#that seems to be a general problem these days

[gimmethatagustd]

paint me naked | jjk

After the mysteriously hot guy in your university class starts taking an interest in you, should you really trust that he’s not like all the other college fuckboys? Especially when his best friend is the guy who broke your heart?

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (past Taehyung)

Rating: Explicit

Genre/Trope: College AU, friends to lovers, fluff, smut, light angst

Word Count: 17,025

Content Warning: Self-esteem issues, alcohol, marijuana (of course, it's a jai fic), brief mention of drug dealing, it's very "hehe I have a crush" y'know, kinda YA of me jshdfks rip, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, can you tell I was a depressed poetry student in college??

A/N: This ended up being my most popular fic back in the day (lol like a year ago). I'm ngl, I don't think of it as highly as I do the other fics I've written, but this was I think the second fic I ever wrote?? Back in 2022. Crazy times. So y'know, growth and whateva. The funniest part is that probs 85% of this fic literally happened to me sjdfks. Except the "Jungkook" was only my friend and we just got stoned and vibed, and instead of painting a naked woman, one time during our studio sessions he painted an abstract rendition of my "soul" but it really just looked like a thumb I'm ngl. All my friends said he was in love with me cuz who paints portraits of someone's soul??

Soundtrack: Paint Me Naked - Ten

“Jungkook, I don’t think this is gonna work.”

“Let me try.” 

Your eyes strained to see the boy standing in front of you, but the room was pitch black. It was good, though. You’d purposefully blocked out as much light as you possibly could. It had been a surprisingly difficult feat, mostly because the two of you hadn’t thought this through very well. A rolled up towel was shoved against the bottom of the bedroom door to keep the light from the hallway out. Blackout curtains had already been drawn over the windows when you got there, so that made the window problem easier. Luckily, you’d remembered to unplug the digital clock sitting on the nightstand next to the bed, the last piece of light you could have some control over putting out. 

To make things weirder, you were in Jungkook’s parents’ room. 

“It’s the darkest room in the house!” he’d insisted and you hadn’t objected because, well, it seemed on brand for the way the entire night was going. 

With arms stretched out, your fingers pressed into something bumpy and hard. You could hear Jungkook’s breathing beside you and a light laugh alerted to you that he was much closer than you’d initially thought. After a quick prod, fingers gliding slightly upward, you realized you were grabbing his abdomen. The hard ripples you’d felt were his toned abs beneath his thin t-shirt. 

“Sorry,” you whispered, though there was no need to be quiet. Jungkook’s hands wrapped around yours and took the objects you had clutched between them: scissors and an undeveloped film roll. 

Drawing your hands back to your side, you waited in silence. The sound of metal scraping against plastic was the only sound in the room aside from the quiet rustle of wind blowing through leaves outside. You don’t think you’d ever felt silence before until that moment. It was electric, a pulsing sizzle that sparked up your fingertips and jolted into your heart as you stood beside Jungkook. The harmony your breathing had fallen into made the moment feel far more intimate than you’d expected. Why was standing in the dark with someone so intimate? 

“Fuck,” Jungkook muttered, and you heard what you imagined was him stabbing the scissors into the film. 

“Oh my god, please don’t cut yourself, okay? I don’t know where the hospital is from here.”

His only response was another quiet laugh and you knew from the sound that his nose was doing that scrunched up thing that it always did when he was making fun of you. After only a few months of knowing Jungkook he was certainly very comfortable teasing you. He was pretty comfortable with you in general, you were beginning to realize. 

And why were you here? Standing in the dark with a boy you barely knew from a shared university class, one who towered over you in height as well as being much larger than you physically. Trying to pop open film because Jungkook somehow thought you could actually develop this film without having access to a real darkroom. Sure, all throughout high school you’d taken film photography classes. You had the development process memorized by heart, from the length of time the film needed to soak to the different types of chemicals needed and what order you were supposed to submerge the prints in. You’d even emailed your old high school teacher to double check. 

But doing all of that in Jungkook’s parents’ house? You knew it wasn’t going to work, but the guy had insisted on you helping him. Was it concerning that he had all these chemicals stored in a plastic tub in his closet? Maybe. And was it the safest decision to use scissors to pop open the film instead of the proper tool (which Jungkook had forgotten to order off of Amazon in advance)? Absolutely not. 

On top of that, no one knew where you were; you’d simply told your roommates that you were going to hang out with the guy from your university poetry class. 

“Jungkook? The weird one with all the tattoos and piercings?” Your roommate, Amiriah, had asked.  

“He’s not that weird.” 

“Y/N, he wrote a poem about eating pussy for a class assignment. You said so yourself. Please tell me how that’s a normal thing to do.” 

“And didn’t he have to read it outloud to the class because he turned it in late?” Now it was time for Courtney to pipe in from her position lounging on the couch, an episode of Love Connection paused on the TV screen. 

“Okay, yes, he did do both those things. But I swear he’s actually really sweet. He’s just misunderstood.” 

Courtney had launched a pillow at you, though the object zoomed past your head and landed against the refrigerator, knocking down multiple of Amiriah’s magnets. Much to her dismay. 

“Maybe we should take a break.” 

Jungkook’s voice brought you back to reality, or at least some semblance of it. You couldn’t understand how someone could have such a soft voice. Listening to Jungkook speak was like floating on a cloud. His cadence was a gentle caress against your skin, a sound that could easily flutter your eyes and lull you to sleep. It didn’t matter what he was saying; everything sounded better coming from Jungkook’s mouth. 

You nodded, forgetting that he couldn’t see you. A few moments and a bit of shuffling later, the lights sprung on. Your eyes instantly shut and slowly pried open again from the blaring brightness. 

The poor film looked like it had been mauled by a bear, but it was still somehow intact. Jungkook slipped it into his pocket for safekeeping and turned to look at you. He had this thing about eye contact that really made you uncomfortable. When he met your gaze, he looked straight into your eyes, as if he was looking into you rather than at you. 

“Do you want a drink?” 

His question caught you off guard, but he was already picking up the towel from the floor to open the bedroom door. Without answering, you followed him through the house and into the kitchen. You stood in the doorway, hands clasped in front of you, eyes following his large frame navigating the kitchen cabinets. 

“All my parents have is rosé, is that okay?” 

He uncorked the chilled bottle and poured each of you a glass. Then he did something that your roommates could add to the list of weird things they’d developed for him. 

He sat on the floor. 

You stared at him with your lips slightly parted, unsure if you were supposed to follow him. There was an entire kitchen table with multiple chairs. Why was he sitting on the floor with his back leaned against the doorframe? Bottle of rosé sitting on the tile next to him. He looked up at you with impossibly soft doe eyes and you couldn’t just stand there with your glass. So, you slowly sank to the floor, your shoulders brushing against each other as you sat next to him. 

“Y’know, I just realized the film you have is color film.” You spoke slowly, hating that you were about to burst his bubble. “You wouldn’t be able to develop it at home, anyway. The chemicals you bought are for black and white film, and color film has to be developed using heat.” 

“Damn.” Jungkook tipped his head back to take a very deep drink of his wine. 

“We gave a valiant effort, though.” You flashed him a small smile and the grin you got in return made your face grow hot. 

Your roommates weren’t really wrong. Jungkook didn’t have the best reputation on your university campus. There were rumors that he sold drugs (marijuana and acid, specifically) and had gang affiliations. He was quiet, kept to himself, and didn’t seem to have a whole lot of friends aside from a few guys who were equally just as questionable. Yes, you knew he’d gotten arrested the day before spring break started for getting into a fight with a guy on campus, but based on what your friends had told you, it was definitely the other guy’s fault. 

You’d also heard he had great head game, but that was a whole other thing. You just had a really hard time believing all the bad things people said about him, even when he’d admitted to a lot of the rumors being true. 

“A gang tried to recruit me when I was fresh outta high school, but I like selling on my own. Can’t trust people for shit.” 

He’d said it so casually, and you wondered what was wrong with you for finding a conversation about dealing drugs attractive. 

The thing your roommates, and a lot of other people, didn’t understand was that there was more to Jungkook than whatever dumb rumors got spread around (real or not). He was an exceptional writer. His poetry weaved in elements of hip hop, almost sounding like eloquent and lyrical rap lyrics rather than your typical stuffy poem that other students in your class tried to pass off as profound. He didn’t shy away from writing about mental health, sex, relationships, and loss. Everything he put down was raw, and you liked that it made other people in the class uncomfortable. Jungkook wasn’t afraid to be himself. Wasn’t that what art was supposed to be all about? 

And he was artistic in every way. Not only did he write well, but he was obviously into photography, and he also dabbled in multimedia sculpture. But the most impressive was probably his paintings. You’d seen the work he’d posted on Instagram, and during one of your hangouts he’d told you about how he’d been commissioned by the city to work on a public mural with another local artist. 

Very few people knew these things about Jungkook. They saw the tattoos, the piercings, the occasional blunt wedged between his lips, and they painted him in a way that was so distorted it annoyed you. 

“Thanks for helping me, though. I appreciate you.” 

You bit your bottom lip into your mouth to suppress another smile, instead opting to simply nod your head and cover up any expression by taking a drink. 

At this point, the two of you had been hanging out at least once a week. Usually you just sat outside on his parents’ front porch and smoked and talked about life. His parents seemed to always be out of town, and although Jungkook lived across the hall from you in the university dorms, he stayed at his parents’ house a lot to take care of their dog. 

It felt weird, though, hanging out with Jungkook. It was like all your interactions could only happen during those moments; otherwise, he didn’t talk to you when you saw him around campus. Even in your advanced poetry class, he would lock eyes with you across the room, but he never said a word. 

And it didn’t help that he was best friends and roommates with Kim Taehyung, the campus casanova who’d fucked you like you were the only girl in the world for an entire semester until you saw him cuddled up at a party with some other girl who didn’t even go to your university. The next day he was standing at your dorm asking for his skateboard back, weaving some lie about how summer break was the time to be single and have fun, but that he would “never forget” the fun times you’d had. 

Then Taehyung got a girlfriend. 

So maybe you were a little bit bitter over how things ended with Taehyung (and maybe you’d spent the entire summer crying yourself to sleep at night and aimlessly scrolling through Tinder, looking for anyone who might replace him and finding nothing). But the worst part was knowing that Taehyung had probably talked to Jungkook about you, and you had no idea what he might have said. 

“Hopefully the film is still okay,” you said after a moment, trying to pull yourself out of the cyclical negative thoughts you were often consumed by. 

You finished your glass, shaking your head at Jungkook’s offer for more rosé. He nodded, pushing himself up to stand and reached out to take your empty glass. 

You watched him from the floor as he washed the glasses in the sink. Your eyes lingered just a bit too long on the way his forearm muscles flexed while he cleaned, a few veins popping out along the back of his hands and the inside of his arm. Tattoos and piercings hadn’t ever been your thing, not that you didn’t appreciate the allure of body modifications. You’d just found yourself going after boys who looked polished, good boys to take home to mom. Jungkook had been the one to initiate your friendship, asking to hang out while you worked on your poems or read the many poetry collections due for class. You’d be a liar if you said his sudden interest in you hadn’t sparked your own interest in him.

Just one glass of wine was enough to make you a bit lightheaded, and Jungkook was a heavy pourer, apparently. 

“You good?” 

You blinked and stared into Jungkook’s face. He was drying off his hands now, watching you with an amused look on his face. 

“Umm, yeah. Just a lightweight,” you said with a breathy laugh that sounded a little too forced for your liking. Jungkook didn’t seem to notice. 

“You wanna go to my studio with me? The one on campus?” 

You looked down at your phone, a few text messages popping up from your roommates demanding to know where you were. Swiping to clear the notifications, you looked up at Jungkook and gave him a small smile. 

“Sure.” 

-

“That thing so fire baby, no propane. Got good pussy, girl, can I be frank? To keep it 100, girl, I ain’t no saint.” 

Music came blaring out of the car’s speakers at an alarmingly high volume, causing you to exhale a startled shout. Jungkook quickly lunged to turn down the volume and accidentally honked the car’s horn when his shoulder leaned against the steering wheel. 

“Shit, sorry.” 

“Talk about fucking sensory overload, fuck,” you mumbled, heart still dazed in your chest. 

“It was actually nice outside for once. I was whippin’ with the windows down, so the music’s gotta be louder.” 

All he was getting from you was rolled eyes and the sound of your seatbelt clicking into place. 

Jungkook turned around to look over his shoulder as he backed out of the driveway. He grabbed onto the back of your seat to position himself; once again, you found yourself eyeing his arms, exploring the exposed tattoos. It kind of pissed you off how hot it was when guys drove backwards. What was evolutionarily advantageous about that attraction? 

“If you wanna change it, I got a couple CDs.” 

Jungkook motioned to the middle console. You flipped through them, finding the album that was currently playing. You’d recognize it anywhere; he was one of your favorite musicians. 

“Bryson Tiller?” You turned the CD case over in your hand, eyes scanning the tracklist on the back. “You listen to sex music while you drive? And off a CD instead of Bluetooth, no less?”

Jungkook barked out a laugh, all teeth and crinkled eyes that you could just barely make out as the streetlights streaked over his face. 

“Yeah, I guess I do. You got a problem with Bryson?” His fingers lazily tapped against the steering wheel to the relaxed beat of Don’t - which happened to be your favorite song on the album. “This car is twenty-one years old. You’re lucky we’re not sitting here listening to cassettes.” 

“Who doesn’t like Bryson Tiller? That’s the baby-making music of our generation,” you said with a laugh. “Honestly, I can’t believe this song came out in fuckin’ 2015. Why does that feel like such a long time ago?” 

Jungkook sat in the driver’s seat with his legs spread as much as possible; this position was what had made you realize just how thick and nice his thighs really were. Plus, he drove with one hand on top of the steering wheel, left elbow bent slightly. He usually let his right hand rest against his thigh, though sometimes he held onto the gear shift in between the two of you. 

There was rarely any traffic in your college town, and especially not at 10pm on a Tuesday night. The two of you fell silent, Bryson Tiller’s soulful lyrics swirling through the car in the absence of conversation. Jungkook was typically a man of few words. You’d grown accustomed to carrying the conversation. With most people, that would have bothered you, but with Jungkook it was different. You knew he was paying attention when you talked; you could see it in the way the corners of his mouth twitched when you said something dorky (which was, apparently, all the time). 

And when he did have something to say, it was always worth the wait. 

“You’ve got good taste,” Jungkook said after driving a few blocks. “Guess I should probably add him to my sex playlist.”

Before you had time to process his comment Jungkook was pulling into the east parking lot of your university, the part of campus that was off to the side and only held art-related facilities. 

He led you to an unmarked backdoor of the building closest to the parking lot. Pushing the door open, he held it for you with a sweep of his hand. 

“Ladies first, noona.” 

Scowling at the honorific, you still obliged, entering a long hallway. The walls were bare, just an eggshell white, a few black scuff marks here and there, as if someone had been carrying something large and struggled to fit it through the narrow space. Jungkook maneuvered past you to lead the way to another unmarked door. 

The studio was a lot larger than you expected. One side of the room had a large rack of painted canvases to dry. You turned to inspect the left side of the room, finding multiple easels with additional canvases of varying sizes, most blank or seemingly half-finished. A rather worn-looking couch was placed in the middle of the room. Beside it was a coffee table and a Bluetooth speaker. (So Jungkook did know about modern technology.) Paint-covered tarps protected much of the concrete floor, and there were paint buckets and other supplies scattered in every corner. The entire room was pure chaos, but it seemed like there was an organization to it that only Jungkook knew. 

“So… yeah. This is my studio.” Jungkook closed the door behind you and locked it. 

Your heart skipped a beat at his action, but you swallowed down the spike of fear that had threatened to bubble up inside of you. You’d spent plenty of alone time with Jungkook. There was nothing to worry about. 

“I had to practically beg the school to let me have my own space since I’m not an art major, but they eventually let up,” Jungkook continued with a shrug. 

You were impressed, honestly. Jungkook wasn’t known for being the most reliable student academically; it was surprising they’d given him such privileges. 

“I like it,” you said simply, eyes still roaming the space. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do now. Studio art wasn’t really your thing, poetry was. 

Luckily, Jungkook had a knack for reading your mind. 

“You can sit on the couch if you want. I got a project due tomorrow morning, so I’m gonna work on it. But if you wanna paint, just lemme know.” He scrolled through his phone as he spoke, and eventually more R&B music started playing from the speaker. 

“Tomorrow morning? JK, it’s fucking 10:30.” 

You stared at him with your head tilted to the side in disbelief, but you were only met with another shrug and a grin. Living on the edge. King of Procrastination, Jeon Jungkook. You were already getting secondhand stress. 

With a quiet hum to himself as the music took over, it was clear to you that Jungkook had switched to his serious side. He began prepping one of his easels with various paint brushes and paints. Dragging a heavy-looking but small filing cabinet next to the easel, he used the surface to store his supplies while he worked. 

You flopped onto the couch, adjusting so you could have a clear view of Jungkook. He looked cute in his jeans and black hoodie, a blunt pencil tucked behind his ear. His lips pouted slightly as he planned what he was going to do with his painting. Occasionally the pencil would be plucked from his ear and a few sketches appeared on the canvas, too light for you to see what they were from your position on the couch. 

The vibration of your phone tore your eyes away from Jungkook’s figure. It was no surprise that your roommate group text was blowing up. 

Courtnayyy 😘 [10:00] BITCH WHERE ARE YOU A Mili Amiriah 👑 [10:01] pls tell me the weirdo didn’t murder u Courtnayyy 😘 [10:04] If he did can I have your Mac Miller poster?  A Mili Amiriah 👑 [10:15] court how tf would she approve of that if she’s dead? she ain’t gonna see this shit Courtnayyy 😘 [10:18] Ouija board A Mili Amiriah 👑 [10:25] stfu 🔫 A Mili Amiriah 👑 [10:25] Y/N you better answer ur fucking phone right now A Mili Amiriah 👑 [10:40] hellooooooooooooooooooo

You let out a sigh loud enough for Jungkook to look over at you, eyebrows furrowed. 

“My roommates think you killed me.”

Jungkook grinned and turned back to his easel with a shake of his head. You’d expected him to say something, but then the reminder that Jungkook was… unconventional slithered into your mind. 

[10:45] I’m alive. Can you pls stop blowing up my phone now? 💀 Courtnayyy 😘 [10:46] FUCKING FINALLY  A Mili Amiriah 👑 [10:47] what are you doing?? [10:50] We’re just hanging out at his studio. I’ll probably leave soon

You tossed your phone next to you on the couch and lifted your arms into the air to stretch. It was rather warm in the studio and the smooth music of whatever playlist Jungkook had on was making you feel sleepy. What kind of lame college student were you? 

“I was serious about what I said.” Jungkook didn’t look at you while he painted, too focused on mixing the right shade of brown. 

“About what?”

“You can paint if you want. All the paint and brushes are in the cabinet.” 

You chewed on your bottom lip, eyes flitting from the filing cabinet next to Jungkook to the easel off to the side with a blank canvas. What if whatever you painted looked like shit? You had no idea what you were doing. 

But when did you ever get to paint in your adult life?

Pushing yourself off the couch you approached Jungkook to start rummaging in the drawers for supplies. You were stopped in your tracks, however, the moment your eyes landed on his painting. Considering that much time hadn’t passed, Jungkook was far along in his work. You came face to face with a woman, or at least the naked body of a woman. She was painted in soft earthy tones, curves accentuated by what looked like a gold silk ribbon that wrapped around her. The painting was certainly abstract because she was missing a head and her limbs weren’t finished, but just having her strong torso and thighs, and a long regal neck, somehow made her feel complete. 

“That’s beautiful, JK. She looks so realistic… How can you do all those little details so quickly?” You spoke quietly, desperately wishing you could touch the canvas. 

“Painting nudity is easy.” Another classic Jungkook shrug. “That’s why it’s so overdone. There’s nothing more beautiful than humans in their purest state, right? We’re the original art.” 

You would have never considered nudity to be pure, but you liked Jungkook’s analysis. Society saw nudity as all about sex. Despite his depiction of breasts and genitalia, Jungkook’s painting was a reflection and appreciation of a body. 

You wondered if it was anyone’s body in particular. 

The thought soured your mood a bit, and you quickly returned your focus to finding the supplies you needed. Satisfied, you took up the easel beside Jungkook. What the fuck were you going to paint? Especially now that you had this beautiful work blooming next to you. 

“Don’t think about it so much. Just go for it.” 

There was Jungkook reading your mind again. 

You weren’t sure how much time passed with the two of you working silently. At first you’d considered doing something abstract, but eventually you felt compelled to do something a bit more realistic. You’d retrieved your phone (ignoring your roommates’ texts again) to pull up a photo for reference as you painted. 

After a while Jungkook lifted his finished painting and carried it to the rack to dry. By the time he had completed his painting, you were putting your final touches on yours - one that was far more simplistic. You found it entertaining, though. 

“Who is that?” 

You’d been so absorbed in getting those final details perfected that you hadn’t noticed Jungkook standing right behind you. You jumped slightly and that elicited a chuckle from the boy. 

“It’s a portrait of Bad Bunny.” Your greatest celebrity crush. 

“He’s cute. You did a good job considering you looked so scared to start.” His comment left your cheeks burning. You’d hoped it hadn’t been so obvious, but Jungkook was too observant for his own good (and for yours, too). “Maybe I should hire you as my assistant.”

“Thanks. It’s not as good as yours, though.” 

Jungkook waved you off and the action made him realize he had a good amount of paint on his hands. Rather than find a towel, he simply rubbed his hands against his thighs. You watched him, eyes lingering on the way his thighs stretched the tight material of his jeans. Looking up to return to his face you were met with a smirk. You were doing a real shitty job at being subtle, apparently. 

You chose not to say anything and focused your attention on finishing your painting, not wanting Jungkook to be waiting for you longer than he needed to. He sat down on the couch, now distracted by his phone. 

“So,” you spoke as you lifted up your finished painting, following Jungkook’s instructions to put it on the drying rack. “What was the inspiration for your painting?” 

Was it a bold question? You were trying to play it off like you weren’t going to cling to whatever his answer was. 

Jungkook patted the space next to him to encourage you to sit down. Once you were sitting next to him, your body turned slightly to face him, Jungkook leaned forward. His face was mere inches from yours and you could feel his breath tickle your cheek. He watched you with those brown doe eyes, such an innocent feature on an otherwise devious-looking face. The smirk that formed on his lips strongly contrasted the sweetness of his eyes. 

Jungkook’s tongue poked out to play with his lip ring before he answered your question. It was impossible to look away from his lips, and you thought you felt your heart stop. 

“The deadline.” 

The smirk grew deeper as he pulled away, running a hand through his hair. You were more than disappointed, feeling yourself deflate and finally realizing you’d been holding your breath. Your shoulders slumped slightly, but you managed to mask the reason for your disappointment by pretending you were disappointed in him. 

“Boy, you need to work on your assignments earlier so you can come up with something good,” you huffed, crossing your arms against your chest. 

“Was it not good?” He grinned, a cocky twinkle in his eyes, no longer doe-shaped but narrowed in mirth. “Come on, let me drop you off. It’s almost 2.” 

“Fuck, I have an 8am.” 

With a quick check on your phone you saw that it was indeed almost 2am. How had you spent almost four hours in the studio without realizing it? Nevermind the fact that you’d spent another three or four hanging out with Jungkook before you’d even gotten to the studio. 

“I’d skip if I was you.” 

Jungkook led you through the art building and to his car, making sure that the music didn’t startle you half to death when he started the car this time. 

“Unlike you, I’m a good student, thanks.” 

It wasn’t a terrible dig because you knew Jungkook enough to know he didn’t give a shit. All he’d do was give you a small smile and melt your heart with the confusion of how it was possible for someone to look both so soft and so dangerous. 

Your dorm was on the other side of campus, so the drive over was quick. But rather than drop you off at the sidewalk, Jungkook pulled into the parking lot, much to your surprise. 

“I thought you were staying over at your parents’?” 

Jungkook kept the car running, but he unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned back in his chair.

“Me and Tae are gonna go smoke. I got this new strain of indica we wanna try.”

He didn’t look at you when he spoke, instead facing forward to peer out the window. Once he brought up weed, you realized you could smell the remnants of weed smoke in Jungkook’s car, partially masked by air freshener. 

At the mention of Jungkook’s roommate you felt your stomach drop. The feeling was only intensified when you followed Jungkook’s gaze to see a figure with long legs and broad shoulders make their way down the sidewalk, heading right in your direction. You felt ice shoot through your veins and panic settle into your chest. 

“Oh,” you squeaked out. You needed to escape, but you couldn’t force your hands to unbuckle yourself and open the door. 

“Do you wanna come with us?” Jungkook took your lack of movement as a desire to get high. 

You looked at Jungkook with an open mouth, but nothing came out. And even if you could speak, Taehyung was already flinging the car door open. 

“Oh, shit, Y/N. I didn’t even see you there.” Taehyung leaned against the car door, eyes sweeping over your small figure as you attempted to look as relaxed as possible. 

Did he lick his lips or were you just imagining that? 

“Want me to sit in the back?” 

Taehyung leaned down so he could poke his head into the car and talk to Jungkook right over you. The position gave you a perfect view of his neck and his collarbones peeking out from beneath the silk button-up shirt he was wearing, the first few buttons undone as usual. His cologne smelled like cedar and you could faintly smell something fruity, likely the strawberry-flavored vape he smoked. 

All of that was enough to send you mentally screaming into the void. 

“ThanksJungkookIgottago,” you sputtered, doing your best not to touch Taehyung as you moved around him to get out.

“Y/N!” 

You ignored Jungkook’s call, not daring to look back. Despite your exhaustion you took the stairs two at a time until you made it to your dorm, nearly dropping your keys as you unlocked the door. The kitchen and living room were dark, so you knew your roommates were asleep - or at least in their own rooms. You didn’t even bother to do your nighttime routine, opting to strip down to your underwear and collapse into your bed face-first. 

Darkness and silence brought you no solitude; quite honestly, they had the opposite effect. All you had in your head was Taehyung’s face… in your ears, his voice… in your nostrils, his smell. 

Groaning, you flipped onto your back and grabbed your phone to put on your favorite thunderstorm white noise playlist. In the middle of picking the perfect sound, your phone buzzed with a text. 

Jungkook (Poetry) [2:15] you good?

You bit your lip, not wanting to leave him hanging so late, but also knowing if you went down this rabbithole you’d never fall asleep. 

[2:16] I’m fine

Your phone vibrated almost immediately, but you forced yourself to put it away. Whatever Jungkook had to say could wait until the morning. Or until never, because right now you never wanted to speak to another human ever again.

-

Jungkook (Poetry) [2:16] you don’t have to lie to me Jungkook (Poetry) [3:02] lying destroys our intrinsic value as human beings by corrupting our ability to make rational choices and have free will Jungkook (Poetry) [3:03] immanuel kant said that

You didn’t realize you’d be hit with a philosophical lecture the moment you woke up, but then you remembered that Jungkook had gone smoking with Taehyung. The two of them got all philosophical when they were high, as if they really could achieve some kind of superior knowledge. 

They were idiots. 

“Oh my god, when the fuck did you get home last night?” 

Anyone speaking that loud and harshly so early in the morning was an assailant. You glared at Courtney, brushing past her to get to the bathroom. You shouldn’t have been surprised that the girl stayed outside the bathroom door as she waited for you to finish. 

“It was definitely after 1am ‘cause that’s when we went to bed,” she kept on talking even when you turned the shower on. “What could you guys have possibly been doing that whole time? Did you hook up?” 

“No.”

“What?” Courtney strained to hear you over the sound of the high-pressure water. 

“I said, no!” 

It was ridiculous that you were standing there, rubbing your naked body down with lavender exfoliating soap, while you discussed your alleged hook up with a guy you barely knew. 

You thanked the Lord Almighty that your schedule didn’t line up with your roommates on Wednesdays, or else you would have had to suffer Courtney and Amiriah’s interrogations the whole day. 

Instead you sleepily dragged yourself through two morning classes and a work shift at the university library before you’d eventually have to face Jungkook head-on. 

-

Your Advanced Poetry class was small enough that all the students could sit around a large table together. The small, intimate class size made it easier for collaboration and made workshops feel a bit less ruthless. You’d gotten to the point that you could read anonymous poems from each of your classmates and know exactly who wrote what. You were like a little family who met every Wednesday evening for two hours and poured your thoughts, dreams, fears, and goals into each other with every written piece. This class was going to be what broke your heart when the semester was over; you could already feel yourself missing it. 

“Alright, y’all, we’re going to workshop the imitation poems from the exercise last week.”

You felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach. Whatever else Professor Mendez was saying didn’t compute; she sounded like she was speaking underwater and all you could do was shift your eyes to look at Jungkook across the table from you. You hadn’t expected him to be already looking at you nor for him to hold your gaze until you quickly looked away. 

The poem you’d written for the exercise was about Taehyung. 

You’d thought only your professor was ever going to see it. And now she was calling on you to read yours aloud first. No one else would know who it was about, but you knew Jungkook would know. 

“Y/N?” 

Professor Mendez looked at you, her star pupil, with an encouraging smile. You swallowed, avoiding Jungkook’s gaze though you felt him staring. If you kept the piece of paper on the table in front of you, you wouldn’t risk showing everyone that your hands were slightly trembling. And then you opened your mouth. 

I SAW YOU ONCE IN A FEVER DREAM  (After Kaveh Akbar) I saw you once in a fever dream shirtless  swaddling me in a hammock hanging from cedar trees   When you smoke it gets stuck   in your hair Save it for later The smell of marijuana   and strawberry vapes     lingered in my clothes     In another fever   dream you were my mother The doctor asked if I am  allergic to any medications and I should   have said yes but it is only you   I have felt love flow through me I have never felt   it given My friend once told me  there is only so much you can do   At what point am I the problem   Sometimes I stare at the wall and peel the nails  off of my fingers for every time you broke me  Somehow it feels better this way  

It was depressing, pathetic even. Sure, you’d imitated Kaveh Akbar’s unique writing style to a T, but now you looked stupid for writing about a man you’d never even dated, who had unofficially “dumped” you last spring semester. Jungkook had to know. Unless he was completely oblivious (which was honestly likely, when you really thought about it). And maybe you were being too cocky, assuming some guy who you meant nothing to would care or even pay attention to the fact that his friend had fucked you into a broken heart. 

You sat with tight lips as the class discussed your poem, a few people put off by your use of space on the page, others praising your unique way of formatting the stanzas. Jungkook never spoke, but he never did until the end of class when Professor Mendez called him out for being silent. Then he would provide feedback for whoever had gone before him, his opinion usually directly contradicting whatever your professor said. She knew he wasn’t being defiant, and she welcomed his creative challenge of the status quo. But sometimes he was a bit much. 

“Well, Mr. Jungkook. Let’s hear yours.” 

You could feel the entire room both tense and lean forward, as if scared but also unimaginably eager for whatever it was they were about to receive. 

“I didn’t finish, but I can read what I have. It’s a prose poem.” 

UNTITLED I met her in the evaporated residue of a midnight bong rip. Among glimmers of artificially-simulated worlds, of over-saturated hues. Hurried hues of a purple-pink bruise, bloom, slippery between thighs. Tongue flicks. Slide. These things only happen behind closed doors. An eternity of almosts, she likes to wear my hand as a choker. Drag me whole into desire, into pink folds and broken promises. Drip slick slow stroke glide and move inside, eat feast thrive. Beat it up every time. Pulsate. Pulsate. Own it. My hands on your hips. Blindfold over your eyes. Selfish fuck. I am a decomposing mind; her body whispers otherwise. 

Jungkook could have written a poem about dog shit and the way he recited it would have been breathtaking. It didn’t matter that his lines were verging on pornographic for an academic setting; simply the way the alliteration flowed like honey from his mouth was enough to send shivers down anyone’s spine. The words came out like a gentle lullaby of filth, a smooth mantra, a promise of sin. It was no wonder the classroom fell silent. Even Professor Mendez stared at Jungkook with an unreadable expression on her face. 

“Thank you, Jungkook,” she said after a moment. 

He nodded politely and slouched into his seat again. 

Professor Mendez looked around the room for the first volunteer to take a stab at critiquing Jungkook’s poem. Only a brave soul could manage, and you were determined to keep your mouth shut. You could already visualize the way your classmates were going to gossip about this once class was over. You wondered how long it would take for Courtney and Amiriah to find out. 

“Who would like to go first?” 

It appeared the class had very few critiques, likely because no one wanted to dive too deeply into the abstract and overtly-sexual writing that had been. 

Professor Mendez went on a mini rant about the importance of knowing how to keep the flow of a prose poem that somehow derailed into a story about her new puppy. Perhaps someone had gotten her going to kill the last few minutes of class until it was 8pm and she was forced to let the group of you go into the night. 

You always managed to be the last person leaving the classroom every Wednesday night. Usually it was due to your prolonged conversations with Professor Mendez, the two of you gushing over a new poetry collection or the latest episode of a TV show. Jungkook, on the other hand, was typically the first to leave. Likely to go find his little crew of delinquents to do drugs with or whatever else they got themselves into. 

Except apparently not today. 

As you waved a goodbye to Professor Mendez, you headed down the empty hallway fully aware of the second pair of shoes echoing in the silence along with yours. Your insides were still scrambled from the series of exceptionally unfortunate events that had involved Kim Taehyung in the past twenty-four hours. You had no desire to entertain Jungkook, especially not after him staring you down all of class. And reading that fucking poem. 

“Are you really gonna ignore me?” 

You squeezed the straps of your backpack and stopped in front of the door to leave the academic building. If you acted bothered it would make you more suspicious. And it would let Kim Taehyung continue to rule your mind. You were better than this… 

So you turned around to face the doe-eyed boy and tried not to imagine his hand squeezing your throat. 

“I’m not ignoring you.” You cocked your head to one side in feigned confusion. Jungkook met your look with a small pout. 

“I’m sorry if I did something to upset you yesterday.” 

So, he didn’t know. Either that, or he was lying. But didn’t Immanuel Kant say lying is bad? You did everything in your power not to scowl to yourself. 

“I’m fine, Jungkook. I swear.” You let out an irritated sigh, casting a glance behind your shoulder as you heard thunder ripple through the air outside. You’d obviously forgotten to check the weather that morning, looking down at your t-shirt and shorts. 

“Okay…” He eyed you skeptically, but he didn’t want to push you further and threaten pushing you away completely. “Can I walk with you?” 

“Of course.” He lived literally across the hall from you. You could open your door and be face-to-face with his. 

“Okay… Can I give you a hug?” 

You rolled your eyes so far and deep inside your skull it was a surprise they didn’t detach and disappear somewhere. It wasn’t fair that you were taking out your frustrations on Jungkook simply because your ego was hurt. That self-awareness was what made you nod your head with your arms outstretched. 

Jungkook enveloped you in his large frame, the side of your face pressed against his chest. One of his arms wrapped around your waist, and he held the back of your head in his free hand. There was something about Jungkook’s closeness that caught you off guard. Perhaps it was because this was the first time you’d ever hugged each other; you’d never been this physical with each other at all, actually. You weren’t much of the hugging type, anyway. 

Jungkook’s warmth made you settle into his embrace for much longer than you’d expected. He felt soft, safe. Even the chemical smell of paint that had seeped into his hoodie was welcoming. Despite the rumbling of a heavy thunderstorm outside, you could still hear his heart beat beneath you. Something about that realization made you pull away from him suddenly. It was just too… close. 

He stared at you with a wrinkled brow and the pout was slowly coming back, but he stayed silent. You couldn’t meet his eyes. 

“Ready?”

 With raised shoulders you braced yourself for the downpour. 

By the time the two of you had sprinted across the courtyard, you were completely soaked. You felt your earlier frustrations melt with the water droplets gliding down your arms as you leaned against Jungkook’s equally-soaked body. He was nearly doubled over in laughter, shoulder pressed against the wall next to the front door of his dorm room. 

“You look like a wet cat,” he teased. 

“Oh yeah? Well you look like a wet dog.” Your poor hair was going to get embarrassingly frizzy if you didn’t take care of it immediately. 

Jungkook flashed you an evil grin and violently shook his head, sending water spraying all over. 

“Jungkook, stop!” you hollered, giving him a shove. “I feel so gross already.” 

You twisted around to fish out your dorm key from your backpack, but your fingers scraped the bottom of the pocket. No key. 

“Fuck,” you cursed, setting your backpack on the ground to search through more pockets. Giving up on that possibility, you checked the pockets of your shorts. Nothing. 

Unlocking your phone, your thumb hovered over your roommate group text, unsure if you should interrupt Amiriah and Courtney. It was a little after 8pm… Both of your roommates would be in their weekly sorority meeting that usually lasted at least an hour, if not two. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I… locked myself out.” What a fucking rookie mistake. What was this, freshman year? “I’m pretty sure I left my keys on the kitchen table.” 

Now you were stranded in your hallway, cold and soaking wet. You could go downstairs to ask your RA to let you in, but she was a bitch. 

“You’re a mess. Come on, I’ve got clothes for you.” 

He didn’t give you the opportunity to protest; instead, he stepped inside his dorm without even so much as a look over his shoulder at you. 

Apparently your desire to be warm and dry was stronger than your fear of entering the Dorm Room from Hell. You’d never been in Jungkook’s dorm before, mostly because you didn’t want to run into Taehyung. 

The layout was the same as yours: full kitchen with adjacent living room, long hall with individual bedrooms that ended with a bathroom. The decorations practically screamed “guys who smoke weed” considering the giant marijuana leaf tapestry hanging in the living room and the multicolored string lights that hung on the ceiling casting a psychedelic glow throughout the dorm. An incense that smelled interestingly like the ocean was burning on the coffee table. 

You were pretty sure burning incense wasn’t allowed on university property. Then again, neither was smoking weed in the parking lot, but Jungkook and his roommates did whatever they wanted. 

“Are you just gonna stand there or…?” 

Jungkook led the way down the hall, you trailing a bit behind him as you continued being nosy. As you passed the first bedroom, the door suddenly swung open, causing you to yelp when you were face-to-face with a rather grumpy looking man with shockingly green hair. The bleary look of his eyes told you he’d been asleep. 

“Why the fuck are you wet?” 

You did a double take, shocked at the roughness of the question from a stranger. Before you could answer, Jungkook was pulling you forward by the wrist. 

“Hyung, I went to the grocery store today. There’s tangerines on the counter.” 

The green-haired roommate grumbled a thank you and shot straight to the kitchen. 

“Just ignore Yoongi,” Jungkook whispered, stopping in front of his bedroom. “He’s a fifth-year senior and probably ready to burn the entire university down.” 

Jungkook’s bedroom was the exact opposite of what you’d expected. After seeing the chaos of his art studio, you’d thought his bedroom would be much of the same. Instead you were met with a simple, organized room. No clutter, no mess. Everything had its place, not an art supply in sight. Peaking over his shoulder, you saw even his dresser drawers were organized, each article of clothing neatly folded. That was likely why Jungkook was able to quickly pick out a t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts to hand you. 

“Oh, and this,” he tossed you a towel, as well. “You can use the bathroom. I’ll be in here.” 

“Thank you,” you said with an appreciative nod. 

The skin on your fingers had wrinkled up from the rain and you pressed them into the towel to find some relief. Who knew the feeling of wearing dry clothes would be so sweet? You took your time in the bathroom, rubbing down every inch of your body. Unfortunately, even your underwear and bra were soaked. If you put on dry clothes over them, the water would surely bleed into the fabric. So you opted for going commando, to your dismay. At least Jungkook’s t-shirt was baggy enough that your chest wasn’t on full display, and it wasn’t like anyone would know you weren’t wearing underwear. 

You caught a look at yourself in the mirror and laughed at how ridiculous you looked. It was like you’d come out of a really bad hip-hop music video from the early 2000s, literally drowning in baggy clothes. 

“Hey Jungkook… Do you have something I could put my clothes in?” You stood in the hallway in front of Jungkook’s bedroom, wet clothes in your hands. The door was closed and you were afraid of opening it if he was still changing. 

“You look cute.” 

You instinctively squeezed your bundle of clothes, turning your head to the side at the sound of that Mother. Fucking. Annoying. Ass. Voice. 

Taehyung raised an eyebrow at you, probably utterly confused as to why you looked the way you did, standing there in his dorm. You were determined to give him absolutely nothing. 

“So, you and Jungkook, huh?” 

A small smirk twisted at the corners of his mouth. By the way he was standing with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, it was clear that he wasn’t planning on walking away. 

“We just got back from class,” you said matter-of-factly. 

You focused on a spot on the wall to the right of his head when you spoke; it made it easier to look at him without having to stare into his eyes. Even though you found absolutely nothing about your statement funny, Taehyung started laughing. It was a low chuckle that brought that stupid smirk out even more. 

“Were you coming back from class at 2 o’clock this morning, too?” 

His eyes glinted with something that made a shiver shoot down the length of your spine. 

Luckily, Jungkook’s abrupt presence swinging the bedroom door open gave you and Taehyung someone else to focus on, and you could safely escape the fact that you didn’t have a witty comeback to shove in Taehyung’s face for teasing you about Jungkook. There was nothing there with Jungkook.  

He just gave nice hugs. And you respected his creative mind. And he had great taste in music. And you felt a little bit bad for him because people didn’t seem to give him the chances he deserved. And, wow, he was standing in the doorway of his bedroom wearing form-fitting gray sweatpants that sat low on his hips and you could tell that they sat low because he was shirtless. And your eyes were skipping down the path that his happy trail was leading from his belly button down to the strings of his sweatpants that hung down just on top of where you could make out a slight bulge in the fabric. 

“Y/N?” 

You quickly tore your eyes from Jungkook’s crotch to look at his face, not missing the way Taehyung’s smirk was growing even wider. You opened your mouth, then looked down at your clothes, then back at Jungkook. 

“She wants something to put her clothes in,” Taehyung admitted once it was clear you weren’t going to cooperate. “I’m going over to Natalie’s. Oh, and I dipped into your Trojan stash. Yoongi hyung didn’t have any and you have too many.” 

He flashed Jungkook a grin and pushed himself from his leaning position on the wall. 

“Have fun,” he offered over his shoulder as he walked away, heading to go fuck his girlfriend’s brains out. 

You were going to throw up. 

“What a fucking asshole,” you breathed through gritted teeth. 

Rather than be surprised at your cursing, Jungkook gave you a sympathetic look as he took your wet clothes from you to put in a small duffle bag. 

“I’m sorry…” he said after a moment, gesturing for you to step into his bedroom. He closed the door behind you and hopped onto his bed. Just as he’d done in the studio, he patted the space next to him to get you to sit with him. 

“C’mere.” 

“Jungkook, I don’t wanna bother you anymore. You’ve had to deal with me a lot the past 24 hours.” 

“Do I look bothered?”

You gave the boy a tight shake of your head and clambered onto the bed beside him, careful to sit hunched over a bit so your chest wouldn’t be too obvious. For once, he no longer smelled like paint. Instead your senses were overwhelmed by the strong scent of his laundry detergent, something akin to the ocean breeze of the incense the roommates were burning in the living room. He leaned his back against the headboard, but he turned at an angle to look at you from the side. 

“He told me about you two…” 

You felt your body stiffen at his confession and Jungkook rushed to finish his thought. 

“Not the details or anything. But just that you were hooking up.” 

Great. This was perfect. Leave it to Taehyung to treat you like a secret yet blabber to his friends. You hadn’t even told any of your friends about Taehyung. To this day, Courtney and Amiriah had no idea. And could you even trust Jungkook when he said the details were spared? Didn’t boys love to talk about their sexual conquests? 

“I’m sorry he’s such a fuckboy.” 

“Oh, like you aren’t, too?” 

“What?!” 

Jungkook stared at you incredulously, shocked by your sudden aggression. But you couldn’t stop yourself. The anger you’d let fester in you from countless boys quite literally fucking you over was all spilling over the top. It was just unfortunate that Jungkook was there to bear the weight rather than Taehyung; but you didn’t think he was wholly innocent either. College boys were entitled and selfish. Even though Jungkook had never done anything to you, you’d seen how some girls followed after him like he was some kind of mystery meant to be solved. He never explicitly talked about his love life with you, but you only took that as a bad sign. 

“Oh don’t act brand new, Jungkook. You literally make everything about sex. Literally all your poems are about eating pussy. You made that fucking painting of a naked women. And what the fuck is that?” 

Your arm shot out to point at a painting hanging on his wall that looked vaguely like an abstract rendition of a vulva. It somehow felt like the icing on the fucked up cake. 

“It’s called artistic appreciation!”

“You’re just as gross as Taehyung and all the other guys who just use women for their bodies and don’t give a fuck about how we feel or-”  

“Stop it.” Jungkook’s voice hit you like ice. You dropped your arm down and whipped your head back around to look at him, lips falling open at the harshness of his tone. 

“Don’t compare me to Tae. You don’t know what I’m like. You barely know me at all.” 

“That’s not-” 

“I said stop, okay?” he interjected again and the glare he sent you was enough to shut you up for good. Being scolded wasn’t exactly high on your list of favorite activities, especially not from someone you considered to be a friend. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire and you struggled to swallow down your words, shame creeping up your face in waves.

“I’ve spent the last four months in that poetry class watching you write about feeling broken and alone and misunderstood. And you know what I do? I invite you over to do homework ‘cause I know none of your other friends are studying English. And I asked you to go to Morgan Parker’s book reading with me ‘cause I knew you didn’t have anyone else to go with. And I invited you to my studio ‘cause you said you wish you were good at art and I wanted you to see that you could be good if you tried.” 

At this point his cheeks had turned bright pink and his hands were bunched up into fists in his lap. As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t look away from the fire in his eyes. 

“I’m not trying to make you feel like you owe me anything or to get some kind of recognition, okay? But just don’t fucking compare me to Tae when all I’ve ever tried to do is make you feel less alone. I like you, a lot. And I don’t even care that you’re not into me and you’re still caught up on him. I genuinely just want you to be happy.” 

With his monologue over, Jungkook turned his head to stare down at his hands, leaving you to peer at his profile with your mouth hanging open. 

It was the most you’d heard Jungkook speak, ever. It was also the most expressive you’ve ever seen him. Despite his passion for art, Jungkook was a very level person; he was collected even in the most stressful situations. To see him visibly shaking as he raised his voice was upsetting. 

“Jungkook…” You reached out to touch his arm and your heart broke into a million pieces when he flinched. 

“It’s whatever.” 

But it wasn’t. 

You felt like shrinking into the smallest version of yourself and disappearing. You’d spent so much time aching over the wounds Taehyung had left that you hadn’t considered what you might be missing out on, or how you might have been hurting someone else. Your head was lost in the dark cloud hanging over you; your heart couldn’t see anything in front of you. Blinded by your own pain, healing long overdue. 

You were so fucking stupid. 

“JK…” you started again. Lifting your hand, you brought your fingers to his chin and encouraged him to turn his head to look at you. “I’m so sorry. I really am. I just… It hurts? I don’t know what to do with the hurt.” 

From Taehyung and every other reckless boy. 

You let go of his face and waited, holding your breath until your lungs burned. Much to your disappointment, Jungkook maintained that cold stare, his eyes boring into yours so deeply that you felt like he was seeing something inside of you that even you didn’t know. You were afraid to look at him, shame making it difficult to hold your head up.  

“Give it to me.” 

“What?” It was your turn to cast your eyebrows down in confusion. 

“Give me the hurt. You don’t have to hold onto it anymore. I can take it.” His large hand enveloped your own, thumb running figure 8s into your skin.

You tried to speak, but you couldn’t choke out even a whisper as his words repeated in your head. Give me the hurt. Your hands shivered beneath his and you looked away quickly, feeling that horrid prickling in the corner of your eyes. You were not going to lose it just because you were touch-starved and never once in your life had someone so soundly declared their desire to take on whatever pain it was that you were feeling. You liked to keep your pain a secret, only letting out emotions through your poetry. And even then, you wanted to separate yourself from it. Writing was like putting down your emotion, letting it exist outside of you, so you could live free from it. But that didn’t always happen the way you wanted it to. 

You blinked quickly, losing focus on Jungkook’s face until you felt something hot slip down your cheek and you realized you were crying. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, embarrassment flooding your chest as you tried not to hiccup. What kind of emotional disaster were you? As Courtney would say, it wasn’t very girlboss of you. 

“I can take it.” 

This time the embers had gone out in his eyes. Instead, his irises were pleading with you. You tried to cover your face with your hands, but Jungkook held them down. He brushed your cheeks dry with his thumb, cradling your chin in his palm. 

“You deserve better, okay?” 

It was difficult to believe, but the soft gaze Jungkook held made you want to think maybe he was right. But how could it be possible for someone to want to carry your burden for you? He had no reason to. 

“I’m good now,” you said after a moment, the tears dried and your breathing returning to normal. You wanted to give him an out, let him have the opportunity to feel like he’d done his part in case he didn’t really mean what he said. You refused to let yourself fall for anymore bullshit. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” 

“You don’t have to lie to me…” 

There was that familiar line. You felt your eyes instinctually roll and you couldn’t stop the next snarky comment from slipping past your lips, using biting humor as a defense mechanism to cope. 

“Okay, Immanuel Kant.” 

Jungkook snorted, matching your eye roll, but he gave you a smile that reached his eyes. A classic Jungkook grin that had you giving a small smile in return and making your stomach flip like a fucking gymnast. It made you slowly float back down to reality and you remembered you were sitting in a shirtless Jungkook’s bed, his body leaned forward out of concern for you, his face mere inches from yours. Hand still cradling your chin. 

“Jungkook…” 

Your voice got caught in your throat with what little breathing you could manage. Then you watched his eyes drop to your lips as you whispered his name, and the melancholic look he gave you when his gaze returned to yours made you squeeze your eyes shut with guilt. He’d confessed his interest in you and you’d completely glossed over it. Not on purpose, but somehow you were making your feelings the priority once again. And now he looked at you like you were already gone. 

“Yeah, Y/N?” You opened your eyes at his call. 

“I…” 

You wanted to tell him how you felt, you really did. But life had taught you that in relationships there was always someone who cared more, and that person always got hurt the most. You just couldn’t keep being that person. 

Jungkook studied your face for what felt like an eternity. If he was expecting you to finish your sentence, he was certainly being patient. But it was the way his mouth turned downward into a small frown and his eyes traveled off somewhere behind you that told you he’d lost hope. 

Until he was staring at you once again and his grip on your chin tightened so subtly you almost didn’t notice. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

His voice came out low and thick. The tone sent a shiver down your spine and made goosebumps rise along your forearms. You’d never heard his voice drop so deep before, nor had you seen his eyes darken the way they had now. A spark of desire fluttered in your stomach and you felt nearly lightheaded from the way your body was hitting a peak level of anxiety over his question. If you said yes, were you just giving into yet another boy who would ruin you? And you believed Jungkook could ruin you. He was an artist; they were always trouble. 

But there was no denying the fact that your nervousness was merely a physical response to your interest in Jungkook that had grown exponentially over time. You were weak, and he was right. You did feel broken and alone and misunderstood. And you knew that sometimes Jungkook felt that way, too.

Just when Jungkook began to pull away with a look of rejection written across his face, you nodded. Unable to speak, you watched Jungkook’s tongue swipe across his bottom lip as he leaned in even closer. 

You were prepared for something much more lewd than what Jungkook gave you. Though your lips were parted, he didn’t invade your space. Instead of tongue and lip biting, you were met with a chaste kiss. His lips were soft and gentle, and the way his hand cupped your face made you feel secure, just as you’d felt when he hugged you. You’d never felt a sense of security with someone from a simple kiss. 

And then he was ending the kiss just as quickly as he’d started it, finally dropping his hand from your face. 

“Sorry,” he sighed, no longer meeting your eyes when he spoke. “I shouldn’t have asked. I don’t want you to feel like you had to agree to that…” 

It was your turn to shut him up. Maybe it was the remaining hormones swirling in your brain from having cried so much, or the adrenaline from being kissed by a man you’d tried to shoo out of your mind, but you felt bold enough to take his chin in your hand as he had done to you. You pressed your lips against his, this time forcing his mouth into a faster, deeper rhythm. The kiss was heavy and more desperate than the first. It was what you’d initially expected Jungkook to give you; a makeout that went hard and fast from the beginning, 0 to 100. That was what fuckboys did, wasn’t it? Anything to get their dick wet the quickest. 

It was what you were used to.

Your small hands found the tops of his shoulders, fingers running along his smooth, warm skin before you pushed him against the headboard. Swinging your leg over his, your knees sank into the soft bed as you straddled him. You adjusted slightly in his lap and the shift made your core press directly on top of the bulge in his pants that you’d admired earlier. This realization made the sudden heat between your legs melt like lava, and you ground your hips into his in a smooth but firm motion. 

The movement elicited a deep groan from the back of Jungkook’s throat, another sweet sound you’d never had the pleasure of hearing fall from his lips. With his lips parted from groaning, you took the opportunity to slip your tongue inside of his mouth. His hands pushed up the hem of your shirt just enough to allow him to reach the skin of your waist, gripping you hard as your body moved against his. 

“Y/N, wait.” 

Jungkook pulled back to lean his head against the bed’s headboard and you were met not with lust-filled eyes as you expected, but eyes that looked so deeply pained you almost wanted to avert your gaze. 

“I don’t wanna be a rebound. I want this to mean something, or else I can’t do this.” 

Jungkook’s voice came out hoarse, and it trembled. His eyes still held that undeniable sadness that reminded you that, once again, you had failed to see how your own fear of rejection had made you ignorant to the feelings you were instilling in him. Here he was, willing to give himself over to you, holding back because he was afraid that you would hurt him.

Once again, shame flooded your face as you frantically searched for a way to show that you needed this to mean something, that in just a few months he had become the most constant person in your life, the person you were most comfortable with even when all you often did was just sit and talk about life. 

There was an obvious way to fix this, but you still had that gnawing feeling holding you back. 

“I like you, too, Jungkook.” Squeezing your eyes shut, you spoke just barely above a whisper. If you didn’t look at him, the vulnerability of the moment would be easier to manage. “You’re kind and smart even though you’re always toeing the line of academic probation.” 

Your words came out rushed, the last comment making you let out a laugh that sounded more like a short burst of air, and you held onto his shoulders for dear life. 

“And you’re the most creative and imaginative person I’ve ever met, but you’re so lowkey about everything. You deserve more than you give yourself credit for,” you continued, eyes still closed. “And… I guess you’re kinda hot…” 

With that you slowly opened one eye to peek at Jungkook’s face. It was embarrassing to say that the grin he wore made your heart soar and it was only then that you noticed the way his fingertips were running along your sides, tracing invisible designs onto your skin. 

“Only kinda hot?” 

“Oh shut up.” 

You gave him a playful slap against his chest. You let your hand linger there, palm pressed against him to feel the strength of his pec muscle. With your bottom lip pulled between your teeth, you ran your hand down the length of Jungkook’s chest and along his abdomen until you reached between your bodies to access the hem of his sweatpants. 

Without warning you gripped his cock, palming it over his pants. You felt it twitch beneath your fingers, already semi-hard and warm even through the fabric. Jungkook let out a low groan, hips slightly bucking into you. Suddenly aware of how painfully clothed you are, Jungkook slid his hands back up your sides, pushing his t-shirt off of you in the process. Ruining the orderly look of his bedroom, he tossed the t-shirt and brought his attention back to you. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he hissed, realizing that you weren’t wearing a bra. 

You shuddered at the gentle way he ran his fingers up your sides once more and you leaned forward when his tattooed fingers lightly pinched one of your nipples until it went hard. Then he moved onto the other one, tweaking it slowly. 

After a moment you let go of him and reached for the hem of his sweatpants, waiting for him to lift his body so you could pull them down his legs. 

He’s big, bigger than you’d expected. You’d imagined he would have a nice dick, purely because it seemed like the most mysterious, standoffish guys always did. They didn’t have to compensate by being boisterous and arrogant; they knew what they were packing and that was enough. But Jungkook was quite possibly too much. You were a small person, for fuck’s sake. 

“We don’t have to do this. If you’re not ready, we can stop.” 

There was Jungkook reading your mind, yet again. How was it possible for him to know exactly what to say every single time? Were you just that expressive? If so, no one else in your life read you so well. 

“Stop talking,” you repeated his earlier command, but you didn’t look him in the eyes. Instead you were focused on how heavy and soft his cock felt in your hand as you admired him. You ran your fingers along the prominent vein on the underside of his cock, then you glided your thumb along the tip to smear the bit of precum that was already leaking. The action made Jungkook whimper and the sound sent a jolt straight into your core. 

But just before you could lower your head down to give him what you knew he wanted, Jungkook’s hand was cupping your chin once again. He pulled your face upwards to guide you back to his. 

“I’m fine, Jungkook. I want to do this,” you assured him, but he slowly shook his head. 

“You’re going in so fast, and you don’t have to. I’m not some asshole hookup. The point of all this isn’t just to get me off and make you put in all the work.” He leaned forward to kiss you on the tip of your nose and you’d never felt more wanted in your entire life. “You deserve to feel good for once.” 

Snaking his arm around your waist, Jungkook gently flipped you onto your back. Spreading your legs apart with his knees, he kneeled over you as he began laying hot kisses down the length of your neck, pausing only to suck at the soft skin where your neck and collarbone met. 

“Jungkook…” you sighed, squirming underneath him once his mouth began to travel further down. 

He flicked his tongue against one of your nipples, drawing a circle around the erect mound. He let out a deep hiss of approval when you moaned, arching your back to push yourself against his mouth. While his tongue was busy exploring your chest, Jungkook took his sweet time pulling his basketball shorts off of you, those too flying across the room. 

When he moved back into a comfortable position between your legs, his thigh brushed against your core and he let out a moan loud enough you were sure his roommates would hear him. 

“Fuck, Y/N, you could’ve warned me you weren’t wearing any underwear,” he groaned, his thigh now glistening with your arousal. 

“Sorry I didn’t think to tell you while I was crying.” 

“So dramatic.” 

You covered your face with your hands in embarrassment that bore even deeper into your soul when a pathetic whimper escaped your lips the moment you felt Jungkook’s hand slip in between your thighs. 

“You’re so fucking wet,” he sighed, effortlessly sliding his fingers along your folds. He ran his fingers up and down slowly as if he were memorizing each crevice and the way your legs jumped when he hit a certain spot, especially once he began stroking your clit. 

He was exploring, you realized. He was learning your body and there was nothing more embarrassing. All you could think about was the fear that Jungkook might not like what he saw. Or that he was comparing you to his past fucks. Or that Taehyung had told him things about your sex life. 

“Why are you hiding from me?”

You felt your hands being pried from your face and lifted over your head. Jungkook pinned your wrists above you, his face now inches from yours. You could see a restrained wildness in his eyes, but his eyebrows were knitted together in frustration. 

“Why?” he repeated. 

You shook your head, but another irritated call of your name made you question your decision to defy him.

“I just don’t want you to be disappointed…” you whispered, avoiding his gaze. 

“Does this seem like disappointment to you?” Jungkook rolled his hips into you, his now rock hard cock sliding against your dripping folds. 

“Ahh, n-no,” you gasped, wiggling under his hold. 

“Okay, so don’t hide from me. Let me take care of you.” 

Letting go of your wrists, Jungkook got off of the bed. You watched him with confusion that slowly melted into a mixture of anxiety and sweet anticipation as he hooked his arms around your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the bed. Falling to his knees, Jungkook let your legs rest on his broad shoulders. You could feel his breath against your skin and it took everything in your power not to begin squirming again when you felt his tongue lick a hot stripe up the inside of your thigh. 

“I want you to watch me while I eat you out,” Jungkook murmured, his dark eyes locking with yours as he leaned forward to plant a kiss against your lower lips. “Okay?” 

You had no choice but to nod in compliance, propping yourself up on your forearms so you could get a better view even though everything in you was screaming to break your gaze. You could hardly believe it was Jungkook staring at you through his bangs from between your legs. Not to mention you were usually very shy when it came to being sexually pleasured - mostly because it rarely happened. Guys were always expecting you to do them favors, not the other way around. You couldn’t even remember the last time a guy had gone down on you. 

But there was no time to be shy when Jungkook abruptly plunged his tongue into your folds. You let out a loud yelp and immediately slapped your hand over your mouth to muffle the remaining squeals threatening to slip from your parted lips. Jungkook chuckled at your response and the vibration made your cunt throb. 

Still, you kept your gaze locked with his as he lapped up your juices, no matter how dirty it made you feel to have those blown out pupils bore into yours. Your eyes only fluttered when his lips found your clit and began to suck on it while his tongue flicked a steady rhythm against it, the two sensations proving to be almost too much for you to handle. Your breathing became ragged as you felt your abdomen tense up. 

“Jungkook,” you whispered a moan, hands gripping the bed sheets so tightly your fingers started to hurt. 

“Hmm, baby? You’re gonna have to speak up.” The new nickname made you whimper. 

As if to encourage you to find your voice, Jungkook slid two fingers inside of you as he returned to pleasuring your clit. The sudden stretch immediately ripped a strangled moan out of you and your hips involuntarily bucked into Jungkook’s face. 

“I’m sorry,” you quickly apologized, but Jungkook only fucked into you harder, expertly curling his fingers at just the right spot to make your legs start to shake. 

“Don’t apologize. You can fuck my face all you want,” he lifted his head up to lick his lips, sending you a wink that made your heart stop. 

He could sense your orgasm coming soon by the way your walls were clenching around his fingers, but he was determined to make it as mind-shattering as possible. Fitting a third finger inside of you, he continued to suck on your clit, tongue swirling to the rhythm of his fingers. 

“Ohh, oh my god,” you sobbed, tears pooling in your eyes as you finally reached your climax. You let out a loud cry, fingers tangled in Jungkook’s hair as you struggled to still your shaking legs. 

Licking a final stripe up your lips, Jungkook lifted his head from your thighs and gave you a satisfied grin. He was truly a sight for sore eyes with his mouth soaked in your arousal and his hair a mess from your fingers running through it. You fell flat on your back, legs dangling off the edge of the bed. 

“You good?”

“I’m going to die.”

Your eyes were on the ceiling but you heard him laugh and you felt his strong arms lift your legs back onto the bed, adjusting you so you were comfortably in the center of the mattress again. 

“Damn, I didn’t realize I was gonna make you tap out so fast,” he teased, lying down beside you. He pressed a kiss against your throat. 

“Everyone says you have great head game and I should’ve taken them more seriously.” 

“Who says that?!” 

You turned onto your side to face him, already rolling your eyes. “Don’t you know the rumors that get spread about you?” 

Jungkook gave you a small shake of his head. “I don’t worry about people. I’m only worried about you.” 

The warm fuzzy feelings his words gave you were too much for you to bear, so you pushed them away by pulling him closer, crashing your lips into his. Jungkook wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you flush up against his chest. You could feel his cock still hard against your leg and it reminded you that this whole situation felt so foreign to you. Never had you been pleasured by a man who expected nothing in return.

“You are art, you know that? A fucking masterpiece,” Jungkook sighed against your lips, pulling away to nuzzle against your neck. 

“Jungkook.”

“Yes, baby?” There was that fucking nickname again making your pussy flutter back to life. 

Instead of answering him, you reached down to grab his cock. He groaned against your throat as you gave him a few slow pumps. He’d taken care of you just as he’d promised, and now you hoped he’d let you take care of him. Not because you felt obligated to, but because you genuinely wanted to. 

Wordlessly, Jungkook rolled you onto your back so that he was hovering over you, his forearms on either side of your head. 

“I want you so bad,” he growled against your ear, hips rolling into your open legs. 

“What are you waiting for?” you whispered. 

“Fuck…” 

You blinked and he was no longer on top of you. Instead he was rummaging through the drawer of his nightstand, eventually pulling out a shiny square packet. For someone normally so calm, Jungkook’s fingers were shaking with need as he rolled the condom on. 

“Is this okay?” He returned to his position between your legs as you laid on your back. Your heart stung at his thoughtfulness, shocked that he was asking you what position you wanted him in. You nodded, spreading your legs wider for him. Jungkook ran his fingers along the inside of your thighs, his head dipped down so his bangs fell forward, partially obstructing your view of his face. 

You gasped when you felt something wet hit your cunt. He’d spit on you. You could feel the extra lubrication slide down your folds and the lewd act made you shiver. Sure, maybe that was fairly tame for some people, but it had your head reeling.  

Holding the base of his cock, Jungkook rubbed the tip along your folds, further smearing his spit and your arousal together. 

“If you want to stop, just tell me,” he said hoarsely, and that was the warning you got before he was sinking his cock into your entrance. 

Despite how relaxed and turned on you felt, the stretch was considerable. You tensed for a moment and Jungkook froze, his eyes meeting yours. With a nod of approval from you, he pushed himself in further, finally bottoming out and holding the position as he waited for you to adjust. You felt so unbelievably full with him inside of you and the pressure of him against your walls was enough to make your legs shake once again. 

After giving you a bit of time, Jungkook began to move his hips, starting with slow but long strokes that got increasingly deeper. 

“Oh god,” he moaned, head hanging down so he could watch his cock disappear into your cunt over and over again. After a while he lifted one of your legs to rest it on his shoulder so he could adjust his angle to thrust into you that much deeper, and the next slam of his body into yours that had his cock make direct contact with your g-spot made you scream. 

“Shit, Y/N, Yoongi’s gonna kill us if you keep screaming like that,” Jungkook said with a grin that very much made it seem like he wouldn’t mind dying for such an offense. 

“You… just feel s-so g-good,” you cried out, your nails clawing at Jungkook’s arms as you searched for something to hold on to. 

He couldn’t possibly have been concerned considering he only thrusted into you even harder. The thing about Jungkook, though, was that he was going hard but he was going slow. He was savoring every time he slid into you, savoring the glisten of his cock as he pulled out. Turning his head to the side, he kissed the leg he’d draped over his shoulder, one hand running down the smooth skin while his other held on tightly to your hip to keep you in place. 

“Fuck, yes baby,” Jungkook groaned. He pressed his fingers against your mouth, gently prying your lips open to stick his thumb in your mouth. The action surprised you, but you obediently sucked on his thumb until he was pulling away again. Reaching between you, he pressed his now wet thumb against your clit and began rubbing circles as he fucked you. 

You whined at the sudden stimulation, your walls fluttering around his cock as your breathing turned into panting. “I’m gonna…” you let out another moan, your walls clenching around Jungkook’s cock. “I’m gonna come again.” 

“That’s right, come on my cock for me, baby. Let go for me.” 

How could Jungkook make dirty talk sound so alluring? So supportive? It was just like his writing, a gentle lullaby of filth. From the look he’d given you earlier, you knew there was a less tame side of him you’d yet to tap into. The memory of his poem flooded your mind, daring you to take things a step further… she likes to wear my hand as a choker…

Reaching out, you grabbed the hand that was holding onto your hip and brought it to rest on your neck. You saw that same wild look flash in Jungkook’s eyes once again, and you knew the action had affected him because his thrusting faltered for a moment. With your lips slightly parted, you tilted your head back slightly to expose more of your throat for him. Jungkook wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a sight more beautiful. 

“Shit, you keep acting up like this I’m gonna fall in love,” he grunted, biting down hard on his bottom lip as he opened up his palm to get a firm grip on your neck. As he resumed his rhythmic thrusting, he squeezed your throat. At first, the decrease in oxygen had you gasping in your body’s natural drive for self-preservation. Once your body and mind adjusted, though, you succumbed to the way your body tingled with excitement. When you moaned, your eyes fluttering and rolling back, Jungkook applied even more pressure. 

You’d never imagined you’d have another orgasm somewhere inside of you so soon after the first, but you were convulsing around Jungkook’s cock just as he asked you to, calling out his name in the sweetest song. 

It wasn’t long before his thrusts became sloppier and his grip on your throat became almost too tight. The string of profanity he growled in your ear as he came made you shiver. Was it really possible that you affected him so deeply? 

Jungkook hovered over you for a moment, attempting to catch his breath. 

“I think that’s the hardest I ever came in my life,” he said weakly, finally mustering up enough strength to pull himself out of you. He left the bed to throw away the soiled condom, you musing at his cute little butt as he sauntered away. 

“You’re welcome,” you said with a grin, though the hoarseness of your voice startled you. You pressed your hand against your throat and winced, not because your throat hurt, but because of the way Jungkook looked at you with deep concern. 

“Did I hurt you?” he asked softly, climbing into bed beside you. 

“Please,” you sighed, snuggling against Jungkook’s chest. “You did me too good.” 

“I’ll fucking do you again, too, if you don’t stop rubbing your thighs against me,” he murmured in your ear, causing you to chuckle lightly. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

A loud knock on the door made you jump, your arm instinctually covering your chest though you knew Jungkook had locked the door. 

“What the fuck,” he whispered, silently willing whoever it was to go away. 

The knocking continued, this time a bit more aggressively. 

“Open up, bro, the light’s on. I know you’re in there,” Taehyung complained from the other side of the door. “You’ve still got my pen.”  

Your eyes grew wide as you looked at Jungkook. 

With a groan, Jungkook got out of bed once again. Grabbing the basketball shorts you’d been wearing, he pulled them on and snagged Taehyung’s vape pen from where it sat atop his dresser. He didn’t bother to put a shirt on or fix his sex hair. 

“Wait,” you whispered. “What about me?” 

“I don’t give a fuck,” Jungkook spoke at a normal volume as if to demonstrate how serious he was about not caring if Taehyung saw you there. 

“Seriously, JK?” Taehyung clearly thought Jungkook’s comment had been directed towards him. 

You quickly grabbed Jungkook’s t-shirt and pulled it on seconds before Jungkook swung the bedroom door open. 

You watched Taehyung’s eyes slowly scan over Jungkook’s appearance. His mouth twisted as though he were about to speak, but then he locked eyes with you where you still sat in Jungkook’s bed, probably looking just as fucked out as Jungkook did. 

“Here.” Jungkook dropped the vape in Taehyung’s open palm. “Need anything else?” 

Taehyung’s eyes made their way back to Jungkook and whatever snarky comment he’d been prepared to make before was now gone. 

“Nah, that’s it, thanks.” 

-

After a week of being exclusive with Jungkook, you felt the need to loop your roomates into the whole situation. Courtney and Amiriah were your best friends, after all. The three of you had been your own Golden Trio since day one freshman year, ending up in the same peer mentor group. The first time you’d all hung out together you’d gone to an off-campus frat party. Barely an hour in and Courtney had been throwing her guts up right into the pool. Needless to say, the three of you had never gone back to that house. As horrifying as it was, you felt like it painted the perfect picture of your relationship. You were all in it for the long haul, no matter how messy. 

But now you had to tell them you were dating the weird guy. 

You kept looking at your phone, checking the time. The two should have been out of their sorority meeting by now, which meant they could arrive at your dorm at any moment. Waiting was nerve-racking. You gnawed on a hangnail, only pulling your gaze from your phone when you felt Jungkook’s strong arms wrap around your waist. He pulled you into his lap on the couch and leaned into you, lightly brushing his lips along your neck, making you shiver. 

“Why do you act like you’re having me meet your parents?” he asked with a small chuckle. 

“Courtney and Amiriah are important to me,” you started, trying to find the correct words to explain your friends. “They’re also really… judgmental, but because they care about me. And they don’t trust men.” Which was fair. You did your best to look out for them as well. 

Jungkook hummed in response but didn’t speak. That didn’t surprise you. A man of few words, you knew he liked to have time to decide how he felt or what he wanted to say about things. 

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” you announced, standing up. Jungkook nodded and leaned back into the couch. Was it a good thing that he didn’t seem nervous? 

Of course the moment you entered the bathroom, Courtney and Amiriah came bustling through the front door. Their loud chatter quickly halted when their eyes fell upon Jungkook lounging on your couch, legs spread and tattooed arm draped across the back of the couch. 

“Hey,” he greeted them with a grin and a nod of his head. 

“Oh, um, hi?” Courtney’s greeting was more of a question. 

“Where’s Y/N?” What Amiriah wanted to ask was how he even got into your dorm, but she didn’t want to be rude. 

“I’m here!” You shuffled into the room, giving your friends a little wave. “Jungkook wanted to hang out here for a change.” 

The boy quirked his eyebrow at you and gave you an amused smile, noticing how you’d made it sound like it was his idea when it most certainly had been yours. Not that it bothered him. If anything, he wanted you to deflect onto him. He’d told you he could take anything you needed to give him, and he’d meant it. 

Jungkook got up from his seat and walked over to the three of you, hands in the front pockets of his jeans. The pose made his biceps and chest more prominent, and you couldn’t help but stare for a moment. God, he was too pretty. 

“I feel bad it’s the first time I’m finally meeting you,” he said in a warm voice. “Y/N never shuts up about how great you two are. Pretty sure I’ve heard the story of The Great Edible Debacle at the Dolph concert about fifty times.” 

You were shocked by how charming he was being. Really laying it on thick. 

“That is a horrible story to be telling people, Y/N! What the fuck,” Amiriah said with a laugh. “We’re only a little bit insane.” 

“And stupid,” Courtney chimed in. 

The four of you continued your bantering as you lounged around the living room, snacking on some food your roommates had brought as leftovers from their sorority meeting. Jungkook fit into the conversation rather neatly, talking a lot more than you’d expected, but still knowing when to sit back and let the girls dominate the conversation. He sat with his arm around your waist, keeping you close but not dipping into any PDA, knowing it would bother you if he did. 

The conversation came to a pause when Jungkook’s phone began to ring, all three pairs of eyes pointed in his direction. 

“Ah, fuck. Tae’s calling me,” he mumbled. “I’ll be right back.” As he stood up, he cupped your face for a moment, running his thumb across your cheek before he was bringing his phone to his ear. 

“Hyungie, what’s up?” Jungkook stepped out into the hallway, closing the front door behind him. 

“Girl, are y’all fucking?!” Amiriah leaned forward with a harsh whisper, excitement dancing in her bright eyes. 

“We’re dating, actually.” 

Courtney let out a squeal, bouncing on her knees where she sat on a pillow on the floor, wrapped in a fluffy blanket. “I knew it, I totally knew it.” 

“I’m gonna admit, weird or not, that man is foine now that I’m seeing him up close.” Amiriah loudly sucked her teeth and shook her head. “He’s got that snatched little waist. And those thighs? He could smash a watermelon.” 

“Okay, okay, but we gotta ask the REAL question here.” Courtney was now plopping down on the couch between you and Amiriah, blanket still in tow. “Did he eat it right?? In the words of Nicki Minaj, do he got good form??” 

You slapped Courtney on the arm in protest, but you were grinning as you spoke. “I almost started crying, it was so good.” 

“WHEW girl, stop it,” Amiriah grabbed your arm and shook it. “Are you willing to share? For charity?” 

Before you could scold your friend for trying to get her hands on your man, Jungkook returned. The shift in the room’s atmosphere was palpable, and the way Courtney and Amiriah watched Jungkook with new interest was almost too obvious. 

He gave you a confused smile as he squeezed onto the couch next to you. 

“So, Jungkook,” Amiriah began and you prayed to God she wouldn’t say anything stupid. “You said you heard stories about us, but we didn’t talk about all the fun things we’ve heard about you!” 

You shot your friend a glare but she was already on a roll with Courtney on her heels. 

“Yeah, we’ve heard all about your poetry,” Courtney added. 

You don’t think your roommates were prepared for the low chuckle that rumbled from Jungkook nor for the dark look in his eyes as he turned to you. He grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers, and you silently pleaded with him to behave. 

“Yeah, I was trying to give Y/N a preview of what she could be getting.” 

“Jungkook,” you gasped and your friends started talking all at once, but all you could focus on was the way your boyfriend was smirking at you, his tongue playing with his lip ring how he knew you liked. 

He leaned into you, his lips ghosting your ear and sending goosebumps up your arms as he whispered, 

“Just wait until you come over tonight.”

Living with Jungkook meant living with the constant smell of paint. Sure, you only just moved in together less than a week ago, but that was certainly long enough to know. And you were already finding little splatters on the floor and in the kitchen sink.

Living with Jungkook also meant that you were required to use the word magnets on the refrigerator to write him a poem every morning, just like he was going to write one for you. This was established as a house rule while the two of you discussed whether it would be a good idea to live together.

You thought the rules were going to be about who does the laundry, but you had to remember, this was Jungkook.

You tiptoed around the cardboard boxes full of all the stuff you two moved in with, but had yet to unpack. The hardwood floors glistened in the afternoon sunlight streaming through the flimsy blinds. Specks of dust glittered the air.

Jungkook was laying out a tarp in the entranceway of the apartment. An array of paint cans were placed around the tarp to hold it down.

“JK, what are you doing?” you inquired with your hands on your hips.

“Painting,” he said with a simple smile before turning back to his work. It was then that you noticed a large tray with fresh paint, and a variety of brushes sticking out of Jungkook’s pockets. 

“Here? This wall is the first thing people see when they walk in,” you pointed out. Leave it to Jungkook to start on a project before he’d even unpacked all his underwear. 

“That’s the point.” He didn’t look at you as he spoke, instead focused on mixing the color he wanted. 

You let out a small sigh. This man… 

“What are you going to do? Please, I beg of you, please do not paint genitalia of any kind.” It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy your boyfriend’s artwork. You were obsessed with his creativity, actually. It was part of what made you fall for him. But there was no denying that he was… unconventional in his taste. 

Jungkook let out a chuckle, his nose scrunched up and his cute front teeth exposed. It was the laugh that meant he thought you were being ridiculous. 

“It’s gonna be something even better.” 

That was not reassuring at all. 

“Jungkook, my parents are coming to visit in a week!” 

Setting his brush down in silence, Jungkook extended his arm to hook a tattooed finger through the belt loop of your shorts. You begrudgingly let him pull you forward until you were pressed against his chest. Your arms circled his tiny waist and you forgot you were supposed to be annoyed with him when he started caressing your head, careful not to mess up your hair. 

“I’m gonna paint a mural of my muse,” he said in the wispy tone his voice took on when he was thinking through his plans. “That’s you, in case you didn’t know.” 

You lifted your head to look up at him, your chin resting on his chest. “No.” 

“What?!” 

“You are not putting up some kind of shrine for me in the middle of the apartment.” 

“Why can’t I let everyone know that I worship you?” Jungkook whined, letting go of you. You weren’t prepared to be set free, though, and you stumbled backwards. With wide eyes, Jungkook grabbed a handful of your shirt to stop you from falling, but it was too late. Your foot stepped directly into one of his open paint cans. 

“JUNGKOOK!” you shrieked, lifting up your foot to see gloopy red paint drip from your toes.

Jungkook’s cheeks grew puffy as he tried to hold in his laughter while he searched for his towels. It was a failed attempt, though, and you were glowering even harder as you watched the laugh come bursting from inside him. 

“I’m-,” Jungkook wheezed, holding out a paint-stained towel for you. He was laughing so hard his hand shook. “I’m s-sorry, baby, I-” 

He abruptly shut up when he felt your hand swipe his cheek and a thick liquid rolled down his neck. 

“That’s what you get for laughing at me!” you said with a wicked grin, admiring how you’d smeared paint all over the side of his face. 

Your grin slowly fell as you watched Jungkook lean down to drag his fingers through his tray of baby blue paint. 

“Don’t you dare,” you warned, pointing your finger at him. 

“What? I’m not doing anything.” Jungkook gave you the sweetest smile and reached for your legs. You felt his wet hands slide down your bare thighs and you shrieked again as he threw you over his shoulder. 

“Put me down! Kookie, you’re going to get paint all over the floor.” You gently beat his back with your fists, but your laughter made your actions less convincing. 

“Me? You’re the one ruining my painting area.” He tried brushing his bangs out of his eyes, but ended up smearing paint across his forehead and into his hair. “Now I have to clean my baby up.” 

You could hear the pout in his voice as he carried you down the hallway to the bathroom, dripping red and blue paint. The two of you were certainly going to leave your mark on this place.

@rkiveslibrary @mar-lo-pap

[jesuistrestriste]

more art x milf reader! we all say in unison 🙇‍♀️

cw (18+) : needy!art donaldson, milf!reader, jealousy, masturbation, mention of alcohol/intoxication, pillow humping, mommy kink

it was usually hard to tell if she was flirting with him or just being her usual, saccharine-sweet self. whenever he and her would converse, a generally rare and heaven-sent occasion, he’d pay careful attention to her appearance and the little details she seemed to keep consistent each time; deep mauve lipstick perfectly slicked to her pout, freshly manicured nails, low rise jeans that hugged her curves in a way that made his stomach fizzle and flood with heat.

right after the most recent match on campus, he’d been granted another opportunity to have a full, lengthy discussion with her. he was absolutely dripping with salty sweat and panting like a dog, but she didn’t seem to mind too much at the time—batting her lashes and patting the seat next to her to invite him closer. he had wiped at his damp brow when they began to talk, pulling at his collar afterwards (burning up from the inside out), and then made sure that he was smiling at all of the right times as he listened to her speak. he tried his hardest to focus on the words leaving her mouth: tennis player.. thrilling match point.. congratulations.. you’re a star. the nervous laugh that clogged his throat when he registered her praising sentiment only caused his cheeks to flare a deeper shade of pink, and his fingers reflexively squeezed the metal edge of the bleachers underneath him. she’d smiled in return and only doubled-down on her compliments then. he just had to sit there and take it, fidgeting and folding his legs into different positions to try to hide the swell of his desire. it was a mess of an interaction, and art was well-aware how embarrassing it was for him to be acting like a teenage boy in front of such a sophisticated, charming, yet down-to-earth older woman, but he sincerely could not help himself. it was impossible to stay sane in her presence.

the universe gifted him a couple more similar interactions with her in the following month, and this only worked to solidify his (wildly inappropriate) obsession. he’d go to class and think about her bubbly laughter, he’d eat in the dining hall and forget to chew when thoughts of her mouth infected his mind, and he’d even started to lose himself in her image when he was playing tennis—which, for him, was incredibly damning. tennis was usually a healthy distraction, a coping mechanism, as it rarely allowed him to get lost in irrelevant ideas. his head was almost always in the game. so, when he was in the middle of a practice singles match with another stanford player one evening and missed a shot because a flash of her thighs rendered him boneless and swallowing a whimper, he knew he had a real problem.

masturbation didn’t even help.

not in the slightest.

he jerked off in the showers regularly, fisting his aching, angry cock with urgency as he pressed his forehead into the tile wall and moaned her name into the running water. he’d buck his hips to gain friction against his palm when he orgasmed, clapping his free hand over his mouth to stifle his repetitive mewling, and then would watch as his wasted load swirled down the drain.

it was all very routine. it usually was a temporary solution to the desperate and persistent yearning he felt during every agonizing minute of every torturous day. more broadly, it was just hard to ignore the reality that he’d never been so horny in his entire life—and it was all because of her, though he could never truly blame her beauty. his perverse nature was the real culprit.

the only time that he’d successfully been able to get off and get over her for longer than an hour happened when he came back to his dorm room after a party thrown by a handful of the other members of the tennis team. he’d gotten drunk on beer and cheap shots, egregiously so, but still found himself stumbling into his room with half of an erection bulging in the front of his pants. as he kicked off his shoes and peeled off his bottoms, he recalled what one of his teammates had said about her in the middle of the function—

“she’s so fucking hot, isn’t she? i mean, shit, i’d do anything to fuck her.”

art had never considered himself a violently jealous person, but in that very moment at the party something ugly had reared its head and he’d wanted nothing more than to put his fist to the guy’s teeth until his own knuckles cracked and bled. the guy had never even talked to her before, whereas it could be argued that art and her were almost friends. if anyone deserved to squeeze her plush tits and slide their unworthy dick into her perfect pussy, it was him. he ended up having to walk away from that cesspool of locker-room talk in order to avoid starting something that would surely land him in hot water with the university.

he took off his shirt and dropped it down onto his floor to meet his other garments as he staggered deeper into his cramped living space, crawling up to lay on his twin xl. his hand was immediately in his boxers in the next moment, fondling his warm flesh as it swelled hungrily in his touch, and he groaned and shuddered as he felt his head spin wildly. art then turned to flip himself gracelessly over onto his stomach, limbs moving uncoordinatedly with each brief shift of his weight. his jaw slacked and he gasped pathetically into his sheets as he humped his curled set of digits. though, when he blinked his eyes open blearily, his wasted brain formed a filthy idea..

“ohhh, fuck me,” he whimpered, shoving a pillow from the top of his mattress between his legs, his pelvis arching back only to rut forward and smush his clothed shaft into the cushion, “i’m all yours.. please, use m’cock.. don’t take anyone else’s, i wan’ be the only one—!”

he slurred through every lewd word that left his mouth. his abdomen curled and tensed as he began to feverishly hump the softness under him, his cock throbbing with incoming drizzles of pleasure. he clawed at his bedding like he was some sort of drooling, snarling, chained-up monstrosity. felt like one too with all of the arousal paralyzing his frame. every cell in his being was on fire with the debilitating need to be nestled in her sopping cunt, hugged by her slick walls and pleasing her any way that he was able. he imagined sucking on her nipples until she pulled his hair.. her soft tongue on the seam of his sack.. her fingers at the back of his throat, fluttering and giving him something to worship as he pounded up into her. his thrusts quickened to sync with the rapid beating of his heart in his ribcage. he was so close that he almost felt sick with it all.

art's noises raised in pitch and volume with every second; everything was boiling over in record time.

“oh no—“ he drunkenly choked and moaned, teetering on the edge, “mommy, i’m gonna come inside you—i’m, i’m so—it feels s’good, i can’t hol’ it anymore—please don’t b’mad, i really like y—HAAH—“

he pushed himself up onto his palms and let out a strangled, wet cry as he suddenly felt the world close in on him. head tipped back, toes curled, muscles flexed. white flashes erupted behind his low lids, something hot gushing copiously from his tip and into his underwear.. over and over and over and over again. a final curse flew from his lips as his climax wrapped its arms around his body and flooded him with the last bits of boiling gratification—so much so that it was almost numbing. his hips moved jerkily through the lingering sensations; they snapped downward several times until the spilling of fluids ceased and was only replaced by the feeling of all-consuming oversensitivity. art quaked from his head down to his toes, squirming and hiccuping against the stimulation that only he could save himself from.

when he finally collapsed into a panting heap, the fantasy of her core wringing him dry starting to fade out, he'd sucked at his bottom lip and let out the tiniest of whines.

“mommy.. mommy, mommy, mommy..”

he whimpered it until he fell asleep.

tags : @voidsuites @asheepinfrance @fawnnpaws @artstennisracket @andyrambles @imperishablereverie @ghostgirl-22 @lexiiscorect @cha11engers @patricksbf @newrochellechallenger2019 @pittsick @blastzachilles @oncefaist

[alexanderwales]

Game Review: Underhill

Note: This review contains no screenshots, because this game doesn’t actually exist.

The dwarves are mining, the bugbears are lumbering through the mushroom farms, the imps are scurrying to and fro, and all the traps at the entrance to the dungeon are armed and ready. From a bird’s eye view, it seems as though everything in the underhill is humming along, but that’s only because the problems are invisible from far away. The dwarves have found a new vein of moonmetal, which they’re taking to their infernum foundries to melt down and make better tools and weapons. Unfortunately, the moonmetal has a waste product, and the imps have been transferring that to the midden rooms. Normally there’s a garbage troll that loves to feast on all kinds of scraps, but the moonmetal byproduct is toxic to him, and in another two days he’s going to wind up in the infirmary, which will cause the middens to overflow. That, in turn, will result in general disorder and work stoppages, and the dungeon will find itself on the verge of collapse.

This is Underhill, the newest and most ambitious game from Kyle Mormont. He describes it as ‘a left turn from Rimworld’ and claims heavy inspiration from Dungeon Keeper, though anyone who goes in expecting their experience with those games to help might find themselves frustrated.

Take the case of the poisoned garbage troll. In a Rimworld knockoff, you might expect that you would designate a midden zone and assign a garbage troll to it, then check a box to make sure that the moonmetal byproducts are sent somewhere else. In Underhill, there’s nothing like that level of information or control, and trying to avoid the poisoning, if you even know that it’s coming, takes a much different sort of work.

Excavation

The game starts with a single ability, ‘Dig’, and gives you a side of a hill to dig into. The UI is essentially non-existent, with only two small Diabloesque orbs in the lower left and lower right to show your mana and power, and a very small selection of powers that accumulate over time, but which stay very small throughout the entire runtime of the game. While the UI is minimal, it’s clearly had a lot of work put into it, particularly in the way that new buttons are added: when there’s a new power, the UI shifts to accommodate it, making it feel slightly uncomfortable, like a mole that you weren’t sure was there the day before. At every stage, it looks as though that will be its final form, but it’s always difficult to be sure if you’ve seen everything there is to offer.

The game is also cagey with the information, especially at the start. You’re not told what to dig, though the hill is the only thing in front of you, and you’re not told why you should dig. But unless you’re particularly stubborn, you’ll dig, and once you have a tunnel dug out, you’ll get your first visitor poking their head in, almost always a goblin, the most basic and least specialized of the dungeon inhabitants. If he finds things to his liking, he’ll make it a home, and the first trickle of power will start coming in.

“The game is meant to be played blind,” explained Mormont, who flagged me down when I joined the game’s small but vibrant Discord. “You’re meant to come in knowing nothing and experiment to figure things out. That’s supposed to be the joy of it. The goblins come in, and you don’t know what they want, so you have to watch them and figure it out. It’s a watching game, a learning game.”

Goblins like tunnels that aren’t much bigger than they are and rooms that are about three goblin heights across. There are no rulers or grids, at least not when you start the game, but the initial option to dig has a standard width, and that’s just about as wide as a goblin tunnel should be. Nothing in the game communicates that this is what a goblin likes except watching what the goblins do. On my second playthrough after an untimely collapse of my dungeon ecosystem, I understood the game a little bit better and did some of the research work that it seems to want, which meant creating eight different rooms of various sizes to figure out which ones that goblins would go to. They prefer to be close to the things they need, which in the beginning means being close to the dungeon entrance, but my notes eventually filled up with details on the proper height, size, and shape of a goblin room.

Mad Scribblings

Underhill loves that sort of thing. There’s an in-game book that’s unlike any I’ve ever seen before, a blank journal that fills in with drawings and details, especially with regards to the ecosystem components, but is completely idiosyncratic. One of the design goals for the journal was that it look like a real journal, something that someone was slowly filling with their own observations, rather than being an encyclopedia with lost pages. For that reason, the journal is dynamic, filling up as you go, the notes stretching across pages. I’ve only had a few hiccups with it when the unseen writer wrote down a detail or two that I hadn’t figured out on my own.

“It’s messy, it’s organic,” says Mormont. “That the aesthetic. There are numbers in the background, but you should never see them, and they should be very difficult to intuit. I want people to be thinking on the non-number level.”

This is one of the reasons given for using a system without a grid, though the trade-off is that it gets difficult to get anything looking nice and ordered. Digging out a goblin home in a square that’s three goblin lengths across is an exercise in frustration. In theory this encourages messiness and a ‘let it be’ approach, but in practice it can be hard to embrace the organic mess that the game is trying to encourage.

Once the goblins have settled in, you can watch them go about their lives and see what they need. The process of discovery is one of the game’s main selling points, and as you watch, you’ll see that goblins form themselves into families, which form into clans. Goblins have biological needs in the form of water, food, and waste, and also seek shelter, which is why they move into your dungeon in the first place. If the dungeon is cramped with goblin families, they’ll throw their trash just outside the dungeon, but if there are enough rooms, the goblins will designate one of them as a ‘midden’ and start throwing their food scraps, broken tools, and other waste there.

The game doesn’t tell you that the room is a midden, just as it doesn’t tell you most things. The midden is one of the things you’ll learn about over time by watching. And it’s from one of those early middens that I got my second dungeon denizen: the garbage troll.

The Age of Discovery

I don���t want to spoil everything in the game, because it’s a game of discovery, but it would suffice to say that the garbage troll took care of one problem and created another. The garbage troll has his own needs and wants, and if those needs can’t be satisfied within the dungeon itself, he’ll either go out into the wider world where he might create all kinds of problems, or conversely, create problems within the dungeon by eating things that aren’t trash — an example being goblin possessions.

The game rolls on like this, with more monsters slotting themselves into place as it goes on. The ability to dig is your only tool for what seems like slightly too long to me, but as more creatures come to occupy your dungeon, your power slowly grows, and new abilities do eventually make themselves manifest. Water is one of the early ones, and comes up more than I had expected from the start, being one of the primary tools you have to shape the dungeon and its inhabitants. There’s a dungeon species that can’t cross running water, which means that it can be kept to one side of the dungeon and out of trouble by having a small stream trickling through. Similarly, water is one of the main ways to keep a dungeon clean, and helps to automate the movement of sewage down into somewhere a colony of garbage trolls are living. When the dwarves move in, they use the water for their own fastidious cleaning.

Part of the joy is in watching all the elements interact with each other. Even right at the start, there’s joy in seeing the goblins go out hunting beyond the range of your vision and come back with food, which they clean and prepare before eating. The animations are crude but evocative, done procedurally, and the game has a lot of clutter even when the dungeon is still developing, whether that’s fast-growing moss that creeps over the rock walls or the tiny mushrooms that grow in the midden (and can be cultivated by a druid later into a permanent food source). Surprisingly, everything is procedurally driven, even when it doesn’t feel like that would be necessary, and this is used to full effect to allow different varieties of creatures to have different motions to them. The goblins come in different sizes and body types, and can even grow from children to adults.

Obsessing Over the Depths

Sometimes, all this work leaves me scratching my head. One of the later game creatures, the nibbler (named after pen nibs, not a Futurama reference), goes around your dungeon and counts things, which are recorded in its notebook and exposed to you through a special button in the UI. In a different game, this would just show you the internal count of everything that the game knows the dungeon contains, but in Underhill, the creature has his own modeled understanding of the dungeon, and will only report on things that he can directly count. If you want to know how many goblins there are, and don’t want to count yourself, you have to wait until the accountant goes to take a peek into the goblin warrens. If the number of goblins changes, you’ll have to wait until he checks again to get the updated number.

I was watching the nibbler take stock of one of the dungeon storerooms, and noticed that he was using his finger to count the boxes, which was a fascinating detail. What was more fascinating was that he apparently lost count and had to start over while in the middle of this. It was such an immersive detail that it seemed like few people would ever notice, and had to have taken a lot of time. But as I watched more, I saw that he was losing his place while counting far more often than I thought he should, sometimes twice a room.

When I asked on the discord whether this was a bug, Mormont responded within a few minutes asking me whether I had dwarves in my dungeon. When I replied that I did, Mormont had an answer ready to go. “The dwarves like to brew alcohol, and if you have nibbler, you’ll see him drink some ale when he stops by there doing his count. If he’s drunk, he has a harder time counting. There aren’t that many mitigation strategies for that yet, since it’s hard to restrict the nibbler’s movement.” When I suggested that the behavior could be triggered a little less often, Mormont had a rant ready to go.

“That’s not how it works,” Mormont wrote. “There aren’t triggered actions. There’s not some variable in the game that passes a certain threshold and says to play a confusion animation and restart the count. The nibbler is actually counting. I had wanted to do a full vision system for all the creatures, but there’s too much overhead, so it’s just simulated instead. It counts with its finger because that makes the process go faster. It gets lost in the counting when it’s a bit tipsy because it can’t see its finger as well and its internal count of how many objects there are is more likely to be wrong.”

The obvious question was why you’d choose to do it that way when you could just have the nibbler report the actual numbers.

“Because it’s funny,” said Mormont.

There was a long pause where I think I was supposed to agree that it was funny, and then Mormont started typing and posted a wall of text five minutes later.

“One of my formative memories in gaming was when I was playing Oblivion,” he wrote. “I was trying to steal from this woman, and she saw me, and that was fair play, but then she started attacking me, so I thought to myself ‘wait, I can just kill her’, and so I did. I went out of the house and into the countryside, then to a major city, where a guard stopped me and asked me to answer for the crime. He had no way of knowing that it was me, and I found it really frustrating, because it didn’t make any sense. Obviously what was going on behind the scenes was that there was some kind of hasMurderedSomeone flag that was triggered, and it instantly went to every guard in the whole world the moment the murder happened. As a game designer, why do you implement things that way? Because it’s easy. But it has an impact on how the game plays, and I think you either have to make that a part of the story the game is trying to tell — psychic guards — or work to make sure that all the little moving parts work together. This is a game of moving parts.”

These are the kinds of rants that Mormont likes to go on. He’s more of a preacher than a game developer sometimes, and it’s the small things that seem to get him going.

Does this make for good gameplay? I think it does, with the right mindset. There’s a risk with the opaque approach to information that a player might not be able to tell quite why something is happening or how to stop it. If you view your job as being that of an investigator and scientist, the oddities are engaging rather than frustrating. However, if you’re trying to build the perfect dungeon that has all the creatures working in concert with each other, it can hurt to have it all spiral out of control and not be able to diagnose the problem after the fact.

The Secrets, Cataloged

After I had put in twenty hours, I opened up a channel on the Discord for veterans of the game, which turned out to be a mistake. I won’t spoil it, but there were entire aspects to the game that I had been missing out on simply because there were some conditions for attracting certain dungeon denizens that I had never thought to try. From reading through the different comments people have, that’s not an uncommon experience, and “there are witches in this game?” is a common sentiment. Much work has been put into cataloging all the game’s secrets, and there are three different spreadsheets that seek to track the interrelations of the different elements.

“I don’t like the spreadsheets,” Mormont says in a post below each of the pinned spreadsheets. “Making your own notes and discoveries is the game. Understanding and watching is the game. The game isn’t about making a perfect dungeon from instructions that someone else left you, it’s about being surprised and seeing what happens, using the scientific method to get an intuitive understanding of what’s actually going on. As soon as it’s all numbers and figures it becomes dead, like a butterfly nailed to a corkboard. This isn’t meant to be a team game. It’s not meant to be a game that you watch someone else play on Twitch. It’s a personal journey of growth and discovery. It’s balanced around a regularity of discoveries, so the average person keeps on hitting them. It’s digging in the science mines and continually hitting new veins.”

I didn’t delve into those documents. Instead, I did as was suggested and added to my notebook, both the one in game and the one that I kept beside my mouse. When Underhill hits, it really hits, and there’s something immensely satisfying about understanding these little creatures that move around in your dungeon, going about their business. By itself, that might almost be enough, but aside from the note-taking and investigation, there are the fresh injections of newness that come with new denizens, deeper depths, and new materials.

(Never) Ending

The dwarves were a turning point in my game, but apparently they come much later for most people. Their habitats need to be square, and they’ll spend a lot of time with chisels making sure there are as many right angles as possible. Dwarves will take over if you let them, because unlike goblins, they can dig on their own and see to all their own needs. They want to live in the dungeon and seal themselves off from the outside world, and so long as you don’t get in their way, they’ll develop their own city that meets its own needs.

My first reaction was that this defeated the whole point of the game, but after some time sitting there watching them work, I realized that it was just another way of underscoring what the game had wanted me to get from it all along: I was supposed to be learning from the dwarves, learning about the dwarves. Eventually, I was learning all the things that dwarves won’t do for themselves, all the ways that they would naturally make a society that was worse than the one I could help them make. It was a variation on a theme, in a way. As it turns out, the game is full of those.

I’m fifty hours in now, and still seeing all the ways that the game is developing its core ideas, stumbling through different lessons and trying to figure out the inner workings of all the creatures, materials, and substances. But if I were a goblin, this would be a hole that was just the right size for me.

[statesys]

🌸 : how many alters do u have? do u consider yourself to have a high headcount?

we believe ourselves to have like ~100, but only 40ish have been properly " found " ? I suppose we'd consider it kinda mid range size ough 👍

🧩 : do u have any subsystems? if so, how do they work?

we have one identified and it's like .. a headmate got chopped into multiple pieces, and then each piece got seasoned differently but it's still the same meat yk ? spicy steak, salty steak, bland steak .. all stesk ..

🍧 : are there any alter(s) who u would consider the “core”? if so, are they the host?

well I would've answered yes, me, but I'm not so sure anymore ? but I am the Host and previously maybe still idk the Core too >_>

💞 : do u have an innerworld? how complex is it?

yes and urhhmm not super fancy I don't think, it's very unstable / fuzzy anyways, but it's evolved from a Void to kinda a little house with vague concepts of rooms, there's a more detailed outside now too but it's still. Simple and barely there ?

💧 : how does fronting work for your system? do u have a “front room”?

urh kinda this[link] but also sometimes it is the Pushed To The Side thing, it seems to vary. more often now others have been co-fronting/controlling instead of js being there too.

and urhh we don't have a Room but we have a Table that's been around since the beginning and it's basically a visual for those who find fronting easier w something to actually look at / into

🍀 : how do u communicate with ur headmates?

by yelling really really loudly and annoying them until they talk to me /silly [ mostly external communication or "vibes" / feelings, we usually js memory share or co on and blur our conscious together to talk ig ]

🍡 : do u use alter roles/labels? which ones do u use?

ehhh we use things like host, co host, protector and holder, plus like rationalizer and battery bc Headmates liked them. but we don't try put much weight onto labeling roles, as that's caused a lotta problems in the past

🌺 : who fronts the most? who fronts the least?

well our freq fronters rn are Adeline, A.D, Eclipse, Myles and Rowan, and usually Cass, Gabrielle & Willa pop in a lot. urh besides a few most the others rarely front if ever so they're all the Least ig 0_0

❄️ : how often do ur hosts/fronting patterns change?

host so far has stayed the same, we have got some oscillating co-hosts tho ? fronting patterns is generally a set 3ish stay the same for a while, with 3 or 5 switching in and out more frequently.

🥝 : how often do u switch?

it used to be a very very rare occurrence, however Recently it's been becoming a lot more frequent >and< a lot more noticeable, both purposefully and not. one of these fuckers just has a out of sys crush/squish tho so /aff

🪷 : do you co-front with other alters often? is co-fronting easy or difficult?

we basically only co-front / that's how we front, switch, etc. it's pretty easy, varies day to day and headmate to headmate but generally easy

🌷 : how long does it take for u to switch?

honestly it's usually pretty instant in being able to Do stuff or See, but properly feeling yourself can take anywhere from a few minutes to hours, sometimes we never properly front and you're stuck in this weird limbo of being but not being ?

🌨️ : do ur alters have specific voice claims for what they sound like in headspace?

most of us sound the same minus a couple accent changes or distinct voices, HOWEVER there's been some ideas circulating that we could try changing our in sys voice by finding a voice claim and trying to like. will it to change. idk, js an idea

🌱 - do u have any introjects? what are their sourcess

we're mostly introjects actually, our sourcelist is private unless you're a friend .. but we're like tv/movies, a few factives, some songtives and a kintive(?)

💐 : do u have any hosts? co-hosts?

I'm the host, and co-hosts it's seeming like Rowan and Gabrielle mostly, possibly Eclipse and Cass too ? dunno, we have some that could "qualify" as a co host but it's more a user choice thing than a set criteria

🍃 : if u have an innerworld, can u see into while you’re fronting?

some struggle more w it, but generally if we focus we can see it vaguely. it's more sensing it than seeing it ig

💗 : do u use any origin/-genic terms? what are they?

closegenic[link] 🔥

🌿 - do u have any npcs in your headspace?

not that I know of D:

🍬 - has ur system created any rules ur alters are expected to abide by?

we've tried .. however we've yet to properly sit down and discuss stuff bc we're all chronic Do It Laters >_>

awa awa

- myles

PLURAL ASK GAME!! ⋆˙⟡

⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡★ get 2 know ur sys!!

!! this post is for everybody! u may use this regardless of origin/beliefs, just remember to follow ur own dni

🌸 - how many alters do u have? do u consider yourself to have a high headcount?

🧩 - do u have any subsystems? if so, how do they work?

🍧 - are there any alter(s) who u would consider the “core”? if so, are they the host?

💞 - do u have an innerworld? how complex is it?

💧 - how does fronting work for your system? do u have a “front room”?

🍀 - how do u communicate with ur headmates?

🍡 - do u use alter roles/labels? which ones do u use?

🌺 - who fronts the most? who fronts the least?

❄️ - how often do ur hosts/fronting patterns change?

🥝 - how often do u switch?

🪷 - do you co-front with other alters often? is co-fronting easy or difficult?

🌷 - how long does it take for u to switch?

🌨️ - do ur alters have specific voice claims for what they sound like in headspace?

🌱 - do u have any introjects? what are their sources?

💐 - do u have any hosts? co-hosts?

🍃 - if u have an innerworld, can u see into while you’re fronting?

💗 - do u use any origin/-genic terms? what are they?

🌿 - do u have any npcs in your headspace?

🍬 - has ur system created any rules ur alters are expected to abide by?

[dontcurbyourenthusiasm]

Work Crush: John Shen

(The SMIRK in this gif I CANT-)

John Shen x You Headcanons pt.2

Pt. 1 here!

The two of you are surprisingly professional at work Lena and Abbot are especially surprised at ur lack of workplace misconduct

Neither of you are PDA people so if people weren't looking for it, they would never know that you guys were dating

(except the one time Ellis caught you guys kissing in the ambulance bay when you went for a "smoke break" you don't even smoke and Ellis gave you two shit about it for weeks)

Plus, he was technically your attending so you were both a little nervous about what that would mean professionally (Shen more than you tbh)

There are a few really subtle signs like:

Shen now has a reusable cup for his iced coffee now (every shift it acquires more and more stickers)

He also has started bringing a packed lunch (although sometimes it is just lunchables)

You once accidentally wore Shen's scrubs to work (they were way to big and you tripped over the pant legs on your way to the charge desk)

You started using the word "dude" unironically

You started adding sugar to your coffee (despite taking it black since forever)

The bickering and bad jokes are still non-stop

No one on the dayshift really knows because you guys never really got around to telling them (except Dana, she was told almost immediately by Lena)

This is not really a problem, until you are put on the day shift temporarily to cover for Collins on her maternity leave.

Day shift means you are now prone to a lot more run ins w/ Larry

Larry and you never really went out on that date (which Shen is still smug about to this day)

Nor did you tell Larry about you and Shen (which was a bad idea in hindsight but like, how would you even bring that up???)

Larry is friendly, but there are time where you feel like maybe its a little more than friendly??? but honestly you're not sure he does seem like a generally flirty kinda guy

Shen is definitely not the jealous type so you don't really think anything of it

You hang around later than most of the day shifters because you want to catch a glimpse of ur man before leaving work (but if anyone asks its because you know how dysfunctional the night shift is)

Right as you are packing up to go home Larry approaches you

He asks if you wanna grab a drink by the pub to decompress after shift

You were about to politely decline when-

“Hey babe” Shen appears out of nowhere, greeting you with a kiss on the temple

LIKE ITS THE MOST NATURAL THING IN THE UNIVERSE??

He has NEVER called you ‘babe’ before let alone in PUBLIC

Both you and Larry are just O.O

Abbot thinks this is hilarious so he's snickering about it in the corner (filling Robby in on the tea ofc)

Perlah and Princess are obviously having a field day chattering together in tagalog (They are planning to tell the ENTIRE nurses PTMC group chat)

Larry slips out without saying anything (obviously a little embarrassed)

"Did you want some?" Shen offers you his tumbler, ice coffee sloshing around inside. Cool as a cucumber while your brain is still displaying error messages

"Babe? Where did that come from?" You still take the coffee from him you were starting to really like his sickly sweet Dunkin' order especially after a long shift and your blood sugar was tanking

Ur boyfriend is casual as always. "Dunno, just trying it out"

"Sure you weren't a little jealous?" You wanna get him to admit it. Maybe crack his nonchalant exterior just a little

"I don't know what you're talking about." OFC he denies it. But you can see a blush travelling up his neck

"In that case, maybe I should get that beer with Larry it sounded-" you motion like you're about to go after Larry who's already slipped out the front door. (obviously you're joking)

John grabs your wrist before you're able to walk away

He rolls his eyes before saying "Okay, FINE I was a tiny bit jealous. You're MY girlfriend and he was asking you out, I feel like I had every right to be." He's a little defensive

Normally you would revel in the victory of getting Stubborn Shen to admit something, but instead you just feel all warm and fuzzy

"I wasn't gonna go anyway, babe" You make sure to emphasize the new pet name (it still felt a little awkward in your mouth)

Just before you're about to leave, you plant a fat kiss right on his cheek.

John watches you scurry out, his face getting pinker by the minute

Ellis (who had just walked in) whistles snapping him back to reality.

FUCK he knew that they were not gonna stop giving him shit for the next 12 hours he was stuck with them

-

A/N: Thank you for reading!! There truly is not enough Shen ff tho imma be real

P.S. My Abbot smut is coming soon I promise 😭 😭 😭

[tanadrin]

so the First Age of Middle Earth lasts around 4,000 years, but that's fine; the vast majority of this is sort a mythological dreamworld, where everything including time happens on a much grander scale. the interesting bits, the wars in beleriand and all that, is only six hundred years from the rising of the sun, and tolkien earns each and every one of those years by making them feel jam-packed with events. what's kind of baffling to me, though, are the extreme lengths of the second and third ages.

the second age, very generously, has about as much happening in it as the first (post-Sun), but it's three and a half thousand years long and told in much less detail. depending on how you count it, numenor is in decline for sixteen centuries. and sure, the lives of the numenoreans are really long. but they still have to be doing stuff. it can't all just be the human equivalent of the valar sitting on their thrones contemplating how nifty valinor is. the valar get to be ineffable godlike spirits; but human societies are dynamic and always changing!

the third age magnifies this problem bc now we're into definitively more recognizable kinds of dynastic decline and political tensions and wars and stuff; gondor and arnor aren't magical island-kingdoms of virtue blessed by the gods, they're normal human states who happen to have a long-lived aristocracy. almost nothing happens for the first thousand years, it takes another thousand for the western roman empire arnor to collapse, and another thousand after that of Sauron slowly returning to power and rebuilding his base. in the time between the onset of the Greek Dark Ages and the invention of the Internet, we have stuff happening that, thematically, seems to cover a period loosely equivalent to, i feel like, the one between the Crisis of the Third Century and the middle of the Early Middle Ages. so like five or six hundred years.

all in all, the timeline of middle earth just from the rising of the sun to the destruction of the One Ring covers a span of time equivalent to the Ubaid Period to the present day. even allowing for long periods of rise and decline, the whole thing also mostly has the flavor of a mythic ancient/medieval past, with the occasional magic sword or ring or seeing-stone thrown in. i know tolkien genially detested high-tech shit, and there are hints you could build on to imagine that numenor for instance had some crazy fantasy pseudo-technology, but this is the kind of thing that i feel like one has to headcanon in order to make the vast expanses of stasis in the timeline of middle earth make sense.

and this isn't so glaring when the story is purely mythic, but there are occasional places where the real-world parallels are so clear (like the Riders of Rohan being to Gondor as the Goths were to the Byzantine Empire) that it calls attention in my mind to the big historical questions. i wonder things like "how come the Dwarves never industrialized even in a crazy magic kind of way, seems like the Eregion/Moria alliance was ripe for that sort of thing," and "where is the Shire getting the material goods to support its equivalent of an early 19th century English countryside, when the rest of the world is high medieval at best," and "where the fuck are the other towns and polities that Bree-Land has to be connected to in order for it to make economic sense" and "the same thing times a thousand for Dale." i think in a few of these cases you can suggest answers that sorta fit--I guess the Shire does a big trade with the Dwarves to the west?--but the distances and the relative emptiness of Middle Earth in the late third age make a lot of them feel pretty unsatisfying.

[kakeashi]

of all dreams: you ─ songs of love & devotion. ⠀⠀⠀⠀pre-boyfriend!itachi, in the corner of your love.

PRE-BOYFRIEND!ITACHI who peels the fruit for you. it all started when the orange juice got on your hands and chaos ensued on your tray: after laughing once, twice, itachi took your orange and, with all care and precision, made sure that all the orange segments were properly separated and peeled for you. since then, itachi couldn’t control his hands. he couldn’t unravel the delicacy of his act, but whenever itachi made that small effort, whenever he stopped what he was doing to help you with something so banal — whenever itachi wanted to show you how much he thought about you, he helped you with the fruit. you didn’t notice this little habit of itachi’s, and maybe that’s why he kept doing it — for you to see itachi, for you to see how dedicated he is when it’s something about you. peeling a fruit, something that is so insignificant, but for itachi it means a new promise of eternal love. ‘don’t be an idiot, i don’t mind. let me peel the apple — i need to peel mine too, so… no need to thank me, come on! give me the apple and stop talking about it.’

PRE-BOYFRIEND!ITACHI who memorizes every time you called him by name. your voice was gentle and calm when you chanted itachi’s name. as if whispering the secrets of the world, itachi’s name escaped your lips with flowers trapped in its syllables, decorating its letters with delicate petals of the most varied flowers. you seemed magical when you said itachi’s name — it seemed like your name was an incantation to summon him because, every time you chanted it, he appeared. like a winter ghost or a child’s promise, you said itachi’s name very briefly, starting as quickly as it started — but that second, those fragments of temporal dust stolen by you, were enough to plant a garden of comfort in his core. itachi, when you saw him on the street. itachi, when they asked you who you were going out with. itachi, when you asked for an umbrella. itachi, yesterday. itachi, today. itachi, always. that's all. itachi.

PRE-BOYFRIEND!ITACHI who helps you grow a garden in your home. whether you’re lucky with plants or not, the reality is that there was always something wrong in your garden. flowers were mixed together in such a random way that only discomfort covered the entire surface of your flowerbeds. excessively intense smells rose in clusters early in the morning, polluting the air with that sweet aroma. plants died. flowers wilted. weeds appeared. all of your flowerbeds were simply chaotic. but, whether by luck or pity, the universe sent itachi to help you with all of your gardening problems. between small smiles of pride and mocking laughter, itachi’s delicate hands mixed in the earth at your side, looking for basic solutions to general problems. between small shy glances and awkward touches, itachi paid attention to your smiles that originated with his work. hoping to see you happy, itachi would help you with everything he could with the unspoken promise that, if he didn’t know, he would learn for you. ‘yesterday i was reading in a magazine that if you put a jug of water... what are you doing and why do you have dirt on your face? what do i have to revive today?’

PRE-BOYFRIEND!ITACHI who likes to celebrate festivities with you. be it religious celebrations or village traditions, itachi liked to spend them with you. since he was little, he was taught that important days were to be spent with important people. and you were the most important person to itachi, so it was only natural that he would want to spend days and nights by your side. sliding through stalls and tasting different foods; marveling at dances and reciting prayers; smiling at children and dreaming at the stars — everything you liked to do was shared with itachi. his eyes only stayed on your happiness, always trying to find the next thing that would make you smile, that would make you happy. it could be something small, like buying a small porcelain figurine for you. it could be big, like wishing on the same lantern as you. it could be nothing, like holding your hand in the crowd so as not to lose you. but it was something with itachi and, soon, that was everything. ‘on the way to konoha there’s a small village that’s going to be 100 years old and they’re going to celebrate over the weekend. i thought, if you’re not too tired, of course!, we could stay there for a few days? to relax from the mission and just… be together.’

PRE-BOYFRIEND!ITACHI who believes in your light. how could itachi, your safe haven, not believe in your courage? how could itachi, your best friend, not believe in your strength? how could itachi not believe in you? through all the darkness that spread in your life, consuming your heart and ruining hopes, there was always a persistent light inside you: a small spark and that was all it took. with a small spark, even before creating bonfires or fires, you could do anything: get up, eat, smile, exist. but when you fed that fire, when the calls inside you covered all the black in shades of bold red and courageous orange — when you didn’t doubt yourself, you could live. and itachi admired you for that. itachi saw you as someone divine, capable of making worlds collide if you had the strength, if you had dreams. and, even when you got tired of that burning heat, even when there was no more wood to burn, itachi was there. for a few moments, itachi held your spark and assured you that it would never go out. rest as much as you need. itachi is by your side, protecting your essence. ‘take as long as you need. i won’t leave. i won’t burn myself. my love is fireproof, capable of holding you for a lifetime if necessary.’

PRE-BOYFRIEND!ITACHI who always supported you, always. it didn’t matter when he came into your life, what mattered was that he came. itachi had a gift for listening, letting himself get lost in incredible worlds whenever you talked to him. of course, with pain and anguish itachi was quick to help you, using his fingers to comfort you and his words to soothe you. but, more than anything, and first of all, itachi listened to you. in your dreams, itachi encouraged you — with wide smiles and bright eyes; in your stories, itachi admired you — with pride in his chest and vanity in his soul; in your hopes, itachi fed you — with friendly words and endless promises. anywhere, with whatever it was, you always had itachi by your side, holding your hand, gently pushing you, supporting all the potential he knew you had. of course it is scary, and it often goes wrong, but it is in the learning of our life that we can reach all the steps on the ladder of existence. and you don’t need to worry. itachi was there. holding your hand so you wouldn’t fall, itachi would always be there. 'life can be spent rushing, but you have to remember that there is time. you don’t need to have everything figured out by the time you’re 20, nor have a family by the time you’re 30. you have time to live. life is not a race, nor a competition. don’t look at your neighbor’s garden longing for their oranges when you still have the seeds to plant. everything has its time. you have a place in this life. just take it easy, take a deep breath.’

PRE-BOYFRIEND!ITACHI who was a little nervous, but he just wanted to be understood. what if you didn’t notice? seeing you interacting with your friends and family made itachi nervous — was he imagining things in your little interactions? i mean, yes, it was normal for you to love the people who are important to you, but was there really desire when you looked at itachi? was there hope in all the smiles you gave him? did you understand what itachi felt? in the little touches and blushed cheeks — did you know that itachi only gets flustered with you? in the wide smiles and heartfelt laughs — did you know that itachi only felt genuinely happy with you? in the whispered words and delicate promises — did you know that itachi only imagined a life by your side? when he saw you with everyone else, itachi felt that you didn’t know and that your entire relationship was just a figment of his imagination. so itachi took a deep breath, gathered his courage, and went to talk to you — he wanted to be completely transparent with you. ‘i just wanted to tell you that i like you. i don’t know if you’ve noticed or if you’ve just ignored my feelings, but i had to tell you. i needed to get this weight off my chest and really tell you how i feel. so, yes… i like you.’

[babybluebanshee]

I think end game of Bob’s Burgers is that Mr. Fischoeder is going to leave the Belchers all his money in his will. He clearly cares a lot about them, especially Bob, and it’s actually a developed caring. Like, he’s always had a soft spot for Bob because he reminds Calvin of his father, but over the years he’s gotten even closer to the family. He constantly comes to them with problems and offers them rent breaks. He censors himself around Bob’s kids. He finds the Belchers fun to be around - pranking Bob, singing with Linda, his and Louise just absolutely vibing every time they interact. And Calvin has very little family of his own. He’s not married. Any children he has, he probably has no relationship with them if he’s even aware of them at all. His parents are dead. His cousin tried to frame him for murder and then kill him. All he has is Felix, who has also tried to kill him, poked out his eye when they were children, and is generally an unpleasant manchild Calvin more often than not feels burdened by. His only friends are other rich, insulated weirdos that Calvin only seems to sort of get along with. As Calvin puts it in the April fools episode, Bob makes him “feel something”. And while yeah, that episode is also super gay (“my dear Bob!” anyone?), I think that something Calvin feels is just good, old platonic connection to a family he wishes he had. Calvin Fischoeder is a corrupt, greedy freak who has committed the unforgivable sin of being a landlord and also a whole lot of other things he should probably be in jail for, but I wouldn’t be surprised if, one day, he reveals that his will leaves his fortune to the only true family he’s ever known - his favorite burgermongers, Bob and Linda Belcher, aka M’Lady Bob, along with trusts for their three burgerlings.

[moonlitshifter]

I Believe in Shifting - But Now I’m Questioning My Entire Worldview

Dear shifters,

I am coming here today because I would like to ask you some questions about shifting that come from my desire to deepen my understanding of it, and because of my great curiosity about the topic.

I’d be grateful to anyone willing to share their opinion with me. 🙏🏼

I’ve been reading a lot about shifting, but I would like to expand my knowledge. Since reality shifting has not yet been scientifically examined, I can rely mostly on your experiences and thoughts about it.

Though I do believe reality shifting is 100% true and real, and I think it makes sense when I confront it with what I have learned so far about this human experience on Earth, there are still so many unknowns about the whole phenomenon itself.

Let me share a piece of my personal story and beliefs. I think this will be crucial in the context of my questions because there are people who might have a completely different view of life and what it means to be human in general. What I find hard to understand might be simple and obvious to you. I really want to hear opinions from people with different worldviews because that might help me review my own beliefs and maybe find understanding somewhere outside my current perspective.

Many years ago, I experienced what is broadly called a "spiritual awakening." From that moment on, my whole worldview was put to the test, and some of you who have experienced it know how it goes. Month after month, year after year, you start to understand more about something that sometimes feels impossible to grasp. It becomes obvious that life on Earth is just a temporary journey. Though one day you die, the journey continues, as your spirit - the true essence of who you really are - does not.

I believe in reincarnation. I believe in the existence of divine consciousness. I believe we come to Earth to learn about our true nature, and that this is our goal here. About this last belief, however, I am starting to question myself. Reality shifting is seriously challenging my belief system, and I’m beginning to wonder if things were never the way I thought they were.

Let me explain. One of the biggest things I have believed for the last six years is that humans are born on Earth without knowledge of their divine origin. Everything revolves around us discovering the truth of being a part of God, the source of unconditional love, and that is basically the point of it all. Though we are divine beings, we experience life through the mind, which by its nature is flawed and limited and prevents us from seeing The Truth. Life experiences are triggers for change, to help us finally see. They are lessons we take on the path we all walk back home, which is God himself/herself/themselves (I really don’t know what pronouns to use here, as God is not a person). This way of seeing things helps me make sense of life itself.

Because, as you know, life on Earth is intense - full of pain and suffering, sometimes hard to comprehend. It is full of problems that seem to never end. Most of the people I know, and I am one of them, go through life exhausted. I’m not saying these people never experience joy or happiness, but compared to the challenges they face, those moments of happiness seem insignificant. And yes, that is supposed to be the art of living: to grow and change to release oneself from suffering.

So we have religions, practices, and tools to help transform our lives into something better. Change is possible and available to everyone. If we truly want to change something in our lives, we can achieve it. But oh man, that’s not so simple. From my personal experience, I’ve noticed huge changes since I started meditating, praying, and analyzing my psyche but sometimes I still feel like no real change has occurred at all. It’s very disheartening because you put a lot of hard work toward changing your life, and then realize your life hasn’t changed much in the last decade. You’re still dealing with the same problems.

Yes, life feels this way sometimes. For me, remembering that it all happens for a reason - that all these challenges, life lessons, emotional and mental processes happen for me - helps me see they are opportunities to notice what doesn’t work in my life so I can take steps toward changing it. Also, it's the only thing that helps me survive sometimes.

I want you to know that I have a pretty good life. It doesn’t suck entirely. Life is not 100% awful. It has never been, though it has kicked my ass way too many times. What I want to say is that life is all these things, the good and the bad. A range of many different experiences. I’ve thought about it, we have so many incredible things here on Earth: art, music, love, nature, animals, and so on. It’s hard to live a human life, but it’s not like we only suffer and there’s nothing good to reach for.

God damn it, where am I going with this? My apologies. I’m unfortunately one of those people who, once they start talking, easily go off-topic.

Let’s get to the point.

With all that I’ve said so far, here comes my biggest challenge in understanding exactly what reality shifting is.

It all made pretty good sense to me, the concepts of reincarnation and karma still do, in a way but I feel like shifting kind of contradicts them, or maybe it doesn’t. That’s why I’m here: because maybe there’s something I haven’t noticed yet. Something I don't understand yet.

From what I know about shifting, it seems there are no limits. You can shift your awareness to any version of yourself that basically exists, and these versions are limitless. There is a version of you who is Mother Teresa or Donald Trump. There is a version of you who is Mother Teresa living in the 16th century. There is a version of you who is Donald Trump, but a hippie fighting for human rights in the 60's. You get my point. You can shift to being anyone, anywhere, anytime in history. You can also shift to being someone who is not Homo sapiens and doesn’t have a human form. As you can see, no limits.

You can make yourself the partner of Kate Winslet or Legolas because there is a version of you that is already their partner. You get it.

So, let’s say I shift to a version of reality that is perfect. Of course, for everyone it means something different, but I’ll give you an example of my perfect world.

In my perfect reality:

There is no homelessness or hunger.

There are no crimes; people don’t kill others. There is no rape, no hatred, and no jealousy.

People respect nature and treat animals as equals. There is no exploitation of the Earth. There is no air pollution. Humanity doesn’t use crude oil or produce plastic, and if it does, it’s 100% biodegradable. People don’t litter. Rivers and oceans are clean and healthy.

People treat themselves with respect, help each other, and are kind and compassionate.

People respect diversity. They don’t judge anyone’s looks, lifestyle, or beliefs.

Everyone has equal access to knowledge.

Governments exist to serve their people. Nobody seeks power.

There are no wars. People live in peace.

People take care of their health, eat well, exercise, and respect their lives.

People live in communities and have a strong sense of service to others.

There are no addictions.

Women and men are equal. There’s no racial or any other form of discrimination.

Humanity treats children with absolute respect and care.

People cooperate with one another in every aspect of life.

Nobody lacks anything, but people don’t overly value material stuff.

…and so on.

The question is:

✿ Where is the struggle? Do we need any struggle in order to live? What would life in a reality like the one I described look like? Where is the challenge in all of this?

I’ll elaborate a bit because I realize it might sound silly to you, but given my personal beliefs described earlier, it doesn’t seem silly to me.

Does life have to be the way I believe it is? Or is this just the next illusion I’m meant to shed?

You see, if I choose to shift to a better reality, one that lacks all these huge problems present in my current reality, then why was I born into this reality? I believe in some sort of destiny. I believe everything happens for a reason.

You may say that if I believe that, then wouldn’t shifting also be part of it if I discovered it after all? If I shift to my perfect version of reality, wasn’t that meant to happen? Yes…but it’s not that simple.

So, maybe I’ll drop the next question here to help better explain what I don't understand about shifting:

✿ Hypothetically, let’s say I’m dying here in my current reality from a serious disease, but before I die, I shift to another reality. What happens when I die in the reality I shifted from? I stay in my new one, right? But what if in this new reality I decide to live a long life, and then on my deathbed, I shift again to another reality I scripted for myself before it happened and I repeat the whole “procedure”? Can I do this forever? It’s a little bit like reincarnation, but you stay aware of your previous lives?

You see, humans have this little thing we call ego. Ego is a mechanism driven by the need to survive (at any cost). Ego doesn’t allow us to see our true nature, to see who we really are. That’s the human experience. Without ego, we couldn’t call it the “human” experience. We would just be divine consciousness inhabiting a human body or we wouldn’t have this human form at all, because what would be the point?

One can surrender their ego while living on Earth. It is possible. It is called a state of nirvana, and it’s the last stage that ends the cycle of reincarnation. A person who achieves it realizes their true nature, which is God, and after death, doesn’t reincarnate. Simple, isn’t it? Not entirely, because you see…

If there are no limits to shifting and it allows me to shift to versions of myself with different personality traits, skills, and experiences, can I simply shift to a version of myself that has achieved nirvana? Wouldn’t that be a cheat sheet? Achieving nirvana takes a lot of dedication and persistence. Supposedly, it’s the last stage of human experience for everyone, but it takes many lives to get there. (Well, I wonder if perhaps no one would actually decide to do this because of the ego. If we could simply decide to get rid of it at will, then all of us would be enlightened already. But hypothetically, it’s possible, right?)

The same applies to shifting to a reality where you don’t have the personality traits that cause you struggle in your current reality. For example, if you are shy in your CR, you could shift to a reality where you are confident. If you have trouble focusing or organizing yourself, you could shift to a reality where you don’t have those problems. Wouldn’t this be another kind of shortcut? Wouldn’t it rob you of something significant?

And yet, what if I scripted myself to be an expert in 20 subjects, to know 90 languages, play 30 musical instruments, and be good at 15 sports? I’m probably exaggerating here, but hypothetically, I could do it. If I shift to a reality where I can play the piano at a master level, even though I can’t play it at all in my CR, then it means I’ve shifted to a reality where I already learned to play the piano. That’s why I know how to play it, I had to learn it somewhere, right? Because otherwise, how else would I know how to play?

You might say there are realities where learning isn’t the only way to acquire a skill. But what if I didn’t script it that way, and I still scripted that I have 200 different skills I’m an expert in?

I’m not sure if I’m making sense here, but if you do understand what I’m trying to say, congrats because this train of thought probably derailed a long time ago. XD

You see, all of this makes me question what I believe life is really about. It’s not just about realizing that shifting has no limits, I already understand that. But the implications are so much more complex than I expected. It makes me wonder: what is the purpose of us being here? What is the purpose of life?

Maybe there is no purpose. Maybe the purpose is to let go of the need to find purpose in everything. Who knows? Well, not me :p

This post is very long already, so perhaps I will stop here. I know you probably don’t have answers to my questions (as reality shifting is still such an unexplored area), but I would be very grateful if you decided to share your views on the matter with me <3

If you’d like to share your thoughts, feel free to leave a comment or, if you’d prefer to discuss it in a private message, you’re more than welcome to do so.

xx

[clingonlikeclingwrap]

Can I please hear more about the nan feng and fu yao au I love them so much

YES

- Fu Yao became a deputy official first; Feng Xin saw him trailing cheerfully behind Mu Qing one day and lowkey got competitive. He met and picked up Nan Feng soon after.

- Nan Feng's name is false, given to him by Feng Xin when he became a deputy official. He left his real name behind along with his mysterious, troubled history (meaning I haven't thought of it yet) in the mortal realm.

- Fu Yao was one of like eight children of a prestigious family, born to a particularly ambitious concubine. She was a really overbearing mother who involved FY in a bunch of succession struggle crap against his siblings, which made him run away from home to get away from it all instead.

- FXMQ thought they would compete against each other too, except FY despises competition due to his childhood, and NF is too concerned about work to go making even more problems for himself.

- On the contrary, NF and FY become friends from exposure bc their generals keep picking fights and destroying shit and they always end up having to clean up the mess together.

- NF kinda has a puppy crush on FY, who knows about it because he’s uncommonly emotionally intelligent, except he doesn’t do anything about it because NF is the opposite and doesn’t seem to actually realise his own feelings.

- They sometimes get into heated debates over which of their generals is better, which is about the worst their conflicts ever get. The argument generally stops because they have to go mediate an actual fight between FXMQ.

- While FXMQ were doing their tsundere-fuelled side quests with Xie Lian, NF and FY were holding down the fort in heaven.

- Every time XL visited heaven during his third ascension, NF and FY were ordered to go to the mortal realm, which they spent frolicking around together hunting ghosts and taking a break from paperwork. They basically missed the whole plot bc FXMQ forgot to call them back.

- Post-canon, NF and FY champion the FengQing agenda because FY wants his general to be happy and NF wants them to stop causing property damage with homoerotic tension-charged fist fights.

- Although generally carefree, FY is fiercely protective of MQ and will not tolerate slander in any form. Similarly, despite his huffing and complaining, NF is extremely loyal to FX.

That's all for this time. Thanks for the ask!

This AU is only gonna get longer so I’m making a masterpost

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Do you know who Kristen Cavalleri is? She was on Laguna Beach and The Hills. I don’t know why but every time I see the commercials for her new show I think that’s something Meghan would want. Their personalities seem similar to me; the constant need for attention, mean girl vibe. I could be way off since I don’t really follow KC.

Yep, I know who she is. From what I remember about her, your assessment is right on the money. (I didn't watch Laguna Beach or The Hills but I was a Perez Hilton fan back in the day and he covered her a lot.)

For me, the main difference between Meghan and Kristen is that Kristen is very C-List, she knows she's C-List, and not only is she very comfortable with it, she embraces it and works with it. Meghan's problem is that she's also C-List (ok, maybe B-List if we're being generous) but she refuses to acknowledge or work in the space. She thinks she's A-List, she wants A-List, she wants to be in the A-List crowd, but she can't pull the A-List crowd anymore - after all, just look at the new podcast and WLM. None of these guests are household names the way her guests on Archetypes were.

Meghan could absolutely have a kind of show like Kristen has - which is essentially a live tour of her podcast with her fellow reality TV friends as guests and they just gab together - and you're right, that's probably what Meghan wants but there are three problems:

Meghan has no charisma to be able to carry a conversation like this. She would just monologue about herself the whole time and not really engage with her guests.

Meghan has no authenticity to make these conversations interesting or compelling. Everything she says is either scripted or feels manufactured for attention and if you don't say what she wants or expects you to say, she can't deal with it.

Meghan doesn't have the kind of friend group, famous or not, to pull something like this off and she would only want the famous A-Listers to be guests, given some of the gossip swirling around about the new podcast.

Man that's a name I haven't heard in ages! I had no idea she had a new show.

[quoigenic-anon]

"Created plurality helps some people, but some really only do it for fun or some kind of roleplay and I don't think that's okay."

That's a take I have encountered in a conversation. Let's talk about it.

(If there are misconceptions, feel free to notify me. The post is quite long and I could miss the point while speculating. The topic is very nuanced and every case can be discussed separately.)

Created plurality can be helpful. It can help you fight loneliness, created headmate can comfort you in difficult situation, created headmate can sometimes provide a new point of view. It can also be harmful, when a created headmate for some reason gets negative traits and/or their existence/behavior causes distress. Some people might use created plurality to make a headmate replace them.

But the general perception of created plurality is it being a positive experience, so let's focus on this branch and keep going.

Created plurality can be helpful, yes. When you create a headmate to help you, it means you're struggling with something.

But what if a person just makes a headmate... To look cool? For roleplay? For fun?

Firstly, why would it be cool, if we exclude "usefulness"?

In some cases it might be that a lot of one's friends are plural (note: it doesn't matter disordered or not), and plural-with-plural connection seems stronger than plural-with-singlet connection, so there appears a distance, and it's quite a logical (and, importantly, emotional) conclusion that being plural would restore the relationship. In some cases it might be a desire to have a connection with plural community due to lack of relationships with peers in real life. Common things build a connection, right? Created plurality may even seem cool with all the upsides I've already mentioned. So it can become a tool for bonding.

Secondly, why would one create headmates for roleplay?

This one is tricky. I guess it has roots in willomancy, when it became popular and it was a way to bring your favorite character (even your own OC) to life. Bringing connection with a character to a new level... Sounds like a tool for escapism for me.

Lastly... Why would one create headmates for fun?

Plurality is not something you meet every day. And I'm not talking about it being uncommon, no. Depression, for example, is discussed a lot and is known even among children (whether it's a good thing or not...) because society widely acknowledges it as an experience. There are books, films about depression. Plurality is not widely acknowledged. It's barely known. It's barely written in books or shown in films.

And when something is unknown, isn't it fun to try and explore? Also considering how many people talk about their positive experiences! It must be fun! It would also be very fun to tell friends about this unique experience!

... Sigh.

But rose-tinted glasses break when you look deeper in causes and consequences. Because creating a headmate means creating a sentient independent being. At first they highly rely on your effort and involvement. And later you will have to treat them as an equal, as a friend, not as a tool to reach the goal.

Want to look cool? It might stem from lack of self-esteem and the feeling of isolation from peers. But becoming plural in order to feel accepted in already small and unpopular community won't solve these problems.

Want to roleplay? It might stem from the need in escapism, which can also be a way to cope with stressful life situation. Created headmates rarely, very rarely become exactly like it was intended during the process. And you can't force them to change back. And if you once get bored of the play, good luck constantly dealing with a person you're not interested in because they can't go anywhere.

Want to just have fun? Creating plurality takes a lot of patience and mental work. When the decision is taken impulsively, the process can be stopped at any moment before a headmate fully forms, and I think it happens a lot with those people who expect quick results. And if someone makes it, but the experience doesn't seem fun anymore?

... Honestly, the reason for creating plurality barely matters. There's almost never one certain reason. There's a summary of different factors which lead one to making this decision.

What matters is how you treat your created headmate. A friend or a tool?

In the end, everything has upsides and downsides. For some people created plurality can be beneficial. For some people created plurality can be harmful. For some people it doesn't even work.

Created for fun?

I hope you and your headmate have fun together in this life.

[xadensbiceps]

Basgiath HR- A Drabble

There is never a dull day when you work for Basgiath’s HR department. 

Major Silver sorts through the missives on her desk with a heavy sigh, clutching her coffee like a lifeline as she tries to rank which take priority. Unsurprisingly, the majority of the college’s problems once again stem from the Rider’s Quadrant.  

She pulls a face, scanning through a complaint about one Ridoc Gamlyn. The letter claims he had urinated against the side of the building after coming back from Chantara and told his fellow cadets to watch as he froze it midstream.   

Disgusting, but drunk cadets making poor choices is common enough that Major Silver moves it to the bottom of the stack.  

She shuffles through a few leave requests. Professors Devera and Emetterio suspiciously asking for the same week off again. Silver has always thought those two seem a little… close. She reluctantly sets the requests aside for approval, unsure how they’re going to find two suitable teaching replacements for that week.  

The next in her long stack of complaints is from Cadet Ashton, a scathing condemnation of the kitchen’s insistence on serving orange. She claims it’s a clear case of discrimination against those with citrus allergies. Silver rolls her eyes, bracing herself with another sip of coffee, and picks up the next letter.  

She raises her brows at the heading. 

ANIMAL ENDANGERMENT 

Oh, this is sure to be interesting.  

Major Silver,  It is one thing to force riders to accept hundreds of fliers at Basgiath—a decision I emphatically disagree with—it is another entirely to expect us to put up with reckless endangerment of domesticated animals. When I arrived at the flight field yesterday, I saw one of these fliers risking the life of a tiny, fragile kitten, balancing it precariously along her gryphon’s back in a basket. When I told her to remove it, she had the audacity to scoff and tell me, and I quote, “His name is Broccoli. He’s a flier. He needs to practice his flight maneuvers.” I can assure you— 

Silver’s head snaps up abruptly as the door to her office slams open, a very red-faced General Aetos standing before her. She jumps to her feet in a salute. He may be an asshole, but he is her superior. “General Aetos,” she greets, words short and clipped. “What can I do for you, sir?”  

“I want Riorson out of my college.” Aetos’s face is as stormy as his predecessor’s signet as he paces across the office, glowering down at Silver. “Code of Conduct. Article Eight, Section One.”  

Silver is more familiar with that particular rule than she’d like to be. She scrubs a hand over her face, far too tired for Aetos’s temper tantrum. “Proof of breach, sir?”  

“He referred to her as his consort according to our notice from their Deverelli mission!”  

Silver tries not to flinch at the fury radiating off of him. “Proof of breach here, sir. At the college.” 

“For Dunne’s sake! If they were dating while on their mission, then they’re surely dating now.” 

“I’m sorry, General,” Silver says, not feeling very sorry at all, “but you’ll need proof of breach on school grounds to enact disciplinary action. Now, I have a lot of work to catch up on, sir.”  

General Aetos splutters for a moment before turning away with a snarled, “Fine.”  

As he stomps out into the hall, slamming the door behind him, Silver can’t help but smile. There are few people with more power at the college than its commander, but the Basgiath HR department certainly has its moments on top.  

---

Written for the first drabble challenge of the RQ 2025 War Games: Obscure Basgiath Jobs!

Link to AO3

[brsb4hls]

Ok, but if you wanna circle that Siken quote around, maybe post the whole thing?

The second part is the important one.

Also, for those who still can't seperate fiction from reality and are obvi already pestering him, because he dared to name that ship:

[wackywatchdotcom]

Rewatching episode one, I noticed that when Ragatha and Jax are talking to each other about Jax having a key, Pomni flinches away from, and lifts her arms to protect her face and head, when Jax toys with the key and catches it near her.

I wonder if she is that jumpy around others normally or if it's just when she's in a stressful situation (like suddenly being trapped in the circus) what do you think?

OK. ok. you mention this. and ive never said anything about it but i have genuinely noticed this almost every time ive seen that scene. i think about it a LOT but i havent been able to figure out my thoughts on it. but i think about it genuinely a LOT...

(i went on a huge tangent abt her thats like. only sporadically related to this specific moment SORRY. it was hard to address this moment without discussing a LOT about her i feel)

for the sake of clarity in the event someone reading this is unfamiliar, what this ask is referring to is this:

with the way that she so quickly dissociates and HARD (not that most people Never experience dissociation or smth, but its the intensity of it and how quick into this situation she starts dissociating is like. it makes it seem like its smth her body and mind are Used To Doing) she REALLY gives off the feeling that she had pre-existing mental health problems (i struggle to place anything TOO specific with the limited information we have but i feel like theres definitely a few things she has going on) before she even got to the circus, and like she COULD just be a naturally jumpy person, but with the dissociation thing and general distrust towards others, it feels like her jumpiness is also related to these issues

while her being naturally nervous is sort of implied and clear (though i think the extent of it is exaggerated by the circumstances of the pilot in particular) there ARE a few other examples that stand out to me

i THINK this can largely be passed off as her just being on edge from the horror adventure, but i this is IS notable that she reacts genuinely pretty strongly to what is a relatively minor 'jumpscare.' it happens later too w kinger pressing the tape recorder

in general she seems VERY easily startled by people, and frankly it reads a lot like it stems more from people being near her than just things happening abruptly. she notably doesnt jump hard when the angel arrives- she DOES get scared, but she isnt necessarily startled. she DOES react very strongly to ghostly, but i think its notable that she seems to find his visual appearance frightening and debatably not necessarily startling, but thats not really 100%. the times she reacts the strongest have to do with people, which imo ties HARD into her not trusting people

episode 2 breaks down her distrust of people well, and i dont think its a self consciousness thing. it seems more that she just doesnt tend to find people trustworthy- if something bad was happening to her, she would sooner assume theyd let it happen rather than help her. it could be argued that its partially a guilt or projection thing with ragatha, but im not actually so sure. pomni seems to be ashamed of leaving her behind, but particularly through ep 2 she doesnt seemed Plagued With Guilt by the way she acts towards ragatha, which implies that the dream didnt have to do with her projecting that shame in a way shed assume ragatha would turn back on her, too

it instead seems to be that she doesnt trust ragatha just... in general. the 'im not a child' thing, while a legitimate problem for pomni to have with ragatha (i love ragatha, and from my place in the audience i know her concern is genuine, and that she truly wants to encourage pomni, and is trying, but from the perspective of people around ragatha, its not an unreasonable assumption that shes JUST being infantilizing and belittling), does illuminate how pomni is seeing ragathas attempts at cheering her up- that it comes from a place of seeing pomni as immature or generally unstable. that pomni is incapable of managing herself and needs to be coaxed. it implies pomni doesnt see ragathas attempts at help as genuine. combined with her dream, that ragatha would allow the worst to happen to her even when she was asking for help, makes it very clear that, even with the 'nicest' person in the circus, pomni just... doesnt really trust her

(it is worth noting that pomni DOES seem to genuinely want to help ragatha in the pilot. she DID try to find caine. but she bolts at the first opportunity. she does care about people, but when stressed, she operates on keeping herself safe first and foremost, that she needs to do anything to get out of a bad situation even if that means leaving someone behind- and with her dream, it does seem that she generally assumes other people operate similarly, or otherwise in their own best interest)

this does, of course, improve by the end of eps 2 and 3. the funeral, and ragatha offering to include her, and how the others talk about abstracted players (combined with her conversation with gummigoo, someone who she has to assure has genuine friendships with those around him despite the lack of a true reality for them to be based upon), are able to convey that oh, these people do actually care about the people around them. theyre being genuine. they arent just looking out for themselves and thats it- they care when bad things happen to each other. and theres no true reason for me to be an exception. which is ALSO why i dont think its a self consciousness thing, she seems able to reason that shes not an exception to the intents of others, so much that when she cant assure herself that others' intents hold her safety as any sort of priority as well, any trust goes out the window. she WANTS to help if she can, but esp in the pilot, as far as shes concerned, its everyone for themself when shit gets bad, including herself

ep 3, she seems more trusting of ragatha- she has neutral and positive interactions w her, rather than assuming a lack of sincerity in it. but its not just ragatha, actually, because even before her talk with him, you can see it in how she interacts with kinger as well

she initially tries to help him run, which isnt too out there- with how she genuinely DID initially try to help ragatha, it doesnt require her to go out of her way to grab him and RUN. she can run AND take him with her. she can help without putting herself in extra danger. but then she DOES go back, which is one of my favorite and imo underrated pomni moments. because THIS is what i think actually highlights an improvement in how she sees the others before her apologizing to ragatha or taking kingers hand. because she puts herself BACK into (percieved, since its not actual sure WHAT the angels intentions were her) danger in order to get kinger away too

(theres probably a case to be made that ragatha didnt seem to be in immediate danger- she was in pain, that much was clear, but kaufmo had ran away by then. but even still, pomni couldnt have known kaufmo would shift gears and start chasing her instead of ragatha that first time. and i dont know if she actually knew death wasnt possible here yet. which isnt very flattering for pomni but also people do not act in flattering ways under extreme stress, esp given a predisposition to not trusting others, which ill elaborate more on in a second here- not that pomnis abandonment was ok OR that it was like evil of her or smth. shes just a person. there is no way she was prepared to know how to act correctly in this situation, and she didnt)

theres also this

which is SUBTLE but highlights a genuine increase in trust even before their heart to heart. now that she knows the cast (save for jax, who she seems to react to the harshest, which is worth noting imo) are not acting solely in their own best interest, that they WILL consider the wellbeing of those around them including her, that their concern for one another is genuine (which is concerning that she even assumes that to begin with, which ill circle back to momentarily), she very clearly has way more faith in them and the idea that she should stick around the others for safety

and of course, ive said it before, but her taking kingers hand has little to do with her enjoying holding hands. its her knowing that, if kingers wrong, this is going to end very, very badly. if holding their breath isnt the solution theyre BOTH going to get possessed, and who knows how theyd get out of that situation. but she decides in that moment that her trust in the others isnt ONLY about looking out for them and believing that theyre sincere in their concern for her. but that she is willing to let the others put her at a potential massive risk. getting possessed was a blatantly immediately traumatic experience- and she lets kinger put her at risk of it happening again. THATS why she holds his hand, at least symbolically. she doesnt like contact. but she can brave something that she doesnt like, she can let him lead her into and through something potentially horrific, because shes deciding to trust him and the others, that theyre not just people she can interact with without fear of ill intentions, but that theyre people who she is going to coexist with. the best thing she can do for herself and the others is trust them and work with them actively

anyway that got off-track, the point being that her having to have these ideas instilled in her at all through shared experiences and trauma implies that, while these issues with distrust may have been exacerbated by the stress of everything, they didnt come from nowhere. these are problems she likely already had to some degree. its great that theres been improvement but that improvement directly implies thesse were improvements that needed to be made to begin with. and the fact that the person she gets repeatedly most startled by is jax. who, even with episode 2, she explicitly doesnt trust. in the pilot, at least, her distrust is more vague (i think the dream sequence in ep 2 IS what highlights it best) so her flinching from jax can be passed off as related to a general lack of adjustment to the new environment and situation shes in. but it happens again with jax in episode 3 (and, notably, she pauses afterwards but it takes a moment for her to relax even knowing its just jax), after shes adjusted somewhat, and after shes gained some trust with everyone except for jax (given his absence from the scene at the end of ep 2). it also happens when barons voice plays abruptly next to her

point being that imo, she IS naturally jumpy. she says herself that she doesnt handle jumpscares well, which somewhat implies this even outside of the circumstances of the circus. but with how she reacts to things, it feels like her general jumpiness is far, far worse when it comes to people she doesnt trust (be it because jax is Like That, or because shes not familiar with baron). the way i see it, then, her distrust extends to perceiving physical threats easily around people she hasnt ensured are safe to be around. she IS able to gain this trust in people, but she seems to automatically place the intents of others as being Potentially Unsafe from the jump, especially under stress. she can jump back from it fairly quickly for what its worth, but to be honest, it seems more like she operates on some general, everpresent level of hypervigilance thats just sometimes worse based on the situation

and frankly i dont think we know enough about her as of ep 4 to fully determine if there IS a reason for this. because someone can have a reason to be this jumpy around others, or they can just... be nervous and dislike people moving suddenly near them. combined with the dissociation thing, though, im inclined to think the circus did not cause this, just made it more extreme with more unpleasant stakes. there is hardly any time between her entering the circus and this happening. she hadnt even seen kaufmo yet in that very first example, but she was already on alert for a physical threat, and i just. i think about it all the time...

i think the main takeaway from all of this is that i think she isnt necessarily jumpy like that all the time, but i think trust is not a given with pomni, and her jumpiness massively depends on how much she trusts people near her and the situation shes in to not be a physical threat to her. its definitely worse in the circus, but i think it was probably still something present in a different context in the real world, too

[valewritessss]

Hey, sorry for not posting for a while I’ve been dealing with stuff and also just super busy😅