#i need to know if this is just someone randomly slapping in images without concern for symbolic meaning!

[pastafossa]

Internet: so there's a MARVEL TAROT DECK COMING SOON Me: YESSSS, so can I see a lil of the inside before pre-ordering? Internet: ...it's a MARVEL TAROT DECK Me: you mean... I can't even see inside? What type of art is it? Internet: it's a MARVEL TAROT DECK Me: that answers nothing Internet: all you need to know is it's a MARVEL TAROT DECK Me: do you have ANYTHING to say besides 'it's a marvel tarot deck'? Internet: ...it's a- Me: just sit down, jfc

[scaramouche-bully]

THAT POST ABOUT OVERSTIM MADE ME REALIZE HOW MUCH I WANT TO DESTROY CHILDE HELP. CAN U WRITE SMTH WHERE HIS S/O USUALLY BOTTOMS BUT WANTS TO TRY TOPPING HIM AND HE JUST KEEPS TRYING TO FLUSTER HER AND TEASE HER AND SHE GETS SO ANNOYED THAT SHE JUST FUCKS HIM STUPID 💕💕

— ☆ Wrecking T*rtaglia headcanons

Includes: Childe

[ Top ] Female reader

Contains: Overstimulation, bratty sub, mind break, sub space, aphrodisiacs, anal gaping, dacryphilia, degradation, size kink, slapping, choking, cock-stepping, humiliation, rough sex, stomach bulge, multiple orgasms, masochism + sadism.

— ☆ Overstimulation headcanons - Xiao, Childe, and Scaramouche 🐏 [ GN ]  

— ☆ Bratty Sub headcanons - Kaeya, Diluc, Xiao, and Childe 🐑 [ GN ]

[ masterlist ]

Welcome to the "Bully T*rtaglia" club, we are currently taking applications (u‿ฺu✿ฺ). My original draft was sweet but then my computer crashed and I lost everything. So I'm going to channel all my anger into destroying this man (consensually, I promise the ending is soft.).

— ☆ Childe

When you bring up the idea of you topping him, he doesn't take you seriously but he's open to it. While he thinks it's cute that you want to try new things, he's so much bigger than you, and being on top is actually a lot of work compared to being a pillow princess. Are you sure you can handle it?

One of the big issues that came up during your first times was Childe's competitive nature and how fast his recovery time was. He could have came three times and then suddenly flip you on your back and fuck your brains out instead.

Even when he had the patience to be the sub, he would constantly taunt you and be an insufferable brat. Constantly disrespecting you and trying to fluster you. Always reaching down to finger fuck you even when he was stuffed full.

So the next time you brought him a drink, you decided to add something extra. Sitting patiently as he thanked you and downed the entire cup. It only took a few minutes before he began to squirm in his seat.

Childe's face was slowly growing redder and redder, soft pants breaking through the quiet office, his eyes darting to you before settling on the ground. It was amusing seeing him be so quiet rather than running his mouth off every minute. It's only when you start to walk over him in feign concern does he break out of his haze.

Stumbling over himself as he makes wild hand gestures to stop you but as soon as you round his desk, you see his cock straining against his pants, and the embarrassment flood Childe's face. Trying to laugh it off, you're just so pretty he can't help himself, but he's quickly cut off when you prop yourself up onto his desk and step on his cock.

"W-Wait-" Childe groans as his hips buck into your shoe as he grinds against it. Clutching the hand rests of his chair as he leans his head against your knee, soft keens slipping out as you run your fingers through his matted hair as he humps against you. He makes a confused noise when you suddenly tip his chin up, smile sweetly at him, before he's sprawled on the ground as you slap him.

"When did I say you could touch me?" you shot him a cruel look that sent shudders up his spine but also made his cock throb. Whatever you fed him was slowly making him lose his senses until there was just you, you, you. He whines, still on his back, when you take a seat in his chair and dig your shoe onto his dick, randomly applying pressure here and there, his pre-cum wetting his pants as he yelps at the pain. His hands flying up to lift your foot away but he catches himself as chooses to claw his fingers into the wooden flooring instead as he reaches his peak. It's so empowering seeing the man who used to fuck you stupid, whimper and cry as he cums in his pants just from you stepping on his dick.

"P-Please...ah! mm...wha?" Childe looks down confused to see that even after just orgasming, his cock is still hard. His body is so hot that if he doesn't cum again, he feels like he's going to die. He's tries to lift himself onto his elbows and unbutton his pants before you kick him in the chest and send him back down. He's disorientated from the fall when he feels you sit on his chest, cupping his face in your hands to lift him, before slamming his head down. You're almost ripping his hair out with every yank and slap you abuse him with as he yelps like a dog.

"You filthy whore. Did I say you could cum? You ungrateful brat," you spit out as Childe wails in pain, almost knocking you off when he seizes up and shakes. You don't even need to check to know he came again, "Maybe I should gag you and throw you onto the streets. Let everyone here know how much of a pig you are. Is that it what you want?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry-" his voice is choked up from his tears as he cries over himself. You almost feel bad but he's basically useless in this state, sniffling over himself as he apologizes over and over again. You softly coo at him as you lean over and kiss him sweetly, taking his arms and placing them on your waist as he grips onto you like a lifeline.

"There there Childe. It's alright now, we're going to teach you how to be a good boy. That's what you want right?" you whisper to him as he nods. You pull yourself up even as he grips onto your clothing to stay with him as you unclasp the buttons of his pants and free his cock. Still red and hard in your hands as if he hadn't already orgasmed twice in the span of a few minutes. He's already so wet with pre-come that you don't even need to find lube to jack him off. Ignoring his moans and screams to stop, he's still sensitive, you take him to the hilt in your mouth. Quickly pinning his hips from jerking upwards and choking you, you're the image of content as you swallow around his cock as Childe throws his head back and sobs as he cums down your throat.

“Pl-please, please, mmn- put it in me, please…” he manages to pant you, his mind melted as his eyes blink in and out of consciousness. His body is still burning hot and he can't escape the feeling of being empty. He wants to be filled with your cock, stuffed fill until he can't live without being fucked by you. You've completely ruined him.

"It seems we still have a long way to go. You really are a disappointment Childe," you sigh as you wipe away the stray cum dripping from your mouth as you reach over and feed it to him. He whines low in the throat at tasteing himself but feeling you touch him in some way is the only thing grounding him before you pull away and stand up, "Go on. Finger yourself open for me."

"W-Wha?"

"Childe. I said. Finger yourself open. I won't repeat myself again."

He quickly nods, not ready to disobey you again, as he lifts himself up to get his pants fully off. He knows what you want and it makes the fire in him burn hotter. Using his own pre-come with shaky hands, he reaches over to hold his legs up for you, and circles around his rim before dipping inside. The embarrassment of holding himself open like this and your watchful gaze almost has him cumming again but he can't. He wants to be good. He does his best to spread himself open at this awkward angle but he soon loses himself. He should feel ashamed for getting off on someone watching him but it makes him finger himself deeper and harder. He's taken out of his pleasurable moment when he feels your hand join his. Taking one hand as you spread his ass to see his loose hole. The pre-cum from his cock slowly leaking down. You're absentmindedly lacing your fingers inside him, before pulling both your hands out as you line your strap on to his rim. He didn't even notice you put it on.

"Did you know I had to fake every orgasm because you were such a sloppy fuck? Perhaps I should show you how to fuck someone properly," is the only warning he gets before you grip his hips until your fingernails draw blood, before slamming into him. He throws his head back and chokes on his screams as his cock shoots cum all over his chest.

"Who said you could come?" you spit out as you grip his cock and squeeze harshly as he screams. The overstimulation is too much, it hurts. He's desperately trying to push you away but whatever strength he built is lost. Only able to lay there and take it. He looks down to see his stomach bulge with every thrust you make, the image of you rearranging his insides sends him flying as he tries to cum again but the death grip you have on him, he just can't. He's full-on sobbing as you continue to abuse his prostate, he's going to break, you're breaking him.

"nO! P-PLEASE! STO-" he begging as you continue to pound into him. You push even further, until your cock fully inside him now, and stay there rubbing right up against his prostate. Watching amused as Childe tries to shudder to the large intrusion, the never-ending pressure on his sensitive spots makes him almost feral. You swear he has hearts in his eyes right now.

"Pleasepleaseplease-"

You pull out slowly, just until the tip is inside him, before gripping his wrists as leverage and ruthless slamming into him. Childe parts his hips in a voiceless cry as you finally break his mind and fuck him dumb. He scrambles against the floor as he tries to find anything to ground him, trying to fuck himself back on your cock as he drools all over the floor. His vision leaves him as all his senses focused on the harsh drag of your cock in him, the wet slapping noise that fills the room, and the tears that slip from his eyes down to the floor. His cock throbs with each thrust you force into his body, thighs jerking, as his tongue lolls out.

"Oh!--mh, m-more!" Childe babbles deliriously, he's being reduced to nothing but a warm hole for you to fill whenever you feel like it. Reduced from a harbinger to a whore for you to use. He feels the breath get punched out of his lungs as his abdomen stretches and burns. His hole clenching around your dick that you have to forcefully yank him down to stuff him, "Hahh, you're tearing me o-open."

"You disgusting whore. Can you feel it?" you mock as you take one hand to spread his ass apart, you see his hole is red and puffy, pre-cum from his semi-hard cock leaking down where you're both connected. He shudders that you've fucked him so bad that his hole is gaping. It's when you reach over and clasp both of your hands around his neck and squeeze that he comes crashing down. Wheezing at the lack of oxygen that makes him see white, he feels so warm and content, mind filled with bliss, as he cums. Waves upon waves of pleasure crash into him as his cock finally softens as he relaxes and drifts off into space before slowly losing consciousness.

--- You slowly blink awake to soft kisses being placed on your neck, Childe's lazy form cuddled up to you as you stroke his hair. He's always so clingy the morning after. "Are you feeling alright? I was a bit mean wasn't I?" you ask a bit embarrassed as memories of last night flood your mind. You know you both agreed on what your limits were but you couldn't help but feel a bit worried you may have pushed him too far. Childe props himself on his elbow to smile dumbly at you, you were perfect.

"It was alright I suppose," he chuckles when you lightly punch him in the chest, "I didn't think you would try and drug me like that. You know I could get you arrested for that. " "Ha! Good luck finding someone that will fulfill your perverted fantasies. Besides you're the one that wanted to experiment with them and don't phrase it like that either," you shake your head at him before leaning up to kiss him. When you pull away you take notice of all the bruises and marks you left on him. There's a small part of you that purrs at the claim you made but you quickly shoo it away. It's too early for that. If your back is hurting you have no idea how Childe is faring. "Here, let me get you some water and let me see your head," you offer, pulling yourself up before Childe's arm wraps around you and pulls you down to lay beside him. Placing his weight on top of you so you can't squirm away, even as you swat at his back he smothers you until you give up.

"Stay with me."

"Hah...alright. Just for a bit."

[ag3ntl3vi]

Kenma Kozume X Male Reader | “Fighter” | ☁️

I wrote this out of boredom at like, 3AM. 

Word count: 2,345

Trigger Warning: Fighting, cursing, blood. 

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

Such bullshit, you thought as a group of violent alphas glared up at you. You clicked your tongue, swinging your prized metal bat off your shoulders, slapping it loudly against your palm. 

"You're such a nuisance," you grumbled.

"Us?! You're the one spreading their pheromones like a whore!" The self-proclaimed 'leader' spat, venom lacing his words. You rolled your eyes, moving your body into a fighting stance. 

"Yeah? But aren't you the shitbag who touched that omega chick without consent?" You lowly growled. The alpha faltered, giving you your answer, before snapping back to reality. "She asked for it! Practically begged! Her scent-!"

"Her scent, what?" You took menacing steps forward, pushing your bat under his chin aggressively. You were relatively tall which made you intimidating along with your mean features but you weren't feared enough to be spared violence due to your second gender, and Omega. You could easily be mistaken for a powerful Alpha from afar. 

You were born with slanted, glaring eyes and a harsh resting bitch face, so you could understand why people tended to avoid you at first glance. 

Your eyes glared with pent up rage as you lifted your bat above your head and brought it down on the shitty alphas shoulder. 

A sickening crack echoed through the empty alleyway, the alpha gasping in pain before another blow from your knee slammed into his chin. He stumbled back onto his ass, gripping his shoulder pathetically.

"Your scent is disgusting," You grimaced, waving your hand in front of your nose.

"Get them, idiots!" He whined loudly. His goons charged you a second later. Swiftly, you dunked under one's metal pipe, kicking his gut and pushing him off his feet. You dropped to the concrete and quickly knocked another's ankles from under him, swinging your bat over your head (hitting someone's chin in the process), and bounced it hard against his soft belly. 

You rolled over but was forced back by a shoe to your cheek. You hissed, looking up before having your silky locks fisted and your face smashed into a hard kneecap. You gasped as blood oozed from your nose.

You forcefully shook off the pain and grabbed your offender's wrist and with a burst of short-lived power, swung him over your head and knocking him out cold against the hard floor. 

You laid there for a hot second, staring up at the baby blue sky. There weren't any clouds, you noticed sadly. 

You were tempted to fall asleep but you were sure when the sad excuses of alphas woke it wouldn't be pleasant for you. 

You knew the scene looked horrible to an unknowing eye, but you couldn't bring yourself to give a single shit. 

You sighed and picked your slightly bloodied weapon up to lazily toss it over your shoulders, walking to the entrance of the alleyway. 

Though, surprisingly, you had bumped into someone. It wasn't your fault you couldn't see him, you had the worst vision. You furrowed your brows internally, you needed to see an eye doctor soon.

The guy you bumped into bristled like a startled cat, taking a short step back as he clutched his Nintendo DS close to his chest. You glared down at him. 

"Ah... Sorry," He muttered, lowering his eyes to the ground. He glanced down the alley at the sound of a pained moan. 

You scowled at the noise, releasing a loud sigh through your nose. 

"No, sorry. I wasn't paying attention." You quietly said. Kenma nodded slowly, looking back to his gaming device, not caring too much about the very obvious fight that had just ensued. 

"You play Animal Crossing?" You asked, recognizing the soft music instantly. 

Though shocked a guy like you knew the game, Kenma nodded again.

"Cool, me too. Give me your name," You said smoothly, though internally you were ecstatic someone else played the game.

That's how you met the pudding haired boy. After exchanging your contact information, you went your separate ways.

You texted Kenma first.

To: Kenma

From: (Y/n)

I want to play COD. Do you have it?"

To: (Y/n)

From: Kenma 

yeah. whats your gamertag?

To: Kenma

From: (Y/n)

DyNaMiTe.

Don't ask.

To: (Y/n)

From: Kenma

I won't. 

Let's play.

To: Kenma

From: (Y/n)

Oh, btw, do you have a mic?

After adding your new friend on the Playstation, you connected to a call and played several rounds of COD before you got bored of slaughtering random enemies. 

"Let's play Mario Kart," You stated. 

"Okay," Came Kenma's short answer. 

You ended up playing until sunrise. You had to admit, the bloodshot eyes and sore muscles were worth it. Kenma was a surprisingly good player and you could say with confidence he was now a gamer buddy. 

More time passed since you met the setter, but he knew deep down it was only a matter of time before he was forced to introduce you to his childhood friend. As of now, he was thankful he told him very little about his newfound friend.

The more you hung out with Kenma at school the more open he became, giving you longer answers rather than his short, to the point ones. Sometimes he'd call you randomly at night requesting you play Animal Crossing with him and everyone else had gone to sleep. 

It was a lie. Kenma didn't have any other friends, but he wouldn't admit that anytime soon. He had to go when a loud voice called for him to get his ass to bed, though you weren't sure who it was. Maybe his dad? But he sounded young. You shrugged it off, it wasn't your business anyway. 

A week later you and Kenma sat on the roof of the school. You took a large bite out of a thick sandwich layered with meat and cheese. Kenma favored a neat bento his mother made him the night before. Occasionally, you'd glance at his teriyaki and whine. It took a while but the blonde finally gave in, holding a ball of meat in between his chopsticks towards you. 

"You wanted one, right?" He muttered, avoiding eye contact. You grinned and sloppily took it from him, thanking him as you chewed. Kenma grimaced and wiped at the corner of your mouth with a napkin. 

"Don't talk with your mouth full, idiot.." He whispered.

Aw, look! He's being nice~ Your inner Omega swooned. You pushed down a blush, though Kenma could've sworn he saw a thin layer of pink dusting your cheeks, though he couldn't tell due to a large bruise. He brushed it off. 

More time passe. As the days increased so did the bruises, cuts, and even a few stitches. Kenma had noticed you being pulled out of class through the window of his classroom but never really questioned it, assuming you were skipping with your friends.

He couldn't have been more wrong. 

"You're fucking joking," You muttered, staring at that shitty alpha from a few months ago standing in front of your classroom. He had innocently claimed his teacher needed to talk to you, something about your grandma's passing or some bullshit excuse. Your grandmother had been dead for three years. 

"Come along now, (Y/n)," He whimpered sadly, patting your shoulder. "You wouldn't want anything bad happening to your little blonde pal, would you?" He whispered dangerously in your ear. You allowed him to lead you out of the classroom.

You glared, growling. "You're bluffing," You accused, crossing your arms across your chest. 

He raised a brow. "Am I? I have a buddy in his classroom, all I have to do is get him to bring your pal out. He doesn't look like a very strong alpha..." he trailed off, a sick grin pulling at his cheeks.

You cursed under your breath, an image of Kenma's small, shy smile crossing your mind. No way in hell would you let this dickbag of an alpha touch what's yours.

Mine.  Your Omega growled loudly. 

 Ours, You thought back. 

You would protect him all you could.

After school Kenma went to volleyball practice, per normal, but you weren't waiting for him when he left his classroom. Normally you would pick him up and walk him to the gym then wait on the side of the gates where Kenma would make up an excuse to walk home with you instead of Kuroo. 

He furrowed his brows, confused. He checked the bathrooms on his way to the gym, not seeing you. Did you get sick? He made a quick stop at the nurse's office, asking if you had gone home. She shook her head, claiming nobody had gone home today. 

As nervous as he was, he made his way to the volleyball court, changing into his proper shoes. As little as he normally played, he couldn't get his mind off you. He had a sinking feeling something was very wrong. 

As much as he didn't want to admit it, he had started to develop feelings for the taller Omega. He had denied it for a while, but he had soon come to terms with it. What was the point in acting like they weren't there? It would be there anyway. He couldn't act like his heart didn't start to pound in his chest every time he saw you or how worried and protective he felt when he saw a new bruise or cut on your body.  He felt butterflies when you laughed at your victories in first-person shooter games or that childish grin you got when he caved and let you have his teriyaki at lunch. 

"Kenma!" Kuroo called, jogging over. Kenma hummed, looking up at the raven. 

"Are you alright? You're more out of it than usual," Kuroo asked, his brows knitting together worriedly. The blonde bit his lip, looking down, to the left and right before meeting his gaze again. 

"You.. Know that guy I told you about?" He muttered.

Kuroo raised his eyebrows. "The one you're madly in love-" Kenma yelped, slapping his hands over his mouth quickly, his face exploding into a red blush. "Sh!" he hissed. 

Kuroo smirked behind his friend's hands, giving them a wet lick. Kenma gagged, jerking his hands away and wiping them violently on the rooster haired male's black shirt. "Gross..." He whined.

Kruoo laughed, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I know the guy. What bout him?" 

The setter sighed, voicing his concern. "He wasn't here today to get me," He started. "He didn't text me he was leaving and it looks like he's getting.. hurt more often." His voice dipped into a whisper as worries and anxieties flooded his brain. Something wasn't right, he just knew it.

Kuroo hummed, tapping his finger on his chin. "Have you asked him?" Kenma shook his head. "You should," Kuroo gave him a long stare. "I don't see why you haven't." 

Kenma opened his mouth, then closed it. "I don't know." He said. "Somethings wrong," He looked down, shuffling his feet. "Really wrong. With him."

An overbearing scent caught his attention. Faintly he smelt the omega's natural scent, pine, and fresh campfire. 

"Find him," Kuroo smiled. "I think there's something between you two, more than a bro-bro relationship." He teased. Kenma blushed, wasting no time in changing into his outdoor shoes and Volleyball jacket before he bolted out the door. He zipped the red jacket up to his chin and smelt the cold air, searching for his crush's scent.

He ran to the gates of the school and made his way to the empty park. It was concealed by the thick forest and thicket, but the unmistakable smell of him. 

He pushed through the thorns and sniffed the air. His smell was strong, he was close. A heavy feeling of anxiety and excitement settled in the pit of his stomach as he broke through the bushes. 

Kenma's golden eyes caught sight of a figure hunched over in a swing and he jogged over.

"(Y/n)?" He asked. You flinched at his voice, as comforting as it may have been to you, you lowered your head, your hair blocking your face.

Kenma's nose picked up on a dreadful, and disgusting scent. Blood.

"(Y/n), what happened?" He lowered himself to the dirt, looking under your bangs. "Please, look at me.." he muttered, reaching up to brush the hair away from your face.

You sniffed and looked up, tears brimming your narrowed eyes as blood dribbled down your face from a large cut across your temple, your nose, and busted lip. Your knuckles were a bright red, dotting with blood. A tear slid down your cheek and you hurriedly wiped it away, jerking your head aside.

"It's nothing," You growled. Kenma narrowed his eyes, standing up.

"It's not." He said. 

"It's nothing, Kenma." You whispered, smearing the blood across your face when you rubbed your sore nose. "Just a stupid fight." 

"(Y/n), talk to me," Kenma muttered, glaring down at your hunched form. "I can't help if you don't fucking talk to me, you know." You winced at the harsh curse. The shorter one didn't cuss often, only at games when he lost a hard round or when he was pissed. 

"I said it's nothing, drop it." You hissed, your (e/c) orbs piercing into his honey eyes. He held your stare sternly. 

You caved. 

"Someone threatened to hurt you if they didn't get revenge. They wanted a punching bag for a while. In exchange, they'd leave you alone. Satisfied?" You huffed childishly.

Kenma gaped at you. 

Had you really gone and got yourself beat to a pathetic lump all so he was spared a little pushing around? 

When he didn't answer you took a breath. 

"I'd rather be a human punching bag than allow the guy I love to get hurt," You grumbled, holding your breath. Yeah, fuck you, you knew what you were saying. You were low enough and if the setter didn't return your feelings the internally bruising would heal with your external cuts. 

"The guy you love?" Kenma whispered. "You... Love me?" he stared at you, slightly wide-eyed. You nodded stiffly. 

"Me too."

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

[1kook]

skirt chasers

jjk x (f) reader

summary “Baggy clothes are in, but you wouldn’t know that, Miss I Draw Inspiration From Catholic School Girls.” tags f2l, triple texting king kook, ncampus crush kook who is also the weird gamer boy, the skirt aspect is forgotten towards the end tbh, dumbassery is a disease and we are all affected by it, confessions SO CORNY it could be a 2005 teen romcom warnings smut in the form of: unprotected sex, use of mirrors, mostly heavy petting as foreplay I’m sorry, mentions of Jk’s furry ways as a gag kinda, like an unnecessary amount of swearing  wc 7.8k 

to make a long story short, i saw this nsfw gif and wrote this entire fic between 2 am and 6 am anyway i actually really like how this turned out!! lmk when u think

Part of the ideology behind the pleated skirt was in hopes that buying a new wardrobe would somehow help you rebrand your image around campus. Truthfully, it was kinda too late for that now; you’d been here going on three years, your friends and anyone with eyes could see that the style of clothing you leaned towards favored comfort over fashion. However, someone—it might’ve been Taehyung—had gone on a drunken spiel the other night concerning the importance of presenting oneself via fashion. It wasn’t aimed at you, but it certainly left you wondering. 

Which is how you find yourself shivering to the bone now, lingering around the west quad as you wait for Jungkook to come out of an anatomy lab. He’s at that point in the semester where grades mean nothing and everything to him at the same time, so Namjoon’s commissioned you and your other pals to take turns babysitting him once a week to make sure he gets at least some assignments done. 

You don’t know where any of you would be without Kim Namjoon.

Anyway, your legs are fucking cold and if this is what it takes to be known as the fashionably cute girl around campus, you’d rather choke. The imaginary sound of your bones rattling is cut off when Jungkook throws the door nearest you open, his big dopey smile engulfing his face the moment he sees you. He barely acknowledges the gaggle of students that follow after him, all calling out a chorus of goodbyes to him, because unlike you Jungkook was the cute, campus boy crush with his suave looks and comfortable fashion. God, if only you could pull off sweats and mustard-stained Venom shirts like him.

“Lets go,” you yawn, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of your long cardigan. Jungkook jogs over, slinging an arm around your shoulders and nearly knocking you into the emergency telephone you’d been brooding by. “You smell sterile again.”Jungkook grins. 

“That’s because I was touching dead people again,” he informs you, too giddy for someone who’d probably fingered the fuck out of a gallbladder twenty minutes ago. 

“Ew,” you whine, the sudden urge to shove Jungkook and his dead people germs away from you. He cackles in your face, and you wonder again how he single handedly enthralls half the campus population with a laugh like a seagull. 

You’ve barely moved ten feet when Jungkook finally notices your vibrating body, and it’s only because you’re nearly convulsing with shivers at this point. “Woah, what are those,” he exclaims, eyes pointedly eyeing your legs. 

You know your bare legs are a rare sight when Jungkook has to resolve to overused memes to refer to them. 

“They’re my legs, and they’re fucking freezing,” you calmly reply. 

Jungkook seems shocked for only a moment longer, and you almost think he’s gotten over it when he suddenly snorts and scares the shit out of you in the middle of the crosswalk. “Why the fuck are you wearing a skirt in this weather, you dinglehead?” 

You shove him, and he stumbles over the curb, but you get the feeling he’d do that without you pushing him. Jungkook was clumsier than Namjoon on his bad days. “I’m trying to be fashionable, you hater,” you huff, not even bothering to say thank you when he pulls open the coffee shop door for you. “I shouldn’t have to explain myself to someone who doesn’t even wear the right size shirt.” 

Like always, he’s one step ahead of you and hands the cashier his card before you can even reach for your wallet. Next time. “Baggy clothes are in, but you wouldn’t know that, Miss I Draw Inspiration From Catholic School Girls.” 

“For your information I bought this from H&M,” you retort, though you can’t hide the flush that warms your cheeks at his comment. “Also, what's the point of working out your hotbod if you’re just gonna hide it under shirts long enough to be a mini-dress, huh? Riddle me that, Jeon.” 

You flinch when your bare thigh touches the cold seat of the booth, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Your skirt is mad short,” he points out, and you kick his shins. 

You’ve already got a Google Doc open on your laptop from last night when you and Jimin had been going ham on a psych essay, but you also have a Fashion Nova cart on another window that’s just begging for you to check out. 

“Short skirts are just a concept made by men with lingering eyes to demean and belittle women who don’t submit to their every want and need.” 

“Oh my god,” he groans, and you watch him muffle a laugh into his palm as he gets his own work out. “Do you think I’m gonna pull the meninist card out on you and call you a slut or something?” 

You fake gasp, eyes wide and shocked as you give him your best disappointed face. “Jeon, how could you? I expected better from you.”  

This time he does laugh, a dorky sound unlike his witch cackle from earlier, and you finally let a smile slip. Jungkook was funny, too sweet and kind hearted for his own good. A little dumb, but most cute guys were. He’s one of those guys who thinks girls are nice to him out of their own free will, and not because they’re trying to bag the campus hottie. 

“Seriously,” he says once he’s pulled his fat anatomical reference book out, stuffed to the brim with worn scientific essays he’d printed out, and pictures he’d taken at every single one of his visits to the cadaver lab. His voice is earnest and genuine when he speaks again. “You can wear whatever you want, I was just curious about the skirt ‘cause you normally wear things past the knee and elbow.” 

When he puts it like that you kinda sound surprisingly conservative. 

You shrug, tapping away at your computer as if the sight of you in anything other than what he said isn’t really weird. “Just thought I’d try something new. Why, does it look too weird?” Your voice suddenly feels meek, and you’re not sure if your cheeks are warm from the chill outside or from something else. 

Jungkook shakes his head, coconut hair bouncing from side to side. “Nah, you look cute,” he says, and then, as if an afterthought, adds, “weirdly sexy, too. Like you belong in a Brazzers video?” 

“What the fuck, Jungkook,” you groan, sinking your head into your palms. 

“What! You asked for my opinion and I gave you it,” he defends, too casual for someone spewing their unwarranted porn knowledge at you. You urge him to do his homework, drink his coffee, anything besides embarrass you further. 

He does, but you don’t miss the goofy way he glances under the table one more time. 

The pleated skirt makes it’s return three weeks later, this time accompanied by her best friend, the sheer pantyhose. 

“Oh, who’s this sexy schoolgirl?” Taehyung exclaims the moment you step into the diner. Your cheeks flush red when the family beside you send you and your friends a disapproving look. 

“That’s what I said!” Jungkook says as he gets up to let you slide into the booth. He has this incessant need to be sitting at the end of the booth just in case nature calls in the middle of dinner and he can’t usher the rest of you out fast enough. 

(It almost happened once, and the sight of Jungkook shoving Hoseok flat on his ass had been too funny to forget.) 

“Wait a minute, is that why you stopped using EOS and started using the Dove shaving cream?” Chaeyoung interrogates from across you. “So you could show off your sexy model legs?” 

“No, Dove is just cheaper,” you reply, trying to sound as aloof as possible but if anyone at this table knew you like the back of their hand, it was definitely Chaeyoung. “Why can’t you guys let me live my best life?” 

Taehyung scoffs. “Who the fuck are you?” 

“Who the fuck are you?” You snap back, but your level of sass can never seem to match his. 

“We all know your ‘best life’ would be spent in those fuzzy Cookie Monster pajama pants and one of Kook’s big ass shirts,” he points out, and you hide behind your menu much to everyone’s amusement. 

You whine, “why can’t you all just be supportive besties and tell me I look cute?” 

“You look gorgeous, babe,” Chaeyoung assures you, gesturing for you to pass her the sugar for her coffee. “It’s just weird seeing your legs out. Almost weirder than if you randomly pulled your tits out right now.” 

Behind her, you can see the same mom from the family glaring at you guys. You lower your head in shame. 

“For the record, I’m team skirt, but I wouldn’t be opposed to the other,” Jungkook adds after being silent for so long. Taehyung fist bumps him as you slap your hand over your eyes. At this rate you’d rather just put a paper bag over your head. 

“We’re sitting on the same side of the table, so you’re supposed to be on my side!” You groan, and Jungkook shrugs mid-milkshake sip. 

“I am!” He splutters once he’s gulped down the thick substance. “I just said I was team skirt, did I not?” His scandalized pout twists into the same sneaky little smile he has whenever Taehyung has convinced him and Jimin to do something stupid. “But I’m also a man, and therefore, a skirt chaser,” he winks. 

From the other side of the table Taehyung’s eyes twinkle. “Bro, your mind,” he says in awe. He reaches over to shake Jungkook’s hand as if he’s just presented the table with some riveting discovery in the medical field, and the fucker has the nerve to look smug about it too. 

“You guys are so stupid,” Chaeyoung whispers right before the server sets her pancakes down. 

“Hey, have you seen Joon’s book? He said he might’ve left it—oh, Jesus, fuck sorry,” Jungkook says before whirling around to face the wall. 

You turn from your bent over position by your bed where you’d been rummaging around for a book you coulda sworn you stuffed there last week. Jungkook’s blazing cheeks don’t register with you until you realize your favorite skirt is draping over your rear, giving him a clear view of your dorky star-printed panties. 

“Kook,” you stammer, quickly jumping to your feet and brushing your hands over your skirt. “H-How’d you get in?” You ask for lack of greeting. 

“Um, uh,” Jungkook stutters, eyes laser focused on some point on your wall. “Chaeyoung let me in.” 

“Oh,” you say, and then silence falls over the two of you. 

Holy shit this was awkward. 

Despite being friends for going on three years, you don’t ever remember there being any stale moments between you and Jungkook. You were the type of friends that just clicked, never having gone through that awkward phase before. But you’d also never seen each other in any state less than presentable. (Being drunk at parties did NOT count, and even then, you’ve always been pretty collected.) 

To know that he’s seen your ass, covered or not, tilted your Golden Friendship with Jungkook scale extremely off center. Your fingers twiddle at your sides, not really sure if you should mention what just happened or… what?

He coughs, and you snap back to reality. “Um,” he drawls, still not looking at you but at the socks you’d thrown off the second you got home. “Sorry about that,” he apologizes, voice soft and earnest in that Jungkook™ way that made all the girls swoon. “I should’ve knocked before coming in all rude.” He finally gathers the balls to look you in the eye, and the dude looks like a kicked puppy. 

“No,” you wave him off, hands fluttering in front of you because standing like some Macy’s holiday mannequin certainly isn’t making this situation any easier. “It’s okay, the skirt—y’know this wouldn’t happen if I just wore pants,” you say, tacking on a self-deprecating laugh. It’s your turn to look away in shame. 

Jungkook jumps at your words. “The skirt’s cute!” He basically shouts and you flinch at the sudden increase in his tone. Then you’re both left looking at each other wide-eyed again as he scrambles to assure you it isn’t your fault. “I like it, and it makes your legs look really nice, so don’t-“ he stutters, as if realizing the meaning in his words, “don’t stop wearing it...” he trails off, cheeks rosy. Your mind goes blank. 

“R-Really?” You stutter, surprised at his compliment. It’s not like Jungkook never complimented you—dude couldn’t go fifteen minutes without telling his friends how much he loved them—but for some reason it feels different now. 

“Yeah,” he assures you. “Makes you look nice, and um. Pretty.” 

“Jeon Jungkook telling me I look pretty? Someone call TigerBeat magazine,” you joke, trying to ease the tension somehow. Your chuckle sounds awfully robotic to your ears, but it makes Jungkook crack a smile and that’s all that matters. 

“Shut up. You know I’m not friends with ugly people.” 

“Wooow,” you laugh, real this time. “How noble of you,” you retort, and he gives you his best snobby expression possible. 

“Ya, you’re welcome,” he teases, and then suddenly remembers what he came for in the first place. “Give me Joon’s planner, I know you’re holding it hostage.” 

You roll your eyes, and point over to the notebook on your desk that’s absolutely overflowing with sticky notes and bookmarks. “As if I’d want his nerd diary ruining the good vibes in here.” 

“These good vibes smell a lot like Bath and Body Works perfumes, you cheapskate,” Jungkook says as he snatches the book off the surface. He’s at the door again, narrowing you with another faux uppity look when he adds, “this is a Victoria’s Secret Bombshell household.” 

“Bombshe—you don’t even live here!” You huff in laughter, ushering him down the hall to the front door. He’s half a foot out the door when he suddenly whirls around, making you take a step back in surprise. 

“The stars are cute, but I prefer hearts.” 

He slams the door shut behind him so fast, that you almost don’t catch the smirk tacked on at the end. 

You were many things, but a liar was not one of them. You couldn’t lie to your parents when you were younger and wanted to sneak out, to your teacher when she asked where your homework was, or to your friends when they asked you who you liked. You couldn’t even lie to yourself. 

You’ll admit it, there was a time your eyes had lingered a little longer on Jungkook. When you would spend moments tracing the slope of his jawline, and memorizing the twinkle in his eyes. He was devastatingly handsome, and you would be blind not to see it. 

But that was before you became close friends—before game nights at Hoseok’s became a regular staple in your schedule, before your little makeshift picnics in the quad, before you all became Park Jimin’s dedicated fan club (it’s a rotating unit consisting of whoever’s able to go to Jimin’s showcases). 

Those fantasies of kissing Jungkook and going on dates were stuffed to the back as you became pals. As you’ve mentioned a million times now, Jungkook was the campus dream boy. He was hardly the skirt chaser he made himself out to be, too sweet and romantic for his own good. Besides, there was no need to be when the skirts flocked to him. 

He’d had flings, and even girlfriends, in the time you’ve known him, but he rarely mentioned them to his friends. And even though you pushed that teensy crush aside, you still wondered how Jungkook acted with girls he was interested in, if it was the same he treated you and Chaeyoung, or special on an intimate level a platonic friendship could never be. 

It’s the middle of the night when you first get a glimpse. 

[1:21 am] jk wyd 

[1:21 am] you sleeping , u? 

[1:22 am] jk same anyway I finally beat world 8 in super Mario bros

[1:25 am] you omg the 1 w dry bowser?? [1:26 am] you wait u said u wouldn’t play w/o me :/

[1:27 am] jk u suck at Luigi and u know it 

[1:30 am] you fuck u  [1:31 am] you ok but seriously what do u want I have a test tmrw morning and am pretending to be asleep 

[1:32 am] jk damn ok can’t I just talk to my friend about my successes  [1:33 am] jk but if u must know 

[1:33 am] you I must 

There’s a lull in messages for a while, and you decide you should finally actually go to sleep, dabbing some spot ointment onto your skin before hopping in bed. You turned off the overhead light long ago, so the only light illuminating you now is the lamp by your bedside. You tap your phone once again right as Jungkook sends another message. 

[1:40 am] jk you looked really pretty today

Oh. Your entire body pauses for a moment to process the sudden message, cheeks slowly heating up. You roll your lips in to stop the squeal that threatens to rip itself out of your throat, scrambling for something to type. But it’s the first time he’s randomly thrown something like this on you, and your brain feels like that episode of Spongebob when everything’s on fire. 

Before you can send the jumbled letters you’d convinced yourself was acceptable, your phone vibrates with another alert. 

[1:42 am] jk I know its weird to say that but I gotta make sure someone told u at least once today 

Your heart flutters at the explanation, and you have to slap a hand over your face to get rid of the goody smile that overtakes your features. This time, you’re a little less thrown off and quickly tap out a reply before he can say anything else. 

[13:43 am] you thanks kook :) was it the red skirt lol 

You’d been experimenting with different skirts lately, quickly growing bored of the black pleated skirt you’d originally worn. Your latest trip to the mall had you coming home with a variety of colors and styles, like the dark red denim one you’d worn today. 

[1:45 am] jk no!!!! [1:45 am] jk maybe… [1:46 am] jk ok yes you looked gorgeous 

The tiny letters blink back at you, and you set your phone down for a second to smile stupidly at your dark ceiling. You only let yourself wildly kick your legs around for five seconds because Chaeyoung was asleep next door. 

[1:47 am] you haha well I’ll make sure to wear it again for u :)

It’s only after you’ve sent the message that the last two words have you stuffing your face into your pillow to hide your embarrassment. Girl, what the fuck!!!

Oh my god, he could’ve just been friendly and polite this whole time. Jimin had said the skirt looked cute on you as well, and you hadn’t responded like this. All it took was a few compliments from Jungkook to have you dopily acting like a clown for his affections.

Before you can scold yourself anymore, your phone vibrates and you have to sit up to retrieve it from where you’d tossed it across the bed. 

[1:50 am] jk for me? I’m honored :)  [1:51 am] jk anyway get some rest before ur exam!!! [1:51 am] jk night cutie

You squeal, and Chaeyoung kicks your shared wall. 

You liked to clown Seokjin for being the president of his fraternity. He was already a stereotypical frat boy, so it wasn’t that hard anyway; he came from money, was ridiculously gorgeous, and played on your school’s soccer team. However, behind that facade he liked to put up, he, too, was infected by the dumbass disease.

“Wait, are those your legs?” He says the moment you step into his frat party. Normally, he wasn’t prone to the same stupid questions that regularly plagued Taehyung and Jungkook (sometimes Namjoon, but everyone had their weak moments), so you deduce that he probably had some alcohol in his system to openly be asking you such a question. 

“Yes, now give me whatever’s in that cup,” you brush off, not bothering to stick around to watch him not-so-subtly grope Chaeyoung as she enters behind you. You trust him enough to hand you a drink that hasn’t been roofied, but you’re also aware that Jin drinks like he’s trying to die three times over. One sip has your face scrunching up at the sour bitterness of it all. 

There’s a loud cackle of a laugh that you’d recognize anywhere, and you turn to find Jungkook leaning against the staircase banister looking like a wet dream. “Someone lost on their way to Weenie Hut Jr?” he sneers, cheeks a nice rosy color. You flick his forehead. 

You don’t bother gracing him with a reply, instead shuffling over so you’re stood side by side observing the party before you. Yoongi’s here, which is an even weirder sight than your legs being out, so you wonder why no one is talking about that. But then you see the way he’s trailing after Seokjin’s cat, Jalapeño, and realize he’s only here to make sure no one hurts her (she’s more important than anyone else here). You honor his service with another sip of Jin’s whatever the fuck mix. 

“Wow, getting braver every day, huh?” Jungkook teases after giving you a very intense once over. He’s referring to the skirt you’re wearing, a little black circle skirt that flows around you like the first one you’d worn a couple months ago. Call it a tribute to the one that started it all. You’ve definitely experimented with lengths a little more, the one you’re wearing now brushing just barely below your ass. Appropriate for the frat party, but definitely not for your theology elective. 

You hum, stepping aside as a couple makes their way up the stairs. You’re tempted to go tattle on them to Seokjin, but decide against it when you feel Jungkook’s fingers brush against your thigh. 

He grins at the surprised little gasp you let out. “Pretty,” he chuckles, deep and seductive in a way you’ve never seen before. You were used to giggly Jungkook, and Jungkook who laughs like the stepmom from Cinderella, but you’d never seen this one before, the Jungkook who looked and laughed like he was straight out of a Calvin Klein campaign. 

You giggle like a teenager at his compliment, unsure of what else to do so you settle on chugging Jin’s death drink. You only get a good three gulps in before Jungkook’s tugging the plastic cup away from you and setting it down on the nearest flat surface. “Don’t get all drunk on me now,” he jokes, eyes the teensiest bit glassy. He doesn’t look drunk, and he’s certainly not acting drunk. He might be a little tipsy, you think, because a completely sober Jungkook would never have the balls to tug you closer by the waist like this one does.  

Your hands fall flat on his chest, warm beneath the material of his shirt. Not one of his super baggy ones today, but still a bit loose where it could hug his build. “What happened to the little red one? You said you’d wear it for me…” he questions, lips playfully pushing out into a pout. 

You struggle to meet his gaze, focusing on the mole beneath his lip instead. “I, um, haven’t got around to washing it,” you stutter, absentmindedly shifting your weight from side to side. 

“Really?” Jungkook presses, sounding like he doesn’t believe you at all. After a moment in which he ducks down to catch your gaze, he seems to accept. “That’s fine. This one’s cuter anyway.” 

His words are emphasized by his fingers, tracing along the edge of your skirt while purposefully making sure to graze your skin. You shiver, unconsciously arching your chest into him. It’s only afterwards that you realize when Jungkook smirks in triumph. “Easy access too,” he murmurs, and your heart leaps in your chest. 

“Jeon,” you whisper, hyper aware of all the people in this house right now. You’re standing at a point where everyone walks by, and the idea of Jungkook groping you in front of these people, some of which are friends, seems horrifying. “People can see.” 

Jungkook’s Cheshire smile grows even wider, and you muffle a yelp when his hand slips beneath your skirt to grope your ass. “Since when were you shy?” He says, voice soft and lilting over the hum of whatever music is playing now. “Weren’t shy when you had your ass in the air that one day in your room.” 

Your cheeks burn at the memory, but your core surges with a newfound heat at his wandering hands and teasing words. “Remember?” 

You nod, tucking your head against his neck in a last ditch effort to hide your embarrassment. From here, your senses are bombarded with Jungkook and only Jungkook. 

You feel him let out a long sigh. “Been thinking about you since,” he admits. “Nah, even before that. When you wore my shirt that one day after our balloon fight in the west quad.” 

Your heart thunders at his sudden confession. The balloon fight in question had been a little over a year ago, a rallying effort from your friend group to cheer Taehyung up after an exam. After soaking each other to the bone with water guns and balloons, Jungkook had let you wear one of his stupidly big shirts home. So you’d ditched your usual jeans and shirt, wearing his shirt like a dress all the way home. 

The fact Jungkook’s been thinking about you since then makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter. 

“Every time you wear these little skirts, I think of that day. You, in my clothes, looking so soft and warm. Fuck, baby, you don’t know what you do to me.” 

You glance around, and your soul almost leaves your body when you make direct eye contact with Yoongi holding Jalapeño across the room. He gives you that Yoongi look, the whatever you’re doing is weird but I won’t say anything because I don’t care look, and that’s your signal to stumble your way upstairs before Seokjin can see you two and scold you. 

You’re not sure who’s room you end up, just that it has one and a half bunk beds in it, so you don’t hesitate to push Jungkook down onto the half. He plops down like a little cherub, all sweet smiles until you see the way his pants strain at the crotch. Of fuck, this is happening, you think as you climb onto his lap. 

His lips envelope yours the second you’re in his arms. You’re not usually one to give into those John Green cliches, but everything about being in Jungkook’s embrace feels so right. Like you belong there, or whatever. 

He’s a good ass kisser, but you shouldn’t be surprised. Jungkook was good at everything he did—such was a known fact. But he still kisses you like he’s trying to prove something, like he wants you to melt into him, and he succeeds. His mouth moves against yours, tongue sneaking it’s way past your lips until it’s inside yours, and you’re swapping spit. His breath hot, but you imagine yours is as well because just making out with Jungkook has your body temperature hotter than the inside of a sauna. 

“Jungkook,” you groan when he pulls away, desperate to feel his mouth on yours again. He smiles, lips slick and cherried as he drops his hands to your waist. 

“‘M right here,” he assures you, pressing a few pecks to your mouth before trailing his lips down your neck, deliciously licking and kissing every inch. You let out a choked moan, and you can feel his smile press against your skin. “Cute,” he croons. 

“More,” you beg, fingers curling themselves into his hair. It’s gonna way longer these last few months, the front pieces almost brushing the tip of his nose. He looks sexy as fuck. 

“At least let me stretch you out first,” he teases, face too cute for someone about to fuck your brains out. You huff in annoyance, snatching his hand away from its path to your panties. 

“No,” you whine, and then shuffle forward to grind your center onto him. Jungkook groans, jaw tight as he watches you. “Just fuck me, Jungkook.” 

His eyes roll back at a particular roll of your hips. “I-It’ll hurt, though,” he tries to reason, but his hands are already hiking up the back of your skirt. 

“Make it hurt,” you mumble, so caught up in the moment that your eyes bulge out when he suddenly lifts you to your feet. “What’s wrong?” You huff in dismay, lower lip trembling at the thought of him changing his mind. He lets out an airy chuckle. 

“Turn around for me, doll,” he softly demands, and not a single inch of you feels the need to go against him. 

You’re met with the sight of your own expression, staring back at you from the closet’s mirrored sliding doors. It’s a little dark in the room, most of the light coming from a desk lamp on the other side of the room that had been on when you first broke in with Jungkook. 

“So pretty,” Jungkook praises from behind you, and you watch in the glass as two firm hands snake around your waist, slowly easing you back into his lap. In the seconds you were distracted by yourself, he’d unbuckled the front of his jeans, the cotton fabric of his boxers brushing against your ass. “Gonna fuck yourself on my cock, baby?” 

You nod, unsure of what to do with your hands. You needn’t worry any longer, your body naturally guiding you through the motions, until one hand grabs his thigh and the other grapples for the bedside drawer next to you. His fingers trace around your waist, hiking your skirt up to—only to reveal a pair of white undies with red hearts. Jungkook’s chuckle against your ear makes you clench your legs together. “Fuck, it’s like you knew this would happen,” he murmurs, and you can’t take your eyes off the mirror as you watch his fingers trace over your covered mound. “Did you?” He asks, breath fanning over your ear. 

“N-no,” you gasp, hips jumping when he presses a lone finger to where your clit would be had your girly panties not obstructed the way. You’re embarrassingly wet just from kissing Jungkook, and his playful fingers only worsen your state. “Please hurry, Kook,” you plead, grinding back against his engorged cock. 

“You sure?” He checks, and your bobble head nods have him muffling more laughter into your shoulder. “If you say so, baby.” 

He lifts you up just the slightest bit to tug his cock out of its confines, and this is the only instance where you wish you weren’t looking at the mirror. His fingers dance along your skin again, tugging your panties to the side. 

Screw it, just do it, you say to yourself before sinking down on his cock in one go. “Oh fuck,” you cry, head lolling back to rest against his shoulder at the sudden intrusion. 

“Holy shit,” he sighs into your hair, one hand circling to the front of your waist, while the other creeps upwards to rub at where he knows your nipple is. If he were to pull your shirt and bra away, he’d see how rock hard your nipples were right now. “Relax for me, doll, I promise it’ll feel better if you relax.” 

You nod, eyes squeezed shut as your body slowly assimilated to the feeling of being stuffed full. God, he felt good inside you. Fit every crevice of you pussy like he was made for you. “Jungkook,” you moan, and he hums in response. “You feel so f-fuckin good,” you babble, swiveling your hips much to both your pleasures. “Can feel you everywhere.” 

He presses a kiss to your scalp. “Can you move for me, baby?” He questions, dropping his hands to your waist before slowly pushing you up so you’re not flopped against him like a rag doll. “Wanna see you bounce on my cock. You can do that for me, can’t you?” 

You nod eagerly, desperate to show Jungkook how good you ride dick. You muster up the strength to sit up, one hand right around his thigh again, but this time the other one clamps down over his hand on your waist. “Good girl,” Jungkook praises, giving your hips a tight squeeze. 

It’s like you thrive off Jungkook’s compliments, because soon enough you’re riding him like your life depends on it. 

It’s a rhythm of pushing yourself over and over, thighs tense from the effort it takes to pull yourself away from his cock until only his tip breaches you, before dropping back down. You can’t entirely take the credit, because Jungkook’s arms are there, lifting you up before pushing you back down. Truthfully, he’s probably still doing most of the work in fucking you with the way you see his arms flexing in the mirror. 

“Lemme hear you, doll,” Jungkook huffs, and you don’t hesitate to moan for him. It feels overwhelmingly good, his hands tight on your waist as they move you up and down, the material of your skirt bunched up between his fingers. What you’d give to feel them inside you some day, a day in which you’re not dying to feel his cock inside of you. “That’s it,” he grunts, and doesn’t even complain when your legs begin slowing down. 

He picks up the slack for you, thrusting his hips up into you like you’re just some toy for him to use and discard. But the soft praises slipping past his lips assure you you are anything but. “F-fuck,” you whine, forcing yourself above and beyond as you begin to feel that familiar coil of heat grow tighter in your abdomen. “Your cock’s s-so f-fucking big!” You cry, and one look at the mirror let’s you know you look as stupid and fucked-out as you sound. 

“Really?” Jungkook smirks, drilling into you like his life depends on it. There’s an embarrassingly growing stain on the front of your panties that you catch sight of in the mirror, and part of you wants to clench your legs shut so he doesn’t see. But it seems to do it for Jungkook, and he starts rambling about that next. “Look at you. Fuck. You’re ruining your cute little panties. Absolutely fucking soaking them with hot wet you are. I get you that wet, doll?” 

You squeal at a particular thrust of his hips, feeling his cock so deep in you that your eyes momentarily go cross eyed. “Yes, yes!” You agree, bouncing yourself with a renewed vigor. 

The answers please Jungkook, and he rolls forward until he’s pressing his tip faintly against your cervix, and your body damn near leaves your soul. “O-oh fuck!” You scream, body turning into jelly as your orgasm has you spurting hot cum into your panties and over his cock. 

“Pretty even when you come,” Jungkook huffs, hips rocking up into yours for a few more minutes until he eventually comes when you roll your hips backwards. “Holy fucking shit,” he moans, finally releasing your skirt from the death grip he had on it. 

You watch it flutter back into place around you, and you almost look like two platonic friends sitting together, but then Jungkook shifts inside you and your body convulses from the oversensitivity. 

“Wait, you and Jeon finally fucked?!” Chaeyoung exclaims halfway through breakfast, which she had so lovingly prepared at three in the afternoon. “When? Is that why you made us get waxed last week?” 

“No!” You flush, shoving another forkful of burnt scrambled eggs into your mouth. “We waxed our coochies before that, but I didn’t know we were gonna fuck.” 

Chaeyoung blinks. She’s stupid pretty even with avacado spread on her cheek. “So do you have like a seventh sense on when to get your kitty trimmed?” 

“What? No,” You scoff. “Seventh? What’s my sixth?”

“Knowing the exact moment Taehyung’s gonna throw up at a party.”

You accept. “Anyway, we just… I don’t know. It was at Seokjin’s third birthday bash last weekend.” She nods like she remembers anything besides sucking face with him all night. “We were talking and then suddenly we were upstairs and...” you trail off, glancing at your fake collection of succulents lining the kitchen window. 

“Was he good?” She interrogates. 

You flop back onto your chair dramatically. “Chae. He was so good,” you whine, and she slaps your arm in enthusiasm. “He made me ride him facing a mirror,” you spill. 

Chaeyoung squeals. “Bitch!! Here I was thinking Jeon Jungkook was the poster boy of vanilla sex,” she pauses. “I mean, still pretty vanilla compared to the time Seokjin stuck it in my—“ 

You gag and she rolls her eyes. “Have you been talking since?” 

This is the part where things get awkward, and Chaeyoung immediately senses as much. “Oh, honey,” she frowns, eyes furrowed in worry. 

“He walked me home,” you mumble, toying with the tablecloth ends. “Kissed me on the doorstep and all, but besides a few texts, I haven’t seen him around,” you lamely finish. It’s been a week. 

“Ugh, men are trash,” she spits, turning in her seat to play with your hair. “I swear if I see him on campus I’ll rock his shit. My older brother used to practice WWE moves on me, I could easily smash him through a table.”

“WWE wrestling is staged, Chae,” you point out. Chaeyoung was about ten thousand times more experienced when it came to men and their behaviors. She’s been played but also has played, so her reaction to you telling her about Jungkook is all you need to hear. 

In all the scenarios you’ve ever had about Jungkook, him randomly ghosting you had never even been a possibility. The Jungkook from your imaginary universes either just dumped you, or awkwardly friendzoned you. But completely disappearing on you? Now that was some John Greene shit. 

You’ve gone long periods of time without seeing him, like your freshman year you saw him one time in March. But even then he’d made sure to keep in contact with you, randomly blowing up your phone with Cup Pong and 8Ball requests. 

He sent you two texts this whole week, and both of them had been to cancel your homework sessions. 

You almost couldn’t believe you were living this life. The men are trash, love isn’t real, heartbreak can possibly cause death life. Forget John Green, your life had taken an unexpected Shakespearean turn. 

“Oh,” you say the moment you step into Taehyung and Jungkook’s apartment, surprised at the fact Jungkook is there despite the fact he, y’know, lives there. In retrospect, you should have seen this coming when Tae had asked you over to help him decorate a poster for Jin’s next game. He’s never been to a single soccer match in his life. “Is Tae here?” You ask, looking every part the stupid bitch. 

Jungkook’s cheeks had flushed the moment he opened the door. “No…” he answers, glances at the shoe rack behind the door as if to make sure. “Were you supposed to meet him?” Well no shit. 

“Uhh, yeah,” you say, and it’s even more awkward than the time he saw your star undies. Granted, now he’s become very familiar with your underwear and what’s hidden beneath it. You would think such an encounter would bring you two closer. “I’ll just come back another time.” 

“Do you wanna come in?” He blurts out before you can even turn away. You flinch at the sudden intensity of his voice, and then both of you are left staring at each other like cringey high schoolers. “I cut some cucumber slices with lime and that one spice you like.” 

“Taíjn?” You confirm, and he nods. “I mean...sure, if it’s not a bother.” 

Usually when you and Jungkook hung out at his place, you’d throw your bag across the room and flop onto the ugly armchair the moment you stepped in. Now, you’re awkwardly hovering by the armrest of the sofa, like this is your first time here. 

Jungkook disappears into the kitchen to, you assume, get the cucumber slices. He comes back empty handed, and with a heavy heart. “I lied. There’s no Tajín,” he confesses, and you rush to tell him it’s okay but he beats you to it. “There’s no cucumber slices either. I just needed to get you inside to talk to you.” 

“You act like I needed to be lured in, Jungkook,” you say, forcing a tight smile on your face. Jungkook visibly deflates at your tone. 

“No, this isn’t right,” he huffs, dramatically throwing himself onto the couch. You jump at the loud groan he releases from his position, which is face stuffed into the cushion. 

“You...okay?” You tentatively ask, clutching your bag even closer to your side. Jungkook shakes his head no against the couch. “Should I call Namjoon over?” 

He sits up so fast you worry he’ll get whiplash. “I have a confession to make,” he informs you, doe eyes wide and serious. 

Your brain processes for a minute before slowly responding. “Okay…”

At your response he jumps to his feet. “This may come as a shock, but I’m not a womanizer.” 

You blink. 

“When have you ever been a womanizer, Jeon?!” You nearly exclaim when you mull over his absurd proclamation. “Are there people who actually think that?” 

“I think that people think that,” he stresses to you, running a hand through his hair. “Look. I don’t mean to brag, but I’m really nice and cool, and sometimes people think that means I’m flirting with them.” Valid point. “But I’m not, because frankly I’m terrible at shooting my shot.”

The fact he’s actually admitted it out loud leaves him devastated, and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Finally, something Jeon Jungkook isn’t good at. 

“What lead you to that conclusion?” You carefully press on. 

“Because,” he sighs, dropping back down onto the couch, except this time he’s sitting like a normal person. You sit beside him, close enough to the edge that you can just spring yourself out the door if need be. 

“There’s this girl I like,” your heart pangs, even though the logical side of you can more or less guess where this is going. You’re stupid, but not that stupid. “She’s amazing, like everything about her makes me like her. God, she’s so cool, like everyone wants to be her friend, even though she sucks at Super Smash Bros., and burns her ear on a straightener at least once a month. But she’s funny and sweet, and makes me wanna join a clown troupe just to hear her laugh. And she looks gorgeous in skirts, and the way she rides dic—“ 

“Alright, that’s enough of that,” you interrupt, glancing at the coffee table decorated with Jungkook’s anatomy books, because you don’t want to look at the big dopey grin on his face as he talks about you and your dick riding abilities. 

Jungkook grins, this much you can tell from your peripheral, before it drops into a frown. “Whole point is, she’s cool as fuck. And I… I think I might love her,” he admits, and you whip around to face him. His cheeks are as red as Taehyung’s current hair dye, which is to say they’re as red as a fire truck. You get th feeling you're mirroring his expression. 

The silence following his confession seems to drag on an eternity, but truthfully, you and Jungkook both have the patience of a soccer mom of three, so he jumps to fill the spaces between you. “And like, I just wanna kiss her and hold her and watch her eat and cuddle her to sleep and hold her hand and buy her gifts, and I think I would die for her?—”

“Okay chill, Romeo,” you scramble to cut off that train of thought. Jungkook’s looking at you like you were the creative director behind Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker and the trailer released two minutes ago. It’s a weird reference but coming from Jungkook, it means a lot. 

You don’t know what to say, but Jungkook beats you to it anyway. “There’s this girl I like,” he repeats, and your heart does nearly implode on itself when he reaches over to clutch your hand in his. Your hands are sweaty and fidgety from his confession, but so are Jungkook’s. “How do I tell her I like her?” 

You gulp, before reaching over to smack at his bicep much to both your surprise. “Jeon Jungkook! How’re you gonna give me the best fucking of my life and then ghost me for a week, because you’re too much of a pussy to tell me you like me!” You almost want to cry, and you almost do when he wraps you in his arms with a delighted, warm laugh rumbling through his whole body. “You suck,” you huff, and sniffle once, and only once. 

“Thank fuck,” he sighs in relief. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you friendzoned me.” 

“The friendzone—“

“—is a made up concept created by men who feel like they’re entitled to women and their feelings, I know,” he huffs and you laugh. You push yourself away from his chest to meet his gaze, stretching up to capture his lips in a sweet kiss that quickly turns naughty when you feel the flex of muscles beneath your hands. 

“Ugh, you beefcake.” 

“I wish,” he snorts, tugging you back into his chest as he flops down onto the couch. You snuggle into him, the position all too comfortable in your skirt. The only reason you’re reminded of it is because Jungkook traces his fingers along the edge of the material. “You asked me why I workout out but hide in big clothes, and the truth is its so I can beat up any meninist douchebag that tries to slander my girl in her thot skirts.” 

You sputter. “My thot skirts—you asshole! All my skirts are of appropriate length,” you defend, pinching his side and winning a giggle for your efforts. “That doesn’t even explain the baggy clothes part either.” 

“Shh, your thot skirt is tempting me.” 

“He made you dress up as a what now?!” Chaeyoung exclaims, fork clattering loudly against her plate as everyone in the diner turns to look at you two. You try desperately to quiet her, but the damage is done and even the server whose long since become familiar with your antics looks disgusted. 

“Oh my god,” Chaeyoung sighs, her concern on everything but this public humiliation. “I knew it. I told you he got along too well with Jalapeño, remember?” 

[ NOW WITH A DRABBLE WOW!!! ]

[maximumjinx]

Ladybug’s Finale

Chapter 2

- didn’t expect this to get any attention, but appreciate it nonetheless!-

“Ladybug, remember to breathe.” Adrien spoke, slightly panicked. The heroine’s air of mystery and professionalism in her new suit was lost with her wheezing, bent over with hands on her knees.

“Oh my god I’m an idiot. Of course you’re Chat, same blonde hair, same eyes, nobody showers that much! How could I have never seen it?” Ladybug spoke rapidly, freaking out not because Chat was Adrien, someone she didn’t really know how to feel about, but how blind she was to it all.

“Are you upset?” Adrien looked downwards, not meeting her eyes.

“Yes! No? I’m feeling a lot.” She hadn’t felt this much in a while if she were honest with herself. Ever since Lila returned everything had been mildly numb. The panic in her heart and head felt familiar, and a tad comforting.

“Are you disappointed?”

Ladybug didn’t know how to answer. A few weeks ago, she would have been jumping for joy. But Chat was so pushy about his feelings he disregarded her own. Adrien didn’t want to disrupt the flow of the class, so he also wasn’t concerned with how she felt either. Regardless, she was cast aside.

She wasn’t disappointed that Chat was Adrien or vice versa, but maybe she was disappointed in them as a person.

She wanted so badly to reveal herself, if only to see what his reaction would be. To turn the question back on him. Instead, she squashed her curiosity. Revealing her identity now could be even more dangerous.

“If I’m honest, I don’t know how to feel about you,” she held back, watching her partner deflate, “I think I have to get to know you again. From scratch.”

Hope filled the boy’s eyes.

“I’m okay with that. Whatever makes you feel comfortable.”

Ladybug frowned. She had thought it was mostly due to her avoidance of Chat Noir, but he hadn’t called her a pet name all night. It seemed like he was holding back.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything Bug.”

“You don’t call me your Lady anymore.” Her face remained passive. “What’s up?”

She didn’t want to ask if he found someone. She didn’t want to ask if he had stopped loving her

Adrien blushed, cheeks finally uncovered to show how bashful he can be.

“I- you said-“ he stumbled, “I thought you didn’t like it.”

Ladybug hummed. She felt some relief flood into her body. She took a few steps to the edge of the roof and took a seat. Adrien followed suit.

“I didn’t like it in the middle of a fight.”

“I know, I act stupid sometimes-“

“No,” She turned to him, a flicker of feeling in her chest as she met his eyes. “Don’t apologize for acting like yourself. Just for the poor timing.”

Adrien smiled at that. He dug his hands into his pockets, squeezing his fingers.

“Honestly, it was Marinette that changed my mind.”

Ladybug choked on air.

“The bakery girl?”

“Multimouse, baker, class president, designer.” Adrien smiled, “She is a girl of many hats. Makes them too!”

She felt the lilt of smile struggle to surface. Adrien had always been Chat, silliness and all. Why hadn’t he shared that part of him? Or had she not seen it in a cloud of model perfection?

“What made her change your mind?”

“She wanted to stand up to this girl at our school, Lila. She isn’t mean like Chloe, but lies a lot.” Adrien’s brows furrowed. “To make friends, gain popularity, I don’t know really. But it drove Mari up a wall.”

Ladybug lifted her eyebrows. “Mari, huh? Guess I’m not the only one graced with nicknames.”

Adrien must have been getting cold, his cheeks were dusted with color.

“Marinette kept trying to call her out on it, Lila even lied to me too. You knew that though.” He recalled her outburst in the park. “She gets akumatized so often and it’s such a headache. I told Mari to let it go, since it wasn’t hurting anyone.”

Ladybug’s fingers felt cold. It started to climb up her arms and shoulders.

“Doesn’t it hurt her?” She spoke so softly, almost afraid to say it.

Adrien looked at the street below. Suddenly being so up high without his suit made him feel uneasy. He felt vulnerable.

“Lila has taken over the class. She almost got Marinette expelled, and would have too if I hadn’t threatened her.” Ladybug’s head snapped up. “She’s been using anything and everything to hang off me and use my father. She uses everyone.”

Adrien lifted his fist out of his pocket and slammed it onto the cold gutter. Ladybug didn’t jump.

“She makes me uncomfortable, she talks badly about my friend. She makes promises to the class with her lies and never follows through.” His father’s image flickered in his head, “People like that really are the worst aren’t they?”

He shook his hair out, enjoying the ends to curl up randomly instead of styled to perfection. It was weird to see him like that, like he had finally put down the front he’d been wearing.

“Anyways, Lila never took no for an answer. The only love I’ve know is from Chloe who was the same. They don’t care about my space, my feelings, my voice.” He looked up at his lady in red. “Mari probably felt the same about Lila. You probably felt the same about me.”

Ladybug felt confused. She didn’t want to let Adrien off the hook like that, but she could see he was learning about something he had no experience with.

“You care about this girl enough to threaten Rossi?” She chewed on her lip, trying to focus on one point of Adrien’s face as to not get overwhelmed.

“She’s the only one who has cared so much about other people’s feelings in our class. She talks through their problems, helps them with their projects, keeps them company when they don’t want to talk at all.” His eyes shone. It was so dark, but he may as well have been wearing his mask.

“And I let her down.” He sighed, “The least I could do is have her back.”

“Maybe, let her know you have it? So she doesn’t feel so..” Ladybug didn’t want to finish. Adrien nudged her shoulder with his own.

“So, did you learn anything new about me?”

Ladybug thought to herself.

“You’re more timid than you let on.” Adrien frowned at that response. “You’re more thoughtful too. You aren’t this boistroseous personality that you like to show off, and you feel more guilt than you probably should.”

“I can’t really tell if any of this is good or bad LB.”

“It doesn’t really have to be one or the other,” she decided, “it’s you. For me, that’s enough.”

—

“It’s getting late. And we haven’t talked about a plan.”

“Yeah,” Adrien looked toward the direction he came, “not feeling up to going home, yknow?”

“Your dad would be worried.”

“He doesn’t notice. I’d like to say his behavior is explained by being Hawkmoth, but he’s been like this since before superheroes and akumas. My mom’s disappearance really messed him up.” Adrien looked down at his hands.

“It messed you up too,” Ladybug defended, “and you didn’t become a supervillain.”

Adrien winced. She wanted to slap herself, it was too soon.

“Ladybug.” Adrien turned, “you have to take the Black Cat miraculous.”

Her jaw dropped.

“What? No.” She stood up. “Why would you even say that?”

“It’s not safe under that roof.”

“It is with you!”

“We can’t risk that.” Adrien dusted himself off, rising to meet her.

“I just can’t be without my partner Adrien. I won’t.” Her heart was beating so fast. Was he giving up?

“We’ll figure it out. You can leave it somewhere I can get it and transform.” Adrien paused. “That might be riskier actually.”

“So then keep it!” She wrapped her arms around herself, “you need to be there with me.”

Adrien smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“We both know you’ve been able to handle akumas yourself for a while now.”

“What happens if I get hurt? You need to be there to help me, you’re supposed to have my back!” Ladybug was furious. How could he do this.

Adrien nodded, seeing the argument.

“Why not train with the old man then?”

Both heroes snapped towards the new voice. Plagg poked his head from Adrien’s hood.

“He could get better at his job, and Fu can hold the miraculous until he’s ready.” The small kwami looked unamused, as he always did, but Adrien hadn’t seen him this serious in...well ever.

“He already has a full schedule, when would he have the time?”

Adrien felt a little annoyed they spoke without him.

“You managed to get more free time, what did you do?” Plagg already knew the answer. He knew Ladybug was Marinette and he knew that humans were still to blind to see true value in one another.

Ladybug looked away, and pulled her hood down.

“I prioritized my responsibilities.”

“There you go!” Plagg turned to Adrien, “drop your friends.”

“No!” Ladybug protested. Adrien looked taken aback.

“Plagg that won’t fix things.”

“They don’t care about your friend, hanging out with them means hanging out with sausage hair, and its a few hours every week that you can dedicate to training.”

“Those are his friends!”

Plagg snapped to the heroine, green eyes ablaze. For a moment she was reminded that she’s talking to a god. One of destruction.

“Adrien, I know I haven’t been around in a few hundred years. But training was always put first. This isn’t a hobby you accepted. It’s a duty.” Plagg stared his chosen down. He let the kid have fun, but he can always whip him into shape.

“Ladybug, he’s right.”

She felt something twist inside her. Was it fair to have Adrien lose his friends too? They were everything to him.

Adrien read her mind.

“I needed them and school for a lot of reasons. I wanted to get away from my father and the constant supervision. Chat Noir isn’t a curse, it’s a freedom, and if I want to keep it and my friends and you, I have to work for it.” Adrien looked determined, like he wasn’t going to take no for answer. He slipped his ring off and handed it to his kwami.

“Send me an address in the morning. I don’t have a shoot so I’ll start my first lesson then.”

Plagg smiled, “I’m proud of you, kit.”

“What if you get into trouble?” Ladybug watched the exchanged helplessly.

“I’ll be as susceptible as anyone else.” He shrugged, “and you have my back.”

“What about your friends?”

Adrien grinned, wide and delighted.

“Guess I’ll move to the back.”

--TAGLIST--

@shannaro-sakura @uninspired-writer @magic-miraculous @mividaexo  @juhavs @salsyy301 @liamnl @reblog-trasher @autumnhunter1 

[averyscarlet-blog]

Project Clypse

Hello there stranger! If you don’t know who I am, or you’re too lazy to read my name, I’m AveryScarlet! You can simply call me Avery or Av. And if you know me on fanfiction.net, mostly through my works Mercury Alchemist or Final Fantasy Versus XV, welcome! Now, for a while now, I’ve been wanting to write up my own original story. Issue with me, thanks to college in the past, I haven’t properly developed the mindset to write a full-blown novel. I’ve gotten so used to typing up a chapter or two in a month before publishing them that I can’t properly focus as an actual writer should.

As much as I want to focus on writing some of my fanfiction, I can’t because I’m focusing on studying for NCLEX. So if you’re waiting for the next chapter for FF Versus XV... It’s almost done! It’s just gonna take a while. But as you can see below, I’ve been working on something else. I’m sure you’re confused as to who these characters are in the chat and why I’m pushing so many out. Well. I’ll tell you. This is my way of practicing for a story I’ve been... REALLY wanting to write for a long time. It doesn’t have a definite name, so I’m calling it Project Clypse. Which partially comes from the group my main characters are in. 

Now, I thought of writing up their character bio’s but..... I’m not really that good at it as I used to be. I used to for when I was active in RP’s but I’m so rusty that I doubt I can keep up with whomever I’m chatting with. So, I’m just summarizing certain details you need to know about them! Not all of it because that'd be spoiling the story of every character. Now, with all that’s said and done, let me start explaining key points of Project Clypse.

Premise/Background

The story is centered on a world called Avarus, which you can say is sort of like Earth, except it was made with someone else's version of life. Or, it used to be. Avarus is one of the few remaining worlds that has an active patron God, who has chosen to go under the alias Belial. The world was originally created and governed by another, Belial’s younger sister, Soleil. After Avarus’ creation, and the birth of man, she was killed by an unknown assailant. But before she died, she was cursed to experience an endless cycle of death and rebirth into various random worlds. She will live a short mortal life, then die from either natural or unnatural causes.

According to Belial, this curse is bestowed only to Celetials who have performed a dire sin. While there is no definite way to lift the curse, Belial hopes that by locating and retrieving her while she's still alive, or at the very least obtain her soul, then he could find the proper means to spare his sister of her cursed fate and return Avarus's true patron Goddess. Because of her demise, life on the planet started to decay. To prevent its destruction, Belial forced the planet to stop rotating, hoping to delay it long enough for him to find Soleil.

However, there were dire consequences to this act. His actions indirectly causing the world to cease rotating; time became non-existent as a result. This, inevitably, killed off most of the remaining life in the world due to the imbalance of the ecosystem as one half of the planet became stuck in perpetual darkness, and the other being dried up caused prolonged exposure to the sun's light.

The only life that Belial was able to salvage was her sisters creation; humanity. Those that survived after the planet ceased its rotation found themselves unable to age. They can still die, but their bodies will no longer decay. During the first Century since Soleil’s death, the God went through various countermeasures to keep the world and the life still inhabits it safe until he can find his sister.

However, a strange plague began to manifest. Soon, it began to devour most of the remaining populace, creating a dark entity in the process; the Astrals (will explain in a different section). 

While Belial was successful in wiping out the infected, the God realized that he cannot keep the last remnants of humanity safe. Not while there are still Astrals lurking about. So he put them to sleep, sealed them in a place that only he knows. However, because of the sudden absence of time and life, the world began to deconstruct itself each time he departed in search for her in other worlds. Realizing he cannot manage Avarus and search for his sister at the same time, he found an alternative. Since his conception, he had noticed a peculiar type of living being popping up now and then in a variety of sentient species. So he sought them out. 

Eventually, gathered enough to temporarily replace humanity and trick the world itself into thinking life still exists. At first, he gathered adults since he knew nothing can grow in Avarus once they’ve lived in the world for a certain period of time, but because of their attachments to the worlds they originated from, it was difficult to convince them to remain. Then he thought up of another solution, one which he knew his sister would frown upon. Children. With their young minds, they’ll easily forget their place of origin and can be easily trained in the necessary skill in traversing through different worlds. And, after learning that the Astrals have branched out to those said worlds, learn how to handle their sudden enemy. 

Their goal is simple; to locate and, if possible, retrieve Soleil and eradicate the Astrals.

Main Characters

Note: Just in case you did not know... I. Cannot. Draw. As much as it pains me to do this, but I need you guys to have some sort of idea on how they look like. I cannot find the original artists of the artworks; mostly because google imaging is shit and Pinterest tends to... Send you elsewhere. So of you know the artist, please PM me so I can give them credit. If you know they don't want their works republished, I'll remove it and try to figure something out. I take no credit whatsoever on the art! I merely scoured the internet for any references I could use. If you're wondering why I'm not.using actual people... You know how awkward that is?

Anyway, much of these are concepts so expect changes in the future. I tried to discuss as little as possible about each character. And let me tell ya.... That was a lot I had to cut off, so if the explanation is a bit messy, that was from me trying to select what to remove to avoid revealing too much.

. . .

Sound

‘I have to be better. I have to be a better leader. I have to be a better lover. I have to be a better sibling. If I don’t... then I’ll lose everything again. If I must, I’ll sacrifice my identity for a third time if it means protecting them.’

Credits to: T0Q00(?) - Okay, on Pinterest it has the person’s name AND link to their twitter account. The thing is... it’s empty. Their entire page is empty. At least I found the artist’s name?

Also known as the Glutton King, Sound is one of the leaders of his faction, Tunera Clypse and a member of Mythral. He is a first generation Nors. While not as lazy as Noise, he’s not really a fan of getting involved in fights with people. When it comes to killing Astrals; that’s an entirely different story.  

Outwardly, he displays laid back, playful, and very concerning outlandish behavior. And by outlandish, I mean his... eating habits. Sound likes to experiment with his stomach. He’ll do absolutely ANYTHING to eat whatever he deems as edible. He also - absolutely - lacks any sense of shame (ex. walking out of the shower and to his room without a towel, slapping Noise’s butt). Although limited to communicate via writing, he makes sure that every single thing he writes is worth reading. Many are even surprised at just how fast he writes his messages. Then again, after years of practice, it’s expected he’d adapt.

Sound is self-aware of the fact that he’s a fictional character and will randomly break the fourth wall, causing much confusion to his friends several times. While not as dark as his previous self, Fell, he maintains some of his views towards life and tends to be as vocal - via writing - of his previous self's beliefs.

As a Cursed Blood, his curse forces him to conceal his face behind a customized Fox Mask. Depending on the amount of facial skin that was exposed, a person can live up to several minutes to several hours before inflicted with sudden death. If a person were to see the entirety of his face, they will die on the spot from unknown causes. He has a Physical Curse as well, which causes him to inflict a certain degree bad-luck to whoever hears his voice. While it’s rarely anything life-threatening, Sound is forced to become selectively mute. Although he tries his best to remain silent, he tends to accidentally let it a few words or sounds slip. Which usually occurs when he sneezes, and when he does, it is immediately advised by his friends to duck and cover.

After undergoing the Ascension Ceremony, he joined the faction Tunera Clypse and then gave up his original name, becoming the next Sound. Unbeknownst to him, his actions later in life has caused him to unknowingly become the Vessel of Gluttony. It is unknown if his eating habits is the reason he became the vessel or it’s the other way around. Either way, he has shown to be fully capable of controlling the abilities that comes with being a Vessel. Sound merely chooses not to use them.

. . .

Ayane Koronashi

“If my brother had left the orphanage that day without me, I would simply smile. If Ulric presented me his latest girlfriend, I’d smile. Smiling is all I can ever do without being a nuisance. I could never show them my pain. I want to cry but my curse renders me incapable of doing so. But now it’s better. I’m better.”

Also known as the Black Fox. Ayane is the younger twin sister of Sound. Like her twin, she is also a member of Tunera Clypse and Mythral; as well as a first generation Nors. Despite being an active member, unless accompanied by her brother, Ayane is rarely allowed to participate in any scouting or combat-related missions. The main reason for this is her curse. While also a Cursed Blood like her brother and some of their friends, the unnatural causes that led to sudden conversion to a cursed blood caused her condition to be unstable. At the beginning, she was unable to retain her original form and would take the shape of a fox.

After some time and practice, she has learned to maintain most of her former human appearance, leaving only a pair of fox ears to replace her human ears and a tail (not by choice) as an extra ligament. Not only that, some of her internal organs remain similar to that of a fox. Because of this, she is unable to eat certain foods that are potentially poisonous to her (or generally unhealthy). She was told that eventually, if nothing is done, she will permanently take the complete form of a fox. She cannot surgically remove the fox parts as they will simply grow back.

Side-note: No, they did not try or plan to remove her fox ears. The curse replaced her human ears so they cannot remove them without indirectly making her deaf.

Her personality is the somewhat similar to Sound’s, but is far more excitable and outgoing than her brother. Just like a fox, she is clever and witty, which she demonstrates many times during combat. She has a tendencyto steal things without her knowledge. While this isn’t necessarily kleptomania, as objects appear in her hands at random, she still tries get over her childhood habit. She does have a tendency to be reckless, though this is stems from her need to be useful as her curse leaves her unable to perform all of the necessary abilities that is required of a Nors.

Another thing to know is her intense hatred towards cats. Which will be explored at a later time.

As a Cursed Blood, she can take the form of a fox. While the size varies, depending on her emotional state, she is commonly seen to change into the size similar to an elephant. If she performs multiple transformations, she will regress to a regular sized fox and sleep for an extensive period of time. She has been recommended to avoid constantly rely on her full fox form as it will hasten the progression of her curse.

After undergoing the Ascension Ceremony, she followed her brother and joined the same faction as him, but unlike him, did not join as a core member so she did not have to give up her original name. Because of the current state of her body caused by her Cursed Blood, her emotions has unknowingly lead her to become thenext Vessel of Envy.

. . .

Reihana Toelle Ur Kamaria

“Why was I born like this... what did I deserve to be cursed like this!? All I want is to hold someone without fearing I’ll crush them. I can’t be the receiver forever!”

Or Rei for short. Is a member of Mythral and is a second generation Nors. As a floater, Rei rotates between the three factions, but she usually works with Tunera Clypse. Known for her terrifying brute strength, Rei is feared by many and is challenged on a near daily basis. Because of her strength and seemingly indestructible nature, she is (much to her annoyance) sometimes used as a human shield. While she is able to take on an army by herself, Rei tries not to go all out in fear of accidentally killing her allies in the crossfire. In terms of mental maturity, aside from Xavier, she is slightly more competent and is level-headed enough to not participate in childish activities. Most of the time.

Rei prefers to ‘punch first, talk later’ when confronted, though the talking never happens as her opponents is either obliterated or immediately knocked out after one hit. While she can be aggressive at times, she merely acts out on this person's due to the rumors that were spread when word of her curse began to circulate. Those closest to her have witnessed her carefree and adventurous nature. She is also cautious and careful of her surroundings, becoming more thoughtful in the usage of her strength as a result.

As much as she loves the thrill and adrenaline that comes from combat, she prefers not to fight too often. Mostly because it usually leads to unnecessary mass destruction. She craves for proper physical contact, but due to her curse, she forces herself to avoid it as much as possible.

Being the physically oldest, next to Percy, she tends to act like the big sister of the group, which Rei has admitted she finds embarrassing. Still, she works hard in trying to act as moral support for her friends. That doesn’t stop her from losing her temper when a certain line is crossed.

As a Cursed Blood, she is cursed with immeasurable strength. Her strength doubles based on who or whatever is the strongest in a world that she sets foot in. That, of course, excludes Celestial’s as the strength of the divinity is almost non-existent. By default, back in Avarus, her usual strength is enough to crumble an entire building. In other worlds, it depends. To help control and regulate her strength during combat, she uses a large amount of Astral Dust to create form-fitting gauntlets around her lower arm. She was meant to become the Vessel of Wrath but was instead changed to be the candidate for the Vessel of Pride.

. . .

Perseus Vlahos

"I used to believe that being a hero will allow you to cement your place in history. But over time, I learned that the farther in time your name is shared in time, you become nothing more than a mere legend. Or worse, a myth. Stories can be altered, changed. If that’s the case, I’d rather not be remembered at all. I didn’t work this hard just to be written off as a bedtime story.” 

Christened under the name ‘Percy the Naive’ by his best friend, later life-long rival, Wilhelm, he is the current wielder of the legendary sword; Excalibur, and member of Infernum Poncitator. Grandson of Rayner, Percy is one of the few third generation Nors in Avarus. He is a kind young man and is respected amongst his peers (well, most of them) and superiors, so much so that he has been offered the position of leader of the faction. Percy refuses as not only deems himself unworthy, but out of respect for those that have lived in Avarus longer.

He displays many the ideal traits of a knight, eventually becoming viewed as an ideal knight by others. However, deep down, Percy perceives himself as the opposite. He feels he is a dishonorable fraud and is not proud of his status as Excalibur's chosen wielder. If he was given a chance to do it over again, Percy would immediately abandon his decision never search and locate the sword.

After joining Avarus, in a short span of time, Percy was able to easily establish himself as a sort of leader figure within his faction. While serious most of the time, especially during missions, due to his time with other Nors, has displayed a degree of patience and tolerance towards whoever he is assigned. Still, he never forgets their main objective and takes charge if he deems the assigned leader incompetent. Which happens more times than he refuses to count. He tries to maintain a cool head, but will severely reprimand others if the situation calls for it.

Proficient in the ways of the sword, he garnered the attention of (the then Mongrel) Mitchell. He was very reluctant in taking in a squire. But eventually, Percy relented after the younger boy attempted to fight against an Astral and nearly lost his life. He plans to one day pass down Excalibur to Mitchell once he gains the strength to surpass Percy.

At the moment, Percy is the current Vessel of Wrath.

. . .

Noise (***** Rallus)

“I tried all of my life to give my dad a reason why he shouldn't be treating his body the way he did. I tried all of my life to keep my friend in line so I'd never have to be the one to discipline him. And yet... If only I didn't try so hard, they'd still be alive.”

Author’s Note: Yeah I... legit do not know who this belongs to. There’s the artist’s signature so that’s the good thing. Problem is....

After escaping from the confines of his original world, Eingesperrt City, and, with the help Sound, joined Avarus and assumed the title of Noise. Unlike others that were gathered in the past, Noise is a regular human being. Something only Sound knows. Regardless of the danger, he became one of the leaders for Tunera Clypse, later joining Mythral after adapting to his new lifestyle.

He wears one of the Artifacts in order to copy and use only one ability of his choosing. As long as a piece of original user is within the Artifact, Noise can use it for as long as he wants. However, if its been removed and replaced with something else, the previous copied ability cannot be used ever again.

Since his recruitment, Noise adopted an extremely lazy personality. He’s so lazy that somehow even snoring consumes too much energy. To make sure he’s awake most of the time, Sound forced Noise to set up a sleep schedule, so that when he’s ready, he has enough energy to do SOMETHING. However, no matter where he is, he’ll take every opportunity to take a nap. He doesn’t care. As long as he gets to close his eyes, Noise is fine to sleep wherever, even if it involves napping righ at the edge of a volcano.

He’ll get annoyed if anyone that dares try to wake him up and he’ll be in a fowl mood for the rest of the day. The only exception is the fox girl and his lover. Despite this, he displays a certain degree of kindness. It’s just really hard to tell if what he’s doing is truly an act of kindness or he’s just too lazy to do things such as delivering a ‘motivational speech’. He can be blunt when he has to be, and he tends to come off as a jackass rude because of his personality. However, this is his way of showing he cares. Noise will flat out tell you if he dislikes you.

Another thing to know about him is his crude sense of humor. Combined with his blunt and rude nature towards people, mostly acquaintances and strangers, it always leads to various... Misunderstandings. Worst case scenario? A fight. He'd improve if he could, but he won't.

Look, if you haven't figure out that he's lazy after reading all this, gooood luck.

For reasons unknown, despite becoming the next Vessel of Sloth, it remains dormant within him. They thought of extracting it to learn the causes that led up to its current dormant state, but Sound intervened in time as he knew that extracting it by force will kill the the vessel.

. . .

Michael/Raphael/Gabriel/Uriel/Saraqael/Raguel/Remiel/etc

‘Dragons are raised under the false pretense that they are the supreme species above all others. But that merely obscures the truth; the truth that we’re just as vulnerable as anyone else. There are various ways to kill aside from piercing our hearts with a spear.”

Author’s Note: Just so you know, HE’S BLONDE and has green eyes! This was the only option I have that closely resembles how I envisioned him! There was another because he gives off the same atmosphere when you look at him but... he’s from an otome game. And I only learned that recently so, if the same goes for this one? WELP. Oh and he has patches of dark brown scales on part of his skin.

Neither a Quietus Nors nor a resident of Avarus, Michael is a dragon. His version of his race if capable of transformation, but can only change into the form of the last creature they devoured. Whole. Rather than his true form, in order to remain working in Avarus, chose to work in the form of the former Prince of Edrakon, a world where dragons were enslaved and cruelly treated as mere objects. Despite his appearance not being his own, he maintains an intimidating and powerful aura, which is easily distinguishable even within a large crowd.

Due to the high esteem he holds towards his race and his pride as a Dragon, he can come off as domineering, even becoming critical towards other versions of his race if he finds something illogical or nonsensical in their appearance and their abilities. While he does act this way, he finds it absolutely disgusting to find dragons place themselves in a position of power and abuses their power in controlling another species. Another aspect of him is that he looks down on dragons with physical defects, which is mostly directly aimed as himself due to his extremely poor eyesight. Thus, forcing him to rely on his human form to watch glasses. He also has a very confusing naming system; where he changes his name based on the date, time and temperature.

Micheal held the potential required to become a Nors, but because of his age, he was unable to undergo the necessary steps to fully integrate into Avarus. While others are reluctant to have him join their ranks, several others, for different reasons, allowed him to remain. This eventually allowed others to accept his addition to the organization. 

As the one in charge of organizing and handling most of Avarus’ internal affairs, a job the Nors, even the Ex-Anima/Animus, are reluctant in taking up such an important position; he takes his job very seriously. Although he does express some contempt towards humans, this does not extend to the people he works with. He cares about them to a certain degree, which is shown by he constantly reprimands whoever acts risky during a mission.

He is the current Vessel of Pride, something he only learns of later on. Despite the fact Micheal is a vessel, Belial believes this is only temporary. He isn’t particularly close with Belial, but he respects the God enough to follow his orders.

. . .

Ulric Soknawo

'In my tribe, I was considered an outcast. You can thank the unnatural union that birthed me. Now? It hasn’t changed much, but at least I’m no longer considered the runt of the pack.’

Whose other name is Kuckunniwi, is a former member of the Aniwaya Tribe. In their world, his people are Natives who worshipped a guardian Wolf Spirit. According to them, in return for their unyielding loyalty and devoted nature, it granted the people with the power to take the form of the spirit they have worshipped for many generations. So long as they use that power to protect the forest, it shall provide them protection. Ulric is the third, second youngest, illegitamate son of the Tribal chief Tamaska and grandson of Wolfram.

As per tradition, all tribesmen are given two names, one for their human form while the other is for their inner wolf. Despite being allowed to use either name like others of his tribe, he refuses to be use his wolf name due to the meaning behind it. After being discovered by Ayane, she brought and recruited him to Avarus. Ulric is considered to be a Third Generation Nors due the fact his father was (oddly) not born a Nors, or had to potential to be converted into one.

Ulric tends to act like the stereotypical lone-wolf, choosing to remain in solitude and observe from a distance. He likes to spend his quiet time alone, though he does allow others to sit next to him when asked. Many have pointed out that he never smiles, but, as much as he hates to quote Noise, states that if there is no reason to smile, there is no reason to put so much effort in abusing his facial muscles.

As much as he loves being a wolf, he finds certain aspects of his second nature to be... aggravating. Depending on the season and the weather, it deals a the effects his wolf instincts on his human nature. Because of the two separate natures continually clashing, he tends to act irritable and his temper worsens, especially during the night. Ulric holds a strong belief that one’s nature, regardless of your race, should never control a one's personal feelings.

He holds an unyielding loyalty to his loved ones, almost to the point of willing to kill for them if the situation calls for it, but his actions are subtle and tends to be the exact opposite of how he truly feels. Only two people in his life have been able to decipher his behavior, and he cherishes them for it. Ulric has a bit of a temper as well but is able to keep it in check. His temper, however, is what led him to becoming a Cursed Blood. His curse forces him to foresee the deaths of whomever he romantically falls in love (or at least feel an interest) with.

Any attempts at interfering will only hasten their death.

. . .

Xavier Wozwald Hawthorne

'Murderers are dumbasses, always killing because of their unchecked emotions and pented up desires. Hence why most of them clumsily try to hide their crime. Serial killers are more... sofisticated with their craft, but their ego always gets in the way. If they weren’t complete dumbasses, they would have lived a long comfortable life. I should know.’

Note: Yes, this is obviously Vflower. Did I know that before? No. Do I plan to change the art reference? Yes, but only when I find one that’s not a god dang real-life person’s online avatar. XD Seriously, each time I thought I found one... it’s an utaite or vtuber.

Is a member of Mythral and a First Generation Nors. Like Rei, he is a Floater, which allows him to particiate in mission for all three factions. However, he prefers to work with those in Tunera Clypse as, since they mostly handle scouting and recruiting missions. As long as he doesn’t remain in Avarus for too long, he's fine with accepting any mission related to Tunera. Xavier will still accept missions from other factions, but that's merely to fill up his quota.

Despite appearing around the age 12-14; which was not by choice, Xavier is in fact mentally older than most of his fellow Nors. Known for his sharp tongue, Xavier is one of the few known Nors to have been granted permission to travel outworld immediately after undergoing the Ascenscion Ceremony.

Due to the experiences his past life went through, Xavier has a very grim outlook of the world and displays little to no respect towards authority figures. And that includes his current patron God; Belial, which only worsens after being told by the God that he is unable to help Xavier grow into the appropriate intended size. Unlike most Nors, he displays a high degree of critical thinking and intelligent. He is, if not more, level-headed than one of his friends; Percy. Though that doesn’t stop the teasing. While confident in his abilities in terms of combat, Xavier knows the limits of his current smaller body.

In order to compensate, he creates an excessively large scythe as compensation, but he's too proud to admit this.

Because of his level of maturity, he has been labeled as a 'Midget Grandpa'. Which he fails at trying to prove otherwise by collecting certain tthings that are considered out of date by their standards. Eventually, it became a soft of hobby for him to collect such things.

Xavier tends to display a sadistic nature while in combat, choosing to taunt his opponent by constantly pointing our their obvious flaws deficits and toy with them until the last minute. Most times, he will use his child-like appearance to his advantage to further torment his opponent/victim. Comically enough, if his opponent is a cold-blooded criminal, Xavier will compliment and , depending on their actions, congratulate them; much to the annoyance of those involved.

Like Sound, he has both a Physical and Blood-based Curse, but unlike  the latter, Xavier was born with both. His Physical Curse has caused severe permanent scarring on his right arm, making it appear similar to third degree burns. If freed from any type of coverage, such as bandages, his arm will painfully be set a blazed, forcing him to conceal his arm at all times. As a Cursed Blood, Xavier has a similar effect of a Siren, except his hypnotic singing forces someone to commit suicide. Every time he uses this curse, he temporarily falls into a coma.

. . .

Succu(bus) Kilmer

Like her name suggests, Succu is a succubus, but belongs to a different version of her species. Due to being a demon, she is forbidden to reveal her true name. Succu is neither a Nors nor a Cursed Blood. She’s more of an illegal immigrant after sneaking her way into a group of Nors when they were scouting for potential recruits. There have been many attempts in trying to relocate her back to her original world, but she is able to seduce her attackers and slip away. Eventually, Belial declared that she will be allowed to remain as a resident, so long as she contributes in their mission to locate Soleil.

While they do seduce those of the opposite sex, her source of food is not as grotesque as several others. She does seduce her victim, but moves her body in a way that her victims find alluring. Succu will then massage certain parts of their body as a means to relax them. To assure that they will not attempt to escape, she will release pheremones that nulls the victims senses. What she devours isn’t the flesh of her victim nor does she devour their soul, she merely devours the emotions she was able to invoke until her hunger is quenched.

Succu is flirtaceous and very... very.... VERY- Well, you get the point. While she doesn’t flaunt her beauty, she does know how to use it to her advantage. However, despite many approaching her, Succu has only eyes for one, and is willing to wait as long as possible for that person to reciprocate her feelings. Succu, although assertive and open with her feelings, is not the type to force them onto someone.

She does like to express herself by getting physical - very physical. Not the way that you’re thinking, you perverts. She finds it more convenient to allow her actions to talk rather than saying things verbally. Since she’s an outsider, she notices several things that not even Pery or Ulric have noticed, and both are outsiders as well considering the fact they grew up outworld before being recruited. Regardless, she remains silent for the sake of remaining by her beloved’s side.

Succu is often mistaken as the Vessel of Lust due to her nature, and, on her part, finds it’s tiresome to prove that she is not.

Side Characters

Tank Mortem

A former member of Tunera Clypse and Mythral, Tank has been assigned to act as one of the engineers in maintaining the Infernian Generator due to his body’s condition and the issues of his mental state. He seldom participates in missions but, despite being given strict orders not to, joins in anyway. Due to the limits of his mental capacity, Tank has difficulty interacting with others. Quite literally.

Beatrix Staccato

Is a researcher and inventor in charge of the tools and weaponry utilized by most Nors and Ex-Animus. Having taken over most of the unfinished projects since the passing of his master, Beatrix has dedicated all of his time in improving the welfare of the world and its inhabitants. However, most of his experiments tend to be a bit... over the top. If he’s not thinking of new potential products that may benefits the Nors, he’ll make whatever comes at the top of his head, and most of the time it’ll lead him to make the most outrageous and unnecessary items. Beatrix prefers to remain in his lab/home at all times, rendering his social interactions with the three factions to be limited via holographic meetings.

‘Nyx’ Pierrot

Leader of Vanidicus Persona, she is one of the oldest Nors - next to Constantine - making her the default leader of her faction. Much about her is a mystery. Even her behavior can be viewed as... questionable. Not outlandish, that’s Sound’s department. Her behavior is so odd that it’s enough to baffle even Belial. She takes her leadership over her faction very seriously, however, as part of her nature, the requirements in joining and maintaining your membership vastly deviates from the original. However, looks can be deceiving. Aside from her seniority, there is a reason why she was given the position of leader.

Mitchell Pierrot

He prefers to be called as ‘Mitch’ after being told, and proven, by his sister how much of a tongue twister his name is if repeated constantly in a single conversation. While he is the younger brother of Nyx, Mitch opted to become a submember of Tunera Clypse upon undergoing the Ascension Ceremony to be in the same faction as his mentor, Perseus Vlahos. Compared to the Nors in his batch, he is viewed as weak by many as he is unable to perform the abilities that is expected of him to develop after becoming a Nors.

Constantine L. Refrain

Nothing is truly known about him except that he’s a chronic smoker. Nobody truly knows who he is, no one even knows which faction he belongs to. It’s nearly impossible to question these things as he is constantly surrounded by a shroud of - barely tolerable - smoke. All that is known is that he’s been around longer than most of the Ex-Animus. Constantine usually frequints the Silent Siren Bar, staying there for hours until he’s either drunk or needs to receive another pack of cigarretes from Beatrix. He says they’re for medicinal purposes buuuuut...

I’m pretty sure black smoke isn’t normal.

Stefan Mal Sorcier

Is Percy’s second pupil. Although, it was more like Percy was forced into taking in another after his continual refusal to become leader of Infernum Poncitator. Outwardly, he is aloof and always appears smiling, which unsettles Mitchell even when they’re alone. His politeness is found unusual by many and causes others to feel wary around him. Even the dragon finds himself is unable to remain in the same vicinity as the young man. Despite being full of many secrets, Percy accepts him as is and tries his best to teach him all he can, which Stefan appreciates.

Kyline Necro

Considered as the mascot ambassador of Avarus, like the soul that was fused with her upon birth, she mostly lounges around and has little participation in any missions in and out of Avarus. This has caused her to be disliked by many, most especially Ayane. The only person Kyline has gotten close to is Noise; mostly because they share the same favored sleeping spot. On a side, she acts a physician, or surgeon if you like to get technical. She has a strange fondness of picking apart and replacing specific limbs with doll parts.

Yu-Yan Chi Ryou

Was once one of the strongest Nors from Xavier’s batch until he was inflicted by an unknown disease during one of his missions. While there is no name for the disease, it has caused much of his bones to undergo crystallization; rendering him immobile due to the pain that comes from even the smallest of movements. Since he is incapable in participating in any activities, Yu-Yan has since been forced to be confined to a wheel chair for the rest of his life.

Anita Eine Kleine

Is the fighting instructor of the Mongrels and a member of Infernum Poncitator. Anita is a highly-skilled caster, able to conjure and manipulate various elements. She absolutely hates the term ‘witch’, even going as far as to cast a minor curse in making a person temporarily mute if they refer to her as one. Which Sound found rather offensive when he found out about the curse, something she deeply apologized for. She participates in some Scouting Missions but only if personally requested by someone from Tunera Clypse.

Victor Stein

Is Beatrix’s (only living) research assistant. He is the sole survivor of the Night of the Black Moon. Although having physically recovered, the damage to his mental state has left a deep scar on his psyche. He fears yet obsesses over the sensation of pain. There is not one instance where he isn’t found sowing over his own intact skin. While Victor knows his addiction found uncomfortable by others, he finds it extremely difficult to control his urges.

Wolfram

Grandfather of Ulric and most of his siblings, he is an Ex-Anima (or retired Nors) and a former member of the original Mythral. As the more experienced and one of the longest surviving resident of Avarus, he acts as a mentor to those who seek his guidance. However, in terms of combat, his skills are very limited as he has become permanently stuck in his wolf form. The only grandchildren he's ever personally met are Ulric and Seeing, who have both ironically became his favorite. While acting as a mentor, he is rather strict, constantly parting lessons in order to make sure none make the same mistakes he committed when he was younger, many of which he refuses to share.

Diantha Anemone

Despite being still a Liberi, Dia still participates in many activities meant to be done only by Nors. She originally wanted to become a part of Tunera Clypse due to the many adventures imparted by Sound. But after having a first hand experience in one, it traumatized her to the point where she wants to merely work as a Librarian, a position many people avoid.

Echo & Yell

Fellow teammates of Sound and Noise. As part of the four heads leaders that overwatch many of Tunera Clypse's activities, both in and out of Avarus. They mostly take charge of delegating the members while the other two take an active role in leading many scouting missions off-world. Contradicting her name, like Sound and Noise, her personality is the completely opposite. Due to her sociophobia, she is extremely shy and is unable to speak when talked to, only whispering her sentences as she talks. Yell, however, is the only one whose personality fits the mantle she inherited. Due to her curse, she has to raise her voice after every two hours. If not, she will fall into a coma, and she can only be awaken by *************.

Important Figures

Belial

Credits to: @airtrees0507 (Again, another artist who... disappeared from the internet. How do I keep finding refrences where the artist is just gone?)

Is a Celestial and the younger brother of Soleil. However, despite his godly status, he does not have any of the expected gifts. Neither a god of creation, life, or death, he has been given the title God of Void by his peers. Because of this, he is incapable of maintaining Avarus by himself, forcing him to use alternative (and questionable) means in preserving the world his sister created. Like his title, Belial is unable to express emotions, giving blank demeanor. He does, however, hold some semblence of emotions within him. Yet despite this, he has little to no understanding of life, death and emotions. Even after centuries since he over his sister’s role as Patron God, he still has no understanding to all living things, almost to the point of coming off as insensitive and heartless.

Belial has a deep devotion to his sister, having gone through great lengths to make sure to maintain her world and willingly sacrifice the lives of many. Despite knowing her distaste towards such acts, he holds onto the hope of one day finding her.

Soleil

Credits: Um... Lucare Eu??? Sorry, I’m just basing it off the signature. Once again, can’t find the artist themself so...

The true patron goddess of Avarus and the older sister of Belial. Aside from her status as the original creator and caretaker of her world and the life that once flourished within it, not much is known about her. While her exact cause of death is unknown, she was cursed to live an endless cycle of death and rebirth in various worlds. In order to restore the world she created and loved dearly, Belial dedicated his life in searching for her soul and freeing her of her curse. As a Celestial, she was said to have chosen to take the form of her first ever creation and first mortal friend. 

It is said that, despite having blessed with the gift of creation, she was known to be a lonely goddess. Those that new her describe as someone that’s physically there but is spiritually detached.

The Oracle

Is a title given to those with the ability to commune and guide the spirits to the Empyrean Plain, more specifically Avarus’ residences due to the absence of Soleil. The Oracle acts as the divine anchor on the world to aid Belial in prolonging the world’s existence. They are also the main source of Belial’s divine power; both of which are maintained through her prayers. The gender and species of the Oracle is non-specific, but it if preferred by Belial if they are humanoid and have the ability of speech for the sake of communication.

The current Oracle is Aniela Fischl, who, unlike her predecessors, is able to foresee various futures. She does so by carefully peeking through the leylines and selects various possibilities that solely benefit Avarus. No one is allowed to meet her except Belial and her assigned Seekers.

The Seekers

The guardians, caretaker, and acting medians between the Oracle and the residents of Avarus. Their duty is to ensure that the chosen Oracle remains within the Spiral Tower and that he/she fulfills their duty, even going as far as to grant their wish regardless of the consequenses. Each Seeker has only one desire, and that’s to protect the Oracle at all times.

Races

Liberi

Age Range: Birth or 5 to 10 years

Although that is the official term, ‘Mongrel’ is what they are commonly referred as. It is the used for the for the children taken to or born in Avarus. Mongrels spend most of their young lives training within the safe walls of the Aldebaran Academy. They are forbidden from leaving as, according to Belial, they are the extremely fragile during this point of their lives. Regardless of their age, depending on how well they’ve performed in training, they will be given the right of undergoing the Ascension Ceremony. Those who fail are xxxxxxxx xx.

Due to their young age, their behavior is more sporadic than that of a normal child. Their reflexes are enhanced, almost to the point where it becomes difficult to contain them. Mongrels lack common sense so they tend to act out without fully understanding the impact their actions have. While childish and friendly by nature, Travellers are advised to approach with caution. Those who act beyond the expected norm are called Prodigies.

Quietus Nors

Age Range: (Physically) 14-19, (Mentally) 10 or above

Or simply called, Nors. After their graduation, every Nors is immediately sent to work. Depending on the final results of their training prior to undergoing the ceremony/procedure, each is individually assigned into one of the three factions ; Infernum Poncitator, Vanidicus Persona, and lastly, Tunera Clypse (formerly called Tunera). Those that are assigned to neither of the factions are assigned to more menial jobs alongside the Ex-Animus,

Despite their young minds, they have quickly adapted into their new forms. Due to time becoming almost non-existant in Avarus, Nors age at a rapidly slow rate. Though known to be childish by nature due to the gap of their young minds to their bodies, they dangerously lack empathy and display little to no compassion and remorse towards others. In worst cases, some act selfishly on their own accord. On a positive note, they lack any emotions that may hinder their mission in locating Soleil; such as fear.

Only two of the three current generations of Nors differ greatly from the first:

First Generation Nors - Are those converted or directly born within Avarus with the blood of two Nors. Those born in the first generation share two specific physical characteristics; raven black hair and golden eyes. They all share the same abilities upon conversion/birth, but it depends on the individual which ones they should master. Unless they happen to be a Cursed Blood, they are unable to obtain different abilities to call their own. They are required to undergo the Ascension Ceremony.

Second Generation Nors - In terms of personality, they are considered half as bad as those in the first gen. Unlike the previous, second generation Nors are considered slightly weaker, however, they have a better chance of obtaining other abilities outside of Avarus. Their hair is slightly lighter shade of black but their eyes remain the same. They too are required to undergo the Ascension Ceremony.

Third Generation Nors - While rare, they do tend to appear once in a while. It’s not exact how one falls into this category. The closest is being the grandchild or who has an anscestor that was a Nors. Because of their circumstances, these Nors are far weaker as they cannot use any of the standard abilities. Third Generation Nors are far difficult to locate as their potential doesn’t surface until they are of a much later age, rendering them incapable of taking necessary training to hone their abilities and undergoing the Ascension Ceremony. They do not share the common personality or physical traits of a Nors. One thing every Nors in this generation share are sky blue eyes, which emit a faint glow when in the dark.

Ex-Animus (or Anima for singular)

Age Range: (Physically) 30 to 40, rarely appears in their early 20′s

Are individuals who are retired from their duties as a Nors. Although Nors generally age at an excessively slow rate (due to the effects of Avarus), after a number of cycles (which refers to the number of batches that underwent the Ascension Ceremony), they will be given the order to retire. Regardless whether they are willing to or not, there is nothing they can do once the order has been issued. Once one becomes an Ex-Anima, they are completely cut off from their original faction and are unable to leave Avarus for the rest of their life.

Not only that, they are unable to defend themselves like they used to as they can no longer control Astral Dust and use the abilities from their time as a Nors,Basically.  Basically, Ex-Animus’ are left to fend for themselves.

Factions

Every Nors is allowed to join any of the three factions; Infernum Poncitator, Vanidicus Persona , and Tunera Clypse. There is an option to not join any of the factions; they are called ‘Floaters’.

[deafwestnewsies]

there will always be someone to your rescue

Sarah Jacobs will stop at nothing to find her brother. 

davey x jack, sarah x kath

read it on my ao3! 

read part one (and from his lips came forth the world) here!

read part two (and oh, don’t you want to get better) here!

“What the fuck!” the girl barked, before slamming her fist down on the computer’s keyboard. Illuminated only by the light of her screen, the bags under her eyes became more prominent with every passing second. Typing away furiously, trying (and failing) another safety measure, she unconsciously began chewing on the ends of her hair. Another girl, more fair, more well-rested, slowly approached the working woman. 

“Darling, I know this is difficult-”

“He’s missing, Kath. No one has seen him in days.” Sarah jerked her shoulder out of Katherine’s tender touch, the other girl backing away with practiced patience. She flicked on the overhead light, exposing the forgotten cups of coffee, the leftover crusts of a sandwich Kath didn't even remember making, to the 3am world. 

It began with the phone call, the one Sarah made after her brother never returned home from what was supposed to be a run-of-the-mill job. Davey disappeared into the night and never came home again, causing Sarah to spiral into a cycle of worry and anger, with a hint of secrecy. Lying to her parents about where he was. Calling him, day and night. Trying to reactivate the tracker inside of his suit, the one that randomly sputtered out near the apartment village on campus. Sarah spent her days stalking the outside of that building, anxiously looking for her brother in every face that passed. 

“Please come to bed,” Katherine pleaded with her. “He is smart, and he is alive. And he will stay that way when you wake up, I swear. How can you help him when you’re half-dead yourself?” 

Sarah turned in her chair, the days of exhaustion clear on her face. Standing without warning, she crumpled into Kath’s arms, body wracked with sobs that couldn’t produce tears. “I hate him,” she whimpered. “Where did he go?” 

Katherine pet the top of her girlfriend’s head, feeling just as useless as before. “He’ll come home soon. He’s Davey.” 

&&&

 “What the fuck?” Race asked incredulously before slapping Davey across the face. “First, you go around robbing people. Second, you try to kill my boy, multiple times. Third, we take you in because we are clearly superior and stronger than you,” Davey’s jaw clenched in anger, an angry red handprint already forming on his cheek, “Fourth, you break a window in an apartment we lease, and fifth, you try to kill Jack and set half of Kohler park on fire. I liked it there, you asshole!” 

Jack did nothing but stand by, his body language steeped in anger. He wouldn’t protect David, not after what he had done, the lies that he had told him straight to his face. “I could do anything for you, too.” The words echoed in his head, louder than the blood pounding in his ears, causing him to blush furiously. He was so embarrassed. Jack had a duty to protect this city and the people he loved, and he let himself get distracted by a boy? A supervillain boy? It was enough to retire altogether. 

“Race,” Spot came up quietly behind the (still yelling) boy. “It’s 3am. We’s got neighbors.” Race angrily shook Spot’s hand off of his shoulder, his pent up rage redirecting itself. 

“We should kill you.” Race finalized, causing Jack to react for the first time.

“We aren’t killing him,” he said quietly. “We’re dealing with him in the morning. I’m-” Jack struggled to find the words as he locked eyes with David. He was silently pleading. “I’m going to bed.” Turning towards his bedroom, his final words followed him down the hall. “He sleeps on the couch tonight.” Pathetic. 

&&&

“Wake up-” Sarah felt hands shaking her awake. “Wake up, darling. You’ve gotta hear this!” She sat up, confused, just to have a computer screen shoved in her face, the unnatural light blinding her. “I was reading the paper and look!” 

Blinking through the pain, Sarah slowly read the headline of the article- Fire Set Late Last Night at Kohler Park, Source Unconfirmed. “Was anyone hurt?” She asked, the fog slowly clearing. Katherine, not answering, clicked to a different tab, revealing a police report. “How did you get th-?”

“Don’t question my methods, just read.” Robbery occurring at 52nd and West, unidentified white man, approximately 6’2, medium build. Witnesses saw a ‘bright light’ that appeared to be moving from one place to another that followed the culprit. $17,000 stolen, exactly. “And isn’t that how much Davey needed for tuition?” Katherine asked, practically bouncing off of her side of the bed. 

“Zine behsechel,” Sarah muttered under her breath. “Once I know he isn’t dead, I’m going to murder him.” 

&&&

Davey couldn’t stop counting the ceiling tiles. There were forty-nine in the living room, and thirteen that he could see in the kitchen. Round and round he went, the numbers always remaining the same, the only constant that was left in his life. 

He was in deep shit. There was no better way of saying it. 

The money had flown away as if by magic, all seventeen thousand that he had taken from that corner bank, the memory of bills slipping through his fingers stinging more than it should. The light of the fire still shone behind his eyes, the image of a lightning bolt, his lighting bolt, splitting a tree down the middle. His powers had grown in that moment and he felt it down at his core. Blinding light filling his lungs and carrying him across vast distances, Davey had felt faster than ever before. It was fueled by fear, however, and anger. He had just gotten so furious, so horribly angry at the world, the life he was meant to lead, that everything spiraled out of hand until it was all gone. Until there was only Jack. 

Pathetic. He was so pathetic! In his most vulnerable state he had just outed himself like that, his absolute pea brain thinking that that moment was a good time to tell Jack how he felt. Good, righteous Jack, Jack who had never done anything with a hint of malice in his life, Jack who had given him ten thousand second chances, Jack. How could he resist him? Sure, he had been their ‘prisoner,’ but they poked fun at him, let Davey in on their inside jokes, helped him muddle through a midterm. He felt whole again, something he hadn’t had for a long time. And now here he was, lying on a grimy sofa, split again into a million pieces. 

“Zine behsechel!” His mother’s favorite swear, and saying it out loud made him feel okay again, if only for a second. 

&&&

Sarah stared at the hundred dollar bill caught underneath her foot, halfway burnt to a crisp. The park was taped off, policemen roaming the area, and Katherine and Sarah stood in the corner. Katherine had flashed her student reporter badge claiming she was with The World, and as an officer asked to see it a little closer, Kath thanked him loudly and pulled Sarah under the caution tape with her. They now stood still, clutching their hands together tightly, unable to tear their eyes away from the wreckage.

This was more than a fire by a long shot. One tree lie on its side, split clean in half, the scorch marks still smouldering slightly, and Sarah couldn’t stop imagining her dear baby brother in the middle of all of this. Davey, who cared so much about their family, Davey, who sat with Les as he cried over math homework and secretly paid the bills when their parents couldn’t. He was just a little kid in her heart, but he was forced to grow up so fast. 

“I can’t believe he’s so… strong,” Kath whispered to her. “Where did he get all of this power?” 

“He’s always been able to do this,” Sarah said, the pain clear in her voice. “He’s been holding himself back.” 

Before Katherine could respond, a police scanner lit up behind them. “Sargent? We found a GPS device of some sort. We’re sending it your way.” 

&&&

Jack set a mug of coffee between them. “Drink it.” He demanded, the first words he had spoken all day. David carefully picked it up, surreptitiously smelling the drink. “It’s not poisoned, David. Just drink it.” His voice was tired. Jack was tired. 

“Can we talk about-”

“No.” Jack cut him off. “We’ll talk about that when I’m ready.” 

David took a sip. “‘S good.”

Jack nodded, already getting up. “It’s infused with rosewater.” 

&&&

“If I’m right, which I am, this will lead us to where he’s been the whole time,” Sarah crowed triumphantly. “Whoever disabled this was good, but I’m better and I-” she popped a panel out, “have all of the answers.” With a second of shaking, a small end ejected itself, and she plugged it into her computer. 

Getting the GPS back had been one hell of a ride. Katherine had a small notebook on hand, so she began asking questions to the nearest detective about ‘citizen concern’ and ‘exactly what action they were taking to catch the person who had done such a dastardly thing,’ while Sarah eyeballed the evidence table behind him. After three minutes of Katherine making questions up on the spot (“Always the mark of a good reporter, Sarah.”) they watched another man lumber by, dropping the GPS Sarah had so carefully handcrafted on the table. She winced at the rattle of parts, but gently touched Katherine on the arm and said she was using the restroom, only to slide past the table and pick up her creation. Minutes later Katherine had met her in the car, wrinkling her nose and tearing up the police officer’s number, which he had given to her “in case she needs to know anything else.” 

Now peering over her shoulder, Katherine scoffed. “That’s the same apartment building. That doesn’t help.” 

“Maybe so, but I am smarter than that.” Sarah stopped for a moment, turning to face her girlfriend with feigned shock. “You know I am smarter than that, right dear?” She kissed her quick, turning back to her computer. “I could track his footsteps, too. That way, if I were his eyes on a job, I could keep him hidden. But right now, that tells us exactly which apartment he walked up to.” She banged on her keyboard some more until she had an address.

Katherine was already grabbing their jackets as Sarah swept out of the doorway.

&&&

Race was pleading with David, which was quite the feat. “C’mon. I know we’re like, fighting over whatever right now, but pleeease play along.” David sat stone-faced, holding the script to the Merry Wives of Windsor, refusing to read lines with Race. “I’m begging you. We start tech week tomorrow, and I’m not even half memorized-”

“I don’t know what a tech week is,” the disgust evident in David’s voice, “but I can’t exactly turn the pages with these on.” He held up his hands, still bound by the specialized handcuffs. 

“Sure you can! Just kinda,” Race struggled to flip the pages with his wrists touching, “and then a little bit of,” adjusted the script in his lap, “and bam! Easy!” 

Rolling his eyes, Davey moved his legs apart and let the script fall to the ground. “Oops,” he said plaintively. A knock at the door saved them both from sparking another argument, and instead slapped Davey on the top of his head with his script. It reminded him of messing around with Les, in a way. Goddamnit, I almost killed his best friend and they’re still nice to me!

David was not prepared for Race to fall to the ground holding a bloody nose as soon as he opened the door. Sarah Jacobs stood on the other side, eyes blazing, and shouting, “Give me back my brother, you dipshit!” 

i just really wanted an excuse for katherine to call sarah 'darling' so i wrote this anyways this series is getting really dark and i don't think i can promise a happy ending just yet.

[sherlockmonkeesstartrek]

A Monkees Fic (Part 1)

Nothing special, just a little Monkees fic with some potential jonesmith.

Why couldn't it have been Davy? Or Peter, or Micky? They would just skulk off to someone else's bed, even Mike's, and they'd fall asleep in seconds. They'd snuggle up with their bodies pressed, almost clinging, to one of their friends, whichever it may be, and they'd sleep.

For Mike, however, he wasn't so comfortable with that. He was the one the others usually came into, and he'd muffle some reluctant agreement as he curled up, half asleep, making space for them. And if that didn't make them fall asleep straight away, he had other tricks up his sleeves. For Peter and Micky, a mug of hot chocolate consumed on the couch like some secret midnight snack while Mike watched on lovingly would usually do the trick. For Davy, some tea and toast shared at the table or served to him in bed. Yeah, that would get them off into the land of dreams.

But Mike, he didn't have a trick. He didn't have a leader to curl up next to and feel safe with. He didn't know what to do when he couldn’t sleep. All he knew, when his eyes refused to stay shut, was that he was in for a long night.

He sat up and looked over at Micky who lay, sprawled out on his bed, as though he were trying to take up as much space as possible. Could there be a more obvious sign that he didn’t want Mike in the bed, whether it was conscious or not? He looked so happy, probably dreaming of some gorgeous blonde, wearing some mini-skirt and short top that drove him wild. Knowing Micky, that girl would randomly turn into Peter, and without a hint of shame, would tell all the Monkees of the transformation in the morning.

A pair of old slippers his mum had sent him last Christmas sat faithfully by Mike’s bedside cabinet, looking as inviting as they did worn. Reluctantly, as he knew once he got up it would be harder to get to sleep later, he slipped out of the duvet, dipping his toes into the still fluffy insides of the shoes. They conformed to the shape of his feet perfectly, as though he were stepping into his own skin. With the added warmth of his pyjamas, a white patterned all-in-one, he didn’t fear the dreaded night time freeze that swept the Monkees pad. As far as his body was concerned, he was walking around in his warm bedsheets drawn up to his nose.

Funny thing is, he’d gotten as far as walking towards the door to exit his bedroom without actually thinking about his goal here. What did he want to do? Check and see if all his friends were asleep? Creepy… Go and write some songs? He feared waking them up… He just wanted out of his room, away from his mattress. His body ached to be moving.

He knew it was mean, but his mind did keep flashing up the image of the Monkeemobile. It would get him out the house, get him moving, get him thinking. He didn’t even have to go far. He could just flick on the radio, cruise down the motorway for half an hour. He’d be back before any of his friends had even tossed in their sleep.

It was cruel, because he hated leaving his boys alone in a house without him. What if they woke up, what if they couldn’t sleep? He wouldn’t be there, and they wouldn’t know where he’d gone.

He trotted down the spiral stairs on his tippy toes, debating in his mind whether he should remain in the pad, do some spring cleaning (at 1am in the morning) or break free for an hour or two, when he spotted his leather jacket hung on the back of the sofa. He’d left it there that evening. He’d left it there as though he could foresee this lack of sleep approaching. He was well aware of it and a pair of jeans sitting in the linin basket which were pretty much clean. All he needed was a quick chance and he could be out of the pad within minutes.

Guiltily, he scooped up the jacket. He clawed at the jeans. He slipped off his shoes and unzipped the front of his pyjamas. With a swift motion of removing the sleeve of one top to scooping another on, he transition between all-in-one to jacket quick enough to retain his warmth. Of course, the cold leather hung on his hot flesh, clung to his shoulders uncomfortably, but it would heat up quick enough. It was the zip up the front which was the worst, being ice, cold metal. He dragged it up, arching forward so not to let the teeth of it touch his chest. He managed despite the fact that, seconds later, he’d have to bare that cold whether he liked it or not. He had to bend down to thread his legs out of the pyjamas. Here he was not able to put on his jeans quite as skilfully as he had the jacket, so all the hairs on his legs bristled. He hissed as a breeze came over him, snatching up the jeans as fast as he could, yet not fast enough.

Placing his now numb feet back into his slippers, he deemed himself ready for a cruise in his car. He made a timid start towards the front door, curling his toes so the slippers remained close to his feet and not slapping against the wooden floor.

He got his long fingers out, ready to grasp the knob of the front door, when a voice echoed behind him, far too loud for the night.

“Mike?”

He spun around. There, standing close by, just out of his bedroom doorway, was Davy, fully dressed.

“What are you doing?” Mike hissed.

“I might ask you the same thing!” Davy stubbornly retorted. He stood up straight, as though he was trying to match Mike’s height, to intimidate the taller Monkee.

Mike straightened his back, “I asked you first.”

Davy rolled his eyes. Mike couldn’t quite believe that had worked. “Going to see a chick.”

Pretending to be wearing a watch, Mike looked at his wrist, “At this hour? Sure she wants to see you?”

“Yes. We arranged it. Now look! What are you doing?” Davy yelled back. Mike wasn’t sure how to reply.

I was going to get the hell away from you for a while.

He sighed, looking fatigued; not physically so, but emotionally, “I couldn’t sleep. Needed to clear my head.”

“Well, if you’re going in the Monkeemobile, want to gimme a lift?” Davy knew Mike so well. He didn’t even mention going in the car, and yet Davy knew. And he was a such a cheeky thing! Asking for a lift. Well, it gave a real excuse for getting out, and it may not be so long a journey, but it was enough.

He agreed and opened the door, letting Davy out first. Davy… the bloody Queen of England or something, if he expected Mike to chauffeur him and open doors for him, like the car one too, and blast the heating, because he deemed the car too cold to sit in. In some respects, Mike had so wished he hadn’t agreed. Too late. The little Monkee sat, happy as a prince, in shotgun. Mike walked around to the driver’s side, strapped himself in and pulled out of the driveway, praying that his other too boys would stay asleep.

[kunalkarankapoor]

The character study of Mohan Bhatnagar.

This is the fourth part of the character study of Mohan Bhatnagar. Brief post. Next part will be up sometime in the upcoming week.

11) Mohan and Chawanni

Video Link: Mohan/Nanhi Relationship Study

The nature of promises is that they remain immune to changing circumstances.

Spacey in House of Cards

The reason I chose to quote Kevin Spacey in House of Cards is 1) because he was absolutely awesome on that show and 2) because it points to an essential aspect of Mohan’s character and his relationship to Nanhi and Megha. Mohan’s promises often played a significant part in whether or not he was considered worthy of their adoration, e.g. when he promised to clear Amar’s name, when he promised to fix Megha post-accident, when he promised to solve the Riddhima issue, and when he promised to find and return with Addu. But there were times when things were not within his control and his promises were only his wanting desperately to fix everything. In such cases, his promises were not enough to those that he loved. In such situations, he did not hold the same value.

The bond between Mohan and Nanhi started out unique. When Mohan helped her with the ad for her mother, Nanhi turned her head and looked up at him with utter admiration written on her face. Her eyes widened in awe and her lips pulled up in a smile. A sweet development had taken place, i.e. from the elevator sequence to the ad-publishing sequence. Mohan saw himself reflected in Nanhi’s eyes as a hero, as someone capable of doing anything, fixing everything. Noticably, the chemistry between Kunal and Ashnoor in a large portion of the first season was simply heartwarming. There was a connection beyond the script from the very first time that they met in the elevator.

Perhaps it was what Nanhi needed in her life; someone who could fix her broken home. Meanwhile, Mohan found a friend in Nanhi; someone he could spar with, share his thoughts with. Nanhi seemed to become special to him, not because of her precociousness, but rather because she was the first one to break down the wall that he had built around himself. Equally, Mohan helped Nanhi face her fears and deal with her own situation (e.g. in relation to her mother). Mohan believed in their friendship because of Nanhi’s apparent accept of him and her seemingly blind faith in him. She had witnessed him at his worst – sarcastic, rude, his odd antics (e.g. the chewing gum scene) – and still she admired him, seeing no one but her Spiderman in him.

Her childish admiration and adoration made her lovable; the way that she would look at Mohan, as if he was more than a man made of flesh and bone, as if she trusted him blindly. Mohan seemed to feel more than at ease around Nanhi; he felt important. There was one scene in the park when she brought him an ice cream and he watched her with a pensive look in his eyes. Nanhi simply cocked her eyebrows in question, grinned, and then continued on with her own ice cream. It was a wordless exchange between them, but it said a great deal. Those moments along with the ones when Nanhi would randomly show up at his apartment, seat herself in his chair, and chat with him about nothing and everything, or when Mohan would climb over to her terrace and sit with her on the swing – those moments held incredible depth.

That feel of their relationship somehow faded toward the end of season one. Perhaps it was because their scenes had become limited. Perhaps it also had something to do with Nanhi’s character development. She had once been introduced as a wounded child who had adopted a frail role of maturity to cope with her circumstances (the loss of her father, the responsibility of taking care of her mother/brother). But somehow it all changed. Not in a developmental sense, but in a skipped-journey sense. Nanhi became uncharacteristically mature. The respect and admiration that she had once held for him became vague, e.g. there were times when she would roll her eyes at him, or make a gesture of him being nuts by moving her finger in a circle by her temple. She started to judge Mohan (e.g. when he could not keep his promises, when he could not live up to her expectations). He would become unworthy of her attention and, (much as with Megha), he would have to chase her to be forgiven. There was some essential part of Mohan and Nanhi’s beautiful bond that was lost to me as the season reached its end.

There was a scene in season one when Nanhi blamed Mohan for not keeping his promise, for being unable to fix her mother. That scene (along with the station scene in season two) seemed to show that Nanhi had not accepted Mohan as her father. He was a friend. He was Spiderman. But he could lose both positions depending on his ability to perform. It was what happened when Addu disappeared. It was about a lot more than Mohan slapping her brother and Addu “running away”. Nanhi only knew Mohan as Spiderman. When Mohan married Megha and became a stepfather, his struggle intensified (e.g. he had to prove himself as a responsible husband, father, and sustain his Spiderman image at the same time). And what one saw at the station, in the waiting room with Addu, was a tired man. The glamour had faded. Life had become a routine. Trying to appeal to Addu; trying to reach him, but constantly being rejected had become a daily ritual.

Nanhi could not understand it. She could only see that her Spiderman was not full of life or energy anymore. What she saw was his scolding and slapping Addu, but not how it was wearing him down. It did not make sense that she did not confront Mohan about any of it. Their friendship was such that they would talk to each other about almost anything. But Nanhi shut him out when he tried to speak to her about how hard it was for him to connect with Addu and that he needed her help with it. She distrusted him at that point because of Addu’s words and the slap incident. Mohan, on the other hand, did not know how she felt. However, he must have picked up on something as he told Nanhi in the second season that he did not talk to her about Addu, because he feared that she would take it the wrong way. Thus she must have given an indication of her position in relation to the Mohan-Addu issue long before Addu’s disappearance.

If Nanhi had been a simple child, and if she had not shared the bond that she did with Mohan, then her silence and distrust might have made perfect sense. But Nanhi was special. She was never only Nanhi, but also Spiderman’s Chawanni. In my opinion, she was supposed to have been the sole member of the Vyas clan that never distrusted Mohan because she was the one person, besides Guru, who should have known him better than anyone else. It seemed as if the channel/writers alternated between having her be only a child and then having her be a child who was remarkably perceptive.

Basically, at a certain point in season one, it seemed as if there was a bit of confusion (on the channel/writers’ part) in relation to not the relationship between Mohan and Nanhi, and Nanhi’s characterisation. There were times when they would have Nanhi show blind faith in Mohan, understanding him better than anyone else, sensing his pain almost as if it was her own, and insistently supporting him – and then suddenly they would show her distrusting his intentions as well as his actions, accusing/blaming him, and even disowning him as her father.

I used to see Nanhi as someone who would never lose her faith in Mohan (e.g. in the hospital scene, Addu should have been the one to blame Mohan; Nanhi should have been the one to defend him, because she believed that Mohan could fix anything – even if it took him some time to accomplish it). I used to see her as someone who would copy her mother, but who was really just Nanhi at heart. And though she came up for air in glimpses, Nanhi was drowned in what she became. Her trust in Mohan should have been sustained from the moment that they met till the moment that he abandoned her. I believe it might have made her resentment and anger toward him more real. It would have made me able to sympathise with her. She should have resented him for abandoning her in her hour of need (not in Megha’s or Addu’s hour of need). She should have been wounded by the fact that he deserted her when she had believed in him while the entire world had been against him.

For Mohan, it would have resulted in an all-consuming guilt in relation to Nanhi (and it did; looking at Kunal’s heartbreaking performance in the second season). Because in his head, he abandoned one child by mistake and the other by choice. Nanhi did confront him. She told him that he ran away. It was interesting to see how Mohan reacted to it. The fact that she accused him of abandoning her was a fatal blow because he had experienced abandonment firsthand. It had not been concern for Nanhi on his mind that fateful night. It had been about Megha and Addu. Though, at the same time, Nanhi had disowned him. We were not shown Nanhi’s behaviour toward him after the station incident, but seeing that Mohan left without a goodbye, they might not have been communicating at all. Mohan was, in fact, alienated long before he left.

Whether Mohan made a mistake or not, Nanhi in character would not have told him: I waited for you to call and say that you were coming home with Addu. It would not have been about his promise, about Addu. No, she would have said: I waited for you to call. I waited for you to come home. Thus it would have been about Mohan. But at times it seemed as if it was not Mohan who was invaluable, but rather what he could do for all of them, fix for all of them. It was especially frustrating during the Holi episodes (in the second season) when Nanhi told Megha that Spiderman was good and we should take him back. It would make us all happy again. It almost seemed as if Mohan was only an object of desire that they had picked up in a store; it seemed as if what made him happy did not matter as long as he could make them happy. No one stopped for a moment to inquire what he might want; if he wanted to come back to them, to become a part of their world again. There was never any questioning it (for Megha and Nanhi) because a part of them knew that he would always be there; that he would always want them. If they had not been convinced of it, I doubt that they would have dared to let him walk away, or owned/disowned him as they saw fit.

In the second season, Mohan finally came to terms with Nanhi’s rejection. It was a relief to watch him stand, shake the dust from his shoulders, and confront Nanhi about it all. He did not justify his actions. He did not use his past with his own father as an excuse. He relayed facts. The fact was that he did not have any role model in his life who could have guided his hand with Addu. The fact was that he did his best with what he had. The fact was that he was no god. What more could anyone have expected from a young man who had suddenly taken on the role of a husband and a parent of two children – both with their own needs?

There were quite a few moments between Mohan and an older Nanhi that I found beautiful, because they carried so much of that feel of their relationship from the initial episodes of season one. For instance when Nanhi saw Mohan for the first time after 12 years of his absence, she smiled in spite of herself. She forgot everything but him for a moment. Later, she opened the window in her room. It was meant as a challenge for her mother (script-wise), but I saw it as Nanhi allowing an opening for forgiveness. In fact, a part of her had already forgiven him, but seemed stubborn because of her loyalty toward Megha and Addu.

Furthermore, Kunal’s performance in his scenes with Nanhi drilled into my heart. It was bittersweet. There was a scene in which he realised who she was and followed her, calling her Chawanni. Every time he shouted “eh, Chawanni, sun na”, he made it sound completely different from all the other times. In this specific scene, there was a plea in his voice, and a sweet “come on, love” lacing it. I loved the shattered smile on his lips, how it collided with the painful delight on his face, and the cautious hope in his eyes as he spread his arms wide for an embrace that never came. The beauty of his performance was really in the details. It was in the way that he dropped to his knees and hugged an illusion, only to have it crushed when Nanhi walked out on him. It was in the way that his impatient joy magnified to the point of combustion and he sucked in a quick breath as she touched his chin. (Truly, Mohan was an emotionally heavier character in the second season. Thus it could not have been easy to slip into his skin day in and day out for months. If I had been Kunal’s shoes, I probably would have ended up with a depression.) Not to mention that the synchronisation between Kunal and Jayashree was intriguing to watch. It is hard to put into words, but it was almost as if Jayashree drew from Kunal’s performance and tried to complement the character of Mohan rather than simply deliver her dialogues on her own terms. If that makes sense. Sometimes I cannot find the words to describe what I experience.

Noticeably, one of the most painful scenes was when Mohan climbed into a bottle. There was a powerful shot of him that burned itself into my memory. It was when Mohan sat by the window in his room, drinking again. His eyes were wide and reflected the agony within. There was nothing but despair to trace in his features. And all because of a girl he had loved like a daughter, a boy he had loved like a son, and a woman that he had sacrificed so much for.

There seemed to be a part of Mohan that was incredibly hurt by Nanhi’s distrust. Even as her faith in him, in his ‘goodness’ was restored, it was as if their relationship had been irreversibly scarred. That one moment at the station was forever between them. Those 12 years of waiting for each other was forever between them. No amount of love and trust could change that now. No amount of adoration could erase it. Something had been altered between them. It showed in how cautious Mohan became around Nanhi, as if he did not have the complete authority over her as a father, as if he did not have the right, e.g. when Nanhi married Beera, even though she knew what Mohan wanted for her. It would have seemed more right and soothed some of the scars between Mohan and Nanhi if Nanhi had decided to discontinue the rituals — not because she did not trust Beera, but because Mohan’s decision and his distrust in Beera, at the time, mattered more to her.

But perhaps Mohan never had the right, in the first place.

[sending-the-message]

Time occasionally stops for me, and I absolutely hate it. by LucinaRage

More accurately, time seemingly randomly stops around me. I don't have any real control over it, though it does occasionally feel as though my thoughts or whatever can inadvertently cause it to occur. Though I can't imagine why I would ever want it to. As for what exactly caused me to acquire this horrifying "ability", if you even want to call it that, who knows? I'm not sure I even want to know. But it all started about a month ago, though to me, it feels like ages.

I've been hit by two very powerful things recently, and one of those things was a city bus. There's a reason for crosswalks, and the old saying "Look both ways before you cross the street." I didn't put either of those things to use and wound up in the hospital. The first time I came to, my parents and my sister were in the room with me. I vaguely remember seeing the excited relief wash over their faces that I had found my way back to consciousness. That moment was short lived, as I'm fairly certain I passed out again before they finished their first words to me. The second time I woke up, I felt strange. Not really in a bad way, but I definitely did not feel like I had just woken up from a coma. It was more like that foggy feeling you get when you wake up a few hours earlier than you should. Otherwise I felt fine, it was as if my body healed itself overnight. I was still in the same room, of that I'm fairly certain. However my family was nowhere to be seen, and as I looked around the room, I noticed a couple things that struck me as strange.

Most of the medical equipment that one might assume could be found in a hospital room was absent, for one. More concerning, however, was the nurse that I somehow overlooked on my first few passes of my surroundings. She was standing perfectly still, staring directly at me. Her rigid gaze locked with mine as I stared back for what felt like an hour, though it was probably only a matter of seconds. I was filled with a mixture of fear and confusion, still in the process of waking up from what I was no longer sure was a coma. Was this one of those wax statues? It had to be. No human could pull off what this woman was doing. It was uncanny how realistic she looked, and I swear there was emotion displayed on her face. Something I think was surprise.

I couldn't help but try and speak to her. I knew before I said anything that there would be no response, but for peace of mind I had to try. "So um...are you..?" was all I could muster. I waved my hand around in an attempt to elicit some form of response, maybe her eyes would follow. Nothing. I sat there for a few more minutes as I looked around the room that, barring the absence of medical equipment, seemed normal enough. Then something hit me, and this was that second powerful thing I mentioned earlier.

I waved my hand again. I know I did, I felt it. I felt the air move around my hand as I did it again and again, but I couldn't see it. I looked down at my arm, and it looked as though I was staring at a damn picture. This had to be a dream. I slapped myself in the face to prove a point to myself. My face felt it. My hand felt it. This time, my eyes registered something too. There was a black streak through the air, a trail that appeared to be left by my hand, leading to my right eye. The light around this trail looked bent and distorted, almost like someone dragged their finger across a painting that hadn't yet had a chance to dry. What the hell was going on?

Not knowing what else to do, I slid my legs sideways and off the bed. Doing so without being able to see them move was both insanely strange and challenging. After finally finding my footing and managing to stand up, I turned around to look at the bed that I had just pulled myself out of. What I saw, I will never forget. Directly behind me, the path I took to move myself out of the bed, was pitch black. That blackness was immediately surrounded by distorted light. As I took a few steps forward, the trail followed me. Making my way around the bed, I saw myself still laying there. My image's eyes were closed, and I was still lights out as far as I could tell.

Was this an out of body experience? Was I dead? No, there's no way. That didn't explain this trail of darkness I was dragging behind me as I walked down the hallway of the hospital. It took me a fair bit of practice, but I managed to get the hang of moving around without being able to see myself do so. In fact, I couldn't even look down and see my feet. It was as if my vision was just floating five feet above the ground. But I knew that the rest of my body was there. I could feel it. I felt the impact of my hand hitting walls. If I bent down, I could feel my legs, I knew they were there. Eventually I reached the conclusion that somehow time had stopped, but it forgot to stop me along with everything else. It also occurred to me that there's something nobody ever really talked about when they discussed super heroes that could freeze time, or wayward astronauts getting stuck in anomalies that did the same. If time stops, it's safe to assume that everything stops. People stop. Machines stop. Light stops. If light stops moving, it never reaches your eyes to allow you to see beyond what's already been reflected. As I moved forward, I could see my surroundings, but I figure that that's because the light was already there. To make that assumption would also imply that moving through that light pushed it out of the way, which made sense to me because it explained that pitch black trail I left in my wake.

Sound worked well enough, sure. I could hear myself make contact with metal handrails. I could hear myself speak. I figured that this was because I was there to cause it. As I moved around, I'd hear a strange, distorted buzzing, but nothing else unless it was something I had caused. Or at least, for a while.

I cautiously made my way down a set of stairs to the floor below me, for the most part just leaving my eyes closed. It was easier to do more intricate things if I just pretended I was blind, that way my eyes wouldn't betray what my body was doing. When I reached the bottom, I paused. I knew I heard something, something that sounded like heavy breathing. That sound continued for a split second before I stopped, and then it went quiet. It was probably just more of that residual mess of noise that would reach my ears as I moved around, but I wasn't entirely convinced. I took a few quiet steps forward, paused, and then a few more. I heard my footsteps, I heard my breathing, and then I heard something else. This time the noise didn't stop when I stopped. There was something getting close to me, something following my trail of darkness. At first it was quiet breathing, and then it grew heavy. Weighted steps moved with increasing speed, and I knew that I was their destination. Terror gripped me as I took off running down the hallway. My ears were overloaded with a cacophony of garbled noise, the noise I was making, and those heavy steps that pursued me. Heavy steps accompanied by an otherworldly sound that I can only assume was breathing, panting maybe. It was faster than I was, I know it was. I ran as fast as I could down that hallway that could never be long enough. I could turn back and look all I wanted, there was no chance in hell that I'd ever be able to see it. The deepest, iciest fear I had ever known consumed me as I reached the end of the hallway, slamming into a door that I had hoped and prayed would open for me.

The door didn't open. I screamed, that thing screamed, and I felt something akin to a blowtorch dragging itself down my arm before I collapsed to the floor. An ambient sound reached my ears, one that sounded as though I was surrounded by people. With my head still between my hands, I opened my eyes. There was no black trail, and there they were. My legs. My god damned legs with my feet right there at the end of them. I released my head, and watched my hands move around. I could see my hands. I saw my arms, one of them sporting a wound that looked like someone dragged a red hot kitchen knife across my skin. It hurt, but that pain was overwhelmed by the relief that I was alive.

"Sir?"

A voice called out. I never thought I would hear another voice again.

"Sir! Are you alright? What room are you in? We need to get you back in bed!"

I looked up to see one of the hospital's employees calling out to me. I was surrounded by dumbfounded onlookers. To them, it likely seemed as though I appeared out of nowhere. I can only assume that I looked like a lunatic when I looked around before slowly nodding with whatever ridiculous facial expression I was wearing.

That was the first time it happened, and it wasn't the last. Every time it happens, I hear that thing. I know it's there, and I know that I am its target. It's come close, but never as close as the first time. Let's hope it stays that way, because I am not even the least bit curious as to what the hell it is. I don't want to know. There is no way for me to prepare for it, short of maybe locking myself in a panic room to live out the rest of my days in secluded misery. Hell, that probably wouldn't be enough anyways. Escaping it seems like a complete impossibility. For now, I just have to count on time picking up its usual routine before it can reach me.