#i fucking hate it!!!! it creates so much unnecessary pressure!!!!

[nevertheblood]

the endless battle of me vs whatever bizarre need school teachers have to teach kids to prepare for language speaking exams by memorising huge blocks of text at a time

for most students this is vastly unhelpful???? I'll fight i swear it

[mrspotatoheads]

Electra everybody is like get back in state just assume. You are all you need. You just need to persist .I get it. I understand but idk how to put in words and make someone understand that it's so difficult. I can't do it idk how to assume and how to do all this. Ik these methods to be used and 3d isn't real etc. But I can't do it I want something I can't assume it's mine and then not get sad when it isn't happening and then also making sure I don't loose the faith that loa isn't a lie that I'm reading. It's not happening. I want it but there is a breaking point where I'm seeing the loml with someone else and me persisting is getting me no where. Plz don't hate me I just don't know how to express what I'm feeling rn I don't know what to do I'm so stuck

This is going to be a long reply, but I hope you can understand what I’m saying, reread this multiple times if you have to.

I do understand that it’s difficult, I struggled with loa for nearly three years straight. I knew exactly what I needed to do but like you said I just couldn’t assume. Im going to be honest, there isn’t any magical advice, one day it just clicked, I realised that I was the only person holding me back and I understood what loa truly meant. Every person has control over their thoughts, I understand that people have mental disorders etc. but you still have control over how you’re going to react to a certain thought that has popped into your brain. I used to think I didn’t have control over myself because I was getting negative thoughts left right and center but that doesn’t matter.

Don’t purposely go out of your way to check the 3D if you know you’re going to spiral, don’t spiral and go down a rabbit hole of terrible thoughts when you get one negative one. You need to discipline yourself, which is hard for a lot of people, but you can’t just give up when you do something “wrong”. If you spiral don’t tell yourself you’ve fucked all of it up, think in your favour, maybe even tell yourself every time you spiral you’re closer to getting your desire.

Also, don’t be doing every method under the sun just because it worked for someone else. Stop putting so much pressure on yourself to get this and that right now, time isn’t linear. If the dates pasted when you wanted a certain thing to happen continue to assume it did happen, revise, or even manifest that you go back in time and then you can experience it happen. Anything is possible. Spend some time with yourself and even forget you’re trying to manifest, try a couple methods and see which one makes you feel the best and stick to it. I used to like certain methods but wouldn’t do them because people had more success stories with other methods, so I’d do the other methods and I would dread doing them everyday. Manifesting is supposed to be fun, you shouldn’t be stressing out, of course it’s okay to get your emotions out but you shouldn’t be putting yourself through unnecessary stress just go get the things you want in this life.

I’m sure you’ve already been told to “go back to the basics” many times but I’m also going to tell you that. Assume you have it and persist in that assumption. That is as simple as the law gets. Now, you said you were struggling with assuming. We assume all the time, we all do it, this is what creates our reality and our circumstances. Assuming isn’t the problem, it’s persisting. You’re saying that persisting is getting you no where. That is your problem. You’re not truly persisting. If you were persisting you wouldn’t have even typed out this ask to begin with. You don’t have to persist 24/7, I get that there’s going to be times where you do spiral but I’ve already spoke about that. This is what i said in a previous ask which might be useful: Every time you stop persisting and are about to go back to the old story I want you to stop yourself and ask yourself “do I want this?” Because I know damn well you don’t want what’s going on right now. So go back to persisting, you don’t have to do it all the time but go back into the state as much as possible.

Every single one of us is capable of manifesting, we do it all the time, every single one of us is also capable of manifesting the good and the bad. Not a single person is an exception to this. You have become a victim to your own reality, and I’m not shaming you for that at all because I have been there. You need to have the will power and the discipline to get you out of the cycle and mindset that you are in currently, but you can do it. I know that after this you are most likely going to stay on Tumblr and continue to consume a load of loa content waiting for something to click in your brain, but I’m going to be honest, it’s most likely not going to happen. This isn’t something that no loa blogger or post can fix, this is up to you. You know exactly what you have to do, so do it.

I’m literally begging you to get off Tumblr, stop consuming any loa content and just try to assume and persist and do what feels best for you. Everytime you do any method or are persisting I don’t want you to be thinking “how long will this take?” “I wonder if it’s working?” Etc. Etc. That isn’t persisting, it’s not helping you at all. This is your reality, you’re the only one in control so it’s about time you start acting like it.

I know I said to not consume any loa content but if you really want to then I recommend listening (or you can read it on Reddit) all of Edward Art’s work, which is on YouTube. I really hope you understand everything I said, you deserve to have everything you want and it’s not even around the corner, it’s literally within you. You are very much capable of doing this, you could wake up tomorrow with your desires, something that is very much possible. I wish you all the best of luck!

[fairybaby777]

hot take on the void..?

There’s really nothing wrong if people would only settle for the void and nothing else. A lot of blogs say “there are other amazing methods out there too, do try them other than the void” and there’s nothing wrong with that. However, there is also nothing wrong with focusing on the void. I do not see the void as a mere method because it’s more than that. It’s a state of mind. Lullaby is a method, SATS is a method but not the I AM state. That’s why people create a bunch of “sub” methods to access the void. Because it IS more than a method. Back to my original point, the I AM state is incredibly amazing. It has helped me a lot and it’s like an advanced way in manifesting. It’s fucking amazing. But the unnecessary obsession with it, that I don’t support. That’s why I understand it when blogs encourage their followers to not get too fixated on the void and try other methods too. Because we tend to fixate on it and overcomplicate it and then hate it. But when all of us finally realize how easy it is to connect with our God self and we stop putting it on a pedestal, the I AM state can really be our bestie for life. You will learn to love it because it’s so fucking amazing and I’m just— It’s incredible. So if that’s the only way you want to manifest, then go. The I AM state is like a grocery store— a grocery store that has absolutely everything in there and can be accessed when and wherever you want. You can literally take 10 minutes of your time and go to that grocery store, get your stuff and leave. See? That’s so fucking easy. Remember that you are more powerful than the void. It is true that you can manifest without it, but manifesting is also about having fun, right? Access the void as much as you like. There is NO failure and trying in manifesting. You either go, or you don’t. You’re the one that has the ability to choose because you’re in control. And it isn’t going anywhere, my love. I know you see a lot of success stories but don’t get pressured by them. Go at your own phase. You can do it! I believe in you ٩꒰｡•◡•｡꒱۶

ngl i was unsure whether to post this because it’s going to start the whole ‘void is the only way’ thing again but youre right ! i mean i definitely dont think it’s the only way to get your desires at all but it is a beautiful place where you can just ~be~. no thoughts, no nothing. you just are pure consciousness. i think the void is pretty cool but i do not think it is the be all and end all

[diorbabe66]

hot take on the void..?

There’s really nothing wrong if people would only settle for the void and nothing else. A lot of blogs say “there are other amazing methods out there too, do try them other than the void” and there’s nothing wrong with that. However, there is also nothing wrong with focusing on the void. I do not see the void as a mere method because it’s more than that. It’s a state of mind. Lullaby is a method, SATS is a method but not the I AM state. That’s why people create a bunch of “sub” methods to access the void. Because it IS more than a method. Back to my original point, the I AM state is incredibly amazing. It has helped me a lot and it’s like an advanced way in manifesting. It’s fucking amazing. But the unnecessary obsession with it, that I don’t support. That’s why I understand it when blogs encourage their followers to not get too fixated on the void and try other methods too. Because we tend to fixate on it and overcomplicate it and then hate it. But when all of us finally realize how easy it is to connect with our God self and we stop putting it on a pedestal, the I AM state can really be our bestie for life. You will learn to love it because it’s so fucking amazing and I’m just— It’s incredible. So if that’s the only way you want to manifest, then go. The I AM state is like a grocery store— a grocery store that has absolutely everything in there and can be accessed when and wherever you want. You can literally take 10 minutes of your time and go to that grocery store, get your stuff and leave. See? That’s so fucking easy. Remember that you are more powerful than the void. It is true that you can manifest without it, but manifesting is also about having fun, right? Access the void as much as you like. There is NO failure and trying in manifesting. You either go, or you don’t. You’re the one that has the ability to choose because you’re in control. And it isn’t going anywhere, my love. I know you see a lot of success stories but don’t get pressured by them. Go at your own phase. You can do it! I believe in you ٩꒰｡•◡•｡꒱۶

i did see this on another blog but i'm just gonna use this as a means to say my take on the void as of right now, i do love the void and the idea of it and it's an amazing state to be in! i think that the void is mostly just embracing your I AMness and the fact that you are pure conciousness and using that to your advantage in a sense it helps you to excercise that power as God which essentially what manifestation also does as well, no method is better than the other, and that will always be true, but the void is definitely a cool ass concept to think about, honestly it should be viewed as just a fun and cool thing literally anyone can do easily as well as manifesting in general, and honestly some people don't even use the void JUST for manifesting but just to be somewhere quiet it seems like such a peaceful and serene place to me, i think it should be used in more ways that one as well not just manifesting related if i'm honest!! and i always use the grocery store analogy when i look at the void too it's literally that easy lol

[ginanosakka]

I’ll Always Love You

Masterlist

Let It Go | Next

“Mom?” Ryu whimpered the moment he heard your voice, tears coming down his face like an uncontrollable waterfall.

Katsuki stepped to the side knowing this wasn’t his moment, and you kneeled down to meet your son’s eyes in the doorway of his father’s massive home that gave you chills despite only giving it one glance. You smiled gently at Ryu as you caressed his cheek, giving him a moment to let all his emotions out before you comforted him. After all, you were his mother, and whether he really did hate you or not won’t stop you from being the best damn mom there is.

“I’m sorry, mom,” Ryu sobbed with his eyes shut tightly and fist clenched at his sides. “I’m supposed to be a hero like dad and I hurt you. . I was just so mad.” He did his best to explain, and having already been where he was at a much older age, you understood.

“I was wrong for not telling you when there was a chance you could meet him, and one day I’ll tell you why I couldn’t. . but I need you to believe me when I say you aren’t ready yet. You can hate me all you want for now, but just know I’ll always love you no matter how you feel about me, okay?” You smiled, taking your hands off his face so he could wipe it with his sleeve and give you the smile that you had grown accustom to seeing every single day.

“Don’t worry, even if dad is some cool hero, you’ll always be better!”

“Eh?! What did you say, you little-“ You looked up sharply, daring him to call your precious boy out of his name. “Whatever,” he huffed and turned his head like a child.

“Y/N?”

You stood up and looked past Katsuki to his living area where a familiar redhead sat wide eyed looking at you, and you gave him a polite smile. Kirishima was one of those ones who wasn’t persuaded by your dad’s money to befriend you, but he treated you kindly back in the day when you ended up around him through Mina or Katsuki. He looked great now, especially still in his hero costume that exposed his entire torso, and you were glad to see that he was alive and well as a hero.

Kirishima was floored, on the other hand, remembering you being a pretty girl back in high school, but you were a grown woman now. He couldn’t figure out if it was bearing a child that turned you into something fiercely gorgeous, or how well you dressed your body even in casual clothing to make you look like you belonged on the cover of every magazine. It wasn’t hard to see how his friend had become so domesticated in the span of a few days when you looked like that, and the way you talked definitely wasn’t dimming your light.

“Hello Kirishima, or should I call you Mr. Riot?” You joked, and Eiji nearly combusted.

“C-Call me whatever you like,” he stuttered out with a blush spreading across his cheeks.

Katsuki’s blood pressure sky rocketed as he watched you two interact — he didn’t know whether it was because you treated him like an enemy, or the fact that you had hooked his best friend — and he growled before snatching you by the wrist. His touch wasn’t aggressive, which is why you didn’t immediately attack him, but you were still very uncomfortable with contact with him. Still, you would let it slide for the sake of peace now.

“I need to talk to you,” Katsuki said with his red eyes staring deep into your soul like he was trying to predict what you would do. “That freeloader can watch Ryu while we talk, he’s good with kids.” He persuaded you using Ryu’s safety, and after receiving an accepting nod from your son, you nodded in compliance yourself.

He lead you into a room you assumed was his, and you gently pried his fingers off your wrist. “Alright, let’s really talk this time.” You said, mentally preparing yourself for what he had to say.

“I want to apologize”.

“. . What?” You blinked several times in shock at the words that came out of his mouth.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he snapped but composed himself with a sigh. “I’m sorry. . for everything. I didn’t realize how bad you probably had it, and I know you weren’t ready to tell Ryu about me yet. . but I want to be in yo- his life .” Katsuki said, silently cursing himself for letting his apology run off into something that could piss you off.

He was surprised to see that you weren’t giving him that same defensive attitude you had been — to be fair, that was his own fault — looking like you were seriously considering what he was saying. You had to really think about how Katsuki would do in his life, because it wasn’t like he was an everyday civilian like you were. His life was in danger at all times and that danger could easily transfer to your son if the press caught wind. As strong as your boy was, you didn’t want to think about a villain trying to use your baby as leverage.

Neither of you talked about it, but the press already had your face on magazines and online articles after that one restaurant incident and you were completely aware of it. They’d never be able to recover who you were though, as most of that information was buried well enough by your father to keep you from having any connection to him that they’d end up in jail for trying. All the information they could find was about your rehabilitation company that was faceless to the press since you didn’t want them hounding you when you lived in a small and accessible home with Ryu.

“Can you honestly tell me you can keep him safe after those press monkeys attack?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest and looking at him expectantly.

A malicious smile came on his face, “If anyone even looks at him I’ll blow their asses to Hell!”

“Good. You’ll have to tell me when you have days off to come pick him, and I’ll make a list of things you need to know in case of an emergency. I’ll work on it when I have time at work tomorrow. Anyways, thank you for watching-“

“Wait,” Katsuki cut off your rambling about the changes you’d have to make. “Mina told me what happened with your idiot of a father, so you take care of Ryu on your own?” He questioned and you shrugged in response.

“Yeah, why?”

“. . If you’re having trouble with money you can stay with me so you don’t have to live in that small-“ The realization of where he was going clicked in your head at the mention of your house, and your mouth fell into a small ‘o’ for a moment.

“You think I’m living there because that’s all I can afford,” you said matter-of-factly, but you didn’t feel offended. “Dynamight, I have enough money to live next door to you. . In several different countries. It’s just that I don’t like all this open space with no one but Ryu and me. . . . It feels lonely and unnecessary.” You explained your situation, and his brow furrowed.

“You used to live in a mansion.”

“Exactly,” you responded. “Speaking of your home, I have to leave. Who knows what Ryu could get into when you haven’t child proofed this place,” you laughed lightly to yourself.

Katsuki would never admit it, but he really preferred to hear you laughing over yelling at him.

You walked back into the living room where Kirishima was. . doing push ups with Ryu on his back. The boy sat cross legged on the exposed back of Kiri as he went up and down with a mischevious grin on his face, and Kirishima looked so focused you would think he had just been challenged to a life or death battle. You didn’t know whether you were impressed with your son’s ability to persuade people, or frightened by how much devious intent he could hide behind that cute face.

‘I’ve created a monster,’ you internally laughed nervously.

“Ryu, it’s time to go. Say bye to uncle Kirishima and your dad.” You instructed going to stand by the door with your keys in hand.

“Uncle Kirishima.” You watched as the red haired man collapsed on the floor with tears in his eyes, “that’s so manly!”

‘. . . The fuck is so manly about that? How is he still even friends with a psycho murder machine when he lives by the code of manliness?’ You thought, rubbing your temple gently.

Katsuki walked out just in time for Ryu to jump off Kirishima’s back and wave at them both, “bye uncle Kiri! Bye dad!” He cheered and ran to your side.

“I’ll see you later, kid. Be nice to your mom, alright?” Katsuki said gruffly, but he didn’t meet your curious eyes that stared at him after his last request.

“Hope I’ll see you soon, little man!” Kirishima said after he composed himself, and you nodded at them both in a silent goodbye.

When you left, Kirishima found himself watching as Katsuki as he sat back down on the couch leaning forward with his arms on his legs, staring at his hands with a lost look in his eyes. Kirishima knew that look, it was how he felt when he thought he wasn’t good enough to be a hero; the look you get when the things you care about aren’t there or attainable. Katsuki was so out of it that he hadn’t even though to kick him out yet like he usually did after a short while.

“Bakubro, I don’t know a lot about this , but I can tell you that a man would do whatever it takes to chase his dreams,” Kirishima said as he stood and clapped a hand on his blonde friend’s shoulder. “Don’t let something good get away from you.”

Taglist <3 : @fandomgirllover @cloudsgathering @that-bipolar-renegade-romantic @jazzylove @that-chick212 @bonbonthedragon @misssugarless @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @bakugous-bakahoe @pinkykookie17 @animexholic @arielting @samkysnks @simpforeveryone @damnirina @fireworkemoji102 @deneuves @tsumuuumiyaaaa @ladybeautiful18 @vintage-teddyxo @regalmigraine @samvmgh @iamagalaxy @officialtrashbusiness @xwackk @videogameboiwhowins @marajillana @ellasdilemma @plutoneu @saucey-kneecapzz42020 @thestarsanctuary @dewdropwifu @star-light-imagines @kritiiiii @bakugosbottombitch @the2ndl @candybabey @simply-not-the-same @sam-i-am-1025 @mes-bisous @eternallyvenus @peppytine @chaelysian

[nightswithkookmin]

Rumblings

Alright, I think I'm gonna stay out of any conversation that has to do with the boys' body from now on. It aggravates me.

But i am gonna say I do blame a portion of the fandom for holding them to such high toxic beauty standards.

I see here a very sexy and beautiful woman. But apparently people sent her death threats for her size.

If music is what they selling why the fuck does their looks matter.

I blame the entire industry and the labels who produce these idols for warping their mentality and creating false standards for these artists to live by. They've brainwashed them into believing their talents aren't enough, that their hardwork isn't enough.

Maybe it's time someone dismantled that whole machinery rather than have these artists conform to it. IT'S EXHAUSTING.

I love that the new up and coming LBGTQ youth in the industry aren't letting the machine control them. Shout out to all the plus size idols who give Zero fucks about the conservatism within Kpop. I stand with them.

And I know people say Male idols have it easy than Female idols but the pressure to me is the same- people just hate women and so that exarcabates it. Cough cough.

In his case, i don't know if I said it here or somewhere else but right before it was announced he was gonna go for surgery a lot of people had started pointing out how much weight he had been putting on and a few days later Hybe issued a statement on his shoulder injury. Coincidence?

I don't want to speculate on whether his health issues was what was impacting his weight but I remember feeling very suspicious of Hybe and swore to myself if he came back all skinny and liposuctioned that I was going to start a fight square up hybe.

I can blame the fans all I want but the company is equally to be blamed for putting them on these unnecessary diets.

And i know some said, well they are not westerners and we cannot hold them to the same standards of body issues dysmorphia and diet issues etc.

Soooooooooooo they are Asians so they can't suffer from body dysmorphia???? I'm blinking slowly.

"After nearly five years of training with Korean entertainment agency WM Entertainment, JinE (full name Shin Hyejin) debuted in 2015 as a member of the impressive rookie act Oh My Girl whose sophomore single, "Closer," was named one of the best K-pop songs of the year by Billboard. While promoting "Closer," JinE shared an initial diagnosis of anorexia.

The petite, 5'3" star shared she lost between 17 to 20 pounds as the group dieted together for promotions -- a common practice among K-pop groups who want to look their best as they appear on cameras and social media at all hours of the day, but also as a response to Korean society's expectations for idols to be thin and attractive. JinE shared that she developed vomiting symptoms and esophagitis, and despite needing hospital care, the singer assured fans she was healthy. 2016 brought three more EP releases and increased visibility for Oh My Girl, but the 22-year-old was indefinitely pulled from promoting with the group after her symptoms returned. Then last month, WM and JinE announced she would leave the group and company, with the star expressing gratitude for the support she received but the desire for a different lifestyle."

There's Jimin who almost went crazy from the abuse and gaslighting she suffered in her band and at the hand of her bandmates.

Don't let me go on to the suicide rights. Being of a different culture don't mean they don't suffer from these things too. If anything i think they suffer the most.

Park JM mentioned how he worked out for two years, lost 7kg after dieting because his body had become too big from all that workout, and how he'd pass out during choreo because he just didn't have the strength to go on.

Yall heard him come to defend Jk when people called him fat because his arms were too big. He told them JK wasn't fat but that it was muscles.

When people criticized JK for the long hair he and one other member jumped to his defense saying he they were gonna grow out their hairs too or something a long those lines.

There's been constant pressure for him to fix his teeth, muscle up and he's not given into that pressure- until recently.

Why he's doing is none of my business. Loose weight gain weight I think that's his prerogative.

Imagine bullying Hoseok out of his own Vlive, asking him to leave the group, calling Namjoon ugly- SO WHAT?? WHAT SHOULD THEY DO ABOUT IT? REALLY WHAT?

People demand a lot from these boys- cut your hair, don't get tattoos, black hair, no pink, no blue, fuck just wear white, gain weight, lose weight, build muscles, don't build muscles- so much so that everything they do they have the fans at the back of their minds.

Imagine being scared to get tattoos because fans will hate you- as Suga warned Kook. Imagine working in an environment where you constantly fear of losing your job and so you beat yourself up at the least mistake and strive for perfection.

Imagine the actual disrespect when you aren't told that your own music will be featured in a big time movie and yet someone had the audacity to slip in here to tell me I was fake loving and not being happy for him.

You almost can tell who is new in here due for a rude awakening and yet they are the loudest.

Personally, I think they are all beautiful just the way they are. Fuck Kpop I'm busting my faves out if I can.

To answer your question, I think Suga has a lot on his hands to fuss over how perfect his hair hangs over his forehead. I'm more grateful he came back to us as quickly as he did after Surgery. I won't attribute any changes in him to his Surgery because then that leaves no room for him to be human and deal with fluctuating body weights etc.

We shouldn't expect perfection from them all the time. Especially as sometimes the makeup they wear changes, lighting and all these other elements that come together to create an illusion of a perfect idol changes.

So to you they might not look as nice as compared to before in a moment when in reality all that has changed is their makeup application technique.

As far as their looks go, they could look like 7 fat thors and I would still think they are revolutionary

It's 2021, a lot of barriers are being broken, new standards of beauty are being set, people are embracing themselves and loving themselves. Let's pay it forward.

Here's dark Tae to lighten up your day

I see Jimin and JK aren't the only ones into lip rings😏 hashtag Vminkook.

I think I've answered a lot of questions today. I'm gonna take a break now.

Also I've been meaning to say this, thank you to anyone who was there for me when i was going through stuff. Means a lot to me☺💜

GOLDY

[dumdumsun]

Forever and Never

A/N: Thank you so much for taking the time to read this series ❤️ I’ve had so much fun writing this and am very proud of and excited for it, I can’t wait to see how people react to this. Um I know there are plenty of warnings for a first chapter, but I promise it’s not as depressing as it sounds. It’s just that this story can deal with heavy stuff sometimes, so I just wanna let you know that. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Warnings: mentions of marijuana, death, sexual assault and mental illness

Word Count: 3194

—————————————

One: Hi, My Name Is

“So, what was your time in Pennsylvania like?”

“Uh… I’d have to say it was the best… and worst time of my life.”

“Best and worst, huh? Would you like to elaborate?”

“Well, I, uh… I mean, I don’t really know how to, like… explain it. It’s a lot. I don’t even know where to begin… Or how I would even word it or anything.”

“Well, you told me you like television and movies, right? You know those shows and movies where the main character tells the plot as, like, their life story? Maybe you could try that.”

“You aren’t… You aren’t serious, are you?”

“You’ll know when I’m joking, trust me.”

“Oh… Okay, then. Well, um…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi? My name is… (Y/N)? This is my life story, I guess.

So, if we’re going to talk about my life in Pennsylvania, we’re going to have to start with my life in Kansas, first. I had two loving parents that soon turned into one at the too-young age of nine years, when my mom died. I remember her as one of the sweetest people I’ve ever known. She had this way about her that was so carefree, yet she gave a shit about everything. You could never pin a thought to her because she never let you in on what was bouncing around in her head. She was stubborn and patient and lively. I miss her so much. I don’t usually think about her unless it’s a particularly hectic day, which I then resort to talking to the ring I wear on my left pinky finger at all times. Wasn’t anything special, just some cheap ring with a little emerald inside she found at a thrift store. It used to be hers and she’d wear it on the exact same finger. My dad said she’d want me to have it.

My dad is my favorite person. He isn’t the most… present, though. His mind is never set in one place, always racing with hundreds of unrelated thoughts. It’s why when you finally drag him back into reality, he can’t repeat a single sentence spoken to him. Regardless, he’s all I had for a long time. I never really learned what he does for a living, but I just know that it forces him to leave town sometimes. Well, more like all the time. Before my mom died, it was easy for him to leave for weeks on end, but when he became my only guardian, he didn’t really know what to do with me. It was like he completely forgot how to take care of a child, his child. When I turned twelve, that was when he started travelling again. I would then be home by myself for a month to eight weeks. In these times, I had no choice but to learn to cook for myself, go grocery shopping and housekeep. I became pretty independent at a young age. It wasn’t like Dad left me totally alone, though. He would call every two or three days and he sent me two hundred dollars every two weeks. Like I said, I don’t know what my dad did, but he was definitely getting paid. At the end of eighth grade, Dad had a particularly long trip to go on, so he sent me to Pennsylvania, where his sister lived.

Pennsylvania was partially the best part of my life because of my family. My Aunt Pam was like a second mother to me. She was never able to have another child after my cousin Jacob and she’s always wanted a daughter of her own, so that’s what I was to her. The daughter she could never have. I’d often find her staring at me with a bittersweet smile on her face, watching my every move with a sense of pride, but when I’d ask her what was wrong she’d only brush it off as her admiring me. My Uncle David didn’t necessarily view me as a daughter, but he certainly treated me like one. When he wanted to spend time with Jacob, he included me as well. We’d usually go on drives around the town, but I always fell asleep to the soft and serene music that filled the car from the radio. On the weekends, we would head down by the lake and spend hours learning to fish.

I hated it, but I couldn’t complain. It gave me a sense of certainty to live with a father figure who didn’t leave me alone every two or three months.

Jacob was like a brother to me. He’s a year older than me, which, to him, meant that he had to protect me at all costs. I always assumed it was because he always wanted a younger sibling, and I was the closest he was ever going to get to that. I always felt as though I’d never be able to equal Jacob on an intellectual level because he practically had the IQ of Albert Einstein himself. I felt inferior to him until I found out how much of a joy he really was. On the weekends, he would beg me to accompany him in a movie marathon. I learned that Jacob was a huge fan of Tim Burton (his favorite was Beetlejuice). He’s the only cousin I’ve ever known. Mom and Dad didn’t like each other’s families, so I never met anyone besides this little family. Moving in with them meant that they’d have this huge burden on them.

Yes, I almost forgot to mention that I struggle with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, or OCD. It just means that my mind is flooded with these crazy and unnecessary thoughts and so my behavior is affected by them. For example, if I were to blink and felt I put more pressure on my left eye than my right, I would have to repeatedly wink with my right eye until they felt balanced. Sometimes I can’t enter a room until I have inhaled eight times. If I scratch an itch on my left knee, I have to scratch the right one in the exact same place. At the sink, even if I don’t use both knobs, I have to hold both in my hands. And when I turn them off, I often have to check about four times before I am certain they’re turned off all the way. I know, it sounds tiring. Just imagine being on my end, having it be a part of who you are. I can’t do anything to stop it, I wish I could. I was always afraid to make friends because of this. If I couldn’t be balanced, I’d freeze, and I mean actually stop whatever I’m doing and stand still, until my body felt as if I were balanced once again. Who wouldn’t make fun of me for this?

Apparently, no one gave a shit about it. After moving to Pennsylvania, I made quite a name for myself at school. Literally. My name was Zip. I have no fucking clue how that ridiculous name came to be, but that’s what I went by day after day. One could say I was considered popular, but it wasn’t like I actually spoke to anyone. When it came to extracurriculars, I only participated in theatre. I never was part of the cast, just the stage manager. Secretly, I wanted so badly to audition and be a part of the magic they created on that stage. Not to boast or anything, but I had the talent and potential to be a starring role. But I could never bring myself to break out of my shell. Nonetheless, being stage manager still got me quite the attention. Everyone was always so nice to me, so I felt a little bad for not considering any of them as friends. That was until I met Dina.

Dina was new to our school sophomore year. She had this sort of light to her that attracted the pesky moths that were our dull and boring school body. We had the same social status in school. People liked our personalities, so we were well-liked and accepted without doing much to prove ourselves worthy. She was sweet and compassionate and so fun. I didn’t mean to become her friend, but she was so welcoming, despite being the newcomer. We became close friends, but not best friends. We already had people filling those roles.

Dina’s best friend was Sydney Novak. Sydney moved to Brownsville around the same time as Dina, so the two became best friends quickly, but Sydney wasn’t very popular at all. She was shy and introverted, but I thought she was nice enough. I liked her and thought she was a pretty cool person. We weren’t necessarily friends, we were just well acquainted simply because we were both close with Dina. The transitive property, if you would. I just wish we could’ve talked more, our relationship was pretty much nonexistent.

Speaking of nonexistent relationships, let’s talk about Richard Berry. I honestly don’t want to even think about him, but he played a role in my life that was too vital to just offhandedly mention. For some odd reason, Ricky Berry was absolutely in love with me. It was so obvious to everyone except for me. Sophomore year, he expressed his love through the most arrogant and cheesiest of pick-up lines and compliments. I wasn’t so easily won over, if you could guess. I tried being good friends with him, but he’d always fuck it up when he tried to initiate intimacy. I didn’t want to hold hands with him in the halls or receive “friendly” cheek kisses. I’m not what you would call affectionate, especially towards people I’m not close to. It’s just never been comfortable for me. Junior year, everyone around me was buzzing with excitement when they heard Ricky was going to ask me to be his girlfriend. The cheerleaders, who got to know him through his high school football career, constantly pestered me with reasons as to why I would be so lucky to date The Richard Berry. Granted, he became less of a dick junior year, so I thought, Why not?, and accepted. Being in a relationship with Ricky was the most one-sided… anything I had ever been a part of. He was undeniably enamored with me, but I couldn’t find it in myself to reciprocate those feelings. He would show me off to his family and friends like a trophy, but if someone asked me if I had a boyfriend I’d go, “I mean, yeah. I guess”, so not a very healthy relationship. It also didn’t help that Ricky knew nothing about boundaries.

One night, we were in his bedroom, studying for a science test. Ricky wasn’t focused at all and kept trying to kiss and cuddle with me. I let him for awhile, but then he took my book from me and set it on the ground beside his bed. He suggested we have sex right then and there. Now, I was never a prude and definitely didn’t wait to have sex for the first time, but I never wanted Ricky to be my first. He hadn’t earned enough of my trust to even touch me suggestively. So, of course I refused. Ricky only took that as me teasing him, so he advanced, nearly forcing himself on me. Using all my might, I shoved him off of the bed. He stood to his feet, utterly confused, but I only gathered my things and left his house. He tried following after me, but I ignored him until he turned and went back into his home. The next day at school, he was holding me and kissing me and showing me off to everyone like he always did. As if nothing happened between us the night before. It was difficult to do, since he was so inconsiderate, but I managed to break up with him. He tried to deny that we were Splitsville for about a week, but everyone caught wind of our break-up. Once everyone knew about it, it became true for him. I never really felt comfortable with being intimate or open with guys after that.

Besides with Stanley Barber, of course. Stan was my best friend in the entire world. I told only my deepest, darkest secrets to him. And he told me his. The only things we really had in common were our lack of mothers and our hideous bacne. Stan lived a few houses down and was eager to get to know me a week after I moved in. I’d never met anyone in my life like Stan. He was so awkward, but loveable. I don’t know, I guess he reminded me of my mom. The way he didn’t care, but he so clearly did. Whenever I wanted to talk about something that was difficult to voice, we’d smoke to ease the tension. Of course, this wasn’t how we always communicated. Despite his nervous stuttering, he was easy to open up to. Stan provided a sort of security in my life. He was never going to leave me and that put me at ease when hanging out with him, which we did regularly. I don’t know when exactly I developed a crush on him, but I never wanted it to surface in our bond. He was to never know. It was just a stupid crush, right? He was a guy who wasn’t family and was so unbelievably caring towards me. It was bound to happen, but that didn’t mean he had to be aware of it. Though, it was a little hard to keep such a secret when we’d both made out twice already. The first time was while I was dating Ricky, the kiss was very awkward and ended after about a minute and a half. The second kiss was just half a week after my breakup. That time, we’d both known what we were doing. And I may be a little biased, but you couldn’t have even thought to fake the passion in that makeout session. We never talked about either of those kisses and remained friends both times. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me that we didn’t become anything more afterwards. It was for the best, though, because two weeks before spring break, my dad returned from his job in Georgia and moved me to Kansas again. The move was so abrupt that I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to anyone besides my family.

My life in Kansas for the second time was something I’d never want to experience ever again. Since it was a little late in the year, I finished junior year online. For some unexplained reason, my dad had us get new phones and new numbers, so I lost all contact with my friends. I had no one to talk to and it wasn’t like my dad paid much attention to me. I remember spending every waking moment with him when I was younger, talking or playing games or watching television. It used to be so fun being his daughter, but when we moved back to Kansas, I just felt like this huge burden in his life. Our relationship was strained and he clearly had other priorities in his life. Like whatever he left back in Georgia. I’d see his phone ring and the same number from that state would pop up before he’d leave the room and privately talk with whoever. It wasn’t the secrecy that was off-putting to me, it was the fact that it was so much more important to him. Once again, I was ignored by the one person in my life I wanted to spend the most time with. So, you can imagine the joy I felt when Dad had to go back to Georgia for work. I had been attending public school for my senior year and left not even a full month in. It didn’t bother me, I had no friends and nothing to leave behind. Mid-September was when I moved back to Brownsville with Aunt Pam. Everyone accepted me right back in. Especially my classmates. As I walked the halls I heard whispers like,

“Oh, my god, is that Zip?”

“Zip’s back! Where’d she even go?”

“I thought she died.”

The only person I really wanted to notice me was Stan. I missed him so much, I even got into his favorite band to have something to remember him by. I remember the day I got back to my aunt’s house. Jacob had picked me up from the airport and was driving me to the house. He was attending community college, but was still living with his parents. As we drove, he tapped his index fingers rhythmically to the shitty pop music that played on the radio. “So, what are you excited about for senior year?”

“Not much, I just missed Dina and Stan. Theatre, too. I wonder how they’ve been doing without me.” I chuckled. Jacob huffed in amusement.

“But you didn’t miss Ricky?”

“Fuck, Jake, you know I didn’t miss him for a second.” I frowned, waving my hand in dismissal. My cousin tauntingly laughed at me. Had he actually known about what happened between Ricky and I, he wouldn’t have teased me. In fact, Ricky wouldn’t even be alive that day if Jacob found out. No one knew about the incident, not even Stan.

Pulling up in front of the house, we got out of the car and headed to the trunk to pull out my bags. I tried carrying them in, but Jacob insisted that he do all the heavy lifting and simply asked me to carry my backpack and close the trunk. I did what little I was asked of and headed to the front door to greet my aunt and uncle inside, but stopped. In the corner of my eye, I saw movement from the Barber residence. Turning, my eyes locked on Stanley, who was frozen beside his car. He was wearing his work uniform and staring at me with the most bewildered expression on his face. It was like he thought himself to be hallucinating my existence. Smiling, I simply waved at him before walking back inside. When he got home from work that night, he headed over to my house and knocked on the door. I answered with a grin on my face. “Stan!”

“If it isn’t the famous Zip, showing back up in my life.”

“Ugh, do not call me that.” I rolled my eyes playfully before bringing him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his chin at the top of my head. I would’ve stayed there all night if I could’ve. When Stanley pulled away, my heart hollowed and a pit formed within my stomach. I felt unfinished, unbalanced. And I hate imbalance. He asked if I wanted to hang out and I accepted his offer. All we did was lay on his floor, listen to music and get high, but in that moment, that’s all I needed.

Bloodwitch, a joint, and Stan laying by my side.

—————————————

Taglist: @melinda-hargreeves @sapphicsyn @stqnley @lonely-kermit

[r6shippingdelivery]

I saw someone on Twitter post about how they wanted to see jealous Glaz, and I was struck by inspiration 😄 This fic is mostly about Glaz's perception of his place in Rainbow after Kali joins, and the bit with Fuze can be read as friendship or budding romance, whatever your like better.

WARNING: While Glaz is an unreliable narrator here, and Kali is not outright demonized, I haven't been kind to her either. So if she's your favorite character, proceed with caution.

You can also read the story in AO3, as the latest chapter of the Discord Ficlets collection.

Hatred was a shallow emotion, one that lived at surface level and hid deeper and more complex feelings, ones that people found harder to confront or admit and thus resorted to hate.

Glaz experienced that during his stint in the South Ossetia War, when the hatred they all felt for the enemy was just a cover for their sense of helplessness at stopping so much unnecessary death. As always, art became a way to express and work out his emotions, and from what he saw it was far healthier than drowning his sorrows in alcohol like most of his fellow soldiers did.

Over the years, Glaz had acquired a reputation for being a pretty stable person, not letting his emotions rule him but not burying and ignoring them either. So it was a shock to realise he was letting his emotions rule his opinion of a certain person.

It would be unfair to say he hated Kali. The Nighthaven leader had done nothing directly unpleasant to him, in fact Glaz wasn’t even sure if they ever had a conversation. But fuck, seeing her smug face made his blood boil. Admitting he was jealous was a bitter pill to swallow.

Glaz felt sidelined since she arrived. At first it had been normal that Kali got so much action in training matches and different situations, Harry always did that to ensure new additions got properly integrated in the team. However, Kali stopped being the new one and she kept being requested more and more often. If someone devised a plan that required a sniper, it was always her that got the call, almost never Glaz.

Sure, she was an excellent shot, but so was he. So were the other operators who had marksman training. Yet the only requested sniper was Kali. Even for the strategies that relied heavily on stealth, which made no sense to Glaz since Kali’s rifle was extremely loud and she refused to use a silencer. She insisted it wasn’t compatible with her weapon, which was utter bullshit in Glaz’s opinion. Then there were the snippets of conversations he heard from her in the shooting range.

“Of course I don’t use a thermal scope, that’s a crutch, and those are for beginners, not professionals.”

“I don’t hide behind smoke curtains like a child clinging to their mother’s skirts.”

“I could give you some pointers, you’d benefit by learning from a real sniper, Dokka.”

The gall of that woman! Glaz had never wanted to wipe the floor with someone as much as he did then, but when he approached them to offer a friendly marksman competition, Dokkaebi happily accepted while Kali sniffed and declined. “I’m busy now, maybe another time.”

Glaz silently fumed for days. He didn’t give a damn about Kali’s opinions; he knew he was an excellent sniper and she could make as many snide comments as she wanted. Nothing would change the truth. However, Glaz also had the feeling she was trying to undermine him, and he didn’t like that. Most operators in Rainbow were competitive by nature, but except for a few rivalries, the trash talking had always remained upfront and somewhat respectful, never behind another operator’s back. Things remained as they were, somewhat tense but peaceful, for a long time. Until the Invitational rolled around.

When the teams were publicly announced, the Spetsnaz were collectively surprised some of them were chosen to participate, unlike the previous year. Glaz didn’t mind sitting among the public again, and privately he and Kapkan made a point of keeping an eye out during the event. The White Masks might have been mostly obliterated, but they weren’t the only terrorist group in the world, and a huge gathering like this would be a tempting objective for any group looking to make a name for themselves. So he was fine with not being selected, truly. However, what he wasn’t fine with was the way Harry said one particular thing:

“And to showcase Rainbow’s prowess in long distance combat, team Ash will have our resident sniper, Kali.”

Seriously? The resident sniper, as in the only one? Glaz grit his teeth so hard he was sure everyone in the room could hear it. He refused to say anything, though, he wouldn’t turn this briefing into a spectacle. However, that didn’t stop him from hoping Tachanka would teach her a lesson with his new fire grenades. That would certainly put a smile on Glaz’s face.

Alas, that was not meant to happen, even if it came pretty close to actually becoming a reality. In the end, Tachanka’s team was eliminated, same as Fuze’s, and the tournament went on. Glaz thought nothing else would happen, and aside from secretly hoping for team Mira to win, he largely lost interest in the competition. Yet the competition, or more accurately, Kali, didn’t lose interest in them.

When Fuze told them he’d been invited to train with Nighthaven, none of the Spetsnaz was particularly pleased, since they worked better as a team, but they didn’t voice any objections either. Glaz wanted to, he wanted to forbid Fuze from doing it, but he was a rational man and knew that was both unreasonable and a douchebag move. If Fuze wanted to train with others, he was free to do so, of course. Glaz kept repeating that to himself, even if deep down he was sure that Kali woman wanted to take everything that he had, from his position as a sniper to his friends.

Aware of how childish that sounded, Glaz grimaced at his own thoughts. He needed to calm his mind, and as always, he turned to art. Painting would surely grant him that state of inner peace he sorely needed while waiting for Fuze to come back from his session with Nighthaven. Losing himself in the process of creating something always helped Glaz exorcise his demons, and also lose track of the world around him. At least until Fuze came back.

Most people painted Fuze as unreadable, but he wasn’t to Glaz. The artist could see clear as day that Fuze was deep in thought. The curiosity and need to know was eating Glaz inside.

“How did it go?” He asked, aiming for a casual and carefree tone. He wasn’t sure he succeeded.

“Interesting.” As always, Fuze was succinct and straight to the point, going for the shortest message. However, Glaz knew that if one took the time to shut up and listen, Fuze would say more. “They’re an effective team, very competitive. It’s good to have them working with us and not against us, but I don’t think they feel part of Rainbow.”

It wasn’t the first time Glaz heard before some of those sentiments echoed around when it came to Nighthaven, but Fuze delivered with an admirable lack of judgement. The Uzbek relayed a blow by blow account of the training match, and Glaz wondered how Aruni felt at Kali’s call of her safety being expendable. It was just a game for now, but training built habits that one carried back to the battlefield. He was still pondering over what he heard when Fuze dropped a bombshell that shook him to the core.

“Kali offered me work in Nighthaven.”

Glaz saw red, and for a moment he couldn’t think. The looks in his eyes must have been a veritable maelstrom of repressed anger and jealousy, because Fuze looked taken aback. A burning sensation coiled in his chest, and Glaz clenched his fist hard to avoid unleashing a storm of swears, since Fuze wasn’t the target of his fury.

*crack*

The paint brush he’d been holding broke under the pressure of his clenched hand, but Glaz didn’t notice, and clenched his fist even tighter.

“Timur!”

It was Fuze calling out his name that finally brought Glaz down to earth, away from the dark spiral of what ifs where Fuze left the team, lured away by Kali. He opened his hands, revealing the brush he accidentally snapped in half, and how the jagged edge of the broken wood had sunk into his palm. Oh. He hadn’t even noticed that.

Glaz briefly mourned the loss of his favorite small brush, dropping the pieces aside and wiping the blood from his palm carelessly. “And? Did you accept?”

Fuze regarded him in silence for a few seconds, before shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe Glaz’s foolishness. “Of course not. I have my team. And I’m not going anywhere.” This assurance was a balm for Glaz’s turmoil, but then Fuze added with a smirk. “Besides, I know you always have my back and won’t put a bullet in me, not even a fake one.”

The laugh and lingering look they shared made Glaz feel that all was right in the world, at least for a little while. He knew he could always count on his team, on his friends, and having this belief reaffirmed soothed him like nothing else did. It had been foolish to think Fuze would leave him.

[thatsjustrwde]

For the RWBY character prompt thing: you gotta tell me about Ironwood for sure! And if somebody already asked, how's about Qrow? :)

OH BABEY A DOUBLE (I’m gunna put Qrow in a separate post to avoid making this too long) thank you so much!

Warning: This is a PRO IRONWOOD POST. I also go into team RWBY taking responsibility for their abuse towards Ozpin. Don’t read this if you don’t like it. You’ve been warned

My top three two ships for Ironwood

1) Ironqrow (Ironwood x Qrow) {Volumes 3-7}

I have loved the idea of these two since the fall of beacon. When they first interacted, I wasn’t too sure about them because it seemed like they didn’t really like each other.. but that scene where all the robots were turning on beacon and Qrow spotted ironwood, ran at him with his scythe, only to jump over him and save him from a Grimm, sold the ship to me. It was clear that they didn’t actually despise each other. Qrow wasn’t quick to point fingers; he knew that what was going on wasn’t James’ fault, and he even tried to add a little bit of comic relief to the scene. (When ironwood’s ship fell, and Qrow smirked “well, it won’t be much of a walk”)

My love for the ship was reinforced in v6 (yeah I know it was the fan service volume but I’m rolling with it anyway). Qrow knew that they HAD to get to ironwood in order to complete their goal. He trusted James, and he knew that he was a smart and capable leader who would know what to do (ah,, the good old days ;;)

And then in the early episodes of v7, their bickering that we once saw in v3 was non existent. They were happy to see each other, and James even initiated a hug. He was just so relieved to see him ;; it made my heart melt, I remember posting about this moment so much, all over instagram and tumblr. I loved them so dearly.

2) Ironwood x Glynda (idk if they have a ship name)

God,, I always loved them. that scene in v2 with Ironwood and Glynda standing together in the dead of night looking over the city of vale was so special to me. I love Glynda and her character, she is so dynamic. that scene with her and ironwood showed to us that she truly respected and cared for him and his well-being. She was worried for him as well. I just wish they had more interactions before his death. they would have been very sweet and POWERFUL together.

My three least favourite ships for Ironwood

1) Ironqrow {Volumes 7-8}

Oh boy. RT really knows how to take something good and just, ruin it huh.

I feel as though I don’t need to dive too deep into this (as I’ll be covering Ironwood’s fall from grace later) but yeah... The fight with Qrow and Clover was.. unfortunate. Everyone seemed to lose their braincells in that scene, and the moment it was over, Qrow was dead set on killing Ironwood for some reason even though he was the one who decided to side with a literal murderer, but go off MKEK you really did something there...

Yepp this absolutely killed the ship for me in canon (though I stilln love thinking about them out of the canon setting), I was an absolute wreck after this scene. they deserved better.

2) Ironwood x Winter

don’t worry I’m not about to pull the “IRONWOOD WAS AN ABUSIVE FATHER FIGURE AND GROOMED HER CAREERRHYUGGHR” no.

I always saw Ironwood as a POSITIVE father figure to winter, even before v7. We knew that winter was one of his best soldiers, and was most likely one of his students before then. I believe that Ironwood gave winter a chance at something great, to leave her actual abusive father and hone her skills as a soldier instead of becoming the heiress to a company that she did not want to be tied to. I believe Ironwood was a stellar father figure and role model to her, and that is the reason why I do not ship them. their relationship was so much deeper than that. it was found family.

3) Ironwood x Salem

What the fuck. Like actually what? This was a thing? What is it with this fandom and glorifying abusive relationships... I remember seeing a lot of people trying to justify it like “awh salem was so sweet with him she just wanted him to stop fighting. She would leave him alone after!!” Thats manipulation honey, we don’t fuck with that here. no. Absolutely not

My biggest criticism for Ironwood

See: the reason I made this side blog

It’s no secret to us in the RWDE community that his fall into the role of the villain was POORLY WRITTEN AND WE ALL HATE IT SO FUCKING MUCH. where the hell did this even come from? oh I know! TEAM RWBY LYING TO HIS FACE AFTER HE WAS NOTHING BUT KIND AND GENEROUS TO THEM. god I’m heated already.

I’ve talked about his stupid semblance before but it doesn’t even matter because his semblance wasn’t the cause of his descent anyway. We were all HOPING that it was but nope! it was him “losing his humanity” because he lost his other arm. How fucked up is that.

Shitty writing aside, I know James had flaws even before the shitshow that was v7-8, but honestly there was nothing he did that I can criticize harshly. He was a good and honest man with good intentions and a pure, big heart made of gold. Of course he made mistakes and of course he wasn’t perfect, but he was always trying to do the right thing to protect the people. He was a good man until MKEK decided they needed a reason to kill off another headmaster.

My favourite thing about Ironwood

his MUSCLES

His willingness to sacrifice himself to save others. During the fall of beacon he told the students that they didn’t have to stay, even though he could have used the help greatly. But he KNEW that they weren’t ready to handle a crisis like this, and he didn’t want to force them into a responsibility that could have left them emotionally/physically damaged, or worse.

During the Ironwood and Watts fight, IRONWOOD MANGLED HIS OWN ARM TO CAPTURE WATTS. He was so headstrong and brave and he wanted to do everything he could to prevent Salem, even if that meant hurting himself and losing another part of himself. God I miss him so much ;; I’m tearing up a little writing all of this...

A head canon I have for Ironwood

I love creating head canons for characters, it always makes them feel more real to me. one of my biggest head canons is that, in a peaceful world setting, he would enjoy sleeping in on the weekends. ;;. He is a headmaster AND a general which means he has to follow a strict schedule all the time. Maybe this is coming from my desire to take care of him and make sure he is happy and healthy and not stressed out.. But yeah, lazy Sundays, sleeping in late. pls let him sleep he needs so much sleep. What I would change about Ironwood if I were making a rewrite

Strap in kiddos I’ve been thinking about this for a very long time. I’m sure that someone has come up with a similar concept, but I will share my ideas anyway (: I am going to preface this by saying that for this rewrite to work, we need to have Winter receive the Winter maiden powers from Freya in V7.  To start, we will have to go back all the way to v2 when Ironwood was first introduced. I would have Ozpin and Glynda share their concerns to each other about Ironwood bringing all of his ships to look over the festival, but I would take that time to thoroughly explain his semblance. His semblance is stupid, so I would make some changes. To start off, I wouldn’t make it passive. The way it is now is just,, a weird way to give him a mental illness without actually giving him a mental illness. Activating it would have to be a decision that he made if he knew that he had to make decisions that would be hard for him. This way if his semblance caused him to do something actually horrible, he would be directly accountable for it, instead of blaming him for something that he couldn’t control. Semblances are a representation of the user, so with time and with more stress put onto Ironwood, I could see him falling victim to his own semblance if he were to abuse it too much. This will help as we lead into a better way to write his fall from grace. 

From there, I would keep pretty much everything the same until we get to v7. Team RWBY arrives in Atlas and gets arrested and brought to Ironwood just as they do in canon. This time, however, we have Oscar explain EVERYTHING. No lying. Salem cannot be killed. Oscar explains that Ozpin shut himself off after team RWBY forced the truth out of him, and while the truth is a lot for Ironwood to handle, he understands why Ozpin kept it a secret. He shuns team RWBY for their methods and explains why their actions were unnecessary and abusive, but agrees to help them anyway since he knows that they all need to come together if this is going to work. Hence, his arc kind of goes backwards. Instead of team RWBY having his trust from the beginning, they will need to work to gain it back. 

He takes Oscar under his wing to try and draw Ozpin back out. He greets Qrow, they fall in love, he also formally introduces the team to the Ace Ops. The Ace Ops take an IMMEDIATE backseat in the story. We don’t need more characters. For the sake of this rewrite specifically, they are barely around. We are focusing on Ironwood and his growth/relationships. I would explore more times to show the deep connection between him and Winter. As I said earlier, I see him as a healthy father figure for her, so I would definitely focus on that for a bit. At this point, Winter would not have received the maidens power yet, so we could have a scene of him assuring her that she is a perfect fit for the role, and encouraging her and just,, you know, solidifying that he wasn’t pressuring her into doing it. 

Carrying on with the main plot, instead of being left in the dark for the whole season, Ironwood is already aware that Salem cannot be killed. This gives him and the rest of the team a lot of time to work on a new plan to defeat her. They spend lots of time training, Ironwood takes care of them, offering his resources to them. Overtime the team do start to gain his trust little by little again, but this will all kinda fall apart when Salem arrives. 

With stress levels higher than ever, he activates his semblance. Team RWBY and friends KNOW about his semblance and they understand why he is acting irrationally. Maybe they have different ideas than him, but they would not directly oppose him. This completely fixes him from becoming a cartoon villain. Team RWBY and friends would work WITH Ironwood at a distance to fix amity and get global communications back up safely. From there, Ironwood could deliver a message to the world about Salem. Since people know who he is, it will make the message more impactful. Just like he did with his message to Mantle.

Qrow and Winter are positives in his life. They keep trying to ground him and bring him back to reality, but he will not deactivate his semblance. He is too scared of what’s to come with Salem. They support him in this, and do not turn their back on him. 

Winter receives the maiden’s power, and is told to open the vault to obtain the staff and raise atlas further into the sky to save his people. Winter agrees, why wouldn’t she? They have already evacuated most of mantle to atlas anyway. In situations like this it’s impossible to save everyone. RWBY could whine and bitch if they wanted to, but there is nothing they could do in this situation because, for the sake of this rewrite, they wouldn’t be as stupid as they are in the canon proper. 

The vault is open and the staff is vulnerable. It is in this moment that the ACTUAL VILLIAN comes into play. Watts took advantage of the security from behind the scenes, giving Salem the exact time that the vault was open. And thanks to him overhearing everything, he knows that all she needs to do is use the staff, and Atlas will fall. Salem appears in the room, and the big finale battle would occur. They weren’t ready yet. They hadn’t finalized the plan to stop her without killing her. Team RWBY Oscar and Qrow would do their best to keep Salem distracted while Winter and Ironwood speak to the staff. Meanwhile, Neo could breach Ironwood’s office and retrieve the relic of knowledge for Salem. 

The battle plays out, she keeps coming back, the team gets tired, Salem loses her patience and just PLOWS through them to get to the staff. She enters the realm and the mystical world around them begins to shatter and break. With that much concentrated evil in this place coming up out of nowhere, it would be sure to shift the balance. 

She goes head to head against Winter and Ironwood for the staff. She knows that using the staff will cause Atlas to come crashing down, so that is exactly  what she does. Since he is already out, she just gives him a command. It doesn’t matter what it is. Atlas starts to fall. She strikes a lethal blow to Ironwood (Keeping the theme of her killing headmasters) and flees with the staff. Qrow runs to his side, he and winter are crying, Team RWBY is upset, OZPIN IS UPSET. With his aura broken and his semblance down, he smiles at them all, says that he is proud of them for their work and he knows that they will find a way to defeat her. He tells them to get out and save themselves, save as many people as they can. They do that, but for further angst, Qrow stays with him, holding him and crying against him as Atlas falls. Team RWBY use the gravity dust keeping Atlas falling slowly to their advantage. They get as many people as they can into airships and send them to mistral. They then make their own way to Vacuo... Since global communications are back up, the world would know about this. This would give Shade academy a good chance to prepare. (damn I could write a fic)

What I think of Ironwood’s allusion and what I would change.

It’s dumb the way that CRWBY has portrayed it. In the story of the Wizard of Oz, the tin man doesn’t have a heart, but learns to love overtime. I used THIS aspect for helping my rewrite of Ironwood. He was hardened at the beginning, but managed to trust again and eventually smiled and said that he was proud of team RWBY and friends in his dying moments. It’s just more impactful that way I think. 

[givemearmstopraywith]

Rules: answer 30 questions and tag 20 people you'd like to get to know better! thank you to the lovely and awe-inspiring @horrorlesbians for tagging me x

Name: emmanuelle

Gender: non-binary [gestures vaguely]

Star sign: aries sun, sagittarius moon, libra rising

Height: five foot three. i am very small.

Time: 10:10pm....

Birthday: april 7

Favorite band/group: florence + the machine, i also adore like nick cave and the bad seeds.

Favorite solo artists: lady lamb, phoebe bridgers, leonard cohen

Song stuck in my head: i hope you die by molly nilsson

Last movie: underwater- disappointing as a horror flick but cthulhu was neat

Last show: shameless, which my mom and i watch together

When did I create this blog: august 2018- i remade, but i’ve been on tumblr since 2013.

What do I post: someone summed up my blog as being horny for God and vampires which is really about it

Last thing I googled: “inanna’s descent”

Other blogs: yes- i run @preraphaelist but it’s been inactive for a few months.

Do I get asks: i do- i get quite a lot, and i haven’t been on top of them lately because i’ve been busy getting ready for the holidays and just mentally not equipped to answer them. but i do intend on answering everything this week!

Why I chose this url: it’s my favourite lyric ever, from my favourite song (100 years by florence + the machine)

Following: 211- i’ve followed 211 blogs since i started this one, as its my lucky number and feels auspicious

Followers: this is kind of embarrassing....currently 10,835.

Average hours of sleep: i average about 8 since finding a sleep aid that actually worked for me, but this is the first time i’ve gotten a normal amount of sleep since i was 12- i used to average 2-4 hours a night.

Lucky number: 211/112 and 333 i fucking guess

Instruments: i can play a bit of piano and guitar/ukulele, but i’m woefully not proficient in any of them. my mother is a trained pianist though.

What I am wearing: a fanta shirt and. darth vader pyjama pants. i’ve been unwell all day don’t look at me.

Dream job: probably a writer- i would love to teach at a university level as well or be some kind of researcher. i would like to be paid to think and then write about what i think, not because i’m very smart but because i just want to keep learning about things.

Dream trip: probably to go back to the uk. i would like to hike the welsh coastal path.

Favorite food: mmm pad thai.....

Nationality: canadian.....a lot of people have thought i was english which. no lol

Favorite song: 100 years by florence + the machine/you are the apple by lady lamb/running up that hill by kate bush

Last book I read: the collected writings of christian mysticism edited by bernard mcginn

Top three fictional universes I'd like to live in: i like the universe i live in! maybe tolkien’s so i could see the ainur creating the universe. i’d like to live in whatever kate bush has going on. i have friends who clearly inhabit parts of the universe i can’t access so maybe i could spend a day there.

i always hate tagging people because it feels like unnecessary pressure so i will not be tagging anyone- however if this feels like something you’d be comfortable doing, by all means tag me!!! i love people very much i’m just not good at asking them to answer personal questions x

[secndlife]

any advice for someone who wants to start writing drabbles/short fics? 👉🏼👈🏼 i want to but like i don't know what my first step should be (aside from, obviously, write down something 😅) i like your writing so i'm also curious about how you started !!

FIRST OF ALL THANK YOU FOR ENJOYING MY WRITING

OMG LET'S GET IT !!! i'm nosey so i love giving advice i'm so sorry in advance if this gets too long 🥺 (i'm even adding cut jfc)

i started creating content in feb 2017 because i consumed literally SO MUCH stuff that at some point i was like ok i wanna do that too. i started with fake texts because i felt like it was easier? but the first thing i wrote was this fic and even tho it's in my archived masterlist i think it's pretty ok?

for me it started with me thinking of things i'd like to read, but that i couldn't find aklsdjakdj so it was almost like that tiktok audio "fuck it i'll do it myself" ksdjkajdaksdj so like maybe try to think of things you would appreciate reading? i feel like this can be a good start.

and also maybe try to start with smaller things and roughly set ideas? like get a prompt list and try to just play around with it. think who fits what. and try not to push yourself too much in terms of "OMG THIS IS SO CLICHE I CAN'T WRITE THAT" because cliche is also fucking awesome and, in the beginning, it can be easier.

i also consumed a lot of kpop content like back then i started writing for got7 so i watched a lot of reality shows etc etc to get a grasp of their personalities. because as they're public figures, even tho we don't know 100% who they are, we can get a sense of it and then just adapt/project the rest of it to fit our ideas.

also the thing with writing is that it changes so much with time and i feel like it keeps up with you? because, to me, in a way, my writing is a reflex of who i am (or at least parts of me). so whenever i change, i think this reflects in the way i write too. i don't hate what i wrote before, it's just so different that i get like UH OK BESTIE !! YOU'VE COME A LONG WAY !! and honestly seeing my progress is something i'm kinda proud of so i think this is something you will feel too after you start.

and this is also linked to another piece of advice: practice. like, don't be afraid of pulling up docs and just write whatever. editing exists for a reason and if you don't like it, you can just start over. it's not rocket science you know? there's no magic formula that will make you write.

and two important things that i feel like everyone talks about it but they're REALLY important so i'll say it too:

1. try not to compare yourself to others: that's the biggest trap you can fall into because we all have different styles and creative methods and audiences so it's literally pointless to compare. especially as we tend to compare ourselves with idk big people/accounts? like what's the point in comparing things that are different? for a comparison to be useful things need to sort of match. you'll see so much trouble if you try to compare a blanket to a charger because they're literally ?? different ?? so there's no point. same goes for writing. your writing will not fit the same purpose all the time nor the same purpose as someone else's writing so there's no point in comparing. you'll just feel bad and that's literally so bad.

2. try to write for you: i'm not gonna be a hypocrite and say i write 100% for me because honestly, no one that decides to post their stuff does that. we like the attention and feedback and we like to see others enjoying our writing too. but there's a difference between that and being stuck in others' expectations and wishes for your writing. don't fall into that. this will just put very unnecessary pressure on your shoulders and literally there's absolutely no reason for writing to feel like that. write what you want, how you want to write it.

I LITERALLY MADE AN ESSAY I'M SO SORRY I DON'T EVEN KNOW IF YOU'LL FIND ANY OF THIS USEFUL BUT I HOPE YOU DO 😭😭

but remember that writing is something very personal so something that works for me might not work for you and i think that's one of the beauties of it - how we mold it to fit us and this whole process of discovery.

still, my askbox is literally always open for whatever help you may need. and good luck!!!! and trust yourself and your instincts!!!!! 💛💛

[sleephyjhs]

forget-me-not | pjm

pairing: jimin x original character

genre: angst, ex-lovers AU

summary: breaking his heart the first time around ripped you to shreds, having to do it for the second time was close enough to unbearable. out of everybody he could’ve remembered, it just had to be you.

wc: 2.3k

song rec: miss missing you - fall out boy

m.list

tw: mentions of accidents, hospital setting, amnesia

© by sleepyjhs 2020. all rights reserved

“No, he only wants you. He’s got you on the brain.” The phonecall that kickstarted your Sunday morning was nothing short of overwhelming. Even your sounding alarm would have been a more welcoming alert to waken to, “You have to come and see him.”

Exhaling down the phone, you raked your fingers through your knotted bed hair and sank back into your warmed pillows, “Why do you need me? We haven’t spoken in months, it’s just unnecessary.”

His name lived constantly in your mind; it hadn’t left since the night he did. The time that had passed between the breakup and that Sunday morning was time you could’ve spent wondering about something other than what you did so wrong to come back to his tapes boxes and stuffed suitcases. Reuniting with Jimin after so long was a can of worms you were unprepared to pry open.

“Haewon, he doesn’t know who the fuck any of us are. Do you really think if he knew who we were he’d be asking for you?” It was relieving to see that time hadn’t shrunk his ego. Initially, there were many things you came to miss about Jimin but his friendship group could never have been one of them. With conceit as strong as theirs, their related influence on Jimin was never noticeable; that much you appreciated.

Still, the draining compulsion to punch them returned to you as strong as ever, “What ward is he in?”

“R6, south wing. Hurry up, the nurses can’t get anything out of him, you’re the only hope we’ve got.” As Jimin’s friend hung up the phone, remains of guilt and anger drowned you. Everything that you’d thought you’d managed to suppress was now swallowing you whole; the guilt of knowing you did something to make him up and leave, and the anger of never knowing what it could’ve been.

The process of making yourself look somewhat presentable took even more effort than usual; the unusual circumstances you’d awoken into needed to render before you could even begin to believe what had happened. Considering the rush of a city in the early morning, you skipped the makeup routine and accepted the mean comments that were bound to be hurled at you. Last night’s jeans and tee would have to do; it wasn’t as though you had anyone to impress anyway.

Even the radio was unable to draw your thoughts away from Jimin. Receiving a call from Jimin’s best friend could only mean trouble, and you wanted none of the mess that had been created overnight. It had been mere weeks since you gave your peace on the end of your relationship, yet here you were, willingly ripping open the stitches that now bound your heart together.

Maybe you appeared strange in the elevator - flushing all shades of pink - but you couldn’t seem to help it. Not only was your situation unprecedented, but you had no idea what sight you’d be greeted with. Jimin’s friend wouldn’t let up how bad the accident was, and despite the pain he’d given you, never could you wish for him to receive it back.

R6, south wing; it was further away than you’d remembered. It was always strikingly obvious that you’d wandered away from the commotion of a hospital when the bustling visitors exchanged with surgeons and nurses, coated in their same minty scrubs. The lack of casual clothing in the corridors haunted you; it only seemed as though you were edging further from civilisation with each step.

Buzzing the security intercom increased the building pressure in your lungs. As you cleansed your hands with provided gel, any predictions of what might be waiting for you behind the doors suddenly evacuated. Although he may have, your attachment to Jimin has never truly abandoned you; once upon a time, he was your best friend.

Ambulating down the sapphire linoleum, you counted the enclosures of hospital beds. Fourth from the right was your intended destination. One; empty. The landscape of empty beds inside was almost as depressing as a full room. Two; full. Silence fell upon 4 conscious patients who all stared into the same space. Three; weeping family. Expecting anything less from a trauma unit would have been foolish even for you, but the extremes of human emotion were perhaps all too much for a Sunday morning.

And then, you came to four. Through the moderately open shutters, you stole the first glimpse of Jimin you’d had in months. Your view was blocked by his crowded friends; the worst of it was approaching.

“Excuse me?” A voice from behind introduced. Startled, you turned to meet conversation, not expecting to be greeted by a nurse, “Are you Ms. Haewon?”

You nodded politely, remaining unsure what to expect. The nurse returned her eyes to the clipboard she cradled and shrewdly, you copied, “Thank you for coming at such short notice, you seem to be the only person he can name.”

“What happened? To him, I mean.”

“A car accident. He’s lucky to say the least. I’m glad I caught you before you entered.” Her abrupt statements couldn’t calm your ever-trembling hands; coming here was surely a mistake, ”I’m sure you’ve gathered that what you’re about to walk into isn’t going to be easy. Whatever he says to you is his own version of reality, no matter how far from the truth it really is. I’d like to advise you against correcting him for the time being, it’s better for the recovery process if he is allowed time to adjust.”

You flattened your lips, finally coming to realise how serious Jimin’s accident actually had been. Being left to only remember your time together must’ve been more pain than he knew, but he didn’t.

After thanking the nurse, you brushed your hands on your jeans to dry the accumulated sweat on your palms and exhaled breath you didn’t know you were holding. Not a single word of preparation scrolled through your mind as you turned the corner into the room.

All eyes fell upon you, including Jimin’s. Arrangements of purple and mouldy yellow bloomed from his brow to jaw, following a delicate manoeuvre down his cheek. Clear tubes were strung from the back of his hand to several bags of various liquids. To say the resemblance to a marionette doll was uncanny would have been an understatement, “Haewon!”

Conjuring the equal amount of enthusiasm to see Jimin pointlessly unachievable. Even seeing your worst enemy in such a bad state wouldn’t have changed the torment struggling inside your mind.

Softening your eyes, you fixed upon his sable eyes and released a gentle smile, “Hi, Jimin.”

The simple greeting was all you could muster. It was pathetic, but it would have to do. By the window, one of Jimin’s friends pulled faces to his own reflection. Usually distracted by small aggravations, all of your attention remained devoted to Jimin. You were here for him, no one else.

“I managed to end up in hospital. Do you know why?” The tails of his eyebrows sunk into his temples. Dancing around topics in fear of confusing him more was risky. Following his own lead in conversation was the only way to avoid slipping up; all you could hope is that what you were doing was the best for him.

The rolling eyes of his cornered friend enraged you. Assuming he would have any feelings of compassion was ridiculous, “I know.” You places your bag gently on the floor and perched on one of the plastic meeting chairs beside the bed, “Do you know why..?”

Before your question had finished, the monotonous shaking of his head swung against his pillow, “There’s strange people here, they won’t go away.”

At the sound of his words, Jimin’s friend turned away from the window to watch his injured friend. You hated him with your whole being, but watching him be shut out by Jimin was unfair. Of course, there was nothing that could be helped, but an overhanging guilt began to overshadow you, “They’re here to help you, Jimin. You were in a car accident, and you can’t get better by yourself. They’ll help you as much as they can.”

Soft smiles were all you could offer for comfort. Embracing him in any kind of way was sure enough to damage him further. Porcelain would have appeared stronger than Jimin; another crack in his dainty exterior guaranteed him to shatter.

Fiddling with your fingernails allowed you to witness Jimin’s hand creep down the bed. The transparent tubes stretched to follow his roaming digits; his palm blossomed and tiny cuts, most likely made by broken glass, scattered over his calluses. Holding his hand was not a task you had signed up for, but then, Jimin never asked to remember you.

Slipping your hand against Jimin’s was strange to say the least. His familiar warmth was once soothing, now it was more like an icy slate. Whatever you could do to help him recover, you would; you’d assured yourself that much.

“Am I going to be alright?” Jimin whimpered, caressing your thumb with his. Immense pity was simply inevitable. How badly damaged was he? So much so, Jimin wasn’t sure if he was even going to make it.

“Of course you are.” You resumed your amiable smile, knowing very well you may have just lied to him. Considering the state you found him in, surely it wasn’t certain?

As Jimin groaned while he hesitantly adjusted himself, the same nurse from earlier returned to the room. She pushed a small cart equipped with medical appliances, bandages and capsules of all different colours, “I need to change Jimin’s drips. For sanitary reasons, you both need to wait outside.”

Your eyes met with those of Jimin’s friend, and you led the walk outside of the room. The door closed behind you, and the awkward silence began. Even when your relationship with Jimin was active, you’d never found much in comin with his friends. In fact, the more you came to understand Jimin, you couldn’t understand what attracted him to them either.

Before you’d gotten the chance, the man sat in the only seat outside of the room. Chivalry was no expectation when it came to Jimin’s acquaintances. As expected, nothing much had changed.

Even when deep in silence, you couldn’t bring yourself to dawdle on your phone. Nail-biting was the only appropriate way to pass time as well as take out your pent up anxieties. He looked up from behind his screen, and thrusted it deep into his jacket pocket, eyeing you from head to toe with a grimaced face. You shared his sentiments.

“It’s better he forgets you. You never bother with him, what an unfortunate coincidence he only remembers you.” His breath exalted ignorance. You were here for Jimin, not to argue over the past.

But still, it was too much bait to simply avoid, “What do you mean I never bother with him? Conversations work two ways; if he wanted me to check up on him, he’d check up on me too.”

“He’s been a mess since you stopped dating. You were the best thing that ever happened to him.”

His confession was perhaps the most sincerity you thought possible to get out of him, yet that wouldn’t fog your version of events, “That’s his own fault. I never wanted us to end.”

He scoffed, smirking as he shook his head, “There’s no compassion with you, is there?”

“Your best friend could have died, and you’re still taking jabs at me. I didn’t have to come but I did. Instead of being concerned for Jimin’s wellbeing, I reckon you asked me here just to make your points.” His sly smirk soon faded into his flushing cheeks.

Perhaps it was true that if he knew any better, Jimin wouldn’t want you there. But he didn’t know any better, at least not now. How you were supposed to help, you were unsure of. Were you even prepared to be present when he realised? Realising your beloved was no longer yours must hurt more for the second time, there could be no doubt about it.

“Visit hours are over in five minutes. Go, and don’t come back. At least for a while. At least give him a chance to remember someone other than you. I only asked you here to lessen the blow anyway.”

For someone who should no longer concern you, the motion of avoiding Jimin was strangely painful. He was vulnerable, anybody could see that. Abandoning him as the only person he could openly recognise felt immoral, disgusting almost. But what authority did you have?

The nurse soon allowed you back into the room for the final goodbye before the cue to leave. Jimin beamed as you timidly approached the plastic chair beside him. It must’ve stung him to smile with such cheer. It was a lie. His happiness was a lie. Soon, he’d know the truth.

“I’m going to have to leave soon. I’m sorry I can’t stay longer.” Although your romance wasn’t, your remorse was real. The pity you empathised from being stuck with his ignorant friend was also very much real.

“You’ll come back for me, right?”

So much you were yet to decide. A sleepless night dwelling upon the events of the day was due, “Of course I will.”

With all your endurance, you avoided the eyes of his lingering friend. He was better off invisible for now, “You promise to keep well, Jimin. We’ll get through this together.”

Sending Jimin your last smile of the day, he reflected your sentiments and watched you approached the door, “Haewon?” You turned around with a raised eyebrow, “I love you.”

And there it was. The dreaded three words that held no meaning to you, at least not from him. Did they even hold any meaning to him? You were the only person he recognised; if there was only one person you knew, you’d feel compelled to live them at some point.

“I know you do.”

[barnesbabee]

you do realize that sexuality labels were created so that people can discover about themselves, right? it’s also used so that people understand their limitations and boundaries and so that people can split themselves into their own category. if someone isn’t comfortable with labelling themselves then that’s individual to who they are but society as a whole created this system so it’s easier to understand, educate & respect ourselves + others :/ i don’t see how you can disregard these labels that we fought and rioted for. prospectively, live your life and do whatever the hell you want, don’t worry about people’s opinions but don’t think labels are unnecessary or useless :,) also children using these labels will learn later in life more about themselves. it baffles me that you don’t think it’s controversial when people have died and given blood, sweat and tears to be accepted and normalized with their labels. but maybe this is just my opinion :D have a wonderful day.

first of all I don’t like the way you’re excluding me from this. You’re saying all of this like I haven’t suffered? I’m part of this community okay, I’ve suffered, I’ve felt like an outsider and I’ve cried about it. My opinion is as valid as yours.

I just really hate the sense of entitlement you walked in here with. Did you read the whole thing? Did you read my explanation? As to why I didn’t like labels? Or were you just like ‘unacceptable!’ and came here to yell at me like I’m completely disregarding everyone’s efforts all of these decades??

It’s really fucking appalling to me that you just came here and basically said ‘hi! you’re disrespecting everyone <3′, no, it’s my opinion about a community that I am part of. My sexuality gets repelled by straight people and by gay people, so I think I’m very much allowed to dislike labels. I get to take my input in this one. Cause I have been through the struggles, I don’t know if it seems like it or not, but I just don’t talk much about sexuality because to me it’s not a big deal. For some people is, to me it’s not. 

And a lot of times I feel like people feel pressured to label themselves to fit it and then get shit for it after. “Oh you’re bisexual? I thought you said you were a lesbian? So you’re just going back and forth, is that it?”

Some people feel forced to choose a label, people asking ‘oh what are you’ and maybe they don’t know but what are they gonna reply? ‘Idk’??? sure, figuratively it’s a good response, but we all know that’s not how it works. 

We always respect the opinions of the more sensitive people about every issue ever, can we start respecting people who are more open about everything? Cause how fucking dare you try to invalidate my opinion about something that I take part of. My friend Zad has one opinion, I have another. I won’t tag him in this cause he’s regressing this weekend and he does not want to be involved in serious issues, but he was able to refute what I was saying 1. with better arguments than yours, 2. in a more respectful way, and 3. without disrespecting my opinion.

I honestly had to remove so much from this answer cause I just know people would get more offended at something that is MY opinion about and an issue that I AM IN. It’s like I can’t give my opinion anymore on anything

you’re acting as if I said ‘death to all gays!’

I would just like you to explain to me, and put it very simply: how was that opinion controversial? People fought for labels, or did they fight for us to be able to love the people we want to love? Did I disrespect that? Did I say you shouldn’t be able to love whoever you wanted to?

I’m pretty sure gay people in revolutions and parades would be screaming and fighting cause ‘we want to love who we were born to love’ and not ‘we wanna be called gay!’. Do you see why I got mad? Because that’s what you said. You said I disregarded what people fought for. No I didn’t, because no one fought for a fucking label.

These labels are so quick to put everyone in a box, and some people just don’t want that. I don’t want that. Because I don’t think there’s the need to.

‘what gender do you like?’ ‘yes.’ simple, lmao.

and last but not least, no one fought for a fucking label, people fought for their right to love whoever they want.

Also, I’m free to think whatever I want?? 

Sorry for the long rant, I’m tired and got heated because its almost 2am 

have a good day too :)

[sn0tcl0wn]

"all you have to do is hold on until you're a legal adult" lmao dude im almost 25 and im still stuck with my parents. stop acting like everyone can just leave at 18 and that isn't a form of privilege. like what about those of us with no friends and no one outside of our families? we get left to the wayside by the ones who assume we can just leave whenever we want because no one ever bothers to help us. we're the ones that get lumped in with the immature parasites who want to stay home because we have no skills or abilities we can utilize and get out. please stop telling kids they can just leave at 18 as a blanket statement. many actually can't. most kids in abusive homes cannot just leave, specifically survivors of religious abuse. there is an entire population of people who got pulled out of school (if they ever went to begin with) and had their heads filled with lies, were indoctrinated, and raised to fit in specific boxes (in my case; traditional housewife) thus making it very difficult for us to do anything with ourselves when we do inevitably leave. we always end up back with our families and in the same or similar toxic situations even if it's not the cult like ones. and of course i say religious but literally any form of childhood abuse that results in complete isolation will make it much harder to leave than just heading off to college or moving out at 18.

do not hold on to the idea that you can just leave at 18. if you end up where im at you'll be drowning in self loathing and regrets because you couldn't do it. instead just stick to more vague affirmations like "i'll be out some day", "nothing is permanent", "a long time isn't forever", etc. giving yourself set dates and times to get out of a situation and putting numbers to shit does nothing but put unnecessary pressure on you. i ended up having all my hard work pushed back because the people i tried to escape sabotaged my entire life and left me for dead causing me to first go to my dad who just genuinely had no idea what to do with me and now my mother who's toxic as all hell and has no idea how badly i was abused causing her to respond to my symptoms and stuntedness with hostility or bitter annoyance. rushing to get out at 18 made me the family disappointment because i wasn't ready and my abusers still had too much control. but i was always told 18 was that golden age when you can just Leave. it isn't. especially not for anyone in the younger millennial/gen z range because the economy is trash. stop letting people in their late 30s and older tell you you can just leave at 18. they're from a different world and honestly? everyone who gets away from abuse and toxicity at 18/19 probably weren't isolated and had somewhere or someone to lean on to some degree.

if you're someone who has no one and you're in the 16 age range, do not bet on just two more years. hope and work for it but do not look at people who can do it and automatically think you're gonna be ready if you haven't even been allowed to go to school. the isolation is enough to make you unready for most situations and many times people like us go back because we need to. do not put yourself in a position where you need to go back. work so that you never need to go back at all ever again but be patient because 18 is in no way ready if you're an isolated person like me. and there are a lot more of us who slip thru the cracks every day than anyone knows or wants to admit.

stop making these blanket statements about just leaving at 18 if you weren't 13 or under in 2008 and especially in a discussion about toxic and abusive families because most of us can't afford it to begin with and many people in emotionally abusive situations are victims of some form of brainwashing or extreme, forced isolation that results in mental problems, stunted development and social skills, and will often have to go back by age 20 because they left too soon thanks to that advice.

and if you want a better solution then how about we as a fuckin society start cracking down on these families and stop putting the responsibility to not be hurt anymore on literal kids who just recently have legal rights as adults, eh? how about we don't just fuckin ignore it when a kid gets pulled outta school and falls off the face of the planet like so many oft do? take people in without making them feel like burdens. just don't let kids fuckin slip through the cracks man. my life never needed to be this way but no one gave a shit about me outside of my fucked up family until college where people still would not help me get out of that house officially and for good. no one would help me with anything period because i should have known that. it's the apathy and willful ignorance of others that truly causes us to be harmed to such extreme degrees. stop telling kids they can get out at 18 unless you personally intend on bringing them in if and when shit hits the fan or are willing to sit and explain basic adulting shit to someone in their 20s without being annoyed. if you can't or won't do those things then you can't go around telling 16 year olds they only have two more years because you're creating another generation of disenchanted and virtually homeless twenty-somethings. especially now. this isolation shit is gonna last like a year or two if the influenza comparisons are right. these kids wont be able to move out at 18 unless they're taken care of. period. use your fucking head and think about current reality instead of looking back 18 years and saying "well it worked for me". like honestly fuck you.

and to those who are stuck like me, i love you and we will be okay. this sucks so fucking much but we're still alive so we can make it to where we all wanna be in the end. it's never too late to do anything for yourself and it's never shameful to take your time or go back to your abusers when you have nowhere else to go. they made it like that on purpose and no matter how it feels it's not your fault. if you're like me and went back to less bad but still toxic family, you didn't make a mistake, you just tried taking a responsible route when being faced with homelessness and got screwed. this is not your fault and you will overcome and get out just like you got out of the last one. it's so easy to hate oneself like this especially seeing people so flippantly act like 18 is the golden age of stability and maturity where we can leave home and live as an adult. this isn't the 1950s, we don't live in that world anymore. if you're alive right now and you still have the urge to leave, then you're doing just fine and it won't ever be too late for you until you die or, worse, choose complacence. just work towards a better future and don't beat yourself up when that future isn't tomorrow or go putting time limits on milestones and escape plans. it helps no one but those who want to use it as ammo when you come back in need. and many of us often do. ain't no shame in it but the shame society and its constructs put on us. you're still a kid and you're gonna be okay even if you're not ready yet. it'll happen, trust me.

i just really felt the need to get this off my chest because i never want anyone else to cry every birthday past their 18th because they "should be on (their) own by now" and i am so sick of everyone putting that age on this weird pedestal. i also don't want anyone who was in a cult like situation to feel ashamed or helpless when that happens or when they have no choice but to go back. but mostly i want people to be more fucking mindful of what they say regarding things like moving out at 18, especially if they're over 30. we need to undo the harm the "leave at 18" mindset has done as well as make an active effort to actually stop or at least help people get away from abuse and make sure no one ends up like me. i have no reason to hate myself and yet, because everyone loves shoving it in my face how supposedly easy it is, i do. let's not do this to gen z kids, guys. like please do not do this to them. i want everyone right the fuck now to realize that they're all isolated very much like i was and the ones in bad situations will come out a lot like me.

[plumblackjeon]

Ares (Pt. 1)

boxer!Jungkook x Reader Genre: Smut/Angst Word Count: 5004 Warnings: 18+ Perverse sex, drug use, minor character death, stripping, prostitution (for now)

Jungkook is from a poor, working-class family. He is the best boxer in their little town. This story explores his life - hardships, love, hate, sex, death, and all the vices life has to offer. 

Just so there’s no confusion, this story is inspired by my own fic from ao3. Also, please let me know what you think - your feedback is really important to me!

A too familiar morning.

He is out before 6 AM and it’s too cold for his denim jacket to keep him warm. He frowns in the cold air, letting out a shaky breath, as his bag keeps sliding off of his shoulder. The sky is really dark today, completely covered by the huge black clouds, which will surely bring rain later during the day.

It’s so quiet, that the only thing he hears is the slight rustling of the leaves, being carried away by the autumn wind. As he nears the gymnasium, he sees a flock of birds flying over the old building. A couple of steps more and he’ll finally feel warm – after he pushes the hard entrance doors. As soon as they close behind him, the loud sounds of the birds disappear – and he doesn’t even know that this is the last time he’ll hear them.

He inhales the all too familiar smell – the smell of an early morning, the smell of rubber mats they train on, the smell of freshly greased training equipment.

 And this is what he lives for.

 His shoes are too tight and worn out, but his mother won’t afford a new pair any time soon.

He is here before the other guys, and his workout doesn’t stop until his entire body is covered in sweat. When he finishes, he still has 20 minutes before the training starts. The lights are still off and the color of the trees is accentuated by the gloomy weather, illuminating the entire hall with a greenish blue light.

 A muffled melody breaks the silence and he searches through his bag to find his phone. The corner of his lips turns upwards before he even opens the message. And there, on the broken display, is a “I wasn’t able to fall asleep when you left...” and a video.

 His footsteps are echoing through the hall as he walks towards the bathroom stalls, holding the phone in his hand and waiting for the video to download. He throws his bag onto the pale blue tiles and enters one of the stalls. The video finally downloads and he presses play.

Jungkook instantly recognizes his silver necklace, hitting him in the chest, as he thrusts at a fast pace – his forearms bulging in the video, as he focuses on holding himself up. Shy whimpers can be heard behind the camera, together with the squeaking bed and ragged breathing. “You like that? Like when I fuck you like that, huh?” He was barely able to finish the sentence, breathing hard in between each word – his voice always stern and rough when he fucks.

He replays the video one more time, precome oozing out of his tip, when he receives another message. He downloads the second video, and plays it after a couple of seconds.

He squeezes his cock over the thick material of his tracksuit, biting into his lip at the feeling and slightly groaning in frustration – he still has about 15 minutes before the training starts – but the smash of the heavy entrance doors closing brings him back to reality and he turns off his phone.

It’s the coach – he always comes here before the other guys, just to set up everything for the training. Jungkook exits the bathroom and walks towards the main hall.

“Did you have a good warm-up,” the coach asks Jungkook, throwing the heavy bags he was carrying onto the rubber mats.

Jungkook looks at him, still breathing hard from his workout and he replies, “not bad.”

That’s the only thing he says – he doesn’t even shrug. There’s no unnecessary body movement when he speaks. His answers are very concise – straight to the point. He doesn’t smile just to make the other person feel more comfortable. He doesn’t ask meaningless questions just for the sake of being polite, like “How have you been? How was your day? I heard you transferred to a new company, how do you like it there?” He doesn’t ask if he’s not genuinely interested – he doesn’t pretend. And he doesn’t understand why other people do that.

His short answer makes the coach feel a little bit uncomfortable, and so he asks another question under pressure, just to break the nerve-racking silence, “How’s everything at home?”

This time, Jungkook actually shrugs, because the situation at home has never been worse, and so he needs a little bit of time to come up with a lie, “fine,” he frowns a bit, his lips curving downwards and he shrugs again, “the usual.”

The coach looks at him, with some suspicion, but decides against prying any further, and so he starts talking about boxing, “so, we’re starting 1 on 1 training tomorrow, and I want you to be here at 5 am. We’re aiming for the finals now, because you’re the only one who can actually do it… But there is absolutely no room for error now.” He looks at Jungkook with a somewhat stern look on his face, hoping that his words affected Jungkook in some way.

Jungkook just nods.

“Jungkook, I hope you realize how serious this is. Not only for the club and your boxing ambitions, but…” he hesitates a bit, but decides to continue “you can finally get that money for your brother.”

“I know,” Jungkook says, nodding a few more times, with a reassuring look in his eyes.  

 Minutes pass by and the other guys start arriving one by one, and when their cheap plastic clock on the right wall shows 7 O’clock, the actual training starts. Sounds of bare feet tapping across the room can be heard throughout the hall, strong masculine bodies hitting the mats – competitive young men and excess testosterone.

Time goes by fast when he’s here and he feels dread when the training is over, because he has to go back home. After he exits the gymnasium, and the hard doors close behind him, another painful day starts.

He walks back home – the wind has started blowing harder than when he first got out of the house this morning – he rubs his hands over his arms, in hopes of heating them up a bit, but the worn out denim just hurts the blisters on the pads of his fingers. Luckily, he has less than ten minutes until he gets home.

He walks through the inner courtyard of the building complex he lives in, which looks more like a park – just a lot of greenery and benches with interlocked buildings creating a sort of concrete maze around it.

The entire neighborhood is old and most of the buildings are in bad condition. They’ve turned grey from all the smog, and almost all the glass on the front doors is broken and covered in graffiti. The buildings were built specifically for the working class, back in the 80s – some of them are square shaped, some L-shaped and there are also five solitaires in the middle, which everyone calls the white angels. Jungkook lives in one of them.

 When he gets home, Taehyung is there, waiting for him in his room – his dad must have let him in. “Why aren’t you answering your phone? I’ve been...” Taehyung motions with his hand, as he struggles to finish the sentence, and he looks almost angry because his mind isn’t working. “I’ve been…” his eyes are half-closed, and he probably doesn’t realize how slow his movements are and how much he is slurring his words.

Jugnkook can already tell what’s going on, so he doesn’t say a word, he just keeps looking at Taehyung, with a stern look on his face – because he’s fed up with this, he’s fed up with Taehyung’s shit. Mostly because he doesn’t know how to deal with this, he can’t get through to him, Taehyung dismisses everything he says and the frustration in Jungkook just keeps building up, because he feels so fucking helpless.

And so he almost yells at Taehyung, after too much time has passed, “you’ve been what?!”

“Calling you the entire morning!” Taehyung finally says, managing to raise up his voice a little – as if he has the right to be pissed – but he’s physically unable to yell.

“I had training,” Jungkook looks at him, anger starting to build up in him even more now, “I’ve had training every morning for the past three years.” His tone is painful for Taehyung. “Are you on heroin again, Taehyung?”

Taehyung frowns, his nose scrunching – his expression full of rage “Fuck you,” he spits out, “I told you I tried that shit once man, ok?!”

There’s an awkward silence, but Jungkook doesn’t give into it, he just keeps staring at Taehyung. So naturally, Taehyung gives in, breaking under the pressure – especially since he’s desperately trying to defend himself.

“I forgot man... I’m just drunk… I didn’t really go home since last night.” He tries to sit on Jungkook’s bed, moving across the room painfully slowly, “anyways, I wanna sell my leather jacket, so, like, I wonder if..” he makes another unnecessary pause, breathing heavily, as if it’s physically hard for him to speak, “if like,” he raises his voice all of a sudden, “any of your guys from the gym are interested.. Soo, that you can... you know…” He looks at Jungkook, thinking that Jungkook understood everything, not realizing how confusing his sentences are.  “So, can you ask them? If they are?”  

Jungkook is sitting on the couch, right across from Taehyung.

“You look like a fucking junkie,” Jungkook almost hisses, with disgust written all over his face, “you can’t even speak.” He waits for a reaction, but it doesn’t come.

“Are you that fucking dumb? Did you really decide to be a heroin addict, who shits and pukes all over himself, because he’s so out of it? Is that it?” He waits again. “Why did you stop boxing? What, you don’t like it anymore? All of a sudden? Taehyung?!”

Taehyung looks so insulted, but at the same time, he can’t do anything about it, because just trying to focus on Jungkook takes so much energy and concentration. He’s trying so hard to keep his body still and not fall down, but he doesn’t realize that his upper body is swaying from left to right, even though he’s sitting down. His breathing is so heavy and it is so painfully loud in the uncomfortable silence Jungkook has left them in.

“You wanna sell your favorite jacket?” Jungkook continues, “that’s your only jacket.” He waits for a response again. “Why do you need the money so bad?”

“Fuck you man.” Taehyung’s reply is filled with so much hate, that Jungkook was actually able to hear the sound of all the spit that has gathered in Taehyung’s mouth, as he was pronouncing that “F”.  Taehyung starts getting up, pulling up his pants, and slowly walking towards the door.

“Every time I come to you for a favor, you act like a fucking woman, nagging and talking shit all the time. When have you turned into this fucking savior, huh? Does it get you off? Huh?” He grabs the door handle, but looks at Jungkook, before he opens the door, “does this make you feel better, because you can’t help your brother?”

Jungkook just stares at him and Taehyung leaves.

The first few seconds, Jungkook actually feels the need to run after Taehyung and smash his skull. But then he suddenly comes to his senses, and he wonders – when has their friendship turned into this shit? Talking like they despise each other, frustration building up on both sides. He hates the way Taehyung talks to him, the way he’s treating him – who the fuck does he think he is?

Then, after he calms down a little, he actually starts thinking about this the right way. Jungkook is disgusted with himself for feeling impatient and inconvenienced – for feeling irritated by Taehyung – when instead, he should be helping Taehyung.

But he doesn’t know how.

 He has to take cold showers, because their electricity was turned off, for not paying the bills. His mom is out again, his dad is prostrated across the table – his brother long forgotten, as he continues to wither in his hospital bed.

******

 Jungkook skips over a puddle, it was raining hard tonight and it’s chilly outside. There’s no one on the street, he only hears his footsteps tapping across the wet concrete, as he heads towards the club. The air is fresh and the street lights are reflecting in the puddles – a scenario that he knows all too well. He’s already drunk, because alcohol is less expensive in the 7/11 than at the strip club, so he always drinks before he goes there.

He pays for sex – not because he has to, far from it, but because it excites him – it heightens the sexual experience

It’s also a subconscious thing – he feels “loved” here, he is every girl’s object of affection – he is everyone’s favorite. They care for him, nurture him, they heal his scars – both inside and out. He loves the delicate touches, how careful and tender girls are with him – after an entire day of being hit, he guesses that’s kind of normal.

But tonight’s a special night, because tonight he actually came here for someone.

 The bass is so loud that it almost hurts your ears, but you’ll get used to it soon. The music in the club is purposefully chosen in order to create a dark and exhilarating mood, which awakens all the beasts of the soul.

You’ve just exited the changing rooms, entering the main floor of the club, and after a minute of looking around the crowd, you recognize the guy from yesterday. At least you think it’s him, because you can only see his back.

But after a couple of seconds he turns around and now you’re sure it’s him, because of the nasty scar starting all the way from his mouth and spreading across his left cheek – in a way, distorting even the corner of his lips a little bit. You’ve heard of this before, supposedly, it’s caused by cutting the person from the corners of his lips, all the way to the ears, leaving a scar in the shape of a smile. But usually, it doesn’t look as severe as his, you’ve never seen a scar like that, and he only has it on one side of his face.

You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you don’t even realize he’s spotted you too, and now he’s walking towards you. You can’t help but smile a little when you see him, because you’re happy that he’s here for you.

He’s also smiling as he comes up to you, towering above you, because he’s so tall. You want to kiss him, but there’s no touching on the main floor, so you beckon him towards the back rooms – that’s what he’s here for, after all.

But his hand finds its way to your hair, his thumb caressing your cheek, as he smiles lovingly. But now dread is written across your face, because you know that your boss is there somewhere and that he’s gonna get so pissed off because Jungkook’s touching you in front of everyone. And sure enough, you can see him right behind Jungkook, walking towards you.

You try to prepare yourself, as you watch him come over, but as soon as he sees Jungkook, his eyes widen and he looks completely surprised – almost in awe. Jungkook looks at him once, but pays no further attention to him, and pulls you a bit closer.

“Jungkook, what a surprise! Would you, maybe, be interested in a private room?” You’ve never heard your boss be that polite to anyone, so you wonder – what is it about Jungkook that’s causing this special treatment?

Jungkook replies, but doesn’t even spare him a glance and just continues examining your face “yeah, we were just heading there.”

You enter the back rooms in silence – you’re already used to it. You both act like you know each other – as if you’re lovers, who have been separated against their will, and now you have reunited after a long time – you don’t say a word, but every move is filled with such intense emotions. You smile at each other, your kisses are desperate and passionate, but also intimate – he kisses your chest, your hands, your shoulders – and that’s unusual in a place like this.  

He pulls out his cellphone from his pocket and puts it on the small table.

He sits down onto the couch and god... his physical appearance is so divine – god-like. His shoulders are broad, but then his torso narrows down towards the waist, giving his silhouette a beautiful shape. The muscles on his arms are very prominent and are nicely accentuated by the black shirt he’s wearing. And then, your favorite part – his thighs are huge, the muscles large and sturdy, even more so because he’s sitting down. His legs are spread apart, inviting you to just sit in his lap.

You straddle him and decide to break the silence, “you came back,” you say.

His fingers are warming up on your thighs, the watch on his wrist ice-cold as it moves up your skirt. You put your hands around his neck and play with the ends of his tar-black hair there. He just nods as he starts breathing heavily.

“How was your day?” He says, cupping your cheek and you’re surprised at how gentle he is.

“Ok.. The usual.”

He pulls you in for a kiss and you start by kissing his bottom lip first – tasting the remaining alcohol – then you playfully lick his top lip a little bit, before he deepens the kiss. He starts squeezing you harder, encouraging you to grind your hips. He starts pushing his hips into you and can feel the outline of his hard cock.

His hand is in your hair again, guiding you in all the ways he wants, as he lowers down onto your neck, licking long stripes with the tip of his tongue. And you can’t believe that just kissing with him feels this good.  

He clashes your lips together, whimpering in frustration, as his thrusts become more desperate.

You press the palms of your hands down to his sturdy chest, touching him everywhere. Seeing the creases on his shirt blows your mind a little bit, because you didn’t realize you were pulling on it so hard. He takes his shirt off – which leaves him only with his silver necklace on – and you’re finally able to feel his beautiful skin.

You start licking into each other’s mouths again, but the sound of his phone ringing snaps you out of it. He stands up with you still in his lap – holding you by your thighs – he puts you down and walks over to the small table where his phone is.

And you realize that this is the first time you’ve seen his back, naked, because you had no idea that he has a tattoo. He has a traditional Japanese tiger, tattooed all over his back. “The tiger,” you think to yourself, “the sign that is feared – the one who represents strength and courage.”

You completely miss the conversation he was having on his phone, and before you know it, he’s back on the couch. He beckons you over and you sit next to him, with his arm wrapped around you.

It’s so weird, because you feel as if this is your living room and he is your husband – he doesn’t rush anything, he doesn’t want to fuck you straightaway – he’s fine with talking and kissing. But tonight you don’t want to talk, so you straddle him again.

He brings his hand to the nape of your neck, pulling you by the hair and tilting your head backwards. His other hand is on your back and so he’s basically pushing you down on his thighs – while you’re still straddling him – as he towers above you. He just looks at you for a couple of seconds and he kisses you hard, pushing his tongue deep into your mouth, letting out a loud exhale through his nose.

When he pulls you up again, you start grinding onto his hard cock, riling him up, his breathing becoming more ragged.

He pushes you off his lap and onto the floor – a loud thump breaking the silence – when your knees hit the wooden floor. His legs are spread apart, naked chest heaving, and you grabs his calves instantly, pulling yourself upwards, in between his legs.

His massive silver watch looks like a kind of restraint on him and you’re not sure why you like it so much – the fact that he’s naked and he’s only got these two pieces of jewelry on him.

He places his hand on the nape of your neck again, pulling you towards him, as he towers above you.  He pulls you towards his face – you flash him a smile and you open your mouth. He spits into your mouth, letting it dribble out slowly and pulls you in for a kiss.

You’re surprised when he pulls you into his lap again – you thought you were gonna suck him off first – but you learned yesterday that he can be a little bit impatient. He pulls out a condom from his pocket, unzips his jeans and takes out his cock without pulling his jeans down – not even a little bit – and you think to yourself that that’s pretty masochistic, because the metal zipper is pressed into his cock.

You hover above it and you slowly push it in. Your lips part as you do so, moaning when you completely sit down on his thighs, with his cock fully inside you.

You instinctively tighten around him and he groans, already feeling himself leaking into the condom. He starts slamming into you, your ass slapping against his thighs, as you hold onto his wide shoulders. You move your hands to the side of his face, caressing his cheeks, his jaw – just touching his face all over. Then down to his shoulders, his ribs, his abs – you can’t believe he’s real.

He slows down and just darts out his tongue, waiting for you to suck on it. You smile again, wrapping your lips around his tongue and pulling it into your mouth. You start kissing again, clenching every time he slams into you. He closes his eyes – can feel them rolling back into his head – as he nears his orgasm.

“Fuck me,” you barely manage to say, but he stops and pushes you down onto the leather couch, turning you around and pushing your face into it.

“Is this what you want?” That’s the only time he speaks, voice so deep from the alcohol and lack of sleep.

 He rubs the head of his cock over your clit, almost making you cum then and there. He pushes his head inside first and he’s balls-deep the next moment. He brings his hands down to your ass, parting your cheeks, as he looks down at his cock moving in and out. Jungkook places his hand on the back of your neck, holding you down, as he slams into you harder and harder.

You come in silence, your body completely paralyzed from how good it feels. And soon after, he comes, too.

After that, it’s like you’re in your room again. He lights up a cigarette, sitting on the couch with just his jeans on.

“I have this dream,” he starts speaking, “from time to time.” You’re right beside him, listening carefully. “Always the same dream,” he puts out his cigarette and pulls you into his lap. “I’m in a room with this woman and she’s feeding me butterfly wings.” He makes a pause. “I know it’s weird, but they taste nice – like the sweetest, most delicious candy you’ve ever tried.” You’re playing with his hair, as he tells you about his dream, and you listen to him carefully – you don’t know if you’re more mesmerized by him or by his dream.  

“But the wings are so thin and so delicate, that, as soon as she touches them, with the pad of her finger, they stick onto it. And I stick my tongue out,” you look him in the eyes, as he grabs your middle finger and brings it to his mouth, “and she puts them on my tongue.” And he sticks out his tongue, licking the pad of your finger. Shivers run down your spine and you think that you’re finally in love.

******

The crowd is so loud he feels like the entire arena is shaking from their chants. He’s never been in a match this big. They have about ten minutes before they go out, he’s jumping around a bit, warming up, before his coach comes up to him with boxing wraps that he has to put on his hands.

He’s not nervous, he was never the type to feel anxious before something so important and he doesn’t even know how lucky he is because of it. He was born like that and he never had to think about how other people struggle because of psychological pressure.

The coach is saying some words of encouragement as he’s wrapping his hands, even though there’s absolutely no need for that and he knows it. Everyone from his gym is there to support him and in a way he feels happy, because they’re starting to look like a proper team, ready to take on the world.

This is as big as it’ll ever get in their small hometown, but he’s already dreaming of the huge spotlights in the Las Vegas arena.

The clock is ticking and he can’t wait to exit the small white room they’re currently in. The coach went back to the locker room to put away the remaining fabric, but he’s taking too long and they’re supposed to exit in a few minutes. Jungkook hears some faint chatter – a female voice – she seems to be speaking with his coach and then the conversation starts getting louder and louder.

Everyone’s looking towards the locker rooms and finally Jungkook’s mother appears, babbling something seemingly inaudible, or maybe his brain is just unable to process it because he’s so surprised that she’s there. His coach is physically trying to stop her from entering the main room – she looks drunk, completely wasted, maybe that’s why – but then the coach continues speaking to her, raising his voice: “Please don’t tell him now! Now is not the time!”

But she doesn’t listen to him, violently trying to push him away. She searches for Jungkook in this little room filled with unfamiliar people, and when her eyes finally meet with his, she looks so angry at him, her look full of hate, “your brother has died!!!” The sound that leaves her mouth could only be described as a screech, it’s a sound he’s never heard coming from his mother.

And with that, he’s being pushed outside as his name is being announced to the hundreds of people. He’s in complete shock and he’s sure it shows, his black eyes are as wide as when he was a little baby, when his huge bambi eyes were so prominent on his small face. The reaction that he’s supposed to have is not coming out – he knows that he’s supposed to cry, that he’s supposed to scream, but he can’t, and he doesn’t understand why.

The loud cheering of the crowd is driving him into complete aggression, because his brain starts perceiving it as a threat. His body is overwhelmed with emotion and he feels as if he’s going into shock, but instead of fainting, he’s becoming aggressive because he feels attacked.

He doesn’t even remember how he got into the ring, the judge has already announced their names and the match has started. He remembers to hold his fists in front of his face, even though he’s not consciously thinking about it.

Receiving a couple of blows to his head kind of clears his mind and makes him focus on his opponent. Jungkook tries to hit him once, but misses badly. At the end of the first round, he manages to land a few punches.

He keeps reminding himself that he has to stay focused, because this is the fight of his life, this is what he’s been working for every morning for ten years – and then he suddenly remembers that his brother is dead and that this match doesn’t mean anything anymore. He’s been preparing three years for this competition specifically, just so that he can win the money for his brother’s treatment. But now what? Why is he in the ring now?

Somehow, the entire second round passes with him thinking about this, and what’s more surprising is that he lands some very successful punches – he’s pretty sure he’s gonna win this round.

He manages to calm down his mind and his performance improves greatly – he actually has a chance of winning this thing.

His opponent starts hitting him viciously, and Jungkook starts getting angry again – he has just realized that he let his brother die – if he doesn’t start acting differently, the same thing might happen to Taehyung too. And this guy keeps hitting him in the face – who the fuck does he think he is?!

Jungkook puts all his strength into the next two punches, sending the guy down onto the floor, but he just can’t stop himself now and so he kicks his opponent in the head as he’s lying on the floor.

The next thing he hears is the painful sound of the whistle and it finally brings him back to reality – he’s disqualified. Probably from participating in any championships or tournaments for a couple of years.

The burning lights of Las Vegas have turned off.

**************************

Please let me know what you think about the story here - your feedback means a lot to me!

[seokoloqy]

MINT. | myg (m)

➳ PAIRING: hades!yoongi x persephone!reader

➳ GENRE: smut, pwp, greek myth!au

➳ WORD COUNT: 2.6k

➳ WARNINGS: jealousy, smut; oral (f receiving), mutual masturbation, their clothes are on the whole time...sorry?

➳ SUMMARY: you find yourself back in Hades when Spring turns to Fall, but this time you’re less than thrilled to see your husband after learning of his ex-lover, Minthe.

➳ A/N: yes, hello, they’re back already and this time we‘re talking about minthe who I originally wanted to include in ‘hello paradise’ but eh she can have her own tiny moment here instead

Despite being an immortal, six months is forever in Yoongi’s eyes. He wonders what you do on Earth. Do you spend days relishing in the sun and running through the flower fields with other nymphs? Are there days when you sit by the window and watch as the sky weeps in Spring? Are those the days you think of him too?

When Spring comes to an end and the season turns to Fall, that's when he knows you’ll return home.

“How are you, my love?” Yoongi stands from his throne with a full grin, ready to rush and embrace you as soon as you walk toward him. Instead of the warm and tender greeting you always give, you walk straight past him and towards your shared bedroom.

While spending time with the nymphs, you learned of one in particular who was said to have been the king of Hades mistress before you came along. This was news to you. Yoongi never spoke of anyone he was with before you. And it’s not that you doubt his faith to you, he is the most loyal god of them all compared to the rest.

But the nymph in question, Minthe, bragged to all the other nymphs of how many glorious and heated nights she spent with your husband before you came along and ruined it all. Her assumption about you being a ‘thief’ who stole Yoongi from her made your blood boil. You had done nothing to provoke such hateful words. If Yoongi loved her instead of you, he would have chosen her.

You overheard her one day by the lake talking ill of you while she thought you weren’t there.

“She’s foolish to think he loves her. I’m the one who warmed his bed every night before her. Gods, the way he used to…”

You brush off your thoughts and throw open the bedroom door. Normally, it would be a welcoming sight, but you grimace, only being able to think of how many nights Yoongi would spend here with Minthe wrapped around him. You know you’re taking out unnecessary anger on him, but can’t help the petty feelings getting in the way of your reunion.

“What’s the matter?” Yoongi trails after you, watching as you bury yourself underneath the sheets and turn your back on him. “Have I already done something to upset you?”

You bring the blanket over your head and shut your eyes tightly, hoping he will just give up. You hear his footsteps come closer until he stops beside you, soothingly rubbing your shoulder.

“It’s been too long, love,” he whispers, sliding the blanket off your shoulder, along with the sleeve of your dress. You shiver at the feeling of his lips gently pressing against your neck and his hand gliding down your arm, creating goosebumps in its wake. “It’s lonesome sleeping in this bed without you.”

The blanket is halfway off your body at this point and his hand moves to your stomach, rubbing slow and comforting circles. You struggle to stay angry at him while feeling a familiar wetness begin to pool between your thighs as he continues to nip and suck on your neck.

“Why didn’t you just ask Minthe to come to keep you company?” You spit, sitting up and pushing yourself away from his roaming hands that started to get dangerously close to your core. You watch as a glint of recognition passes his eyes and then it disappears into a smirk. “I’m sure she won’t have a problem coming back to please you while I’m gone.”

Six months is a long time for one god to spend alone, starving for tender kisses and passionate caresses. You’re sure your husband has to have urges, ones you’re unable to satisfy on Earth.

Yoongi ignores your venomous tone and piercing glare, leaning onto the bed to trap you between the bedpost and his amused face. “Ah, was that her name? And what makes you think I still want that nymph?” He leans into your neck again, continuing his work of leaving marks on your bare skin, letting his tongue and lips glide down the curve of your neck. His mouth momentarily distracts from your anger.

You hold yourself back from reaching up to intertwine your hands in his hair, knowing you’re slowly losing the fight. Your legs press together to relieve the throbbing in your center as he kisses the base of your throat, biting your lip to prevent the moan threatening to escape.

“Answer me,” he commands roughly, foregoing the gentle approach for your forgiveness. He pulls back to survey your expression, bottom lip caught between your teeth and pupils blown.

“I-I don’t know,” you speak, struggling to keep your tone steady as his hand settles on your thigh. You want to push his hand away, but you can’t resist his suggestive touches. Six months is a long time for you as well. You miss the way he makes you feel and tremble beneath him.

But you can’t give into him yet. The smug face Minthe wore as she explained to the nymphs of how much pleasure she would receive from Yoongi night after night only encourages you to resist him. “She said you couldn’t get enough of her. That you’d fuck her so good until she couldn’t walk,” you sneer, feeling the jealousy in your words rise the more you speak. The arrogant way she spoke about Yoongi’s seemingly unending lust and carnal desires for her drive you insane.

“And what else did she say? Exactly.” Yoongi waits for your response, staring into your challenging eyes.

You don’t know his game but foolishly play into it. “You would throw her onto the bed and put your tongue on her,” you repeat bluntly, not caring to include the explicit details you recall she cited. It’s not like you wanted to anyway, the words that fell from her puckered lips were too vulgar for you to repeat.

“Where? Where was my tongue?” He rasps, raising a pale finger to your neck, lightly caressing the curve. “Here?”

Slowly, the pieces of his lustful gaze and hand slowly moving down to your chest begin to click. Yoongi’s hand moves between the valley of your breasts and he repeats, “Here?”

You release an uneven breath as his hand moves to your abdomen, the heat radiating from his hand makes you squirm and lets him know he’s close. Yoongi climbs onto the bed, laying on his stomach between your slightly opened legs, still intently watching your expressions change.

“Yoongi…” you whisper, as he spreads your legs apart to get a perfect view of your leaking core beneath your dress. You don’t try to hide from his prying eyes or wandering fingers.

“Or here?” He slides your dress up, gliding a hand along your thigh and leaving it at the juncture of your hip. The teasing look in his eyes as he looks up through dark lashes with a smirk makes you whimper in need, wanting to feel his warm breath on you, digging his tongue into your heat.

“Yes,” you mewl, bending your legs to your chest to give him better access to your glistening folds, aching for his touch. You’ve already forgotten the insignificant nymph, wanting nothing more than to replace the feelings of jealousy with pleasure. “Right there, Yoongi.”

He leans into your throbbing center, tongue first connecting with your clit and giving it a slow kitten lick. You release a heavy moan, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip and throwing your head against the headboard as he continues to flick your bud with his wet unrelenting tongue.

Yoongi presses his lips around your clit, sucking the throbbing mound into his mouth. Your feet dig into the mattress as your fingers grip onto the sheets with waves of pleasure rolling through you, moaning out his name, “Yoongi, fuck.”

He releases the swollen bud with a pop and moves down to your slit, greedily drinking up the sight of your wetness leaking out of your pink folds and onto the dark sheets. He mutters, lost in the desire to taste you, “Mm, you’re so wet, love. Dripping for me, only me.”

Heat moves through your body at the sound of his gruff tone, muscles clenching and thighs aching. “Yes, Yoongi, just for you.” You moan in this delirious lust he has you in, ready to receive his tongue. “Give it to me.”

You can already feel the way he’ll bring his mouth down on you, lapping up all your juices and savoring the taste until next Summer.

“Ah, but do you deserve it?” He teases, sitting back on his heels. You reach out desperately for him to get back down and devour you, only for him to move further back. He shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest, dark fabric stretching over the muscles hidden beneath. “You accuse me of wanting another woman and you just think I’ll just give you whatever you want? Oh no, my love, I deserve an apology.”

“No, Yoongi, please.”

Your whines and needy whimpers aren’t enough to make him move. He sits in place, watching you with hungry eyes and a plan formulating in his dark thoughts. He wets his lips, swiping his sinful tongue across his lower lip. The sight makes you ache, you want him back on you until your legs shake and you come over and over.

“Touch yourself for me,” he orders. “Show me what you do when I’m not there to please you.”

You can’t deny you don’t long for him on Earth. Six months without him—his touch—tests your patience. You’d spend long nights with one hand muffling your whimpers from your mother and the other between your thighs while imagining they’re his fingers pleasing you and making you writhe.

“I…” you start, squeezing your thighs shut to relieve pressure. You’re reluctant to pleasure yourself when you both know he can easily be the one giving it to you, but you can’t deny the thought of touching yourself as he watches doesn’t arouse you further. You part your legs and allow your hand to wander, a familiar act when you were alone on Earth.

You imagine his ring clad fingers, the cool touch of metal and rough fingertips, roaming down your chest and to your clit, rubbing agonizingly slow circles. A wanton moan falls from you and your toes curl around the sheets as your hand copies your imagination. The jolts of pleasure run through you with each flick of your finger. You watch as the real Yoongi works on unbuckling his pants, springing his erection free.

“Yoongi,” you pant, distracted by the grunt that escapes him as soon as his hand wraps around the base of his hardened cock. You’re mesmerized by his leaking tip and the way his hand deftly strokes his length easily. The silver hair matted to his forehead sticks to his furrowed brows.

He notices your hungry stare and encourages you further, “Come on, keep going for me.”

You snap out of your revere and do as he says, working your clit with the same swift motions as Yoongi uses on himself. The waves of pleasure that roll through you from just your fingers on your clit alone aren’t enough to satisfy you. You want to be filled—filled by his throbbing cock as he slams into you over and over until you choke on your own voice.

You whimper at the thought, sliding your fingers down to your slit, rubbing the slick folds, listening to the wet sounds of it fill the room along with Yoongi’s hand against himself.

“Gods, you look so fucking good like that,” he rasps, snapping his wrists quicker and running his thumbs along his leaking slit.

You easily slip two fingers into yourself, clenching and rocking around them, not fully satisfied but loving it anyway. Your back arches off the headboard, feeling the damp sweat coating your spine meet the chilling air. You clench your eyes shut and focus on your fingers, imagining they’re his cock stretching you full. You push yourself onto your knees and ride your own fingers, rocking your hips down.

As you pump your fingers in and out, feeling the pressure build in your abdomen, you pant, “W-Want you, need you now please, Yoongi.”

Six months without him inside of you, touching you. When he’s close enough to touch, you can hardly wait. You’ve had six months with your fingers, now all you want is him and his godly strength as he pounds into you.

Yoongi can’t resist you for long, the way your chest heaves with each lazy thrust of your fingers and you whimpering his name, it’s his ultimate weakness. God or not, it’s every man's weakness.

“Lie down.”

The words are music to your ears. You pull your fingers out with a wet pop, happily pressing your sweaty back against the sheets and shifting your dress higher onto your hips. The damp material sticks to your skin, but you can care less. He’s in front of you in an instant, aligning his cock with your entrance, teasing your folds with the hardened tip.

“Tell me,” he pants, controlling himself from the urge to sink into your addicting heat, “would I fuck that nymph like this?”

Just as you open your mouth to complain about the mention of Minthe again, Yoongi slams into you with no warning, filling you up with the feeling you’ve been missing this whole time. You cry out instead, curling your fingers around his shirt and pulling him in for a kiss.

Your mouths mold together, sloppily intertwining tongues and clashing teeth. You moan into the kiss as he begins thrusting into you, wrapping your legs around him to encourage him to go even deeper.

The bed creaks with each impossibly rough thrust as Yoongi steadies his hand against the headboard. As he continues pounding into your clenching core, he brings his hand between your connecting bodies to rub your clit. The intense feeling of stimulation combined with his powerful thrust cause your legs to shake around him and you to clench tighter around his cock.

“I-I’m close.” Your back arches off the bed, brushing your damp clothed chests against his. Arms wrap around his neck to bring him into the crook of your shoulder.

At the sound of your warning, he wordlessly speeds his attack on your swollen bud to help you find the sweet relief of your climax.

As you feel the coil within you snap, you bite down in his shoulder to muffle your breathless cries. With a few more thrusts, he comes inside of you. You can feel his cum coating your walls and you clench yourself around him to milk him dry.

Yoongi slowly pulls out, letting your mingled juices spill out onto the bed. He brushes away your sweat-matted hair with a slight chuckle. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the nymph before. She just didn’t matter to me anymore.”

“It’s alright,” you mumble, wrapping your arms around him as his lays back down. “I’ve already dealt with her.”

You inhale his familiar scent, fresh mint, and let yourself get lost in his embrace. The nymph is no longer any problem for you. It’s doubtful anyone will hear from her again anyway.

“How?”

“I turned her into a mint plant,” you shrug nonchalantly, tracing the curve of his nose and lips. She really shouldn’t have gotten on your bad side.

Yoongi lets out a hearty laugh, pulling you on top of his chest to engulf you into a hug. “That’s my girl.”