#just accurate depictions of them lol

[thathorriblebitch]

Hey look! The silly!

[nikialexx]

i updated my sim-self. everyone look at her :)

[fideidefenswhore]

I see the anti Annes are concern trolling at how "sexist" bsr is and how they fear for "future generations" if this is their gateway drug. It's a danger to society people! Win for Boleyn.

It's arguably so in certain scenes, the two writers of the series, one being a woman, the other nonbinary, doesn't preclude it from sexism.

But I would also consider it concern-trolling, and hypocritical, since many of them seem to find Anne’s death hilarious...I do almost think they mock Anne’s fans just for being earnest, compassion is not in currency. 

However, it does seem like, not all the historians, in the final edit, were in favor of, for example, the depiction of Mary Boleyn.

And it's surely infantile to cuss out one of the commentators for something they never said because you're upset that, in this series they contributed to, about their rival, the portrayal of your fave did not adequately kiss their ass to your exacting specifications. 

[midascrow]

Lucifer x GN!Reader

A Fan of the Devil?

———————//————

synopsis: Charlie’s father is introduced to the hotels “Gardener”, and comes to find out that they’re a fallen soul from above. He’s also surprised to learn that they’re a fan of his.

warnings: religious pressure(?)

an: Part 1? If this is well received ofc. This is told from Lucifer’s perspective and therefore his view and inner thoughts regarding what’s going on around him. I also threw in the idea that he’s bad with names cuz that feels very accurate to me lol

—————————————————————-

He hadn’t expected his daughter’s friends to be so….eccentric, upon meeting them. Of course he knew Charlie’s heart bled gold for any sinner around, but he thought-, more so he hoped that she would keep somewhat better company.

Especially in the revelation of this “RaDiO DEmOn”.

Baggie- Mag- Vaggie, was alright he supposed. She loves his daughter, perhaps just as much as he does,that much he was sure. And while he was a bit disheartened by having not known of their relationship prior, he was still content and moved by the way the two leaned towards each others embrace as they spoke.

His heart ached. Just a bit.

“Are they up in their room again?”

“I think they’re in the Garden again, hon.”

Garden? The hotel had a garden?

“Oh! Oh maybe we could-“

“I don’t know…you know how they can be about us going in there..”

“Pshhhh! I’m sure it’ll be fine Vaggie! Plus remember how they always talked about meeting him??”

Meeting who? Who’s meeting who??

Was there some kind of owl in here?

“Dad!”

“Ah!”

Charlie blinked down at her father in an awkward beam, watching his red eyes dart around nervously, for a moment or two. “Who?!-“ His throat dried and swelled in embarrassment, cracking his voice as he fixed his pride with a dust off his hat. “Uhm…Yes? Char?” Nailed it. Totally. Very cool and suave of you big boss.

His daughter smiled, a crease in her brow before she clasped his arm and tugged him forward, away from the peering eyes of the others and down a long corridor. “There’s someone- Well-there’s someone who’s been dying to meet you! Yknow ever since they arrived here it’s just be non stop-“

Someone wanted to meet him? Why??

Surely they were a weirdo.

His grimace must’ve given him away, because Vaggie, who he hadnt noticed following them till the moment of, gave a small hum, to cut through her girlfriends words.

“They were a bit of a fanatic on earth apparently.”

He dead panned.

“A cultist.”

“No.”

“A satanist?”

“That’s not even what satanists do!”

“…..”

“….A banker-“

“Just-!….Wait and you’ll see.”

He fell silent at that, a frown pulled onto his pale lips as his feet dragged him towards wherever they were headed.

He was a bit stumped when they came upon two large doors, both decorated in shimmering glass mozaics, depicting two dividing scenes. An Angel; hands carefully cupped around a beautifully red apple, kneeled down towards the other mural, was depicted on the right. And on the Left, in the same position, with the same red apple, a demon.

He shifted uncomfortably.

“Wow Honey! I uh- Didn’t know this door even existed! It’s very cool, yes yes very cool- now let’s head back to the-!” He called nervously, a half witted laugh leaving his sharp tooth smile as Charlie nodded vigorously, shiney eyes aglow as she took hold of the golden handles of the ornate doors, pulling them open with a mighty huff as a golden light spilled from inside.

It was startling to say the least, fact proven by how Lucifer felt his wings practically shoot from his back in defense, feathers cascading down in time with the petals and leaves that followed an imaginary breeze through the threshold.

His ears strained to hear the quiet sound of rushing water and leaves shaking, birds chirping and insects buzzing quietly somewhere in the back.

His skin warmed. Not in the way it naturally did from hells weather, but as if the sun was beaming down on his skin for the first time in eons. Of course, he knew it was fake. But it was so close.

“Oh- shit! Charlie!” A voice barked beyond the golden glow of the garden, a figure stepping out from the shadows of a large bush, covered in leaves and flowers as they stumbled clumsily through, racing towards the door and slamming it shut, completely ignorant to the king beside their hip, who’s gaze pierced them in silent wonder.

He hadn’t felt that in a while.

“What did I tell you about coming in unannounced! You could throw off the entire ecosystem! The slightest temperature shift might make one of the flowers wilt or one of the fruits shrivel! At least warn me before-“

“Ahem.”

The sinner paused, shoulders jumping stiffly as they froze, finger pointed towards Charlie rudely from their rant before their gaze shifted to the side.

He heard the way their breath hitched, and his chest puffed slightly in pride, wings fluttering just slightly.

“Hello there.” He was being cheeky, he knew that, though his smile felt a tad too genuine, caused by the sheer awe that glimmered across the sinners face at the sight of him. “Lucifer Morningstar, I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting yet.”

He couldn’t find it in himself to dislike that look. He was the avatar of pride after all.

And a small part of him took a rather large enjoyment in the stuttering and stumbling of the sinner before him.

“Y-Your highness! Oh my gosh-“ He grinned “I wasn’t expecting your company- I would’ve dressed more- well I-“ Vaggie coughed from the side, redirecting their attention as they picked the stray foliage form their hair and clothes in a frenzy, towards the garden around them.

With a startled gasp they quickly stepped to the side, nearly tumbling in their haste as they held their arm out, presenting the garden to the king. “It’s..it’s an honor to meet you Sir.” Your voice was steadier, but still thick with anxiety that stuck like molasses to your tongue.

He watched your hand tremble, just slightly. Like his.

His wings fluttered again. A warm feeling bursting through his chest and into his eyes, giving them that shine that reflected the faux golden glow of the sun in the large green room. “The pleasures all mine, My dear. Do you mind explaining what it is you have-.…here”

His smile faltered, gaze stuck on the tree that stood tall and proud in the center of the spacious garden. Its leaves and branches stretched far, each adorned by beautiful red..apples, that hung and shimmered in the light. He expected the familiar ache of guilt to swarm his heart, but was surprised when he found himself breathless instead.

“I hope it’s..somewhat accurate. I’ve only seen recreations of course, never the real thing..” Your voice was a bit muffled in his mind.

He felt you step cautiously beside him, as he continued to gaze reverently at the scene before him. Shadows and memories danced past his eyes and through the patches of sun that decorated the floor. He swore he could hear quiet calls and whispers mix with the rustling leaves.

“You made this?” It wasn’t really a question.

Plants weren’t common in hell. Especially none such as this. They simply couldn’t grow in the rotted soil that spread across his kingdom. And there was simply no pure water to be found that could sustain them. So how-

“I might’ve take a few things before I fell.” You laughed shyly, cheeks warmed under the sun and the intense gaze of the King that snapped towards you.

Lucifer finally got a proper look at you. At your eyes and your features. Your afflictions. There was no denying you were a human soul. It was clear as day and still beat deep in your being. But..

“You were in heaven?” He gasped, eyes wide, mouth agape as he turned fully towards you, the grip on his cane tight as he scanned over the few demonic markings that lined your body, and the big golden X that flashed across your entire being. For only his eyes to see.

A virtuous soul cast out? Was that even possible? To turn away a true, virtuous soul, one of the few who had made it into heavens gate from their life on earth-

“It’s safe to say I didn’t truly agree with heavens teachings. It was too…polished.” There was an easy going smile that matched your tone, as you let your eyes wander towards the tree that wisely outshined every other plant in the garden. You continued.

“Heaven wasn’t my first choice. Frankly I didnt believe in it to begin with. But my folks were..somewhat of zealots. They wanted the best for me, I know that. But I missed…” You paused, seemingly thoughtful as Lucifer watched you with rapt attention, you both becoming ignorant to the two lovers that slipped out.

Charlie smiled softly to herself. Her dad needed this.

“I missed the free will that their religion took away from me.” Your gaze was knowing, almost wise like the tree when it peered back into his own, and Lucifer swore he felt something crack. Something lift from his shoulders and pulled his wings away, letting them spread proudly, in a way he hadn’t felt or experienced in years. Possibly ever.

“You know….I always enjoyed the story of you they told on earth.” Lucifer grimaced again, the vision of you dimming for a moment as he glanced away.

“Is that so? I’m sure they’re singing my praises.” It was a dry laugh, his hands gesturing in a faux confidence, but his lips quirked when he heard your muffled one.

“No, many aren’t. Most seem to align themselves with Heavens view…” You hummed thoughtfully and stepped forwards into the soft grass that peaked through the cracks of brimstone. Lucifer followed, instinctively. He felt leashed by your presence, though not necessarily in a bad way.

“Though there are plenty, who think a little more like me. There’s many versions of your story. I always knew that the original couldn’t be the full story. Too..one sided. Time on earth taught me that there was always a second side. Someone’s else thoughts-, perspective. Falling only confirmed that.”

You words tangled with your fingers that fluttered across the branches of a close bush, caressing a small flower that curled into your touch. “The first thing I did was look for the story. Of the garden. I wanted to replicate it, though admittedly there was never much detail to go off!”

You laughed again and the sound was quickly becoming a favorite of his. It was gentle..understanding. It almost hurt.

“And when I read the story..it was different. More romantic for sure.” You flushed softly, cheeks warm again as you recalled the way the story of Lucifer and Lilith warmed your soul. “But..more honest. Heart breaking even. I couldn’t believe how horrible it was must’ve been…and never knowing how amazing your gift was..” you turned to him again, your gaze so earnest and true that it made him step back.

Lucifer couldn’t deny the warmth in his own cheeks. You were pretty..pretty? That felt mundane. You practically glowed in the garden. And while it wasn’t a perfect representation of what Eden had been, it was better.

Eden had always been..one dimensional. It lacked the depth and feeling that Lucifer had hoped to give humanity. It was gorgeous, there was no denying that. But it wasn’t real.

This…This, is what he had hoped for the garden to be. Alive. Truly alive.

And…you brought it life…because of him? It didn’t feel right in a way. Having spent so many years locked away by himself and mourning the sin and ruin he had created from his own selfish wish.

Selfish? Had it been selfish? At the time, when he had done it, it didn’t feel selfish. He wanted humanity to live. To be alive! Truly, and honestly alive.

And you were so Alive. You were dead here in hell and yet you were breathing life into this gorgeous scene because you chose to. You chose to fall too. You chose to be in hell.

Because of him? Because of his…gift?

It was ironic almost. Laughable even.

Your lips pursed, a worried sweat on your brow as you lost that roaring confidence that bled into your words prior. “I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to preach or anything-“ He stopped you.

“So-.…you’re a fan?” His lips screwed into a wobbly smile, embarrassment creeping up his neck at his less then poetic comment, though the laugh you graced him with almost made the shame worth it.

“You could say that. I personally think I hold the title of number one fan, but you know beggars can’t be choosers I suppose.” You gestured animatedly, a small smirk on your lips as you professed your..favor towards the king, and he gleamed.

“Well!” His hands flew to his suit, straightening it out and letting his chest puff out from its slumped frame. “May I know the name of my, alleged, number one fan?” His words were coy, smug as he gestured to you with a flourish that he had shown to the other residents. (Of course till you had so rudely stunned him to silence)

The smile you gifted him was holy.

“(Y/N)…Your highness.” Your bow was playful, a little awkward and strained, but it made him laugh.

“(Y/n), hm? I’ll be sure to remember that.” His throat cleared briefly, “I…hope you wouldn’t mind me stopping by sometime again soon..I’d like to hear a bit more about your garden.” He liked the way you looked at him in this moment. Disbelieving but so hopeful. Like he was something, someone to gaze at in such a way.

“I’d be honored.”

Maybe you had a fan of your own now, as well.

———————☆

[taevbears]

Movie Night

When horror movies don't scare you anymore, your boyfriend wants to figure out what you are afraid of.

⤑ pairing: Jungkook x fem!reader (feat. the Daegu boys) ⤑ genre: horror, mystery, suspense, one-shot ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ word count: 6.1k ⤑ warnings: obsessive behavior, stalking, depictions of kidnapping, torture, and multiple murders, hidden camera, non-explicit sex, a bit of angst, open ending. this fic gets pretty dark, so please be cautious of the warnings! ⤑ note: happy halloween! this started as a little spooky shower thought i had a little over a month ago and became this lol. i love reading scary stories, but lmao, i feel like i'm not very good at writing them. thank you @angelicyoongie for assuring me that this isn't as terrible as i think it is. also please note that this is a work of fiction and i don't think IRL jungkook is like the character in this fic at all

“No, please! Don’t hurt me!”

The shadow of a muscular, male figure looms over the female protagonist. His breaths are heavy from chasing her around, barely visible against the chilly, October air. Finally, he has her cornered. He holds up a sharp knife in the air.

The woman trembles on the ground, sobbing and pleading for her life to be spared. Mascara runs down her cheeks, and a look of hopelessness and despair fills her eyes. She holds her hands in front of her in a feeble attempt to defend herself.

The camera pans away as the killer violently stabs the woman. Her terrifying screams of pain and anguish echoes from the TV screen as fake blood splatters on the wall.

Blue and white light bathes over you and your date in the dim living room. You try to suppress a long yawn with the back of your hand.

You’re so bored, you’re practically in tears.

“You didn’t like it?” Jungkook asks you, chuckling at your reaction.

“It didn’t scare me,” you admit sheepishly, hoping he doesn’t get the wrong idea.

You love horror movies. It’s what inspired you to become a film student. You love being on the edge of your seat from the thrill and suspense that the main character acts out. You love being genuinely shocked from unexpected twists and jump-scares. You love a good ghost story that haunts you long after the credits roll, or the paranoia of a similar terrifying incident happening to you.

But perhaps, over time, they’ve lost a bit of their magic.

Although the production of movies has become phenomenal in recent years, movies these days seem to rely too heavily on shock value and nostalgia. Once popular franchises are milking out their legacies to a newer audience. There are so many retellings of the same, old stories that you can already accurately predict what will happen before you reach the ending. Even some of the most climactic scenes of the movie are so over-the-top, they’re almost comical.

Honestly, it has nothing to do with your date or even the so-called horror movie itself. You just don’t scare as easily anymore.

Jungkook peers are you curiously, a boyish grin on his face. “Then, what are you scared of?”

“I don’t know. Probably nothing.”

“Yeah? That’s a bold statement.”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

Jungkook laughs. “You have to be scared of something.”

You throw the question back at him. “Then, what are you afraid of?”

He thinks about it, rubbing his chin in thought and pushing his tongue against the lip rings on his mouth. Then, he meets your gaze. There’s a sparkle in his eyes as he smiles at you. “Hmm, I think I’d be scared to lose you.”

You find yourself smiling back at him.

“You’re so sweet, Kook,” you tell him, leaning over to kiss him.

Only recently, you and Jungkook started dating officially, and you really like him a lot. He’s very cute, funny, handsome, and perfect in many ways. Butterflies flutter in your stomach when you’re around him, and there’s still that exciting giddiness and eagerness of new love whenever he messages you or visits you in the evening.

In some ways, Jungkook is almost too good to be true.

Part of you wonders if there’s a catch.

But with his lips on yours, it’s easy to push that thought aside.

Credits roll on the screen as the movie comes to an end. His fingers glide up your thigh as yours tangle into his hair. The cool piercing on his lips presses against your bottom lip as he slips his tongue in your mouth, and a soft moan escapes you.

Suddenly, Jungkook pulls away and faces the TV. He uses the remote to tap out of the movie credits and browse through the list of recommended shows on your streaming service. Casually, trying to hide a teasing smirk, he asks, “How about we watch a different movie, then?”

You stare back at him, a bit stunned and flustered. But your own smile touches your lips.

“Or,” you suggest, grabbing his wrist to lower the remote. He turns away from the screen to look at you, eyes lingering on the sultry smile on your lips. “I know something else we can do instead.”

When you first saw Jungkook, you thought you were being catfished.

His selfie on the dating app included a slight head tilt, a pucker of his pierced lips, and a peace sign. Big, doe-shaped eyes stared back at you from your phone screen, and you noticed the tiny moles below his lip, on the tip of his nose, and on his cheek.

The second picture was of him and his brown doberman, affectionately named Bam. The picture was taken of them outside. One of his hands was holding a tennis ball and the other was gently touching the dog’s long ears. A small, fond smile tugged on your lips when you looked between them and realized that they kind of looked alike.

The third picture was him at the gym. It was a back-shot where he was using the equipment. Broad shoulders, buff arms and back, a tiny waist. You stared way too long at his strong muscles and the ink on his arm before you finally swiped right.

Turned out, much to your surprise, he liked your pictures too. The two of you were a match.

And it wasn’t long until he sent his first message to you. In your inbox, a simple: “hey :)”

On your first date, the two of you agreed to meet at a very public, very crowded bistro. You stood nervously by the building, dressed nice for the occasion. And in case anything went wrong or if this Jungkook guy wasn’t who you expected him to be, you shared your location and had a “send help lol” message on standby for your bestie, Min Yoongi.

As you waited, scrolling through and jumping around different apps on your phone, you found yourself to be surprised yet again.

Someone who looked like the guy you’ve been chatting with called out your name. And soon, he was standing in front of you: big eyes, bigger muscles, tiny beauty marks on his face, colorful ink on his arm, a charming smile, and a simple, “Hey, I’m Jungkook.”

One date turned to a second date. Then, a third. And by the fourth date, as he laid in your bed that night and snuggled close to you, it finally started to sink in that Jungkook wasn’t some figment of your imagination.

He was real, and sweet, and seemed to really like you as well.

Jungkook, like you, had an interest in filming. He especially liked editing videos for his dance challenges, short clips, and a series he called “Golden Closet Film” on his channel. While you imagined yourself to be a big director, working in movie sets, and making scripts come to life with your vision, Jungkook told you he’d like to film a project where you’re the star.

“I don’t think I’m on-screen material,” you replied, amused by the idea. You’re not an actress. You don’t think you have the kind of beauty filmmakers seek out for their lead roles. Hell, if anything, Jungkook would be a better fit for an acting gig.

“You are,” he insisted, brushing his thumb against your knuckles. “To me, you’re perfect.”

You smiled at him then, your heart fluttering by his words. “You are to me, too.”

It was shortly after that conversation when you both decided to date each other exclusively. And it felt like the kind of romance you’d see in the movies. Picture perfect, a little corny at times, and a thrilling whirlwind of laughter, teasing remarks, and intimate touches.

“Am I who you thought I’d be?” Jungkook asks you the next morning after the movie-night bust, propping himself up on the side and peering down on you. His arm flexes, colorful ink decorating it, as the thick comforter wraps around his bare body.

“No,” you confessed, still a bit tired from last night. You keep your eyes closed as you quietly murmur, “You’re even better.”

“Yeah?”

You don’t need to open your eyes to see the pleased look on his face. As you feel him press his lips against your cheek, you ask, “What about me? Am I who you thought I’d be?”

Had you opened your eyes then, perhaps you would’ve seen it. The blank look on his face as he pulls away from you, how the light in his eyes suddenly seems to vanish, as if he isn’t really looking at you anymore.

Jungkook doesn’t answer you right away. When you open your eyes, you see him shaking his head. The same, sweet boyish smile appears on his lips.

“You’re exactly what I’m looking for.”

The topic about exes inevitably came up early on in your relationship with Jungkook. You’ve dated casually before. Even thought you’d be getting somewhere with some of the guys you were talking to.

But none of them quite compared to Kim Taehyung.

You were a film student. He was a photography major. The two of you were bound to end up in some of the same classes together in the art division.

To you, it was love at first sight. You fell for him so hard and so fast.

What started as bumping into each other at the library and helping each other with assignments led to making out at each other’s dorms with the text books left unopened. Coffee dates between classes became anniversary dinners at nice restaurants. He introduced you to his parents, and you proposed going on a romantic getaway together.

The day you didn’t think you’d ever love anyone else was when he snapped a photo of you looking out at the scenery during that weekend trip. It was just you and him, and a natural setting that looked straight out of a movie.

He smiled to himself as he looked at the picture through his camera. That day, he called you his muse.

And in return, you told him that you loved him.

When you fell for Taehyung, you fell hard and fast. Eventually, it occurred to you that Taehyung didn’t do the same.

Sure, he cared about you. Sure, he loved you. But while you heard wedding bells and dreamed about your future with him, Taehyung was just starting to put himself out there in the world. His art was being recognized, and he was getting booked to shoot at weddings, parties, and other big events every week.

Soon, the dates happened less frequently. The romantic gestures of bringing you flowers, surprising you on nice dates or small gifts, or even renting your favorite movies to watch together happened even less. He would promise that he’d make it to a party or an important event to you, just to let you down. And it felt like him giving you a bit of affection or attention was a chore.

Taehyung was the world to you, but the petty arguments and the distance that started growing between you two made it clear to you where his priorities were. And it wasn’t with you.

Breaking up with him was the hardest thing you had to do. Both of you knew it was coming. It was just a matter of who broke up with who first.

Just as Taehyung came into your life, quickly and effortlessly, he was gone. Nothing but bittersweet memories of what once was and what could have been weighed heavily on you for months.

What made it worse was that Taehyung, a man you loved with all your heart, had moved on from you so fast and so easily.

You saw him and his new girlfriend at a mutual friend’s party. You were warned that he’d be there, that he was already seeing someone. But it still hurt like hell to see him happy and in love with another person.

But if Taehyung could move on, so could you.

It felt weird at first, but you started to put yourself out there again. You joined dating apps. You went out with the people that fancied your interest. You met Jungkook.

And from there, everything was history.

With Jungkook, you started to think about Taehyung a lot less. The plaguing “what ifs” have quieted down, and the hurt from heartbreak began to heal. With Jungkook, you started to feel like yourself again: you started to smile more, laugh more loudly, enjoy watching movies again, became passionate about cinematic ideas you’d like to create one day.

With Jungkook, you’re also cautiously optimistic.

Because like Taehyung, you feel yourself falling hard and fast for Jungkook. It’s almost scary how truly perfect he is.

“I think you’re just psyching yourself out,” Yoongi tells you, sliding into the chair opposite of you with two cups of coffee in his hands. He smells like freshly-baked cookies. A spot of flour stains his apron as he uses his fifteen-minute break to hang out with you.

“Maybe,” you sigh, gratefully taking the drink he hands you. “What do you think about him?”

“Does my opinion even matter at this point? You’re in love with him,” he drawls before taking a sip of his Iced Americano.

“Of course it does, best friend. Why else would I keep you around?” you remark, taking a sip of your own drink. “Besides the free coffee and cookies. Thank you, by the way.”

He rolls his eyes. The perks of being friends with the cookie boy at your local bakery is a free cup of coffee and getting dibs on leftover treats that didn’t sell the day.

“He’s fine. Kind of annoying. A little too energetic,” he answers as his eyes flit toward the TV screen that his boss keeps on. A woman dressed in bright, business clothing holds a microphone as she reports on the recent news. There’s a grim look on her face.

You have your back turned to it, but you can hear Yoongi’s boss turning up the volume.

Breaking news. Missing woman found dead near home. The victim has succumbed to multiple stab wounds. It is believed that she has been kidnapped and tortured prior to her violent death. The attacker is currently unknown and still at large. Local authorities advise staying indoors and to please report any suspicious activity.

Your heart sinks as you look over your shoulder, seeing police taping off the crime scene and answering what they can to the news outlets. The location is so close to where you are.

“This is the second victim,” a customer mutters with a frown.

The person they’re with nods their head and asks, “Do you think they’re connected?”

“I don’t know. I hope not. We’ll have a serial killer in our hands.”

“Hey,” Yoongi calls your attention. When you look at him, there’s concern on his face. “If you need a ride anywhere, make sure you call me. Doesn’t matter what time.”

“I’ll be okay, Yoongi. Jungkook usually comes to my place anyway.”

“Still. Just let me know that you’re still alive when I check in, all right?” he says as he stares at the screen. You don’t blame him for being worried. As you follow his gaze, you see a picture of the latest victim of the ongoing case that has the whole town on edge.

This woman, like the others, kind of looks like you.

“If you’re with me, you have nothing to worry about,” Jungkook assures you, throwing a tennis ball as Bam hurriedly chases after it. 

The two of you are at a park with his dobermann. Despite how scary it’s been lately with the news, it’s a nice day. Children are screaming and playing together on the playground as their parents watch them nearby. A group of teenage boys are playing basketball on the outdoor court. Middle-aged and elderly couples are paired up and are getting their daily steps in.

“My hero,” you joke half-heartedly, but you’re still a bit concerned. Yoongi being worried about you makes you feel paranoid.

Jungkook turns to you. He holds out his hand as Bam retrieves the ball and drops it for another throw. “I thought you weren't afraid of anything.”

“Movie-wise, I’m not. But this is different.”

Jungkook throws the slobbery ball again. Further this time as Bam barks happily and takes off. He takes a seat next to you on the park bench. “I can leave Bam with you when I have my evening shifts. He makes a good guard dog.”

He works as an editor and cameraman for a big content creator, which gives him lots of flexible hours to work on his projects when he isn’t busy filming. Since the beginning of autumn, his boss has been giving him evening work to film ghost-hunting videos and other spooky content for Halloween.

“That’ll be nice,” you reply with a small smile. The two of them have been coming to your place so often, it might as well be their second home.

From a short distance, Bam lies on the grass with the tennis ball by his paws. His tongue is out, needing a short break from running around, as he faces you and Jungkook. Even with other dogs and kids around, he’s very well-behaved.

Just as Jungkook tells you that he’ll get Bam, the sound of small, excited barks grab your attention. A familiar black and brown pomeranian approaches you like an old friend, wagging its tail and perking its ears up when it sees you.

Your heart nearly jumps when you recognize the dog.

“Tan!”

You know that voice. How could you not?

That deep, smooth baritone has haunted you for months.

Taehyung, your ex-boyfriend, stops in his tracks when he realizes why his pomeranian took off. The two of you were still together when he adopted Yeontan, and you were there to help raise him when he was still a puppy.

“Who’s this?” Jungkook asks, drawing your attention back to him. He reaches out to pet Yeontan, but the pomeranian growls at him. Almost like he wants to protect you from him.

“Sorry, he’s mine,” Taehyung apologizes, stepping closer to you two and picking his dog up. He looks at you as he tries to soothe the agitated Yeontan in his arms. “It’s been a while. How’ve you been?”

“Good,” you reply politely. Old feelings start to pull on your heart strings that you fervently try to ignore. “I’m good.”

“You look good,” Taehyung starts, but then he purses his lips in regret. It’s obvious that he’s nervous to talk to you. Maybe he feels the same as you.

Softly, you reply, “You do, too.”

“Who’s this?” Jungkook repeats. This time, there’s an annoyed look on his face as he stares at Taehyung. 

It puts you off a bit. Jungkook is usually a friendly guy.

“Oh, this is Taehyung. We used to date,” you tell him honestly. Though, the information seems to just annoy him more. “Taehyung, this is—”

“I’m Jungkook. She’s my girlfriend now.”

His arm snakes around you possessively. He holds a steady gaze, but it’s a look you’ve never seen on him before. Dark, threatening, and angry. It’s almost unnerving.

“I see…” Taehyung trails off as his gaze shifts toward him. Yeontan is still in his arms, growling and barking at Jungkook. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the pup so aggressive toward someone. Even Bam comes over, ditching his ball to guard over you and Jungkook.

“It was nice to see you, Taehyung,” you tell him, sensing the tension in the air and deciding to cut things off. He seems reluctant to leave.

“Yeah…” he continues to trail off, finally pulling his gaze away to look at you. It looks like there’s a million things he wants to say to you. In a lower tone, he tells you, “My number is still the same. If you ever want to talk.”

You frown. After the breakup, you’ve deleted his number and unfollowed him on social media. “Oh, I don’t—”

“Then I’ll call you,” he promises, firm with his decision.

You don’t get it. You and Taehyung have run into each other after the breakup before, and he’s never had an issue with you dating anyone after him. He clearly has moved on, and so have you. 

Why now?

What is it about Jungkook that has him worried for you?

“I don’t like that guy.”

Jungkook is still heated as he drives you home. His grip is tight around the steering wheel, and the tires screech when he makes a sharp turn. Bam stumbles a bit in the back before sticking his head out the window again.

“Slow down, Kook. You have nothing to be worried about.”

The radio blasts in the car, too much in a rush to connect his playlist to the stereo. It’s playing the week’s top music, and a catchy song from a popular artist fills the car.

Curious, you open your phone and check your followers. You’ve unfollowed Taehyung a long time ago on all your social platforms, finding it hard to look at any of his recent pictures – even just his scenic photography – without thinking about how he had once called you his muse.

But Taehyung never unfollowed you. He had always kept his inbox open for you.

“Did you see the way he was looking at me? It’s like he was looking down on me,” he continues to rant, speeding over a yellow light. He glances over at you and sees that you’re distracted with your phone. “I don’t like how you were looking at him either.”

“Are you serious?” you ask, turning your attention to him. “We barely talked. What the hell are you trying to insinuate?”

On the radio, the program is interrupted. One of the hosts makes a grim announcement.

Ladies and gentlemen, we just received unfortunate news that a third body has been found pertaining to a series of brutal deaths. 

“You still love him! You’ll go back and leave me again!” he suddenly snaps, throwing you off guard.

Silence follows the tension.

Then, you inquire, “Again?”

The third victim is a young female. Hair color and eye color match the previous victims as well, indicating that this might be a targeted attack by the killer.

Not once have you been unfaithful to Jungkook. Even when you were starting to message each other, you weren’t talking to anyone else. The two of you haven’t even been dating that long.

“Forget I said anything,” he starts with a frustrated sigh. But he realizes he’s fucked up.

“No, I’m not just going to forget it. What do you mean by that, Jungkook?”

As of now, authorities have no leads on a suspect. All victims have been kidnapped, tied up, and tortured prior to their deaths. We are led to believe that this is the work of a potential serial killer. 

He nearly slams to a stop. The seatbelt around you yanks you back from hitting the dashboard. Bam falls to the floor and you gasp as the back of your head hits your seat.

Jungkook doesn’t answer you, but for the first time, it feels like the rose-tinted glasses you have on him have fallen off. He’s always been perfect to you: sweet, athletic, talented, and kind. But the Jungkook before you is someone completely different.

This Jungkook scares you.

Stay inside. Lock your doors. Call the police if you see anything suspicious. Be safe out there, folks.

“I told you to forget about it, didn’t I?” he asks through gritted teeth and a harsh look in his eye.

You nod your head, hands trembling a bit as you hold onto your vibrating phone. The screen shows an unknown number trying to contact you.

“Is there a reason why your boyfriend called me?” Yoongi asks you from the other line. He has you on face-time, awkwardly propping up the camera to show his elbow as he mixes a batch of cookies.

It’s been about a week since you saw Jungkook.

After he dropped you off at home, he wanted to put it all behind him. He kissed you sweetly and murmured apologies for overreacting as his hands slipped under your shirt. But you sent him home before he could convince you to sleep with him. You were still upset about how hostile he was toward Taehyung, his accusations about you, and what his outburst meant.

That hasn’t stopped him from trying to get back to your good graces, though.

The number of missed calls from him keeps increasing by the hour. Ones that you leave unanswered or send straight to your voicemail. 

You don’t want to talk to him.

At your door, you hear him rapping his knuckles against the wooden frame and insistently ringing at your doorbell. From the other side of the door, he begs for a chance to explain. 

You don’t want to see him.

Clearly, after reaching you directly hasn’t worked, he’s starting to contact your friends.

“He’s probably trying to find me,” you tell Yoongi, poking at a bowl of fresh strawberries. You’re still dressed in your pajamas, sitting on a stool by the kitchen counter.

The sound of a small dog can be heard in the background of your line. It dawns on him that you’re not at your place or Jungkook’s.

Yoongi is silent for a moment. Then, he grabs the phone and asks, “What do you mean? Where are you?”

You don’t feel safe in your own home. And that day, while you were in Jungkook’s car, Taehyung called to check up on you. He was always good at reading people, and he warned you that he had a bad vibe about Jungkook.

And you’re starting to see what he meant.

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

When you turn your phone, you reveal Taehyung busy in the kitchen, cutting off the crusts from his sandwiches. He looks over his shoulder and gives a sheepish smile at the scandalized expression on your best friend’s face. “Hey Yoongi.”

“Can you please explain what’s going on? Why are you at your ex’s?”

So, you do. You tell him that Jungkook wouldn’t leave you alone, that you needed some space to cool off but he wouldn’t let you breathe. It was becoming overbearing and overwhelming.

Against your better judgment, you call Taehyung. He invites you to stay over at his place until you’re ready to talk things out with Jungkook. Because even if you’re not together, he still cares about you. Because a part of him will always love you. And at the time, it seemed like a good idea.

“I didn’t want to be alone, especially with a killer targeting women like me out there,” you explain quietly. It feels like the murders have increased in a shorter period of time. If the town wasn’t on edge before, they certainly are now. “But I was still mad at Jungkook, and he was starting to scare me.”

“So the first person you go to is your ex-boyfriend?”

“There’s nothing going on between us.”

That ship has sailed. You know it has when you walked in and saw his engagement pictures hanging on the wall.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I’m sure he would’ve figured out that I’d be with you,” you tell him with a frown.

“I just wanted to help her, hyung,” Taehyung adds as he stands behind you. “I worry about her too. That guy gives me and Tan a bad feeling.”

Yoongi sighs. “Listen, I don’t think this is a good idea either. You shouldn’t stay with Taehyung. It’ll just make things look a lot worse.”

“I guess you’re right,” you reluctantly agree. Taehyung grimaces, but he can see Yoongi’s point too.

“I’ll pick you up after my shift. You can stay with me until you’re ready to talk to Jungkook,” Yoongi tells you, looking rather serious. “Don’t do anything stupid in the meantime, okay?”

Hey. It’s Jungkook.

You stare at the message on your phone. Three dots that indicate that he’s typing something, but he keeps erasing and re-typing them again. As if he’s trying to properly convey his words.

Are we breaking up?

You stare at that message even longer. It feels childish to break up with him without trying to talk to him. For the first time in a week, you pick up your phone and type back.

You scared me, Kook.

His response is immediate.

I thought you weren’t scared of anything.

You huff when you realize he’s teasing you, even now.

Movie-wise, I’m not. But this. This is different, Kook. You were really scaring me.

Again, you see the dots appear and disappear before a handful of responses appear.

I know, babe. I’m sorry. Can you please come over? I want to show you something I’ve been working on.

You think about it.

I miss you. Bam misses you too.

Yoongi said not to do anything stupid.

Please, baby. We can just watch a movie, if you want.

But, like in every horror movie, the protagonist finds themselves making a plethora of stupid decisions.

Okay, Kook. I’ll come tonight.

Movie nights with Jungkook was one of the things you always looked forward to throughout the week. Nothing appealed to you more than a night-in with your boyfriend, food delivered at your door, and checking out new shows and movies.

You have your list of favorites, but nothing quite holds a place in your heart than a good ol’ horror movie. Tellings of urban legends, supernatural forces, paranormal activities, true crime, and slasher films. 

As you step into Jungkook’s house, it almost feels like you’re in one of those movies.

His place is dark, almost pitched black. You could barely see what’s in front of you.

“Come inside,” Jungkook says, grabbing your hand. He pulls you in and deadbolts the door behind you.

“It’s so dark,” you remark, gingerly stepping forward. You have a bad feeling about this. You almost pull back toward the door, thinking of waiting for Yoongi or going back to Taehyung instead.

But Jungkook has a firm grip on you. “I thought you weren’t afraid of anything.”

“This is different, Kook,” you try to reason. “You’re really freaking me out.”

He pulls you further inside. In the living room, nothing but the TV is on. The screen is paused on a homemade film.

This must be the project that Jungkook is talking about.

Everything is set. The living room is clean, a bowl of popcorn and a couple bottles of alcohol sits on the coffee table, the lights are off, and the show is ready to play. He sits you down in the middle and keeps an arm around you.

“You know, when we met, you were exactly what I was looking for,” he starts as he presses play.

The tape shows you. Bam lying on your lap as you affectionately pet his face and kiss the top of his head. You, holding Jungkook’s hand and leading him down a busy sidewalk. You, in the kitchen, trying to swat his hand away as he steals your ingredients. You and Jungkook, peering into the camera lens, and your bashful face as he kisses your cheek. 

A smile tugs on your lips as you watch yourself on the screen. Jungkook leans over, copying his onscreen self and kisses your face.

One thing you liked about filming is seeing things from a different perspective. In this case, seeing yourself through Jungkook’s eyes. You look so happy, so incredibly in love with him.

Like with Taehyung, you fell for Jungkook hard and fast.

But Jungkook fell for you harder and faster.

Your smile fades as the next scene shows.

The camera points to the bed, and a couple walks in. It’s you and Jungkook, stumbling in together after drinks at a bar. You’re laughing and trying to wrap your arms around him as he leads you onto the bed. The kiss you share is messy, heated. You tug off his clothes to feel more of him.

You remember that night, but…

“Jungkook. When did you record this?”

You had no idea he was filming you then.

You don’t realize it then, but he makes eye contact with the camera, as if to check that it’s on. He maneuvers you to get a good angle of your body as you busy yourself with your own clothes, wanting him to touch you more as well.

“Jungkook, stop. I didn’t—” 

You feel so sick to your stomach.

“Don’t cry, baby. Here, I’ll fast-forward.”

But you don’t want to watch anymore. You want to leave. You shouldn’t have come here.

The screen shows you and Yoongi. The two of you are at the bakery he works at, and you’re wearing an old cardigan that you got rid of . You smile and eagerly reach for one of the coffees in his hands and take the bag of cookies he’s holding between his lips. He rolls his eyes at something you say before he takes his first sip of his Iced Americano. It’s a typical hangout between you and him.

It looks like it was taken across the street. Your heart plummets even further when you realize that the old cardigan you’re wearing was a piece of clothing you got rid of before you met Jungkook.

The scene changes. You’re sitting at the fountain at your university, looking over a script you wrote for an assignment. Taehyung comes to take a seat next to you. He greets you with a boxy smile and a kiss. The two of you were still dating at the time.

How long has Jungkook known about you?

How long has he been targeting you?

It’s you and Taehyung again. This time, it was filmed from the other night. When Taehyung came to pick you up from your house. He helps you carry some of your things into his car and hugs you when he sees the distressed look on your face. 

“Jungkook, what the fuck?”

It dawns on you that you don’t really know your boyfriend at all.

You try to stand up, but Jungkook has a firm hold on you. His grip tightens when you try to resist him, and his hand seizes your neck as he pushes you down. Your heart hammers against your ribs when you quickly realize you can’t escape him. Jungkook is much stronger and faster than you are.

More images flash through the screen. It’s Jungkook this time, taking a mirror-selfie of himself dressed in all black. He has his hood up and a Halloween mask covering his face. 

It cuts to his feet walking across the sidewalk. Carefully, the camera tilts up, showing that there’s a woman just ahead of him. She’s about your height, her hair the same as yours. She doesn’t notice him as she listens to music playing in her earbuds. 

The scene cuts again, and the same woman is bound and gagged on a chair. Fear shines through her eyes as a shadow of a knife reflects from her body. Behind the camera, Jungkook demands, “Say your line.”

He removes the gag from her mouth. Her voice pitches in a high shrill as she quickly says, “I-I love you. I won’t leave you.”

You recognize her as the latest victim of the latest killings.

And the realization hits you like a truck. Jungkook and his night shifts, the increasing deaths, his interest in filming, having you as the star.

“I practiced, you know. I’ll get it right this time,” he tells you, pulling out some rope he had hidden behind the cushion. You’re trembling as he wraps them tightly around your wrist. “I’ll make sure you don’t leave me again.”

“You’re so bad,” the Jungkook on the screen says, showing what looks like an abandoned warehouse. It’s dimly lit, but you can hear someone running from him. But he doesn’t seem worried, his heavy footsteps casually echo across the concrete. In his hand is a sharp and bloody knife. Mockingly, he asks, “Where did you think you’d go?”

The victim has been let go, but she isn’t free. Ahead, she finds herself cornered as Jungkook catches up to her. Terrified, she holds her hands out in front of her, as if that would stop him.

It’s like seeing your own fate on the screen.

The woman begs and screams before her blood splatters across the floor. You find yourself quoting her, staring up at his darkened eyes. “No, please. Don’t hurt me.”

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks, staring right at you. His mouth twitches, fighting a smile. “I thought you liked horror movies.”

Thank you for reading ♡ Comments & reviews are greatly appreciated!

[luvbinnies]

~love on the radio... park wonbin smau series

☆ Keeho a famous influencer wants to make his radio talk show view ratings sky rocket. So what does he do, he invites two of his kpop idol friends from school to join to do a segment with him. But he had no idea the two used to rivals back in their school days. He also had no idea them bickering for half an hour would absolutely blow up and cause fans to start shipping them.

What does he do with that? He convinces (begs) them to become permanent hosts on the show and to continue to flirt (bicker) with each other. What can go wrong?

☆ pairing: idol!wonbin x gn!idol!reader

☆ genre: idol au, middle school rivals to strangers to ...?, fluff, humor, angst, slowburn lol (my fav <3).

☆ warnings: swearing, kys jokes (a lot), my attempt at being funny. will add for every chapter. i use some faceless photo's off Pinterest for reader, which aren't the most inclusive. also this is not an accurate depiction of the irl idols this is pure fiction

☆ note: keeho isn't an idol in the fic, he's also an sm drop out, there's a bunch of other idols (mainly from sm and hybe). the group yn is in is co-ed cuz i want to keep it gn!reader. first smau on this blog plz be nice, i'll update as much as i can <3

☆ permanent riize taglist: @in-somnias-world @ilovejungwonandhaechan @jungw0nlvr @molensworld @Pinklemonade34 @shyshy-sana @lecheugo @chuutaroo @chxrry-cvnt @thinkabt-vivi @kimmingyuslover @sseastar-main @haechansbbg @3l3-eve @imthisclosetokms @serafilms @thesunoosshining @hibernatinghamster @icywhatim @dutifullyannoyingfox @koeuh @eunbiland @haechology @imsiriuslyreal @ffixtionista @eunwoophobic @boopdidoosbloog @vatterie @sungchansfiance @bebskyy @nakam00t @wonychu @@ahnneyong @zenohtwo

☆ love on the radio taglist: @annswwa @rksbae @myizhous @istphanie @nyxvrse @euiioo @ohmykwonsoonyoung @chweverni @shotaroswifeyily @rllymark @sseastar-main @cottonfluffs @yangasm @daegale

☆ wanna join taglist ?? fill this form !!

★ minisode. zero - profiles. / profiles..

minisode. one - meep mop

minisode. two - neighborhood friendly ceo

minisode. three - fellow younglings

minisode. four - rebelling against sm phase

minisode. five - incomplete love story

minisode. six - lowkey crazy cool

minisode. seven - ruined being 12 and thriving

minisode. eight - photosynthesis

minisode. nine - no just no

minisode. ten - #wonyn

minisode. eleven - sound proof walls

minisode. twelve - deep caca poop

minisode. thirteen - I’m just a pookie

minisode. fourteen - there is a noise

minisode. fifteen - I have my sources

minisode. sixteen - middle school insults

minisode. seventeen - tie a tie wikihow

minisode. eigthteen - main slayer

minisode. nineteen - grow some big boy ballz

minisode. twenty - anti aespa era

minisode. twenty-one - late nights lol

minisode. twenty-two - go with the flow

minisode. twenty-three - sugar

[wombywoo]

Hello!!

I wanted to ask if you would be willing to share how you go about finding the references for the injuries you depict in your work? Your pieces where the CoD boys are sporting injuries, fresh and old, are always so lifelike and to my untrained eye seem entirely medically correct.

I have been trying my hand at drawing the boys retired and resting as well, but I’m finding it difficult to decide what work injuries to add and how to find the respective references.

How do you decide what injuries to portray? And how do you go about finding the reference material?

Your huge fan, amustikas

Oooh ok ok! I'm gonna post my answer publically because I think others would find this interesting too!

To preface, I am definitely NOT a medical professional, and as such, a lot of the stuff I choose to depict in my art is not so much..ah, medically accurate as it is....aesthetically pleasing 🤭

I'll start with scars, as a lot of us enjoy slashing up Simon's face with them, lol. Generally, I'll do a cursory google image search for the type of scar I'm looking for (be warned, these can be graphic) with searches like 'burn scar' 'surgery scar' etc. But I find that for things like cuts and lacerations, real-life scars are a bit innocuous and lame 🤷‍♀️ Unfortunately not everyone's skin wants to retain that perfect slash look™️😔

So what I usually end up referencing are costume prosthetic scars ✨

As you can see, they're pretty gnarly:

And you definitely don't have to go this intense, but I find that the dramatic, carved-like appearance of these translate better to art than a realistically healed wound 🤙

The other thing to consider is the prevalence of injuries in the military. From what I've gathered, the most common will be back/shoulder/limb injuries, just a general fucking up of the whole musculoskeletal system in general due to constant overuse 🤕 Hearing loss, shrapnel/blast/burn injuries are also common, as well as all the negative psychological effects :') goooood times (not)

I think it's neat to look up real-life examples of these things, but it can get a bit intense if you're squeamish...

SafeSearch is OFF, the horrors are REal 😳

So yeah...I tend to tone things down, all things considered...😅

For this particular piece:

I researched broken humerus injuries and treatment 👍 Poor boy 🥺(Yes, I am aware that I consumed entire articles and did a shit ton of research about this just to go ahead and put a female's x-ray in this fucking picture sdfghjkl rip💀😭)

But here you can see the actual process for applying the brace for this particular injury:

Neat, eh?

When I draw Johnny with a knee brace, it's usually a real authentic one you can buy on amazon:

Product placement blast!!!💥✨ Bezos, where is my cut?? 🫰

As for ones like this:

I tend to just...scatter some wounds around and patch them up accordingly, lol. Bruising around the eyes is common with any head injury, and surgical stitching will offer a nice puckered skin effect mmm 👌 (I swear I'm normal abt this)

I'm sure the medical malpractice lawsuits are stacking up for me now, but again--it's usually more about the ✨visuals✨

My parting advice would be--go nuts! Feel free to maim and mutilate and mangle to your heart's content 🥰

Thank you for the question, Amustikas! I love your art as well 💗🫶

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

hi! can i request ken x (male) reader who’s from texas and breaking ken’s idea of the patriarchy (mostly the realities of cowboy life lol) thank you!!

"Now what're you supposed to be, a cowboy or somethin'? Because it looks like you're goin' to a fashion show upstate."

Blinking owlishly, Ken spun around on his heels, coming face-to-face with you. He looked at your clothing up and down, noting you had a hat similar to his, along with ripped jeans, cowboy boots, and a buttoned plaid shirt.

His eyebrows furrowed with confusion, not seeing an apparent difference.

Nevertheless, he realized you were another human male who was trying to talk to him, and he was excited! This was his big chance to learn more about the patriarchy of the Real World!

But he didn't wanna let his eagerness show too much, so he leaned against a nearby pillar, keeping the books tucked against his side.

"Nah, I ain't goin' to no fashion show....partner..." He made a poor attempt at mimicking your accent, which he noted was heavily Southern, and it took all your willpower not to laugh your ass off.

Yet you couldn't help chuckling anyways, which made the blond pout as he adjusted the brim of his hat. "Awh I'm only teasin'." You shook your head. "I will say it does fit ya pretty good. Haven't seen anything like that back in Texas."

"...oh really? Thanks!" He put a big smile back on, trying to sound cool and casual. "Sounds like a fun place. I'm just here..seeing what this world's all about...getting accustomed to the patriarchy. Man, I wish Barbie told me about-"

"Hold on..." You stopped him in his tracks, being perplexed by several things he just said. "What about the patriarchy? You act as though it's a lifestyle-"

"Is it not? Because I see it all around us!" He spread his arms out. "It's incredible! Everything's backwards but yet...I'm just amazed! This world caters to us men!" Then he stepped closer, showing you the books in his hands depicting studies of horses and patriarchy, a sparkle in his eye. "Look, these books have already taught me so much!"

You blinked, taking one of them and frowning as you recognized the barcode as being from the school your cousin attended. "Ya realize you stole these from a school library, right-?"

"Back in Barbieland, we Kens had none of this stuff!!" He ignored your remark, yanking the book from your hands as he continued to babble on and on and how "awesome" the patriarchy is while pointing to a nearby horse statue.

He's acting as though this was the first time he's ever heard of it, firmly believing that it's all about men and horses.

That would've convinced you that this guy was either insane or living under a rock all his life....had he not mentioned "Barbieland", "Barbie", and "Ken".

'As in...the dolls my little cousins played with?' You pondered. 'Well it would certainly explain the outlandish outfit..and how it doesn't look like any lights are on upstairs...'

"So.." You cleared your throat, he was quick to shut up and let you continue, blinking as you offered your hand. "Before I forget...the name's [y/n]. A pleasure to meet ya."

He studied your gesture intensely, before putting forth his manliest handshake possible, his eyes lighting up when you laughed and complimented his strong grip. "And I'm Ken, the pleasure's all mine."

"Yeah, I figured."

"Well, [y/n]. You seem to embody everything a human man is, so...you got any advice for a fellow man who only just recently learned of all these great luxuries?" He raised an eyebrow.

You thought about it for a few moments, letting his hand go as your gaze went back to the books tucked under his arm. "Yeah, uh..for one, ya seem to be holdin' onto this "idea" that patriarchy's all about the horses. I hate to break it to ya....but it ain't that simple."

"....wait, it's not..?" He blinked in bewilderment, looking to the books and frowning. "Are you sure? Because these books told me-"

"They're outdated an' used for history projects at school. They don't accurately showcase modern cowboy culture, which is what ya seem to be enthralled with."

"...these don't???" His voice became higher-pitched, becoming utterly devastated that he was lied to. "But if it's not about horses..then...then what about the statues, hm? And those officers riding them?!"

"Ken..in this world anybody can ride a horse if they wanted to. You just happen to see more guys than gals doin' it."

"Oh..."

"Look, it's true that more men are in charge of stuff here in LA, but the patriarchy is really just a messy system that harms both sides." You frowned slightly. "It ain't somethin' I'd wanna idolize."

"...but why?"

You sighed, unsure of how you could possibly dumb it down for him even further. "'cuz it's turned some of my own friends and family into vile dirtbags who think the world owes them everything. I'd hate to see ya fall down that same pipeline."

He nodded in slight understanding, but seemed rather sad as he hugged the books to his chest, feeling like his dreams were shattered just as he began to realize them..

"I thought it was just like Barbieland..."

"Ya'll got a matriarchy there?"

"...I guess..? They write all the constitutions and stuff."

"And...how do they treat ya?"

"Like we're accessories." Ken huffed, eyebrows knitted together in frustration. "They aren't terrible, but...I only have a good day when Barbie looks at me..which...hasn't been happening lately. I was thinking if I could show her the cool horses and stuff...she'll see me differently. See me for the man I can be."

You never expected for this conversation to derail into you trying to resolve a doll's identity crisis, but it's clear he was holding onto the misconception that the "Real World" was just opposite of Barbieland--where men had it all here and ruled without flaw.

That was far from the truth.

"Now changin' yourself for a lady isn't what ya wanna do, son." You patted his shoulder, causing him to look up at you in astonishment. "You're good enough as you are. But I take it that deep down...ya just care about the horses?"

He nodded again.

"Then..how about instead of reading this misleading garbage--" You tapped the binder of one of the books "--ya talk to someone who's lived the authentic cowboy life? Somebody with experience?"

Looking all around, he seemed confused for a moment, before his gaze returned to yours. "Like....you?"

"Yup."

"Isn't being a man and wearing this not enough?"

"It's a wee bit more complicated than that. It's hard work. But if you're interested in that sort of life, I can tell ya all about it." You offered, smiling as you watched the grin return to his face.

"I'd love that. Now if I don't need these stupid books, then I'll just--" He went to toss the stack into the nearest trash bin, but you were quick to intervene.

"Hey, hey, hey! Ya can't just throw away school property like that!"

"...but you just called this "garbage"."

"It's a figure of speech, Ken." Sighing, you just shook your head, taking the books off his hands. "You'll learn a lot about that here. Let's just go return these and I'll tell ya all about my life back in Texas. Whatever ya wanna know, I'll do my best to answer."

Ken's eyes shimmered at the prospect of hanging out with another guy..like all the other humans he's seen. That's all he truly wanted, really--just to bond with someone and not be in some aggressive rivalry unlike what he had with the other Kens.

He's lucky he ran into you.

"Can I ask something now?"

"Sure..if it's less than ten words." You humored him.

"Do..you..own..horses..? That's four." He grinned, counting on his fingers just to be sure of it.

"I do. Poor things couldn't take the dry heat of Texas, so they came along with me in a truck. I'll show ya pictures after we return these books."

Ken nodded eagerly, unable to hide his excitement as he followed you back to the library, ready to learn more about your culture.

[bump1nthen1ght]

Made For Love (Incubus x GN!Reader)

Pairing: Sex worker!Incubus x GN!Reader

Warnings: Explicit content ahead! (18+ ONLY), Loss of Virginity, Spanking, Unsafe Sex (wrap it before you tap it folks)

Word Count: 2098 words

Summary: Sick and tired of waiting, you decide you’re ready to finally lose your virginity. Lucky for you, a friend of yours has a tantalizing suggestion on how to do so…

A/N: Ok so this was ORIGINALLY supposed to be a short drabble ( <1000 words) for Kinktober, but as y’all can tell I went into a writing frenzy and it became a full fic. Please forgive any typos, as the horniest muse ever possessed me as I typed and edited this and I’m too impatient not to post it lol. Hope y’all enjoy!

(P.S. Sex Work is Work and all sex workers deserve to be treated with respect. Do not necessarily take this fic as a completely accurate depiction of how sex work is performed. Nevertheless, enjoy some sweetness)

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You as well.”

The motel room you find yourself in is surpisingly homely. The flickering overheads have been turned off and replaced by soft lavender fairy lights strung around the bed frame. Cheap and stiff blankets have been neatly folded and put away in the closet, the bed now decorated with a big fluffy duvet and several plush pillows. Some candles have been lit and placed on the nearby desk.

“It's Joranez, right? Want to make sure I’m saying that correctly.”

“That’s right, but you can call me Jora, darling.” He winks, taking hold of both your hands, holding them to his chest. The action isn’t very intimate, but it can’t help but send a hot blush across your face. Jora is stunningly attractive, his silken hair pulled back in a low ponytail. His purple skin is flawless, shiny just like his horns, which curl and twist upwards. His smile is charming, sharp canines seeming so friendly despite everything.

“Is this okay?” Jora whispers, rubbing a thumb across the back of your palm. You nod, letting your fingers unfurl and touch the bare skin of his chest. “Do you remember the safe words, the ones in the email?”

“Y- yes. Lime for go, strawberry for stop.” You take a deep breath. “A-and banana for slow down.”

A clawed hand runs across your cheek, goosebumps running down yiur heck as Jora draws even closer. His breath brushes across your face, his yellow eyes glowing in the low light. Even though he’s a stranger, you can’t help but feel very safe.

“Good pet. Now, shall we get started?”

—

Jora had been recommended to you by a mutual friend, one of your best friends actually; Rory. She worked nights at a sex hotline and Jora often took shifts there during the drier months of the year. From what she had told you he was highly requested and had great reviews, known for perfectly crafting whatever mood or scenario his customers wanted. You had asked if it would be weird, sleeping with someone she knows so personally, but Rory had quickly quieted your fears. If anything it was better, as she knew you’d be in great hands and she was often quite protective.

So Rory gave you his work number and you scheduled the appointment to lose your virginity.

Given how you’re feeling right now, you think you made the right decision.

“You make such beautiful noises, dear.” Jora whispers in your ear, his long tongue licking up your trembling neck. “I’d love to hear more.”

He gets his wish, a moany breath leaving as he scissors his fingers inside of you, pads pressing hard on your outer walls. He chuckles, a warm sound that only makes your body hotter.

How easily he was able to undo you. You lay naked in his lap, legs spread wide and chest heaving with each breath. Sweat drips down your collarbone and your skin feels on fire, every soft touch and caress leaving tingles across your body. The duvet provides just enough purchase for you to dig your fingers into, still too shy to yank on Jora’s open robe.

The pleasant ache as Jora stretches you open on his finger was far better than you imagined, probably far better than some random hookup would have provided you. Starting with one, now two, he’s somehow slowly unraveled your senses. Now you sit as a putty ball of pleasure in his lap, all for him to treat.

Guess I’m a sub. You joke in your head, though you already had a suspicion before this. Or maybe Jora is just such a master of control that anyone falls to their knees in front of him. It wouldn’t surprise you.

“How about three?” Jora whispers in your ear, waiting for your timid nod before sinking a third finger inside you. He splays them out, stretching out your walls before resuming to thrust. Black and white spots speckle behind your eyelids, that burn in your gut only growing hotter. “So good pet, you’re doing fantastic.” Jora plants a soft peck on your temple, his free hand rubbing affectionate circles into your hips. Said hips jerk and spasm on his digits, desperate for more.

“I t-think…” You whimper, somehow still shy as this incubus is literally inside of you. “I think I’m ready for you c-cock.”

“Oh, is that so?” Jora teases, flexing his fingers again. “I think so too, lovely.”

Jora is slow and methodical as he pulls his fingers out of you, gently coaxing your hips to flip you around. Your shaky legs straddle his lap, Jora giving another gentle kiss to your lips. He grinds against you, getting a squeak and a shiver.

Jora begins to sit up, pushing you onto your back and adjusting for missionary position, but you stop him with hand to his chest.

“Actually, could we do Doggy style?” You request, somehow not stuttering your way through it.

Jora’s eyes widen, but its accompanied by a delighted smirk.

“Of course.”

With another gentle press to your hips, Jora flips you onto your stomach. A strong palm smoothes down your lower back, arching it into his hips as he adjusts himself. You can hear the sound of the lube bottle as Jora gets more, rubbing it over your entrance. A heated presence presses up against your hole, throbbing and slick. Even without seeing it, you can tell Jora is quite well endowed.

“Tell me if it hurts to much, okay dearie?”

You give a simple “uh-huh.”, trying to decide if you want to shove your face in the covers or stare into the void of the motel room.

Your brain decides for you, biting your lip and clenching your eyes when Jora finally begins to slide in you.

It doesn’t hurt, thank goodness, but it is a little…unusual. It’s a fullness where you didn’t even realize there was emptiness. As Jora goes further, you get the stretch in places you've never reached before, not with fingers or even a dildo. The unexplored is extra sensitive, your hips spasming as Jora eventually bottoms out inside you. He swivels his hips, the head of his cock brushing against something that feels amazing.

A clawed hand rubs your scalp, reaching down to pat your cheek. You can feel Jora’s body heat as he leans his chest closer, his robe rolled down his shoulders to expose his bare skin. “How does that feel?”

“Good.” You mutter, digging your face half into the covers. The noises bubbling in your throat are so whiny, so debauched, you can’t help but try to tamp them down. “You can m-move. Slowly.”

“Of course, dear.”

Jora sits up, grabbing gently onto the fat of your hips. The bed shifts as he pulls out halfway, before gently thrusting upward. You gasp, a strange sensation shooting up your stomach. Jora chuckles, pulling back slowly again. That emptiness feels wrong now, it feels incomplete.

“Faster, p-please.”

Jora must nod, though you didn't see it. His fingers dig into your sides, not enough to even leave a mark, and he begins humping in earnest.

Those noises you tried to suppress become impossibly loud, even in shaky breaths and moans. Bed springs squeak underneath you, the slap of Jora’s hips against yours sending a hot sensation down your legs. It's so lewd, but it feels so right.

“You feel amazing.” Jora moans. “Such a tight hole, all for me.” Jora speeds up a bit, met with your eager hips throwing backwards on his cock. “And a pretty face on top.”

All you can do is bite your lip, feeling a hit blush as Jora lavishes you with compliments. His pelvis pounds against your ass, toned muscle meeting the plush flesh. Jora begins to fondle the fat, giving it a light pat, holding back for your sake.

“Please slap my ass.” You whine, getting an extra eager thrust from Jora in response. You can’t see it, but you’re sure he’s smirking.

“You’re wish is my command.”

Jora’s palm meets the skin with a resounding slap, enough to jiggle your cheeks and surely to leave a mark, but you doubt it’s as hard as he can go.

“H-harder, please.”

Jora hums, rubbing the spot he just hit.

“Surprisingly naughty, aren’t you?” This time Jora reels back his hand and gives you a proper spank, enough to send your lower half forward. You weren’t quite sure what to expect, but you didn’t realize how good the stinging could feel. “I love it, you want some more?” Jora gyrates his hips, pressing his cockhead to the very deepest parts of you.

“Yes, yes!” You barely reocgnize your voice, keening and desperate. The moans as Jora slaps your ass again are depraved, downright erotic. He switches hands and slaps your other ass cheek, taking a moment to squeeze and fondle the fat afterwards. He begins to alternate his slaps, using the other hand to hold onto your hips and yank you back onto his cock. It hasn’t escaped your notice that he’s picked up the pace, each thrust reaching your guts at a quick speed. You can hear the slap of Jora’s balls as they hit your underside.

“You’re so gorgeous.” Jora purrs, voice so composed you wouldn’t even realize’s he’s blowing your back out. “Don’t you want to see yourself?”

Jora must see your brows furrow, cause he leans down and tilts your jaw forward. “Look up, dear.”

Opening your hazy eyes, you notice a full-length mirror in front of you both. It hadn’t been there before, or so your cock-drunk mind remembers, and you wonder if Jora had moved it in place with some minor magic. He was an incubus, after all.

But those thoughts come second to seeing how unraveled your look. Your face is flushed, sweat beading on your forehead. Your back is so arched you can see the way your ass jiggles with every thrust. Not to mention Jora, whose pony is slowly coming undone, looking like a literal Adonis. His sultry gaze burns in to you, toned chest and abs flexing with his humps. He had been so sweet at the beginning, but it seems your naughtiness has drawn out his mischievous side; He wears a big smirk, biting his lip and admiring the naughty picture you make in the mirror.

“See? Just as I told you-” Jora gives a particularly hard thrust and stars shoot across your vision, “-gorgeous.”

Your entire lower half feels lit up, a faint buzz going all the way down to your toes as your abdomen grows tighter and tighter. It’s so similar yet so different from when you’ve masturbated before. The coming climax feels hotter, more explosive, like a high you’ve only dreamed about.

Jora can tell, either with his specially-tuned senses or by the way your hole clenches. “Close, love?”

All you can do is nod, tongue lolled out with a mind too far gone. You’re thankful Jora had the wherewithall to ask where you’d like him to come at the start, as you have no way of giving an answer now.

“That's right, cum for me. I want to see you.”

That’s all it takes, the knot splitting in an instant as you come with Jora’s cock deep inside you. You can see him clench his eyes shut as your hole milks him, just pulling out in time to cum all over your back.

The next few minutes are a bit hazy. Your legs had collapsed under you, your brain thoroughly cock drunk and trying to reboot. Jora, ever the professional, quickly recuperated. He rubbed soft circles into your lower back, leaning over to get some cleaning wipes. You vaguely remember him flipping you onto your back, tilting your chin up and giving you some water. The sensation of the back of his knuckles, brushing along the side of your face comes to mind as you sipped.

“Good dearie.” Jora gives you a peck in the cheek. “You did so well, love. I’m happy I was able to share this with you.”

Jora is sweet and leta you take plenty of time to rest and come back to yourself, giving you another kiss and his card on your way out.

“If you ever want to be naughty again, love.”

You walked out with a tired yet enthusiastic pep in your step.

You definitely owe Rory one.

[changbinsboiledegg]

i've been a silent reader for a while now and i rlly like your works so i'm going to request something lol

so skz reactions to a hyper independent s/o? like hurt / comfort genre, you can even like idk state why they are like this as well if you want :)

take your time and remember to drink water 💦

that's all bye ✌️

Heyo silent anon 🫶Thank you for the request! I'm glad you requested! I sincerely hope this is accurate depictions and that this is what you were hoping for. I took time to research a bit to,,, not suck at it? lol but please lmk if this is okay!! I don't want to accidentally offend anybody :((( also, thank you! Please drink water too, lovely!

GN! Reader X SKZ

Warnings: vague/ brief mentions of traumas leading to hyper independence, stress, burnout, uselessness, guilt mentions, injury, hurt/comfort, brief argument?, past relationship/ betrayal mention, negative thoughts, swearing, kinda. If I'm missing any, lmk. If anything is wrong, LMK!!!!!

Note: Thank you for your patience btw! I sincerely hope you have a good day and I hope these are to your liking & what you pictured! Okay I'll shut up now. As always, if no one told you today, ily! Take care.

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Chan

Chan knows you’re very self reliant and accepts that. He can’t force you to ask for help when you needed. But he wished you’d come to him and weren’t afraid to lean on his shoulder when you needed just as you offered your shoulder for him to lean on when he needed.

You were looking for your wallet that you must’ve dropped when you went to visit Chan in the studio. The studio was now empty, but Chan’s things were still inside which indicated he would be back.

Knowing he was busy, you wanted to hurry and find your wallet before he returned. You checked under and on top of anything in the studio but came up empty every time.

“Shit.” You muttered, trying to retrace your steps. You didn’t ask for help because you felt confident that you would find it on your own. After all, everything you’ve done for yourself had been on your own.

You closed your eyes, knowing you needed to find your wallet. It had everything you needed inside. You cursed yourself for being so careless.

“You came back?” Chan asked, entering the studio. You were on your hands and knees, trying to see if your wallet fell under anything again.

“Looking for something?” He asked when you didn’t immediately respond. You sighed, sitting up on your knees.

“My wallet. Don’t worry, I know where it is.” You quickly replied, looking around the studio from the height you were at. Chan started to help you look, despite having other things to do.

“Hey, seriously. I can find it. Go work on your music.” You tried to reassure him. Chan shook his head, “it’s not a problem. I want to help.”

You knew there was nothing you could do to talk him out of stopping. This was one of the rare times he knew how to help when you wouldn’t ask.

“Chan—”

“Ah ha! Here you go, babe.” He handed your wallet to you with a satisfied grin. You took it from him, relieved, yet a feeling of defeat wash over you.

“Thank you.” You sighed, glancing over your wallet.

Chan put his hands on your shoulders, gently squeezing them. “Anytime. I mean it.”

Lee Know

You never asked for help. Especially when you really needed it. It’s just how you were conditioned. From childhood to adulthood, you were forced to do every thing yourself.

Whether the task was dangerous or not, you didn’t ask for help because you never really knew how.

You were changing a lightbulb that had went out during your study session. You grabbed a new lightbulb, a chair and a screwdriver to unscrew the light fixture.

This was something help would’ve been needed for. Not changing the lightbulb itself, but you seriously needed a spotter as the chair you were standing on was wobbly.

Minho was in the other room, talking to Jisung while you were changing the lightbulb.

You steadied yourself, attempting to screw the light fixture back on but the screw fell through your fingertips and on instinct, you tried to catch it before it hit the floor.

The screw wasn’t the only thing that hit the floor. You yelped as soon as your body thudded against the floor. You were blinded with pain for a few solid seconds when you were greeted by your boyfriend rushing to your side and trying to assess the situation before touching you.

“What happened?!” Minho asked, his expression laced with concern.

“Should I call an ambulance?” Jisung asked, shocked at what he was seeing.

“No! I’m okay!” You attempted to sit up but the pain went through your arm like shockwaves. Minho’s eyes widened, seeing your arm was broken.

“Yes, please call an ambulance.” Minho spared a glance at Jisung. You were about to shake your head, but a broken arm was beyond something you could simply fix yourself.

“My love, why didn’t you ask for help? You know that chair has a bad leg.” Minho’s tone was soft, trying to comfort you through your pain. You had a frown on your face, speaking up, “I didn’t need help— and that chair never gave me an issue before.”

“Maybe you didn’t need help to change the lightbulb, but definitely needed someone to keep the chair steady.” Minho grimaced at the way your arm had broken. You didn’t want to argue and seriously considered learning to ask for help as you were in a decent amount of pain.

“It’s okay to ask for help. I would rather you… not have a broken arm.” Minho tried to keep the mood light, even if he was freaking out inside. You slowly nodded, “I will ask… next time.”

You weren’t sure if you believed yourself, but it gave Minho relief for the mean time.

Changbin

You went from feeling an extreme amount of stress to feeling an extreme amount of guilt.

You were carrying boxes to the trunk of your car. Changbin helped you with what he could grab when he swung by to see what you were up to. When he saw you moving boxes, he wanted to help and didn’t ask first because he knew your answer.

You tried to stick to the heavier boxes, not wanting him to deal with those due to the weight they held. Even though you knew he could probably carry three heavy boxes in one trip.

You picked up a box that was seemingly too heavy for you to lift without your legs shaking underneath the weight.

The stress of packing and moving, and now this, frustrated you to an unbelievable extent. Changbin saw how you struggled with the box and quickly went over to take it from you.

“No, I got it.” You argued, almost stumbling backwards. Changbin caught you— and the box, steadying you.

“Come on, let me take it. You’re going to hurt—”

“I said I got it!” You snapped. A look of hurt flashed over his face, but he still took the box from you and silently walked it out to your car.

Changbin didn’t say anything for a while, helping you move into your new apartment and you actually letting him, feeling guilty for snapping at him. Receiving help wasn’t a bad thing, but to you, it meant there was something you couldn’t do.

You wanted to prove to yourself always that you were capable of everything. Which you were, but that didn’t convince you.

“Changbin.” You spoke up as he had gotten the last box— the box that made you snap at him, inside. He wordless looked at you, still hurt from before. You took a deep breath and stepped closer to him, hugging him tightly.

“I’m sorry. I was just frustrated but that’s no excuse to snap at you like that.” You apologized, the guilt only slightly melting away. Changbin’s arms wrapped around you after your apology and he kissed your cheek.

“I forgive you.” He finally spoke. You felt relief, although the guilt would remain for a while.

Hyunjin

Hyunjin was very aware of your hyper independence. He knew you were always busy. Not because there was anything you had to do, but because you always gave yourself things to do.

It was how you made yourself feel useful. You always had the need to be useful in some way.

Hyunjin wanted to help out in some way, ease the pressure off of your shoulders, not knowing it was how you allowed yourself to breathe.

He would clean for you, tidying things up for you, do your laundry when you were out. He even cooked or ordered takeout for you so you wouldn’t have to do it yourself after a long day.

“You really don’t need to do this for me.” You sounded slightly upset, but it wasn’t at Hyunjin. He knew this, luckily.

Hyunjin brushed off your tone and smiled, “it’s not a problem.”

You sighed, not wanting to argue with him. Especially when he showed you the smile that made your heart swell.

“I didn’t want you to feel suffocated in chores.” Hyunjin added, he took your hand and pulled you towards the kitchen now that you both knew there was nothing else for you to task yourself with.

He set the table and served dinner, both of you sitting across from each other.

You started to eat, at least allowing yourself to enjoy what your boyfriend had prepared. Hyunjin felt satisfied with himself once again, seeing how you looked when you relaxed.

“Thank you.” You finally thanked him, grateful. Hyunjin waved you off, smiling as he began to eat with you.

“Not a problem.”

You watched him for a few seconds, “this is really good. I don’t think I’ve ever told you.”

“You have.” He took another bite. “But again, thank you.”

Han

You never asked for help. The last time you asked for help resulted in you being hurt in a previous relationship. You tried to work through it, learn that not everyone is going to hurt you the way your ex did.

It was the day you got hurt and even though it didn’t hurt anymore, your heart seemed to think other wise. Jisung knew there was a specific day that bothered you inside, but never knew why. You refused to talk about it, even if deep down, you wanted to tell him.

You trusted Jisung, but there was always the suspicion creeping in and causing you to fight with yourself.

“Let’s go out to eat tonight. There’s a restaurant that just opened up.” Jisung invited, wanting to get your mind off of what was bothering you.

There it was again, the suspicion. ‘He’s going to break up with you during dinner.’ Your mind ran rampant with these thoughts.

‘He’s going to betray you like your ex did.’

You forced the thoughts back, telling yourself ‘Jisung is not like my ex. He’s better.’

Jisung’s heart sank at the lack of response. “Or… If you have something else in mind, I’m open to it.”

‘He’s only trying to lower your guard—’

“No! Yes, I’m up for trying this new restaurant.” You interrupted your negative thoughts. You weren’t going to let your past affect how you thought of Jisung and you certainly didn’t want to ruin his excitement.

Jisung smiled, his facial expression filling with relief. “Thank you. My treat—”

“No, I want to pay!” You objected, “you had a hard week.”

“No, no. I’m paying. I invited you, I should pay.” Jisung argued. You groaned, “no, Jisung. Come on. What if it’s expensive?”

“Then we can split the bill.” Jisung shrugged, “if I wasn’t already going to pay in full.”

And you let out a heavy sigh, knowing he wasn’t going to let up.

Felix

You found yourself looking up how to do basic tasks, even if you’ve done them multiple times before.

You tend to do this when you’re feeling particularly burned out and can’t focus properly.

“Damnit.” You muttered, slapping your hand against your thigh in frustration as you misspelled a word. You deleted the entire search and retyped it, only to misspell the same word.

You felt like crying or screaming or throwing your phone. You knew how to do laundry. You couldn’t explain to yourself why it mattered so much that you needed to look it up right away.

You were burned out. Mundane tasks were difficult to complete and you wanted it done, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

Looking up how to do certain things step by step was your way of convincing yourself it’s not that hard.

“Damnit!” You cursed a little louder, your hands shaking.

“Sweetheart? Are you okay?” Felix asked, peeking over your shoulder at the misspelled question in the search bar.

It was then that he realized how you were struggling.

“Want me to search it for you?” He asked, even if he knew you already knew how to do laundry.

He also knew it was your way of dealing with your burn out. You, of course, shook your head.

“No. I’m fine. I just need a minute.” You took a deep breath in and retyped the question, finally spelling it right and reading what Google had to offer.

“Why don’t you rest. I will take care of it.” Felix started to lift the laundry basket before you protested. “Wait, no, I got it.”

Felix saw the way your hands were shaking from the high volume of stress. He gave you a small smile and shook his head.

“Rest.”

Seungmin

“Yes.” - “No.”

“Yes.” Seungmin stood firm on his ‘yes’. You two have been arguing back and forth, you saying no, him saying yes.

He was going to help you whether you liked it or not. Especially with something he bought.

“Seungmin, come on.” You pleaded, wanting him to let you handle putting together the shelf he bought.

“Nope. I’m helping. Look, I already have the box open— one second.” Seungmin quickly fell to his knees and opened the box quickly.

You pinched the bridge of your nose as he started to take out the parts and screws that came with it.

“Look, I already touched the instructions manual. Now I have to help.” Seungmin beamed, opening the manual.

“Um… can you help me?” He asked, handing you the manual. You sat with him and looked over the manual.

“Fine. Give me the screws and—“

“No. Then you won’t let me help.” Seungmin cut you off. You tilted your head at your boyfriend.

“Fine, Seungmin. You open the screws and I’ll hold the pieces together. Good?” You wished he wasn’t so stubborn, but then again, maybe it was something you loved about him among all of the other things.

Seungmin grinned, satisfied.

“Fine by me.”

I.N

You learned at a young age that ‘if you want something done right, do it yourself’. No one helped you unless they wanted to and you didn’t ask for help because you wanted things ‘done right’.

You wanted to come out of that mindset, feeling burned out from always relying on yourself.

But you couldn’t help it. It wasn’t something you could come out of overnight.

“Jeongin? What are you… Hey, no.” You sighed, walking towards him after turning on the light. He was trying to clean the kitchen in the dark, not wanting to wake you up.

He knew that you’d feel stressed seeing the messy kitchen.

He didn’t want to see you so stressed and burned out like this. You started to join him, cleaning up, but Jeongin quickly moved over to stop you by taking your hands in his.

“Let me. I made this mess, after all.” Jeongin reassured, trying to justify cleaning the kitchen by himself.

“But it’s my kitchen.” You countered. Jeongin shook his head.

“It’s still my mess.”

“It’s still my kitchen.” You frowned, crossing your arms. Jeongin thought for a moment, trying to convince you that you don’t need to be the one to clean up all the time. Especially since it was his mess.

“If you threw my phone off of a cliff, would I need to buy a new phone or would you need to buy it?” He asked, tilting his head.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “what?”

“Hypothetically.”

“I would need to buy you a new phone because I was the one that threw it.” You replied, not understanding his hypothetical question and it’s relevancy to him cleaning your kitchen.

“Exactly. Therefore, my mess in your kitchen is my problem. Goodnight!” Jeongin grinned cheekily before getting back to cleaning.

[zal-cryptid]

fun fact, i didn't think that a betty spaghetti was a real toy because i've just never seen them before? but when i showed misfits in toyland to a friend they IMMEDIATELY said "oh a betty spaghetti!" so i guess i just never saw the betty spaghetti craze lol

now that i see them i realize just how accurate jen is lmao

but what are jen's toybrain instincts? i have no idea how betty spaghettis are meant to be played with, and i've basically not seen jen do or want to do anything but be a little shit to people

A key thing to look for when trying to figure out a toyfolk's toybrain instincts is to figure out what the toy is meant to do and what the toy is meant to be.

A baby doll, for example, is a toy resembling a human infant, so one can expect someone like Mel to exhibit traits associated with babyhood.

A Rubik's Cube would develop the urge to be rotated and solved. A stuffed animal would want to be cuddled. Most girls' dolls stereotypically have a compulsion to have tea parties. Ballerinas dance. Balls bounce. Toy soldiers march.

So...what is the purpose of a Betty Spaghetty doll? What personality is assigned to it? What is it a depiction of? What does the toy do? The doll is portrayed as a "fun-loving teenager or preteen". It's a bendable fashion doll that comes with exchangable body parts and accessories.

The reason why most of Jen's toybrain urges aren't that visible is because they're not that different to the traits she already had as a human. Flexible body, a love for fun, fashion, and accessorizing, a dark desire for dismemberment, a youthful personality...honestly, it was a perfect match.

[sugarpasteltmnt]

First of all, I gotta say that I absolutely LOVE your fic. I read the first chapter and just... didn't stop reading lol. It was so compelling and the way you describe emotions and depict Leo's mental state is so good!!!! I can't get enough of it. I love how you write his manic thought process and the way that his thoughts jump around in a very 'word association' type way! (That's super accurate to manic episodes!) I also really like the way that his awareness ebbs and flows and how you are able to indicate that to the reader while also maintaining the narrative. For real, kudos to you, that's a super difficult thing to do and you've pulled it off so well! It's absolutely stunning!

Question (and feel free not to answer if this is a spoiler or if you aren't sure), did Leo age in the Prison Dimension? Cause obviously the five years was FIVE YEARS, he didn't just time skip or anything, and he's definitely five years older mentally (for better or for worse, poor guy) but if the Prison Dimension essentially 'stops' bodily functions like hunger, thirst, exhaustion and.. dying, was his aging paused as well?

I'm low-key dying over the idea of Leo still being a kid physically. Like, the mental image of his brothers coming face-to-face with a visibly teenaged Leo who is more scar tissue than skin, it's just, ugghhgg. It's one thing to know 'oh he was a kid, he shouldn't have had to deal with this. He shouldn't have had to have been in that position, this is all so fucked up' but it's another thing entirely to see it, y'know?

Anyway, again feel free to ignore the question if it's spoiler territory or completely off the mark or if you don't have the spoons to answer. I mainly just wanted to say that I'm obsessed with your fic and it has me completely unhinged (pos). Was literally sobbing at 3AM while reading it. 10/10. Would recommend.

(also how the fuck do you write Leo so scary and threatening and yet also so adorable and charming and 'wet meow-meow stuck in the rain'. I'm frothing at the mouth wtf. The whiplash of being all 'oh no he's gonna kill- oh he's purring now, he's baby' is so fantastic holy shit)

THANK YOU THAT'S SO NICE WAAAAAAH 😭😭😭 i'm so glad people seem to enjoy it because i can always go a little TOO in depth at times and i hope it's never like, too boring or repetitious

and yes, Leo did age!! while the idea of Leo being a time capsule of his teenage self but now so warped is DELICIOUS... I love the idea he aged for several reasons. It was one (or maybe the only) way Leo knew time was passing for him-- which adds to the mental strain of knowing he was stuck there. Forever. And the emotional damage it would inflict on his family because it makes it just more transparent and painful how much time had passed. How long they left Leo there. As well as prove the point that time in the Prison Dimension passed at the same rate as it did on Earth.

Plus, I feel like there's another, dark, angsty edge to it that I couldn't resist. I feel like when the Prison Dimension was made, the primary goal was to trap the Krang for eternity. Whether intentional or not, the Mystic Warriors had practically made a place you could age. Where you can get hungry. Where you can get thirsty. Where you have to face all those painful needs of the body you just can't satisfy... But you just couldn't escape it. Ever.

That might make it a bit TOO dark to think about, but ultimately I just loved the idea of the brothers seeing Leo older like them and knowing that they had left him behind for so long. (toot-toot all aboard the angst train)

but omg i'm so glad you like it 😭 thank you for the ask it was super sweet 🩵

also

My Brother in Christ Pizza Supreme I wish i knew

[aiura-stan]

I love the idea that Teruhashi might be thinking this. (I know she isn’t Teruhashi, but still.) It’s so outright aggressive and mean, instead of her more low key “Saiki should be obsessed with me!” thoughts as in canon proper, lol.

Also notable that the first mention of Saiki being markedly different from other people is here: “If a normal person heard them he would undoubtedly have a mental breakdown after three seconds.” Maybe it’s true, probably an exaggeration on Saiki’s part, but it definitely highlights that what he deals with, mentally, is on another level, and he is able to deal with it.

LMAO. this one made me laugh… it’s like yikyak but worse!! like yikyak but including things people wouldn’t even say on there, read out loud… phewww.

Saiki says his powers are “in the wrong” rather than peoples’ thoughts. However, the way he words the second part about how you can’t dress up what’s on the inside strikes me as odd. I was trying to think of the reasoning behind this sort of sentiment that Saiki expresses here, because it repeats later in the manga proper. And I think, it boils down to this incorrect assumption he has, that people’s thoughts are their true feelings. My guess on where comes from is probably either Kuniharu or Kuusuke, who both express a lot of resentment for him. In each of their cases, that really is how they feel, and they make no effort to change it, and there’s not a lot of positive emotion thrown in there either. At least as a child, Kuusuke spent a lot of time actively trying to hurt his brother. And Kuniharu probably did too, if we take all of the examples of him trying to get “revenge” on Kusuo into account.

So it never occurs to him at first that people might have intrusive thoughts, or have thoughts they don’t necessarily believe pass through their heads, or thoughts they ultimately challenge and thoughts that directly contradict their behavior.

Okay angsty rant over lol

‘nother thing that strikes me as funny, not in a good way this time… really now. I have never met a girl who was that jealous of another girl’s boobs. If anything, I’ve met girls who got them too young and wished they hadn’t because of teasing.

Maybe it’s a cultural difference, maybe it’s the fact that a male author wrote this who doesn’t really know (or care) about accurately depicting teenage girls’ concerns in a comedy… anyways.

I beg to differ Saiki… that IS an incredible tattoo and I want to see it… I want that tattoo.. haha. And who cares if some people are bald?? and trans people exist?? Saiki likes to complain about things that do not matter at all. I guess he probably feels like it’s a burden to keep other people’s secrets, or something. He is just a teenager after all.

tbh I kind of wish that Asou had kept this if only for dramatic effect

come on… look at this…

Sigh. I love examples of Saiki interfering with fate just to help someone.

Okay, that’ll do it for part one of this post. Part two in a bit. 💕

[violetsiren90]

All I Haven't Said | Namjoon/Reader

💜 Chapter 3: Part 2 💜

Table of Contents: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 (part 1), Chapter 3 (part 2)

Pairing: idol!Namjoon/f!Reader

Genre: Soulmate AU; idol AU; chapter fic; strangers to lovers; a bit of idiots to lovers, tbh; slow burn; eventual romance; eventual smut; angst (life is messy & hearts are complex); OT7 featured

Summary: You found your soulmate - or rather, he found you. Turns out he's an idol of much acclaim who needs you for very real and unglamorous reasons. What could become of two hearts so used to giving of themselves when they are confronted with needing each other?

Chapter Word Count: ~7k

Chapter Warnings: This fic is 18+, as is all my work and my page as a whole; depictions of cancer and its treatment; secondhand embarrassment; awkward situations; soulmate skinship; loss of consciousness; dudes dude-broing a bit lol; mentions of minor character death (in past); cursing; chemo therapy and its symptoms; nausea and vomiting; characters eat meals; Reader is starting to grapple with some difficult feelings; Hybe kinda sorta depicted as being collective assholes in responding to this situation (gonna be a theme, guys)

Author's Note: Here comes part two! I know this is months coming (again), but I've finally found my stride with writing and work. I had this mostly done, and then redid some parts and finished editing, and well...I just hope you all enjoy it! My hope is to post part three in two weeks - I really want to get into a groove with plot progression here!

There is a lot of content in this chapter about medical procedures and treatment. I tried my best to represent these as accurately as possible with what information I could acquire, but if there are any misrepresentations, great or small, please don't hesitate to let me know!

Thank you again to all who have stuck with this story! I continue to be blown away by how much love you have all showered upon it, and I'm so excited to walk the path I intend for these two and have you all along for the ride!!

P.S. If you want to join the tag list, drop me a comment or an ask!

P.P.S. If no one has told you yet today, you're loved and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

"Out of sheer taciturnity the ceiling listens To the fall of ancient leafless rain, To feathers, to whatever the night imprisoned." ~Pablo Neruda

Chapter 3: My Windows Ache

Namjoon's labs had come back with even more promising numbers. A radiology scan had shown no shrinkage in his tumors, but the doctors commented that these were early days, and that the effects of the bond might even be keeping them from inflaming due to the chemo. You had watched him, smiling as the doctor reviewed the result, and couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. Your soulmate was on the road to recovery. 

     Nurse Cha quickly checked both of you over before initiating another skinship session.

     "I saw you out on the grounds earlier, and for the first time in weeks," she said, shooting Namjoon an approving grin. "Keep that up. He needs sunlight and fresh air," she remarked to you, flustering you even as you nodded in agreement.

     Why was she telling you that? Were you his keeper?

     Actually, you supposed, in fact, you were.

     You peeked back up at him and found him regarding you with a small, amused smile, which disconcerted you further. You shook your head, shooting him an eye-roll as you made your way into the bathroom to disrobe.

     After your first few experiences with skinship, you had asked Matt to acquire you some sporty, conservative sports bra and boy-short sets, and you slipped into one, pulling a hospital gown over it. After the way your conversation with Hyung-seo had unfolded you were glad to have them - the practical underwear felt far less intimate and flirty than your typical bras and panties, giving you much more peace of mind. 

     As you left the bathroom and made your way back to Namjoon's half of the suite, you noticed him sitting on top of the covers, long legs stretched out in front of him, in nothing but a black tee and blue boxers. He had a drip attached to a tube that ran under his shirt. When Nurse Cha glanced up from her touchscreen tablet to see you approaching, she waved her hand for you to come around to the other side of the bed, which had been adjusted to accommodate Namjoon's upright position.

     "We’re going to try this sitting up today," she explained as she typed. "He's on a chemo drip right now, and the doctor wants to see if the bond will help ease the nausea and some of the other side effects. I heard you just had a nice lunch, so it would be wonderful if Namjoon could hang onto his."

     She shot him a rueful smirk and he let out a chuckle. You smiled in turn and nodded as you slipped off your hospital gown and draped it over the end of the bed. You glanced up at Namjoon who had cast his eyes down at his hands, folded in his lap. The huge apparatus was lower than usual, so you slipped rather easily into it and against Namjoon's side. He raised an arm to drape over your shoulders and you settled against him, pressing your bare leg against his. It was comical how much shorter yours were, but you could only think of that for a fraction of a second as every other thought in your mind melted at the feeling of the man beside you.

     Butter. Warm, melted butter. It was as if every single muscle group in your body had suddenly released every bit of tension it had been holding. So many sensations at once, but this was the one you felt like leaning into at the moment. You felt like collapsing against him.

He sighed deeply through his nose. Yeah, you felt that on a spiritual level. Mmh. 

     Your melty, bond-induced reverie was broken, however, by a dissatisfied noise from Nurse Cha as she stepped toward the bed. You looked up to find her expression matched her tone. 

     "You're not really getting much contact," she said, scanning her eyes over everywhere you touched...and didn't. 

     You raised your arms slightly and a bit uselessly. You felt Namjoon lean forward.

     "Should I...like..." you looked to her for direction, but she was already in motion. 

     She grabbed your arm, guiding you off the bed and motioned for Namjoon to scoot back to the middle. She said something to Namjoon in Korean and suddenly he was tugging his shirt over his head. You felt your cheeks getting hot. Social norms had not prepared you for this amount of casual nudity. You stood there, eyes glued to Nurse Cha, hugging your arms over your middle and hoping that Namjoon was playing his usual blessed game of "look anywhere but soulmate". The nurse took your arm again and guided you back toward your previous perch.

     "Sit between his legs and lean back against his chest," she instructed, nudging you to join him.

You looked up at Namjoon. His face looked like you felt. And then it was just too much. You were standing in a hospital in South Korea in your underwear being asked to sit in a practically naked celebrity's lap so that he wouldn't die.

     You busted out laughing.

     Nurse Cha jumped, surprise clear in her features as she regarded you. 

     "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" You gasped, bending over to support yourself against the bed as you continued to chuckle, "This is just..."

     You snorted. Mortified but still attempting to swallow your giggles you clapped a hand over your mouth and looked up at Namjoon whose dimples were out and whose shoulders were shaking with his own silent amusement. Nurse Cha's lips curved up a bit to one side, but her narrowed eyes spoke of far less hilarity felt.

     "Here's the thing," you said, turning to the nurse while still biting back your laughter, "Namjoon is spoken for, and...well...I have a pretty nice ass."

     The nurse's eyes widened.

     You were probably being really impolite. That would have been borderline in the States. You weren't sure about here, but you felt like that might have broken some unspoken rules. Or, maybe spoken ones because there were a lot of formalities, you were learning. But you had reached your limit with all this. The awkwardness levels were at maximum, and you were gonna cope the only way you knew how - with humor.

     When you hazarded a look at your soulmate, he had drawn his knees up, grabbing them with his hands, his head dropped between them and his shoulders shaking as he badly repressed laughter of his own. You could see those dimples again. They were even deeper than before.

     "We need to get maximum skin-to-skin contact during these sessions," Nurse Cha insisted indignantly, clearly a bit flustered. 

     "I know, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you offered her a contrite smile as you rocked back on your feet. 

     "Ah!" Namjoon drew your attention as he pointed behind you. "Throw me that pillow?" 

     You grabbed the little green cushion from the corner of the couch and tossed it to him. He lowered his legs and placed it over his lap.

     "How's that?" he asked with a closed-lip smirk.

     You gave him a thumbs up and clambered back onto the bed to situate yourself between his legs. You looked back over at Nurse Cha. 

     "Better?" 

     She raised a brow as she handed you a blanket. You thanked her quietly and cleared your throat as you fanned it out over your legs and Namjoon's, tucking it up to your waist. The nurse checked Namjoon's vitals and said that she would return in an hour to take him off the drip.

     You sank back tentatively against your soulmate's chest, careful to avoid the little port below his sternum. There it was again. Butter.

     Somewhere above and behind you, Namjoon chuckled. You smiled knowingly.

     "What?" you asked indignantly.

     "Did you see her face when you said that?"

     You shrugged against him.

     "Hey, it's true!" you insisted.

     "Sorry if this is uncomfortable for you," he murmured.

     You could hear that he was still smiling, but he sounded serious all the same. You let your head fall back.

     "Honestly, I felt bad for you," you huffed in another laugh before sobering. "And, thank you," you turned, casting your eyes up over your shoulder, "For always being so respectful. It's made this a lot easier."

     "Oh," Namjoon responded softly, "Of course." 

     You looked at his arms resting at his sides and thought of what Nurse Cha had said. You slowly picked up his hands in yours, raising them slightly.

     "May I put them around me? For more contact," you asked.

     You asked it boldly, but you felt shy. You wanted the chemo to work. You wanted it to stop hurting him while it did. When Namjoon let out a low hum of assent you drew his forearms around your waist and laid your own over them.

     Your eyes slipped shut. So euphoric but it always made you feel like sleeping. You weren't going to give into the urge, though, not just yet. There were conversations to be had.

     "Tell me about Hyung-seo," you prompted softly, shifting against him to get comfortable. 

     He was quiet for a moment.

     "Well," he responded slowly, "what do you want to know?"

     "How did you meet her?"

     He went quiet again. Then he sighed a small sigh. You wondered what that little breath carried.

     "She debuted in 2019. A buddy of mine - Seo Jungkwon, he goes by Tiger JK in the industry -  had signed her to his agency. Bangtan was just taking off, things were blowing up. I actually collaborated with him which is when I met her."

     He silenced for a moment.

     "We had a lot in common - how we approached life and music."

     "Had?" you asked, gently.

     He heaved another sigh. 

     "The last few years have been really tough on her. I mean, she hasn't had an easy life to begin with, but..."

     He paused, as if deciding whether or not to utter the words he wanted to say next.

     "Anyway," he redirected himself, and you wondered what thought he had dismissed, "Preparing for a tour is grueling, and this is her first one. I think the stress is really getting her."

     You hummed in acknowledgement. You recognized it in his voice - you should after all, as the same sound had echoed so often in your own - the hollow clemency of lying to yourself on someone else's behalf. 

     "Well," you offered, "She's lucky to have you supporting her, especially when you're going through such a difficult time yourself."

     Namjoon scoffed.

     "I mean, yeah, I'm sick, but...I don't know. In a lot of ways my life has been a lot easier these days. A lot simpler."

     "Really? In what way?"

     He huffed out a wry laugh.

     "I have so much time to just do whatever. Read, write...I've been learning a couple of languages. I get to do v-lives with ARMY pretty regularly, as the company allows - Jungkook went kind of crazy with it before enlistment so we have to go through them for access now."

     You had no idea what a v-live was, but from what little you had seen of Jungkook, you could imagine it took very little for him to get up to a significant amount of shenanigans. You smirked.

     "Did you have so little time for those things before?" you queried.

     "No! No way. It was like running non-stop for ten years. During my time in the military, I got a bit of a break and a change, but then I got sick and had to be discharged early, so...well, I didn't even get to experience that like I should have."

     You felt your hands tighten in response around his forearms. His life hadn't been cake-walk either, that was clear. You wondered if he knew that, if he acknowledged it.

     "Well, I'm glad you have more time for those things. You should keep as much time for them as you can, even when you're better."

     He paused for a moment before whispering agreement into your hair. You felt it even though he didn't say it, the caveat - if he got better. He would. You'd never make him a promise you couldn't guarantee, but you could make one to yourself. So you did.

     For the rest of the session you talked about Bangtan, and the recent history of the group's situation.

     You learned about conscription and that it applied to idols as well. You learned the members had decided to enlist pretty much around the same time so that they could reunite to tour again after being discharged. Namjoon had been released ahead of schedule when he had fallen ill, and at this point most of the members had followed, save Yoongi who was set to be discharged the following week. He fondly reported that they were all anxious to meet you, and that Jungkook and Jimin hadn't stopped pestering him with all manner of questions in your regard since their visit the previous day.

     Every time you had heard him speak about his members, the deep brotherly affection that permeated his words was incredibly evident. 

You asked him to tell you about each one, and he did.

     You blinked your eyes open as you felt Namjoon shift you in his arms. You slowly pulled yourself forward, struggling to focus.

     "I...I'm sorry," you murmured, "I fell asleep on you again." 

     Namjoon chuckled and assured you it was quite alright. As you wearily slipped off the mattress to stand, you suddenly felt the room tilt and your knees buckle. Namjoon's reflexes were quick enough to catch you in his arms. He stood to pull you up and hold you against him.

     "You okay?" he asked in concern.

     "I...I got dizzy..."

     You attempted to put your weight into your legs, but failed, sagging weakly against his broad frame.

     Nurse Cha was already in motion.

     "Help her to the bed," she ordered, striding across the room. 

     Namjoon wasted no time in scooping you up in a bridal carry to follow her. You gasped despite yourself, the sudden movement and his strength equally surprising. But every thought was fleeting as you found yourself struggling to maintain a grip on consciousness.

     You felt Namjoon lay you gently on the bed as cold, sticky monitors were pressed to your skin; heard him ask the nurse what was the matter, his voice tinged with anxiety. 

You heard him say your name.

     And then you heard nothing.

     You groaned as you came to. Your throat felt like the Sahara and your head was pounding. Pushing yourself to sit up, you became aware of the sound of voices on the other side of the curtain. Carefully drawing your legs to the edge of the bed, you clutched your IV stand as you struggled to your feet.

     Pulling back the hanging divider, you were surprised to see Matt occupying the little couch, a cup of coffee on the low table in front of him. Namjoon sat in the opposing chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees in rapt attention as the older man spoke. It was dark out.

     "Matt," you croaked, shuffling forward.

     Namjoon's head whipped around at the sound of your voice and he sprang up, just a moment faster than his guest, striding over to take you by the arm. You faltered just a moment in your steps as his hand cradled your elbow and you felt it - his touch and what it did to you. You wanted to curl into him. You wanted him to hold you.

You gently tugged your arm away.

     "You're awake - let me call the nurse," he said, almost to himself as he moved to press the red call button. 

     You sank down beside Matt.

     "What time is it?" you asked in a husky murmur. Your friend checked his watch.

     "1:33am."

     You frowned, blinking blearily.

     "What the heck are you doing here at the hour?"

     "Well!" Matt laughed before taking a sip of his coffee, "It's nice to see you too."

     "You know what I mean..." you grumbled, rubbing your eyes.

     "He called me," he said, gesturing with his raised mug toward Namjoon, who had returned to the armchair. "Said you'd had a fainting spell."

     Your eyes followed his motion to your soulmate, who was already scanning his over you, brow furrowed and full lips pursed pensively.

     "How are you feeling?" Namjoon asked.

     You huffed out a mirthless chuckle.

     "Like I got hit by a freight train."

     The worry lines on his brow deepened.

     "Hey, look..." you held up a hand to wave it weakly between both men as they regarded you in apparent concern. "I'm probably just adjusting to the bond or something. Cancer isn't contagious, you know," you ribbed, shooting a tiny smirk at Namjoon who attempted to return the expression though the smile didn't reach his eyes.

     The night shift nurse and an aid entered the room to assess you. Namjoon asked to speak with a doctor, and was told that Dr. Na would be checking in first thing in the morning. The nurse had very little else to report other than that your blood work had been sent to the lab and that they would be able to determine more once your results were available. He informed Matt that some charts would likely be available in twenty-four hours, but that your CMP could take up to three days. The aid urged you to try to get some more rest. Before departing, the nurse removed your spent sodium chloride drip and said that a meal would be sent up which you were advised to eat if possible, but to be sure to report any signs of food-rejection should they appear.

     Namjoon stood and sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he gazed at your little portion of the suit.

     "They want you to rest, but how the hell are you supposed to sleep with me over here snoring? It's keeping you up, right?"

     You smirked.

     "Well, most of my rest over the last couple of days has been due to a lack of consciousness, but I do have to admit that you woke me up a couple of times last night."

    Namjoon groaned discomfitedly.

     "It really isn't a big deal!" you reassured him, "I'm a pretty sound sleeper."

     "And still I woke you up."

     "Don't worry about it..."

     "It's not just that, though," he insisted, hands in the pockets of his sweats and head cocked to one side as he continued to consider the small space across from his. "You don't even have a window. If you want privacy, you have to sit behind that curtain in the tiny bed -- I hate it. I've hated it since they were first preparing for you to arrive. I'll make some calls tomorrow. You need your own room," he stated decidedly, returning to the chair across from you.

He fished his phone out of his pocket and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he fired off a message.

     Namjoon did have a point, it was a pretty meager space you currently occupied. But they must have had a reason, you thought, for wanting you to share a room with him. And you didn't want to cause any kind of fuss in the name of personal convenience that might detract from his treatment or recovery. 

     "Namjoon, it's fine..."

     He looked up at you, his brown eyes assured and determined.

     "Just let me handle it. I've got you."

     A sudden warmth spread through your chest like the rising sun on the frost of your anxieties, his gaze melting away the familiar worry of burdensomeness. You looked away shyly.

     "Good man," Matt said to him with a nod, and they shared a look as your soulmate nodded in return that seemed to be one of mutual masculine respect. You wanted to roll your eyes a little bit. You also felt pretty damn grateful.

     Matt stood to leave, pressing a kiss on your temple and promised that he'd return in the morning. He paused to shake Namjoon's hand.

     "If there are any further developments, don't hesitate to call me," he said, to which the younger man nodded in agreement.

     "Or I can call you!" you rasped after him as he raised his hand in one last gesture of farewell while shutting the door.

     You huffed.

     "Smart guy," Namjoon remarked, sitting back down in his chair. "You know he's read Toegye exhaustively?"

     You raised a brow at him, your lips quirking with a wry grin.

     "Two peas in a pod. He's probably going to be coming around here nonstop until he leaves just so you two can gab in genius."

     Namjoon smiled and touched his fingers absently to his jaw, his eyes trained on the linoleum.

     "Are you bothered that I called him?" he asked abruptly, glancing up at you.

     "What? No, of course not," you reassured him with a shake of your head. "I just..." You rolled your eyes and smirked. "I'm not used to sitting around while boys decide what's best for me."

     "Aaahhh," Namjoon responded with a nod, interlacing his fingers, "Well, you've been looking out for me since you walked through that door back there, and honestly, I could get used to that..." he leaned forward a bit, "But only if I get to return the favor. You said we don't owe each other, but that doesn't mean you get to be the only one doing the giving."

     You stared at him. The only one to do the giving. The words jarred something loose inside you. You swallowed the strange feeling that threatened to well into your throat.

     Before you could respond, an aid entered with your meal. A tray loaded with dakjuk, rice, and several banchan was placed before you. It smelled fantastic, and you actually felt you could eat. You moved to take the tray to your side of the suite but Namjoon stopped you.

"Hey, wait. I'm hungry. I'll eat with you."

He crossed to the other side of the room to pick up the telephone.

"Go ahead," he said with nod of his head a little grin, "Don't wait on me."

     He didn't have to twist your arm. The chicken porridge was steaming and savory, warming you up within just a few bites. A similar tray soon arrived for Namjoon, and you found it did feel far nicer to eat with someone than alone.

     Between bites he asked you about Matt.

     "He's my dad's best friend. When he died - my dad - Matt and his wife Rebecca helped to take care of us for a while. They've been really good to my family."

     Namjoon's face sombered.

     "I'm sorry about your father."

     You smiled softly at him.

     "It was a long time ago, when I was ten. He was a firefighter."

     He nodded quietly, giving you the opening to continue. You decided to take it.

     "A fire broke out at a high-security prison. The situation got really bad with a lot of people still inside - prisoners. They told the team to stop attempting rescues, that it wasn't worth it, for people like that. But my dad kept going. Alone. He saved seventeen more lives before...well, he couldn't make it out."

     When you looked up at Namjoon again his eyes were locked on you, his chopsticks resting idly in his hand.

     "Wow," he murmured after a pause. "And you were ten years old? That must have been so hard."

     You dragged your spoon through your dakjuk.

     "It was. But managing things after he was gone...that was harder, I think."

     Namjoon's brow knit in question but he didn't press you further. For the second time that night, you were grateful. Death was easy to explain, other things were much more difficult.

     You finished the rest of your meal chatting about Matt, Neo-Confucianism, and unequivocal humanism between mouthfuls of rice and porridge.

      The next day, you were moved into your new suite a few doors down. Namjoon had received no resistance from the hospital in procuring you the space, as apparently Hybe's representatives had been the ones to originate the request that you be at the idol's immediate disposal.

     Your room mirrored the setup of your soulmate's, being on the same floor but across the hall, and Kang Dae had dropped in with a catalog stating that you could select whatever you wished to make the space more comfortable. You had circled a few things and he had departed to procure them. Matt had brought the bulk of your luggage, which meant a good portion of books, your art supplies, and finally more clothes which you would blessedly now have no worries of mixing up with Namjoon's. You changed into jeans and a comfy Nirvana graphic tee.

     You were busy unpacking when a knock came at your door. You called for the person to come in while you continued to stack books onto a small set of shelves. The doctor had cautioned you and Namjoon against further skinship sessions until your blood work had come back, so you were anxious for the results, not wanting him to go through another bout of chemo without the aid of the bond. 

When you glanced up expectantly, however, you found your curiosity would have to wait - at least, concerning your charts - as in the entry stood none other than Kim Hyung-seo.

     She lingered in the entryway at the mouth of the space, her arms wrapped around her middle. She looked much more casual today in a pair of big baggy camouflage cargo pants, a tight black crop top, and chunky white sneakers. Her hair was pulled up into a bun, and she had black mask pulled under her chin. She was bare-faced, save for two small red dots under her right eye.

     You stood from your crouched position, trying your best to keep the surprise from your face.

     "Hi," you greeted her with a small smile, which she returned remorsefully, still hugging herself as she glanced around the room. "Would you like to sit down?" you offered, motioning to the furniture beside you. 

     She nodded, crossing over to take a seat in the little arm chair. You moved to sit across from her. Your first instinct was to offer her something to drink, only to realize you were in a hospital room with no way to deliver, at which you both laughed awkwardly. After a moment of tense silence, she looked up at you, gnawing her bottom lip.

     “I owe you an apology," she sighed. 

You gave her an encouraging smile.

     "Fuck..." she dropped her head in her hands, and you waited for her to collect herself. Finally, she raises her eyes to yours, interlacing her fingers with their long white nails in her lap. 

     "What I did...what I said yesterday...I was cunt. I'm sorry." 

     You let out a little laugh at her choice of words.

     "Well, I do accept your apology...but, don't be too hard on yourself. It was a really bizarre and unprecedented situation for all of us. I'm glad we're moving forward, and in a better direction."

You smiled again at her reassuringly.

     She nodded, her lips pursed and quivering slightly. You could tell she was blinking back tears.

     "Me and Joon...we'd only been engaged for a few weeks before we found out...you know, that he had a match. That it could be his only option to live - bonding. With you. It's just all really fucking scary."

     You nodded sympathetically. She released another sigh as she continued.

     "He had to decide so fast, they pushed him to just make this huge life commitment as fast as they fucking could and now..." She raised her arms, looking around the room in resign, "Here we are. And we have to figure everything out, and I'm about to leave and..."

     "I'm sorry," you murmured sympathetically.

She looked down into her lap, worry still twisting her features.

You wondered why she was leaving, now of all times - when things were the way they were. But that wasn't for you to judge.

"You know," you offered hopefully, "At least he's on the mend. At least you know he'll have someone to look after him."

     She hummed. You wondered if it was an agreement as her eyes flitted over your face searchingly. Anxiety from the previous day's encounter began to seep into your chest as you considered if you had chosen your words poorly. You had said what would have comforted you in under the same circumstances. But maybe you were different - too different.

You softened your heart, determined to reserve judgement. Life had given Hyung-seo had her own shoes, and you would do everything you could to understand what it was like to walk in them.

     "Can I add you on KakaoTalk?" you asked, realizing you were still clutching a book, and setting it onto the low table to pull your phone from your pocket.

     She was chewing on her lip again when you looked up. She stared down at the hardback. 

     "You read a lot, huh?" she asked, though it didn't sound like a question.

     "I do," you answered slowly, wondering where her train of thought was headed.

"All that stuff you said yesterday, you seem, like really in tune with people. And smart. You guys are, like, the same."

She pressed the words out in a strained voice. She looked so small and so sad. Your heart sank for her.

"Namjoon actually said that very thing about you yesterday."

She glanced up at you in surprise and confusion. You smiled.

"He said that when you met he was struck with how much you shared in how you saw the world, and how you approached music."

She regarded you silently as you continued.

"And that's your life right, your great love? Music? What a wonderful thing, to base your life with a partner in a love you share."

She nodded slowly, her eyes watering.

"Thank you," she finally whispered, and you nodded in understanding.

You reached out to take her hand and she squeezed yours. After a few moments of silence, she rose and wiped her eyes.

     "I'm leaving tomorrow and I want to see Joon again before I go," she explained. 

     You nodded.

     "Thank you for coming to talk to me and for sharing about how this has been for you. I really appreciate it."    

     She smiled - perhaps genuinely for the first time since you met. It was a lovely smile.

     You sighed as she left. It wasn't much, but it was progress. Maybe she would let you in. Maybe it wouldn't be so hard after all.

     When several hours had passed with no updates on your lab results, you decided to take a walk down the hall to see how your soulmate was faring. You knocked on his door, but received no answer. 

     "Namjoon!" you called softly with another rap of your knuckles, but were still met with silence.

     Just when you were about to turn and go, the door creaked inward on its hinges, slipping open to reveal your soulmate's tired face.

     "I just came to see how you were doing...are you okay?." 

     You followed him as he slumped back into the suite, but before he could even reach his bed he turned and pushed past you to hurry into the bathroom. It caught you a little off-guard and you stumbled, catching yourself on the opposing wall, but quickly realized the reason for his urgency when sounds of retching followed.

     The bathroom door was cracked open and you could see him hunched over the toilet, breathing heavily as his body wracked with each attempt to expel the contents of his stomach. You hesitated a moment, then pushed the door in slowly, coming to kneel beside him and gingerly place a hand on his back.

     He raised his head, eyes fluttering when you touched him. You gently pulled your palm up and down his spine, feeling the warm surge of the bond even through his shirt. He reached for a piece of toilet paper to wipe his mouth.

     "You don't have to do that..." he murmured, resting his forehead on his arm propped on the porcelain rim.

     "I know," you answered quietly, continuing to slowly rub his back. "Can I put my hand under your shirt?"

     "You're not supposed to be touching me until we know what's going on with you." 

     You slipped your other hand out to curl your fingers around his exposed bicep below the sleeve of his tee. He sighed, shoulders sagging as the comfort and warmth of the contact soothed his aching body.

     "Can I?" you softly persisted, and he nodded his head where it laid against his forearm.

     Slipping your hand beneath the baggy cotton you ran your fingers over his soft, taut skin, heart squeezing at the definition of his spine and the ghosts of his ribs. 

     "Did you do chemo without me?" you asked.

     “I've been doing it before you got here, you know,” he retorted weakly.

     "How are you supposed to gain weight if it makes you this sick? Please don't do it again without me."

     "You passed out, Y/n," he shifted his head to look at you.

     "We'll figure that out," you smiled, "But you need to be as agreeable to these treatments as possible, right?" 

     He nodded.

     "Hyung-seo paid me a visit this morning," you remarked after a moment of silence.

     "She told me."

     "Said she leaves for her tour tomorrow. When does she get back?"

     "February."

     "Of next year?" You paused to temper your shock, "That's a long time."

     "It's a world tour. That's how it goes."

     "Wow."

     You realized for the hundredth time in as many hours that there was so much about their lifestyle to which you were ignorant. You had so much to learn, but one thing you did know: he needed you right now, so you stayed by his side until the sickness had subsided.

     Nurse Cha arrived shortly after to conduct routine checks on Namjoon, and you sat by, thumbing through the latest issue of Batman and Robin which Matt had been kind enough to drop off with your things.

     "Your initial blood work came back with some concerns," she said, turning to you and picking up her tablet to access the results. "There are signs that your body's nutrients are being depleted. Since your fainting spells have been occuring during skinship, we ask that you refrain from touching until your CMP comes back."

     Namjoon glanced over at you, a chiding expression on his features. You flatly ignored him.

     "I need to be able to touch him, especially if he feels ill. He needs to keep down his food, right?"

     Nurse Cha hummed, pursing her lips.

     "Well, I'm going to run this by Dr. Na, but if absolutely necessary, keep it light and brief. And please be sure to document even the smallest instances of skinship so that we can track the effects."

     You agreed readily, and she left to continue her rounds. 

Glancing out the window, you noted that the evening was mild, and the gardens were aflutter with birds and awash in soft late-afternoon light. You thought about what the nurse had said before about the fresh air.

     "Hey," you remarked, still looking out the window, "We should take a walk - it looks so nice out. You up for it?" 

     "Great idea," he replied, joining you to look out across the greenery. "I'm definitely feeling up for it." He huffed out a little chuckle.

     "What?" you asked suspiciously. You were beginning to recognize his different laughs - this particular chuckle was always at your expense.

     "Gonna keep pushing it with the poor nurse, huh?"

     You scoffed.

     "Well, if I hadn't would you be feeling well enough to go out right now?"

     "No."

     When you glanced up you found that he was gazing raptly at you, his face filled with unchecked thanksgiving. Your witty response faltered on your tongue. 

     His touch, you were pretty damn sure that for the rest of his natural life you would never grow used to it...but his eyes? It was almost the same. Was this part of the bond? Or was it just...him? Did everyone feel this way when he held them in those eyes? When he looked at them, really looked...

You couldn't tear your eyes away. You couldn't find words.

     When Namjoon's phone suddenly buzzed you thanked almighty Samsung and sagged against the window pane. 

     "Damn," he muttered. 

     You looked at him questioningly.

     "I have a consultation with my radiation oncologist in ten minutes. Go ahead! I'll meet you down there right after."

     He pulled a sweatshirt over his head and changed his slippers out for his shoes.

     You returned to your room to grab outerwear as well. The evening was temperate enough to go without, but you were feeling chillier than usual. You felt your phone buzz in your pocket.

     Mom flashed across the screen.

     Your chest tightened and you silenced the ringer. You'd call her tomorrow, you told yourself. Besides, she had already spoken to Matt. 

     When you reached the garden, you decided there was someone you should call while you waited. Ambling down a gravel path, you held the phone up to your ear, stuffing your other hand into the pocket of your jean jacket.

     "Matt told mom that you passed out - are you okay?" Diana's voice on the other end registered genuine distress.

     You rolled your eyes and sighed. 

     "I'm fine. My body is just adjusting to the bond and probably jet lag and whatnot."

     "You better fucking be fine or I'm coming out there to make sure you are."

     You laughed. 

     "To South Korea? On a Wednesday?"

     "You know what I mean, god! You're so - hey! How did the fiancee thing go?"

     "I knew you'd want an update."

     "Spill."

     You sighed.

     "Uh-oh," she hummed, "That was your, things-are-an-effing-disaster sigh."

     "It was no- why do you keep trying to divine my air flow like they're casting-runes or something? Will you just let me tell you?"

     "You don't always say."

     You huff in exasperation.

     "Okay, well, I won't tell you what that sigh is," she mumbles in trepidation, "But I will tell you that I know enough to shut up and let you continue. Go on."

     "It didn't go swimmingly."

     "Fuck."

     "Yeah,” You lifted your fingers to absently stroke at the petal of a rose. “She seemed very frightened by the whole situation, which is completely understandable. But then...she also kind of came at me. She started asking pretty intimate stuff about the bond right off the bat. When I tried to redirect by suggesting we get to know each other better she started saying all this stuff she already knew about me. About Dad and Mom."

     "What?!" Diana gasped incredulously.

     "It was almost as if...I don't know, I could have been reading her incorrectly, but it was almost seemed as if she was trying to bring things up that might knock me off my footing. Make me...insecure." 

     You suddenly remembered your conversation with Namjoon the previous night. He hadn’t let on that he had already known your father passed when you were a child...but he had known. Passing out during skinship had gotten in the way of the conversation you had intended to broach with him about knowledge of the other. You had done research before meeting him, but only the basics. You had felt that as much should come from him as possible. Clearly you hadn’t been given that opportunity.

     "That bitch," Diana seethed, pulling your mind back into the moment.

     "Hey, hey, hey," you cautioned her, "She's in a extremely difficult situation. And that was just my biased impression of her intentions. Don't be too quick to judge her, Di."

     Diana hummed discontentedly.

     "Also, she came to apologize to me today before she leaves on tour. We made progress, I think."

     "Apologizing? Bare minimum," Diana said with an air of dismissal. "What did you say her name was?"

     "Kim Hyung-seo. Her stage name is Bibi."

     Diana was silent for a moment. 

     "Found her," she declared. 

     You smiled to yourself - of course she had found her, the woman was famous. It wasn't as if stalking measures were necessary (though you had no doubt of Diana's abilities should that have been the case).

Diana clicked her tongue in disappointment.

     "She's hot."

     "She is very pretty," you agreed.

     "Yeah, but you're hot too. And, y'kow, you're you. Bet you're smarter..."

     "Di," you said, stopping to pinch your brow, "We're not in some kind of competition. We're both just human beings navigating pretty uncharted waters, okay? We both have our strengths and weaknesses. She's going to be part of my life as Namjoon's wife, so not only is building a good relationship with her important to me, I have a responsibility to her as well. We all do. To each other."

     Your sister paused on the other end before relenting sullenly.

     "Yeah, yeah. I guess you're right - you do need to make nice with her...as long as they're married, that is..."

     "DIANA."

     "Okay! Geez!" Diana cleared her throat. "How is the soulmate doing?"

     "He's getting stronger every day," you answered, happily moving the topic away from Hyung-seo.

     "That's great!" she crooned. 

     "It is."

     "Are you smiling? You sound like you're smiling."

     "How are you doing, Di? Classes are starting soon."

     You smirked as your sister's attention surged in a new direction, and for the next half an hour she regaled you with tales of her new housemates, and the smarmy and unseemly Johnnie (who had come crawling back, as predicted, upon returning to the States). 

     Upon hanging up with Diana, you checked the time, and discovered that it had been nearly an hour since you left Namjoon. You were starting to feel weak, and a bit cold - hunger, you told yourself - so you decided to return indoors for dinner.

     You called Namjoon on the way up to the fifth floor to inform him if your change in plans. He apologized profusely, saying that the doctor had been detained, and asked you to join him for dinner.

Letting yourself into his suite, you shrugged your jacket off as you headed for your usual spot on the couch when, suddenly, you froze.

    A man was rising to stand from where he had been seated on the sofa. He was clad in a dark blue button-down with a golden emblem on the shoulder and black slacks. He wore a black cap which bore a similar insignia to the one on his shirt and fit snugly over his short dark hair. He wasn’t as tall as Namjoon, though his shoulders were nearly as wide. His features were soft but arresting, and his deep brown irises, you thought, seemed to hold a bit of everything a pair of eyes could. Your comic book was in his hand.

You crossed the room toward him.

     "Hi, I’m sorry, Namjoon will be here soon - oh, I'm his soulmate, Y/n," you stammered, before catching yourself.

     The young man's sharp eyes widened, his lips parting as you bowed.

     "Je ireum-eun Y/n imnida," you started over in Korean.

     He bowed in return, raising his dark brown eyes to you again as he responded in a soft deep voice.

     "Annyeonghaseyo, je ireum-eun Min Yoongi imnida."

[sinisteredgirl]

I just need to rant about my favorite chapter in the entire series so far: The Meeting (Chapter 9, Vol. 11 of the Light Novel).

As a preface, I love political schemes and intrigues. It's the same reason why I love shrewd and cunning characters.

And holy shit, when I was reading this chapter I was grinning from ear to ear. And by the end of it, I was just as stunned as the Western Capital bureaucrats who watched this nerve-wrecking political dance between Jinshi and Gyoku-ou.

Heavy spoilers ahead!

At the beginning of the chapter, we see Jinshi and his entourage (Gaoshun and Chue) make their way to a meeting place after being summoned by Gyoku-ou—then leader of the Western Capital and Empress Gyokuyou's brother. During the carriage ride, we are treated with Jinshi's thoughts on the ongoing Locust plague relief efforts.

It's by no means an exaggeration to say that he has done so fucking much to prepare for the plague. A short laundry list of his accomplishments would include the following:

As early as Vol. 5, he raised taxes on grains to accommodate the expected shortfall from the devastation. He also banned sparrow-hunting to increase the insects' natural predators.

He brought tons and tons of provisions and supplies (e.g. potatoes).

Help from the Capital came quickly because he sent a post-horse as soon as the swarm came—also taking into consideration the time it took for the request to pass through the Capital's committees.

He sent messengers to assess the damage to nearby villages and calculated the needed food per location.

He wrote close to 200 letters soliciting for more aid to the Western Capital.

He tapped his team to research on fast-growing crops and medicine.

But given how limited his reach is within the Western Capital and how much faster it would be if Gyoku-ou handles the distribution, he lets him distribute what he has prepared. The downside of course is that Gyoku-ou gets all the credit, but Jinshi would rather throw away pride than not help people. I love how we get a glimpse of his psyche:

Even his thoughts on his name is revealing. So very human, as Ah-Duo mentioned in Vol. 15.

Soon after, they arrive at the meeting place with Gyoku-ou and Lakan already present. As usual, Lakan is busy working on his Go problems.

Gyoku-ou thanks Jinshi for all his efforts but now asks for help in getting more soldiers. He reveals his true goal: to start a war against Shaoh, with the Imperial Brother leading the army. He defends this by saying that resources would come faster to the Western Capital by annexing Shaoh’s ports, but we know that Gyoku-ou's deep seated hatred for all foreigners is behind all this. Gyoku-ou even uses the previous Shaoh Shrine Maiden incident to goad Jinshi into going to war.

Jinshi is of course appalled by the idea. This would make them no different than bandits. Lakan, however, is not interested in the 'why'; all he knows is how to win a war. What follows is a pretty accurate and telling description of Lakan:

I really like this depiction of Lakan: he possesses no malice or virtue. At his core, he is a true and frightening neutral piece.

What follows then is one of my favorite exchanges in the series: Jinshi's verbal smackdown with Gyoku-ou. He first punctures Gyoku-ou's scheme by mentioning his merchant father, Gyoku-en:

He then follows it up with the plain rejection of the plan as well as an insult exchange with Gyoku-ou:

(LOL Chue with her thumbs-up! I imagine Gaoshun breaking into cold sweat during the whole exchange though.)

Finally, Jinshi masterfully maneuvers his way out of war by manipulating Lakan:

It took me a minute to pick up my own jaw from the floor because hot damn, that is one hell of a way to squash a brewing war. I adore moments like this when Jinshi fully manifests his shrewd side—the "Imperial Brother" mode, which Maomao described as "a man who could and would use people as pawns".

(And while later on, Gyoku-ou does effectively corner Jinshi into going to war, it isn't so much as Jinshi's lack of political skill as it is Gyoku-ou being really that good of a politician.)

I know we only get snippets of powerplays like this as we are in Maomao's POV 99% of the time, but I absolutely love this chapter and the whole Western Capital 2 arc for dialing the stakes up to a 10. Truly the best arc through and through.

[fallenclan]

I’d like to give a little constructive criticism regarding your portrayal of blind cats. We don’t really like it when cartoon depictions have their characters w white or milky eyes. Ppl seem to think that’s what it looks like when you’re blind, but in reality many ppl struggle to tell the different betweens sighted person and a blind person. The “cloudy” gaze trope for blind ppl often affects us negatively, as ppl think they’ve “caught” us lying abt our disability if they can’t see any white or cloudiness. Another thing, is very few of us are 100% blind. We often have a tiny bit of sight, like light or movement. (Often negligible, but enough that we would flinch at certain things.) the trope that we can’t see at all is another one that is detrimental, as ppl will wave their hands or snap or clap in our faces and think we will just. not react.

Lastly, and this goes double for ppl who were sighted for a significant period but are blind from an accident or illness, we actually do track faces with our eyes! A lot of art will depict us staring blankly ahead, sometimes not even moving our head toward the sound. The truth is, we can track with our eyes! We do not lose movement ability in our eyeballs lol. Even for those of us blind from birth, we can learn to track ppl and things with our eyes! (It often makes sighted ppl feel better, but as previously stated, some of us still have some useable function of sight, and it can be used to some degree!) And even if we don’t move our eyes, we will pretty much always move our head toward the sound.

This is not offered with any ill will, just by someone who would like to see some more accurate representation of my disability! I hope this helps a little. If you would like to maybe read a bit more on how to portray blindness from blind ppl themselves, the blogs blindbeta and cripplecharacters offer many resources and tips! Thanks for reading :) (smiley face)

thank you for the constructive criticism!! i read over this thoroughly and i hope to implement some of your suggestions into my drawings from now on, and to check out those blogs you mentioned!

i will say that I specifically was depicting Littleleaf and Crowflame with milkier eyes because their blindness was due to scarring, which I know often causes that clouded over look. If they had been born blind/gone blind naturally, I probably wouldn't have drawn them as such. if this is still an issue though, let me know! i just wanted to clarify lol