that you were scared stiff — terrified about things out of your control and unknown to your mind and seeing him, okay and well and alive allowed all that worry to seep from your pores.

You let your breath go just as it began to burn your lungs, and because of that, when your lips parted to speak, you could only do so in a soft murmur — as if you were reciting your favorite lullaby.

 “I missed you too…but you shouldn’t be in here. What if—” You're shushed in probably the worst yet best way as Luka decides he doesn’t want to hear what you’ve jammed in his ears a thousand times already and leans in for a kiss.

His lips are firm, cold, and no matter how much he tries to make it taste better, it bleeds the rotting blood of absence. Devoid of emotions that any sane person should possess and feel — the tang of fear mixed with worry of getting caught and being severely punished. The bitter zest of irritation at your lack of excitability initially. Maybe even sadness of this possibly being your last time seeing each other if, again, he’s caught disobeying so unabashedly — and yet nothing sours the taste of his lips, leaving you to deal with the teeth-rotting sweetness of his love for you.

You quickly grow overwhelmed, but how could you not? Oftentimes than not, Luka’s love felt like you were actively consuming a heart that was still beating with life and his show of affection was constricting at best. Like you were being squeezed and choked by clingy intestines and limbs that want nothing more than to mold and mix with yours. In the face of such destructive endearment, it’s inevitable for you to yearn for an escape and push him away whilst silently gasping for breath. 

Luka doesn’t pay mind to your attempt at fleeing and immediately leans back in as if it never happened. Starting a trail of kisses along your jawbone, ones you’re sure will sink into your flesh and infect your bloodstream sooner or later.

Before that happens, you need to get him to go back to his room.

 “Luka…” You call, beginning to push him away once again only for Luka to protest by throwing his arms around your neck. You groan, “Luka.”

He hums, slowing but never stopping in his assault despite the bellowing cries from his abdomen and the acute stabs of pain to his frail joints whenever he moves even the slightest bit — which you managed to catch out of the corner of your eye.

That’s when you grip him semi-tightly by the shoulders and rip him away from your neck just as he opens his mouth to lay a dent in your supple flesh with his teeth, “Luka, stop.”

You told him that as if he had a choice. With how firmly you held his shoulders, no amount of jerking or squirming would allow him to break free from his captivity. Regardless, he tries, twisting and yanking every which way despite the fact that the harsh movements did nothing but add onto his near-constant headache and throw a bit of dizziness in the mix. He exhausted himself like an overly excited candle, hypnotized by his own demented love for you.

To others it was insanity, but to him it was invigorating to be driven to an edge, tipped off it, and actually feel your heart skip at the weightlessness of the fall. It was a drug he could never tire from even when his heart beats to the drum of a heart attack and he’s breathless and shaking. To him, it was the closest he’d ever get to cloud nine and he’d tear himself apart to continue reaching for it.

Besides, it wasn’t much different from his Father’s experiments where he’s actually ripped apart. At least now when he’s stitched back together something warm fills his chest cavity

 “You should sneak back into your room before dinner time,” You whisper, like someone other than him may hear you, “If they check your room and see you’re not there, they may…” You don’t dare finish your sentence. Scared that so much as saying it aloud would bring such a horrid possibility into fruition. You instead decide to mutter, “Lets just say, I’ve heard them talk about…the other yous a lot more recently.”

And as if he were deaf, Luka asks, “Hold me?”

 “Luka—” “Please? I’ll do anything you want after that,” He cuts off, a pointless bargain seeming as he’d do that anyway. Practically living in this hospital your whole life — though most times it was treated moreso like a lab — you’ve learned a lot of things, especially about the blonde that sat before you. If you asked it of him, he’d carve out his very heart and serve it up to you on a golden platter without hesitation. Throw in a smile and he’d chop off his head for you to use as decorum for your bland room.

If you merely told him and seriously meant it, Luka would get up and walk out of that door right now, you’re sure of it.

…But can you bring yourself to do it? To use the same assertion that the segyein use to shove you around with all the time? That make your life miserable? That often made you feel as though cutting up all these cords that impale you with a pair of scissors and bend them into shapes until you're unable to keep your eyes open seem like the next best thing? Despite knowing the blissful effect you give him, can you snap at him to leave? Do you purposefully walk back in doors when you’ve finally allowed the sun for a brief moment? Do you strip him of that much needed sunlight? Force him into that stale loneliness that you know slowly drives him mad?

How could you say something like that and mean it when Luka looks like he’s just returned from war — with his hair going every which way as though it had been tugged with the strength needed to kill a person. His limbs tightly covered all over in off-white that, in certain places, have light splotches of crimson that give proof to the hell he likely endured. The fact that…wait. Is he…?

 “...Are you trembling?” You whisper. Luka immediately responds, unsettling innocence laced in his obliviousness, “Am I?”

He lowers his gaze, raising his hands up before him where he then flips them over to show himself his palms. He turns them again to look at the back of his hands before repeating the process a third time, as if he truly couldn’t believe it.

 “I guess I am,” He then acknowledges, his smile unwavering.

Something in his voice does change, however. As if pointing out his tremors had struck a weak point in the wall in his mind that he had no clue he built, his tone crumbles and his words shake in a similar way yours would whenever you had to participate in one of those god awful experiments.

He asks again, “Hold me?”

You give in immediately, tugging him closer so that you can cage him in your arm. Now uncaring of the fact that he’ll do nothing but steal the warmth from your body and the very oxygen from your lungs as soon as the chance arises.

 “What’s wrong? What happened? What kind of experiment was it this time?” You shoot out question after question, pulling back only to search his eyes for answers to what the actual hell happened for him to be put in such a state. 

And he replies simply, “Heart rate,” 

You can feel your own heart drop and shatter like glass, scattering around and piercing your organs — which bled out even more of your sorrow. That sadness doesn't last long in your warm body, and before you can fully process your own despair, you feel something bubbling at the pit of your stomach. Pure, hot, lava overflowing in your veins and seeping out of your pores and mouth in the form of fiery words.

 “Why in the world are they doing that again?!” You asked, your voice now raised to an earsplitting octave, “Didn’t they already get what they wanted out of you the first time? I thought you said everything went fine?”

In the face of questions you both knew Luka couldn’t truly answer on his own, he answers you with a hum and a lazy, open mouth kiss to the part of your shoulder blade that your tacky gown exposed to him. He lays against you, sucking in your natural perfume through his nose before murmuring against your skin, “Squeeze me?”

And you blurt out, “Why?”

From the looks of it, he was in dire condition. His bandages hid them well, but you know what lies underneath; ugly stitching and unhealed cuts. That said, you fear giving into his wish may cause him to burst under the pressure and for his guts and blood to spill out all over you.

But alas, he asks again, pleading with silent desperation, “Can you squeeze me, please? I’ll leave right after if you want to just please.”

You hesitantly agree.

Your arms stiffen, and just like he wished, you squeeze down. Not too hard, but just enough to that he’ll feel it — the constriction of his limbs and the force that pushes your bodies impossibly closer — before loosening your grip.

 “Do it again,” He says, immediately going back on his previous words like you expected him to. You decide, this once, not to chastise him about breaking his promise and give him another gente squeeze.

Your ears pick up on the light exhalation he lets loose from his lips. It‘s not sharp and stricken with pain like one would think, but airy and carries this strange sense of relief. It was as if he liked this feeling that was akin to walls closing in on him. The slight fear — or in his case, thrilled amusement — that came with putting your life in another’s hands. The steady reminder that he was here, alive, in this horrible world filled with strange creatures who want nothing but to torment and toy with those like him and you.

But as he let out another one of those sighs and you felt his lips softening against the crook of your neck, you found learning his reason behind the odd request less and less important.

As long as he was still here, safe and physically intact in your arms, nothing else mattered.

 “...Can we… Can we stay like this for a bit?” He mumbled. You decide to ignore the sudden crack that splits his words midway through speaking. Look a blind eye to the translucent crystals gliding down his pale skin and the sudden dampness of your shoulder that soon follows afterwards and instead bury your face in his shoulder.

Rust quickly floods your nose, but you try your best to take your mind off of it as your mind wanders to things that may smell more pleasant — like that plantation you read about the other day, anemones you think it was called — as you finally replied in your own somber whisper.

 “Yeah… Yeah, I don’t mind. ..But only this once.”

⇢ On the last page, you notice two stick figures. One is obviously nervous while the other has an arm around them and an endearing grin on their face. Above it, the two stick figures seem to be in a lighthearted dispute with one another. In another corner, they seem to be laughing up a storm, it reads..

Rei, you were the first person I called a friend in the server. The first person I could connect and laugh with. I remember being petrified and nervous as meeting that many people all at once was an overwhelming shock to my senses. I was shaking and lowkey sweating, but joining in a discussion with you brought me down to earth and helped me truly embrace this amazing place!

Our late night talks became a favorite. A light during a time I was shrouded in darkness. A warm blanket to my freezing bones. ..Okay I’ll stop trying to be a poet BAHAHAHA-

You’re one of my favorite people even amongst my favorites and our alien stage talks and banters and jokes are always a blast! You’re such a cool person and your writing is beautiful OMGOSH YOUR WRITING AHHH PLEASE I HOPE YOU FIND THE MOTIVATION TO WRITE SOON BECAUSE THE WAY YOU STRING WORDS TOGETHER ARE BREATHTAKING AHHH

..Still don’t forgive your blasphemy though. My wives are beautiful smh-

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[fuckyesbrucewayne]

I was debating on whether to make this post or not, but then I realized that if I cannot be annoying about Bruce Wayne in my Bruce Wayne Sideblog™ then what's the point. So here are basically my thoughts on why Bruce's characterization on Batman and Robin: Year One doesn't work for me, especially on this last issue.

So without further ado, let's begin!

First things first, I'm going to show the panels that are the whole reason I am making this post first, and then analyze what is happening and why I think it doesn't work for a young Bruce that is just beginning. And yes, I will be using as a basis Golden and Silver age Bruce, because he's the blueprint whether Mark likes it ot not.

(To give some context Robin got himself kidnapped, but he saved himself. Alone, I might add.)

This scene begins... with not much promise. This whole comic makes it a point that Bruce is not only clueless about raising Dick (an idea I'm not entirely against) but also makes it seem like he's kind of forced to take care of the kid? For some reason?? The comic treats it like it's a chore he has to do, and that it falls more on Alfred's shoulders than anything... and Alfred is also not very good at it, but that's another story (I'm not completely against that as a characterization choice on Alfred's side).

My whole problem with this basis is that if Bruce is not only clueless but also kind of not interested in raising Dick... Then why did he even take him in in the first place? Like, what was he thinking, and more importantly, what am I supposed to get from this? Because I'm going to assume that the reason he took him in was because he saw himself in him, right? So... it was just a selfish act?? On a whim?? That's it??? You'll understand why I feel that idea is kind of shallow, at the very least.

But going back to the page at hand, we can see that Alfred is making a point of not interfering and letting Bruce figure himself out, but also letting it be known that he... Kind of doesn't like Dick either (which is surprisingly in character with Dixon's Robin origin story, so I guess there's some basis there).

Robin's first question when they're left alone is that if he's going to get fired, which I find "fascinating" that so many modern retellings focus on, because the idea of firing was not that important in the original stories. Like, the fear of being fired was less important than the fear of being abandoned by Bruce or being replaced, that last one was very common... But firing in and of itself wasn't necessarily that big of a deal, and it never was until that infamous story of Nightwing's second origin (which I think you can guess it's not my favorite, not when the first one was so good already... But also because Max wrote himself into a corner with that one. So you're telling me Bruce fires Dick because he doesn't want a young partner and then immediately accepts 12-year-old Jason. As his partner. What.). Anyways, Bruce's answer to that loaded question is "not yet", which is. A choice. Because what are we doing here, why is Bruce taking in an orphan who has lost every semblance of family he had but is also making his position in his household so... flimsy. There was a time when it was literally only the two of them against the world, and I understand we cannot do that anymore because of Alfred, but even then writers have made it a point to write about how these two were a set, a "do not separate" team. They're the dynamic duo for fuck's sake, why is Mark making a point to write Bruce reaffirming Dick's fears about his position being temporary, what am I supposed to understand here about Bruce's character as a caregiver. And also why is he making Bruce separate himself from Dick by saying that he is rich, that the money is his, not theirs. Why are we giving the 12-year-old or however old he is supposed to be here financial insecurity.

I know you will be surprised to know this, but Bruce has always been kind of a workaholic... but not surprisingly, and contrary to what everyone wants you to believe, in his earlier years it was not so exaggerated. He used to do a lot of fun activities with Dick! If Dick wanted something he would cave like a house of cards because that was his little boy.

They went fishing a lot, they had pillow fights, they went to the lake, to the beach, camping, they had fun a lot of the time, HE USED TO TELL DICK TO TAKE IT EASY!!!! Hell, they didn't even go looking for cases most of the time, they would go to a museum or try to relax and a bomb would fucking explode.

So... why are we making a point to show Bruce IN HIS FIRST YEAR WITH DICK telling him that "yeah actually every day matters and if you are not doing something productive you deserve to suffer or whatever". What is going on here. I'm not saying that Dick's workaholic tendencies don't come partly from Bruce, but we all forget that Dick has been a child star athlete since he was five at the very least.

Hell, this comic literally goes into a tangent in the next page about this.

And here we arrive to my last straw with this comic. I'm going to kill someone I fear. In what universe, in what fucking universe, is Bruce Thomas Wayne telling Richard John "Dick" Grayson that he made a mistake in taking him in. Why are we accepting and even praising this characterization. I'm not even going to say anything I'm just going to leave comic panels here.

But yeah this was the page, the panel, that ended it for me. We're not coming back from this. And if you think next page fixes it because Bruce is known to be very autistic blunt and say the first thing his brain is thinking without realizing it can be misinterpreted... Just look at this.

What is this, what is this supposed to be. What the fuck. In other circumstances the idea of "we're here to help each other" is something I wouldn't be against, but it's just the whole conversation before it that ruins it. So basically, after Bruce threatens to throw him out, reaffirms Dick's fears that his position is temporary and that Bruce has all the power in this dynamic, THEN he's like "we're here to help each other yippieeeee help me child" are we stupid. Are we stupid.

Basically I think I've made my point clear. But if not, my biggest problem is this: if Bruce has been a cold-hearted paranoid jackass since the beginning... then what's the point.

What's the point of Jason's death, of the accidentally good storytelling of Bruce going through traumatic event after traumatic event (Jason's death, Knightfall, No Man's Land, Fugitive, Identity Crisis, etc., ETC.) and coming out of them more cynical, more changed, more broken. If he's always been cold and callous, if there was never any fun, any whimsy, any love... then how did Dick become so devoted to him.

Why do they both miss the good old days if there is nothing to miss.

What am I supposed to be understanding here, about the dynamic duo's relationship. And most important of all... What's the point. If this relationship is based on abuse, if this relationship has nothing good going for it, if Bruce has been always an abusive monster and Dick a poor victim that didn't know any better, then what's the point. What is the point of Batman and Robin, if this is all there has always been. Is this all Bruce is allowed to be using this toxic view of masculinity as his basis. Is he not allowed to be fun, to be loving, to feel anything outside of anger or annoyance.

Why does he barely smile at Dick in this comic, even when they're out of the suit, if he is supposed to be in his first few years? Where's the tragedy then, in knowing he used to make him laugh.

Why does he suddenly not seem to like Dick for who he is? Because that's the thing, it just seems like he doesn't like him, like there's no reason he took him in other than a sudden whim, like they are not the fucking dynamic duo, like they are not the blueprint. They just feel like two people that don't even like each other and are forced to live together. And how is this dynamic more interesting, how is this supposed to be better than what we had. What's the point, man.

What's the point.