#Burn Bunny mini series

[redcherrykook]

── .˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ TENSION DEGREE 01

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College roomate!Jungkook x college roomate!reader- fwb 2 Lovers

You find yourself having to share your room with a very sexually active medical science major who so happens to fancy you. Good thing he´s as charming and spontaneous as you, leading to many crazy parties and places you probably should not be hooking up at. When Jungkook started ignoring all his booty calls after accidentally calling someone by your name, unable to fuck away the thought of you, he knew he was cooked. Would he really leave his playboy antics for that sweet company of yours?

series- one!

content: mild slow burn- fwb2l, roomates, mutual pining, player jungkook that falls devoted to reader, cocky!JK, Confident!reader, psychology major reader, banter, parties, lots of smut (duh)

episode- warnings: mention of weed, drugs, alcohol, the word slut

Taglist: @khadeeeeej @ot7stansthings @whoa-jo @smoljjks @stvrlighytt @nono13bnd @jungshaking @junniesoleilkth @deepikhaprakash @rockstryoon @tatamicc @jjeonjjk7 @kookieandjoonberries @jcrl99 @httpjeonlicious @wnteraezz @aphrodyteeth @miniesjams32 @emojkoo @katie-tibo @user-190811 @massivebearharmony @hoseokteardrop @hoseoksluv89 @hoseoksluv90

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"I dont know Jungkook isn't this a little too much?" The mirror in front if you reflects back a clear imagine of you in a very short- barely ass covering- black mini dress.

The occasion for a beautiful, tight black mini dress that ties up in the back with pink silk ribbon, that also has your chest practically spilling out?

Another party your roomate drags you too.

Okay, maybe not drag.

Over the proximity of five months, your charming roomie had become a good friend.

You aren't even sure how it started, maybe the bickering, countless sexual jokes, his ego clashing with yours on the daily or purely that you've spend so much time in the shared dorm,

But Jungkook definitely knew how to match your energy.

From door-dashing food when both of you got high out of your minds, studying for hours together and increasingly stressing each other out to more crazy things, like running from the cops after doing fire crackers in an abandoned building.

You just matched each others freak perfectly.

"If too much means looking sexy then yes, way too much. But you know, nothing to be ashamed of" he answers your previous question, leaning against the doorframe with his muscular arms crossed over his chest.

You shake your head, deciding to just go with the dress.

"Alright, lets go. Who's driving?" He gazes down into your eyes as you walk to the doorframe, heels clicking on the floor with each step.

A small smirk forms on his face, "No one, its a dorm party. Let's both get wasted"

Usually, Jungkook and you agreed that one person always stays sober, to drive back and take care of the other person if something happens.

"I don't wanna drink much Kook, but you let loose eh?" smacking his firm chest, a small giggle leaves your lips.

In return, his eyes go to your chest, pressed together tightly and in perfect view for the taller male to look down into.

His eyes wander back up to your face, every time you giggled it made him want to tease you more

"Sure bunny, but I gotta keep an eye on you if you look this good" the smug look on his face makes you want to scream,

So does the nickname,

It started randomly, kind of

You mentioned that bunnies are your favorite animals, hugging the pink, soft bunny plushie to your chest back when Jungkook and you went to get some stuff for the apartment,

You couldn't help but stop at the sight, plushies always make your heart melt.

He still remembers how soft you looked, adimiring the small plushed animal.

He decided that day to call you bunny, saying that it just suited you,

He also bought you that plushie

You roll your eyes at his teasing comment, looking up into his eyes with a innocent look,

Not failing to notice how good his lip ring looks as he plays with it slightly.

"Oh will you? I think you're just gonna go fuck some random girl again, leave me all alone"

Instinctively, he leans down with the same smug smile still placed over his face.

"Awh.. is bunny jealous? Don't worry, i'll make it quick this time" he winks, patting your head in an effort to mock you

Without getting the chance to say something back, he turns around, walking to the front door with a small laugh leaving his lips.

You decide it's for the better to just walk out with him.

Over the course of these last months, you aren't the only one that got to know Jungkook,

Many, many girls around campus have learned about him in possibly the only way you haven't,

Which is during sex.

It's to no surprise that a very physically attractive, smart and charming guy like Jungkook has girls swooning over him left and right.

Arguably, the fact that he sleeps around quite a lot also shouldn´t come as a surprise.

It did however, take some time to get used to hearing his moans through your paper thin walls,

Sure you were fine with sleeping on the couch like once a week,

Given the fact that you would have to be in the same room, a couple meters apart otherwise.

Sleeping on the very comfy living room couch isn't what bothered you at all,

More so, hearing him tell these girls all sorts of things, hearing his groans and the sound of skin slapping in every lewd way possible.

"You're such a slut"

"Just like that yeah?"

To hear the bed ramming against the wall which each grunt,

Just to go to sleep there the next day, like nothing happend.

It took some time to get used to it.

Get used to the slick running down your inner thighs when you could hear his sounds of pleasure,

Opting for soundproof headphones instead to avoid the need to do something about the way you felt.

Get used to him sending each and every one away after, sometimes crying, explaining that he was honest from the start.

He always told the girls, or so he said he would, that he's just sleeping with them for fun, just once.

One single time only.

Jungkooks has never been the relationship type so he claims,

"I just haven´t really felt more than physical attraction before, and I´m not dying for it either" he revealed in another cross faded open heart conversation, one of many nights.

What's worse is, getting used to him shamelessly flirting and smiling to you after,

As if you wouldn't be just another fuck to him, another girl on his long list, if you were to engage in it with him.

That thought right there, being just another one of his hookups , is precisely why you swore to never sleep with Jungkook, it would change your friendship, the one so perfectly matched.

No matter of ridiculously tempting it is.

The sexual banter would probably stop, given that he "got what he wanted" so to speak,

Even if Jungkook isn't that type of guy, it wouldn't be the same.

"This dorm is huge man what the fuck"

Between the blaring music and some familiar faces, Jungkook's big doe eyes look over the student apartment.

Significantly more spacious than the one on your own, presumably housing 3 people.

"Oh look! Chaewon's here too" you smile, immediately squeezing your way through the crowd to get to her.

"YOU CAMEEE" her bubbly voice rings as she engulfs you in a warm hug,

You laugh, embracing her in the same way she does,

"Wow you look so hot tonight" her mouth lets out a overly dramatic whistle, hands finding their way to your arms.

You smile when her lips form into a flirty smirk, eyes ranking over your figure

"You're one to talk Chae, that skirt is so cute"

It's true, Chaewon's silver mini skirt topped with her black waterfall- neckline top and gorgeous black heels makes for a perfect outfit, only adding to her already present beauty.

If there is one girl in the entire world you would wanna steal the looks from, it would have to be your best friend.

"Oh hi Jungkook" her eyes suddenly dart next to you, where Jungkook is now standing, having his decorated hand clasped around your waist.

You try to ignore how good it feels to have him close,

Chaewon shoots you a look, letting you know she immediately noticed it.

"Hey Chae. Didn't know you were coming" he smiles faintly,

You can't help but watch his eyes, hoping to see if they wander down her body like they normally would if another pretty girl stood in his vicinity.

It never made sense to you, how he hasn't slept with Chaewon yet.

She's stunning, into his looks like most girls on campus and she definitely isn't looking for something serious,

Not even at risk for begging for Jungkook to come back,

Nonetheless, he never once made a move on her.

She points to the kitchen, "I wasn't planning but, Minnie invited me. Want a drink?"

Jungkook and you nod almost perfect in sync, making her laugh and squeeze her way past more people,

You follow behind tightly, now feeling both of Jungkook's hand around your waist as you keep walking,

His breath is suddenly tingling on your neck, softly moving to your ear,

"Gotta make sure i don't lose ya' "

The sound of his voice to closely on to your skin is a sensation that makes you shiver

Every idiot would notice the heavy sexual tension between you two,

You would love to know what it feels like to feel vulnerable below him,

Having him burried inside your own sex and feeling his lips tracing your skin,

But it's of no use, you wouldn't ever give up a friend like him for one time pleasure.

"What do you want?" Chaewon snaps you out of your thoughts, the music is slightly quieter in the kitchen.

Assembled in front of you are lots of bottles, empty solo cups, crates of beer, some strange looking fruity cocktail mixes but most importantly,

A big, full bottle of vodka.

"Four shots, vodka pure please"

Jungkook laughs, leaning against the counter,

"Didn't you say you'd take it easy?" His eyebrow cocks up as he speaks,

"It´s four shots" you reply, rolling your eyes

"You're a lightweight bunny" he winks, turning back to Chaewon

"Give me a moscow mule and i'll be good"

Chaewon smiles, shaking her head as she hands you your first shot

"My pleasure guys"

Four shots quickly turn into four more, the sway of your hips in the music playing, unsure of even the current song, just feeling to good to stop

Feeling the people around you, you keep dancing, maybe stumbling at this point,

Even though you feel your head getting lighter and you're ignoring the burning hurt on your feet from constantly moving on heels,

Nothing mattered with enough shots.

Nothing until you notice that Chaewon,

Who you could feel was just beside you, right there dancing and laughing with you,

Is no where to be found.

Your feet stop momentarily, almost faling over from the sudden halt

Trying to look everywhere between the people, whipping your dizzy head around to find her sitting somewhere, maybe dancing with a guy, maybe mixing another drink

But you can't see her, instead you find the man you came with,

Sitting on a couch with a girl you know you recognize from somewhere, leaning over and whispering something into her ear

Instead of trying to think in your hazy state of mind, you legs are developing a mind on their own, walking over to said couch for who knows what reason,

He smiles at her, rubbing his larger hand over her exposed knee softly,

That's right, you recall now,

She's definitely in your social studies class.

"Kook? Have you seen Chae?" Grabbing a hold of the couch in order not to tumble forward, your words come out slightly slurred.

He removes his hand from her skin, diverting his attention to you,

He seems sober, relatively sober in comparison to your state.

"I think she went upstairs with someone, come sit down you're about to collapse" he pats the other side of where he's sitting, giving you a warm look.

"Actually, we were kind of talking? Is it okay if you sit somewhere else for now?"

Jungkook doesn't take his eyes off you, scoffing as he's standing up from the couch,

She fake smiles briefly, although her eyes look confused,

You think so at least, unable to really make out anything clearly at this point.

"Let's go bunny, we're done here tonight anyways"

With that, you giggle, consumed by the liquor in your system as he escorts you out of the dorm.

Once the cold, july midnight air hits you, you can feel the hairs on your skin stand up,

Legs wabbling, weaker than they were minutes ago distracted by dancing the night away.

You can make out the sound of his laughter, scooting closer to you

"Take your heels off please i don't want you to break any bones"

There is not enough alcohol in the world to make you back down on your pride, sometimes you don't quite trust even your own words,

Like right now,

"No kook i- 'lll be finee" your eyes roll as you begin walking,

"Other direction bunny"

"Right, i knew that"

He shakes his head, wrapping his beautifully painted arm around your naked shoulders, making sure that you really don't go breaking any bones.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

"Remind me why i drank again" your groans catch the attention of Jungkook standing in the kitchen.

Being awake from the sensation of a pounding headache isn't exactly pleasant, even worse when you feel dirty from not having showered the night before.

Automatically, your aching feet take you to the kitchen for a glass of water,

"I thought you died, its literally 2pm" he says while stirring the big pot placed on the counter,

You lean over curiously,

"What'cha making?"

Jungkook grabs two bowls, filling the first one up and sliding it over to you.

"Hangover soup of course, look at your state miss" he puts a spoon in the bowl before pinching your nose,

You punch his arm lightly, inhaling the delicious scent of the boiling hot soup bowl in front of you,

"Thank you kook. What about you? No hangover?"

"Nah. After i saw you taking your sixth shot i figured it's better if someone is stable enough to find the way home" he laughs softly while filling his own bowl.

"Awhhh you're such a sweetheart" you tease, making a pouty face at him, just to piss him off.

He shakes his head, sitting down at the living room table to begin eating a very late breakfast.

With a birdsnest in your hair and the smell of a party, maybe eating is allowed to come second.

"Gonna shower first i feel gross" your arms stretch over your head while you yawn,

There is no state of embarrassment Jungkook hasn't seen over five months, looking like a hot mess doesn't phase you anymore.

He eyes you up and down, a fake judging look in his eyes.

"You smell gross too"

You roll your eyes, "That's why im showering now idiot" you shout from inside the bathroom, already having walked your way over there as he talked.

Ah, it felt so nice to stand under the warm water,

To rinse yourself from the smell of sweat and alcohol and replace it with vanilla,

Feeling the headache slowly fade into the background.

To comb through your wet hair, making it soft with a hair mask.

To step out, dry yourself off and slip into fresh clothes.

"Wait"

You look around the bathroom, wrapped in a tiny towel over your half wet and naked figure,

Noticing that you failed to bring new clothes inside the bathroom, having been too occupied with showering fast to go and eat Jungkook's brunch.

"Jungkook!" You shout, hoping he can hear,

"Yeah?" He shouts back, still sitting at your dining table, kind of expecting the worst.

Usually when you shout his name like that it´s never good.

"I forgot my clothes! Can you bring me some?"

He gets up immediately, sighing in relief "What do you need?"

You think for a second, of course he's seen your laundry before, you gave up on separating the clothes long time ago.

However, you made sure to always keep the more.. sexy underwear in your care.

"Nevermind i"ll get it myself" you shout again, at which he groans

"I'm literally on my way, give me three minutes"

And so he does, walking into your guy's room, to open your side of the closet.

Grabbing a random shirt and a pair of joggers, then reaching down to the underwear drawer like it's second nature to him.

He rummages through the unorganized pile of socks and bra's, to find a pair of boyshorts he's seen about two billion times before.

Until he stops in his tracks, stumbling across something that made him bite his lip softly.

He grabs the pair of white, lacy panties that he's just discovered. A little silver heart pendant in the front, barely any material that isn't see through.

His mind runs quickly, thinking about you with nothing but these panties on.

His physical atrraction to you isn't a secret to him either,

Then again, he is attracted to practically any girl.

"What's taking so long i'm fucking freezing" you shout, still inside the bathroom,

Praying that he isn´t inspecting your lingerie.

He shakes his head, deciding to tease you just a little, hiding the panties inside the shirt he chose.

When you hear the footsteps approaching outside the bathroom, you open the door just enough to stick your arm outside.

"Thanks koo" you say while he hands you the clothes, a small smirk already creeping it's way up his face at the thought of your face when you see them,

And the fact that that's what's gonna be underneath your sweats once you walk out.

Finally, you take the clothes in hand, already annoyed when you can't find any underwear,

"Don't tell me he didn´t get me any" you sigh to yourself,

Until,

"This annoying little-",

The pair of your precious white panties falls to the floor.

[fraugwinska]

A very incomplete list of Hazbin Hotel Fanfiction Authors/Geniuses

I cannot believe the awsome, talented, absolute magnificent people I've met through this fandom. Writing FF for Hazbin Hotel has become one of my greatest joys in life, and reading the stories and creations of my fellow friends and idols is something that can brighten my whole week - and we don't gatekeep. So, if you're in search for a good read, here are a few of the SUPER AWSOME people I stalk (and I want to stress - this list is never going to be complete, but I'll try to edit it as there are just SO MANY GODDANG MASTERS out there!) @bapple117 If you love #RadioStatic, you have to read 'Bluest Monday' (completed) and the follow-up 'Say Hello, Wave Goodbye' (WIP) She'll break your heart in the most beautiful way. If you don't fancy that but Alastor is your go-to, then you will want to dive in head-first into "If You Can't Say Somethin' Nice, Don't Say Nothin' At All" (complete). But as before, be ready for a rollercoaster of emotional moments and extremely spicy shenanigans.

@hazelfoureyes Goddess of the smut, Hottest writer in Hell - If you're horny, Hazel has got you covered. Especially her 'The safeword is Radioapple'-Mini-series will make you sweat like a Zumba-Instructor on crack. Be prepared to blush, tremble, die and immediately ressurrect, because yes. She is THAT good.

Clover/corruptedteacups on AO3 With whooping 75 chapters and 300k+ hits, her Fanfic 'The Red means I Love you' is one of the best, most detailed slow-burn-pining-angsty-smutty-will-they-wont-they Masterpieces I've read so far. Alastor is magnificent and I guarantee you'll fall in love with Clover, the bunny who captures the heart of you deerest red demon.

@melodyonthewireless Highly underappreciated (imho), her fic "A Match made in Hell" (WIP) follows her OC Sybil down to hell, into the Hazbin Hotel and consecutively the arms of Alastor - but don't you dare underestimate the pink, harmless looking doe. Sybil's witch powers and her sassy, witty personality is quite the match to the established readio overlord. It's such a read, and the wait between chapters the sweetest agony!

@macabr3-barbi3 She delivers every. single. TIME. Her Short stories and One-Shots are like Pringles - Once you pop, you can't stop. I'm deeply in love with 'Dream a little Dream' (WIP), 'Nothing I can't Handle' (WIP) makes me run for a cold shower and did I mention the countless one-shot-candies that make you mouth water and your toes curl?

@slutforalastor/InconspicuousBosch on AO3 Whether it's the One-Shots on tumblr (omg the PRIEST ALASTOR BIT *fans face*) or the incredible Choose-your-Path-Fic "Say it with a smile" (completed) - you will be both amazed at the artistry of the wording and storybuilding and blushing at the sheer craft of the smut and sexual tension.

@impale-me-radio-daddy Founder of the kink #antlerplay, his series of 'The Lookalike' is steamy, outrageous, utterly magnificent and filthy down to the bones. Be prepared for some serious questioning of your own preferences, because you WILL get some epiphanies. And that's a PROMISE.

@hurthermore Listen. LISTEN. Bimbo is the mini-series that had me on a friggin CHOKEHOLD. It takes a special talent to make one so invested in THE radio demon, gentleman a la carte Alastor believably pining after and pounding a lovable, dumb airhead sinner with a fable for skimpy dresses and leave you at the end wanting for seconds and thirds!

As I said, this is a highly incomplete list, and I'll absolutely edit this list as I go. But I needed to put this out in the world. To all of the above, and all of those which I didn't include YET but most certainly will -

I ADORE YOU, I PRAY AT YOUR FEET, YOU ARE AMAZING BEINGS AND I LOVE YOU.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[mischiefmanagers]

Eris Vanserra Fic Rec Library 🍁❤️‍🔥

these fics are a mix of Eris x reader, Eris x OC, and a few general Eris fics with no pairing. if you've never read an Eris fic before, I highly recommend starting with the first rec below (gust & flame) because that fic made me fall in love with him. enjoy ✨

🌼 personal favorite 🥀 angst 💞 fluff 🔥 smut

by @invisibleanonymousmonsters

gust & flame (series) 🥀💞🌼

by @theostrophywife

here in your arms. 💞

like you wanna be loved 💞

by @acourtofmenandthirst

The Fox & The Hound 💞

by @leafsandstarlight

Destiny's Battleground (series) 🥀💞🔥

In Spite of Our Differences (series) 🥀💞🔥🌼

Great Rite 🔥

The Prince of Blood

by @profound-imagination

Finding Home 💞

Rose Gardens

by @munsons-hellfire

Happiness in the Heart 🥀💞

by @sweetcarolina-24

Scorched Shadows

by @azrielbrainrot

Fire on Fire

Mind Over Matter 🥀

by @danikamariewrites

Rescue 💞🥀

Fake Sleeper 💞

Peace 💞

Seekers 💞🌼

Did You Just Say No?

Song of Death

Starfall Revelations 🥀💞

Guilt 🥀💞

Kisses 💞

by @redbleedingrose

Till the End of Time 💞🥀

Pretty? 🥀💞

by @b0xerdancer-writes

It Wasn't Supposed to Happen Like This 🥀💞

by @thisblogisaboutabook

Bad Idea, Right? 🥀🔥

by @azsazz

Cherries, Juniper, and Orange Slices 💞

Fire & Water 🥀🔥

by @honeybeefae

Cauldron Fated 💞🥀🔥🌼

Forgotten Ties 🥀

Valentine's Mini Fic 💞

A Court of Wings & Fire (series) 🥀

Past and Present 🥀💞

Coronation Day 💞

Potions 🔥🌼

by @we-were-beautiful

The Fox and the Hounds 💞

by @bubbles-for-all-of-us

My little flame 💞

Her 🌼

My tears ricochet 🥀

by @2thestars-andbeyond

The Fire That Burns Within (series) 💞🥀🔥

by @simkaswriting

What if…Eris had danced with y/n instead?

by @jeannineee

Daylight 🥀💞

Breeding 🔥

by @jdeclerc

a brother's intervention 🥀

by @azrielsdove

Playing With Fire 🥀🔥Azriel x Reader x Eris

by @cassiefromhell

Unexpected 💞🥀🔥Azriel x Reader x Eris

by @fieldofdaisiies

Late Again 🥀

Brother 🥀💞 no pairing

Falling 💞🌼

by @azrielsoulmate

Covered in you 💞

by @cupidojenphrodite

Morning After 🔥

by @acourtofwhatthefuck

Loose Lips 🥀🔥

by @thelov3lybookworm

Remember me? (series) 💞🥀 from Rhysand x Reader to Eris x Reader

Bloodshed 🥀💞

Not what I expected 🥀💞🌼

by @fineghkst

How Eris acts around his mate 💞

by @ladyescapism

fractured bonds 🥀

by @clairebear08

Woven 🥀

Use Me 🔥

by @historiaxvanserra

If I Can't Have Love, I Want Power 🥀🌼

I Am Not a Martyr, I'm a Problem

by @shadowdaddies

Autumn's Eden 💞

Bramble 💞

by @azrielslightintheshadows

Fake love. 🥀

by @crypticandmachiavellianaugustine

Sweet Nothings 💞🌼

by @readychilledwine

Death of Peace of Mind 🥀🔥🌼

Safe Haven 💞

Relief

Unconditional 💞

Leap 💞🌼

Kissed By Fire

Lapcat 🔥

Pack Mentality 💞

Tainted Love 🥀

by @throneofsmut

Bound In Flames (series) 🥀💞🔥

by @parkerslatte

Overlooked 🥀🌼

Warm Me Up 💞🔥

by @prythianpages

Like An Angel 💞

Cruel, Wicked Thing

by @saphirered

Frozen lake 🔥💞

by @thehighladywrites

Professor Eris 🥀💞🔥

by @thevanserrras

Breaking Point 🥀

Den of Foxes 🥀💞

Happy Equinox at Last 💞

Wake Up 🥀💞 Azriel x Reader x Eris

Petty 🥀💞

by @secret-third-thing

Never An Honest Word 🥀 no pairing

by @nocasdatsgay

From the Ashes, the Wildflowers Grow (series) 🥀💞🔥🌼

by @lucienforhighking

Hounds of Love 💞

Dancing 💞🔥

by @callmeblaire

when fire and ice dance

by @moonlightazriel

Symphonies 💞

When no one hears your calls 🥀💞

by @sellyoursoulforagoodfic

Monstrous Secrets 🥀💞

by @florencemtrash

Flame, Shadow, Beast 🥀💞 Azriel x Reader x Eris

by @serpentandlily

Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny (series) 🌼

Last Solstice 🥀💞🌼

by @fever-fluff

Unconditional

by @yearning-for-autumn

Would That I

[rileyslibrary]

Masterlist:

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

📙gn!reader📗f!reader

———————————————————————

Multi-chapter works/Mini Series

Living with Ghosts (9/9)📗

The new Lieutenant (3/3): Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3📗

Be gentle, man! (2/2): Part 1 / Part 2📗

Lazy Sunday with Simon (2/2): Part 1 / Part 2📙

The hot seat (2/2): Part 1 / Part 2📗 (fanart by @hanjyukutamago)

The Log Cabin (3/3)📙 (fanart by @23652 and 3D render by @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot)

Oneshots/Drabbles/Requests etc. (sorted: new to old)

Mary Mart📗

First Solo Mission📙

Go away Mr. Reaper📗

Bravo Unit has barracks?!📗

New Year’s Resolutions📗

Operation “Santa”📙

Ghost’s secret collection📙

Taking the piss out of Ghost📙

Ghost is jealous📗

Non-verbal communication📙

The captain’s birthday cake📙

The after effects of alcohol📙

This or That📗 (Render by @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot)

Sensing something is wrong with you📙

Weighted Blanket📙

Killing Bugs 📙

Assembling Furniture📙

Seeking comfort in the command tent📙

Pickle jar troubles📗

The wedding📗 (fanart by @hanjyukutamago & render by @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot)

Career fair📙

Hangry📙

Nice haircut📗

Heat Exhaustion📙

Elevator chat 📙

Chest candy📙

Happy birthday, Lieutenant📙

Penny for your thoughts📙

Ghost forgets reader’s birthday📙

Peppa the dog📙

Ghost teaching you how to ride a bike📙

No fun allowed📙

Take a deep breath📙

Team-building exercise📗

Moving in together📙

One for one📙

Taser training📙

Snack Attack📙

Somebody’s something📙

Soldier down📙

Paper cranes📙

Get well soon, Captain!📗

Interrogation shenanigans📙

Lift and learn📗

Invincible📙

Easter Bunny📙 (fanart by @hanjyukutamago)

One bed📗

Taking initiative📗

April Fools📙

Succession prompt📙

Promise me📙

No, soldier, no📙

Your opinion isn’t part of the recipe, Sergeant📙

Here’s a rose, now piss off📗

Ghost and the kitten📙

Aggressive mimicry📗

Ghost showering (imagine)📙

You spy with your little eye…📙

Campfire kisses📗 (render by @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot)

Meal, Under-the-Stars📗

An unlikely duo📙

Temptation📗

Eyes on the road📙

Nice shot📗

Simon’s armchair📙

What a lovely way to burn📙

The smile behind the mask📙

Pull my hair📗

Where’s my pen, Lt.?📗

Mirror📙

———————————————————————

[dearly-somber]

stand still (i’m sniffing you) | j.jk

-> pairing. wolf shifter!jungkook x human!reader (f)

-> genre. slow burn, f2l (friends-to-lovers), (not actually) unrequited love, pining, mutual pining, high school!au, werewolf/shifter!au, fluff, domestic fluff

-> w/c. 802

-> rating. 13+

-> a/n. Inspired by that one clip where Jungkook back-hugs Hoseok while they’re practicing 🥹🥹

-> collection. mini-series

-> warnings. None!!

-> started. Mon., Feb. 19th, 2024 @ 21:42

-> fin. Mon., Feb. 19th, 2024 @ 22:19

-> edited. Tues., Feb. 20th, 2024 @ 07:06

-> divider credit. @mmadeinheavenn

Jungkook has a stronger sense of smell than the rest of his pack. Partially because his wolf is simply better at it (much to the pack’s chagrin, because Jungkook never fails to bring it up during their biweekly pissing contests), but also because he’d been blessed with a good sense of smell even in his human form.

Something is burning a street down? Jungkook can smell it.

Someone took a shit in the backyard because they were too lazy to shift and do it inside where they could flush it? Jungkook can smell it (and he’s going to make it everyone else’s problem).

Y/N comes over without letting him know and—wait, what?

He sticks his head out of his room like an excited cartoon character. “Bunny?”

Jennie glowers at him as she’s walking down the stairs, shaking her head with a sigh. “She’s not even halfway up the pavement.”

Jungkook frowns, feeling a prickle of embarrassment race up the back of his neck. “A-and! You know she’s here!”

“Yeah, ‘cause I can hear her,” Jennie sasses, scoffing with a grin so shit-eating Jungkook thinks his eye twitches, “not because I’m so honed in on her scent that I know she’s coming from a mile away.”

“Okay it was not a mi—Y/N!”

She huffs as Jungkook barrels into her, stumbling back ever so slightly. Jungkook feels his wolf wagging his tail like the love-struck mutt he is, pulling back at Y/N’s signature okay, that’s enough pat-on-the-back she does whenever she deems a hug “over”.

“I didn’t know you were coming!” He can’t help but speak loudly, wondering if his eyes are sparkling—cliche, sure, but he remembers Yoongi mentioning it once, and it hasn’t left his mind ever since.

Y/N laughs (Jungkook’s heart soars in his chest), shaking hee head as she drops a duffel bag next to the coffee table, walking toward the kitchen with Jungkook hot on her heels.

“I wasn’t planning coming over but my mom dropped me off to go to the library and she isn’t picking me up until five, so I decided to come over and hang out.”

That explains it! Jungkook wondered why Y/N smelt more bookish than usual today. It’s always present under her daffodil-raisin combo, but it makes sense why it’s so much stronger today. He imagines her sitting in the library for hours on end, fully immersed in a book, and the thought makes him smile like a fool.

Jungkook is hit with the sudden, overwhelming urge to smell you. Fueled by his excitement at a surprise-visit and the whims of his wolf, he wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest and pressing his nose to the back of your neck. His nose scrunches happily as he inhales your scent, first in short, wolfish little huffs, and then in longer, more appreciative inhales which infiltrate all his senses.

He waddles into the kitchen clinging to Y/N’s back, vaguely aware of the conversation she’s started with Rosé, Seokjin and Jisoo (who are busy making dinner), too focused on keeping his nose scrunched to the back of her neck to hear (or truly care about) the specifics.

“Jungkook-ah,” Y/N says softly, reaching up to touch his hands.

“Stay still,” he huffs, feeling a tingle run up his arms when she shivers at his breath on her neck. “I’m sniffing you,” he mumbles, swaying her from side to side as they come to a standstill in the middle of the kitchen.

Y/N snorts, and he imagines she has a smile on her face.

“Yah!” Seokjin yells, maneuvering around them with a pot of rice held close to his chest. “I’m trying to cook!”

“Yeah!” Rosé frowns, roughly mixing what Jungkook now realizes is kimchi. “Get a room!”

“Kook,” Y/N starts.

The whine he lets out dies in the back of his throat when she reaches up over her shoulder to palm his hair, gently scrunching her fingers in the messy strands. “Lemme help cook dinner and then we can play some Mortal Combat before I leave, hm?”

Waiting until the heat in the tips of his ears cools a little, Jungkook gives a curt little nod of his head (blatantly ignoring his wolf’s request to nip your shoulder). He inhales long and hard before finally letting you go.

Y/N then very casually turns to help the trio in the kitchen as Jungkook plops onto the couch in between Lisa and Hoseok with a satisfied sigh, practically sitting on top of them.

He yelps, rubbing the back of his head when he feels Hoseok smack him over the head with a pointed look.

“What?” he says, high-pitched and pouting.

Lisa just laughs, shaking her head as she scrolls through her phone. “You’re hopeless, Kook.”

<- prev | next ->

[604to647]

Lingerie

2.7K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: Din shows you how he feels about lingerie.

Warnings: 18+ content (MDNI please), fluff with smut, established relationship, semi-public sex (people are downstairs), fingering, oral (f receiving), body worship (like in the lingerie), maybe a little degradation kink (whore/slut, affectionate), a bit of daddy kink, dirty talk, lots of pet names (pretty bird, baby, bunny, pretty girl, etc.), no implied age gap

A/N: Another one shot in the same modern AU where Din is a retired mob enforcer and now owns/runs a boxing gym where the mob guys hang out - this one takes place at the gym! I'm almost done the first two chapters of the "main" fic and hope to start posting soon. The chapters are kind of a slow burn as reader and Din meet, date, etc. so these one shots where their relationship is established is where all the smut is at for now - hee hee! 🤭 (Series Masterlist)

“I think it’s kind of a waste of money?”

“…and time? Like you’re just taking it off.  Too many snaps and stuff.”

“I dunno.  Maybe it sets the mood or something.”

“Well, she was pissed.  Got dressed and stormed off and now I think I’m supposed to apologize?”

“Dude, forget her!  Imagine getting pissed about underwear.”

This gets the group laughing and Din looks up briefly from his paperwork at the guys sitting around the boxing ring, relaxing after a long day of work and work outs.  One of the younger guys that’s only been working at the gym for a few months catches his eye and calls over, “Boss!  What do you think? Lingerie – worth it?”

Din shuffles his papers into a neat pile and takes off his glasses before walking over to join the group.  The truth was, before you, he hadn’t really given much thought to lingerie.  If a partner wore something lacy and matching, it was nice but not really a must have.  Before you, he might have agreed: lingerie was just something to take off.  But on you.  Lingerie on you made him feral.  Din knew that you loved your matching sets and that you wore lingerie mostly for yourself, but that just made it hotter – knowing that you had a little racy secret that wasn’t meant for anyone else drove him crazy.  And somehow, the lingerie you wore only accentuated your loveliness - you never wore anything overly complicated; just soft lace resting against your already soft skin, pretty bows decorating your pretty curves.  He might have inadvertently drooled on more than one occasion upon undressing you.  For those few times you had worn something especially for him, he had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming – what had he done to deserve you wrapping yourself so delicately and offering yourself up to him like a present?  His mind flashes to soft lace cups barely covering your nipples.

The snapping of an underwear band against your hip.

See-through mini dresses that flutter when you bounce on his lap.

Panties made of thin material with enough give to accommodate his whole hand.

Delicate satin straps slipping off your shoulder allowing the attached fabric to fall, revealing your breast. 

He loved lingerie on you, and found that more often than not, he didn’t take it off completely when he fucked you.

Din finds himself starting to get hard just thinking about your body barely covered in something flimsy and sheer, and he has to remind himself that he’s still at work.  Chuckling, he says to the group, “I think, if you’re lucky enough to undress a girl, Brian, you should be worshipping anything she lets you see.”

The hoots and hollers that follow are briefly interrupted when the front door of the gym opens and the unmistakeable pitter patter of canine feet approach the men on the gym floor.   The dog makes a beeline for Din; he greets the pup with enthusiastic scratches, with the rest of the guys coming over to get their share of doggy love.  Din looks up to see you following, carrying pizza boxes and an assortment of takeout containers and he can’t help but grin widely.  He leaves the dog to the guys’ choruses of “Who’s a good boy?” and comes over to help you. He had texted you earlier to let you know he was working late tonight finishing up month-end tax forms, and even though he had said he would just grab a bite to eat while he worked, you knew he wouldn’t. Missing him after your own long workday, you decided to pick up some food and take a cab over to surprise him.

Din takes the food from you with one hand and put his other on the small of your back, using it to pull you in firmly for a deep kiss.  You brace your now free hands on his broad chest as he presses into you and wonder what’s got him so riled up.

The pizza boxes and take out are deposited on a table and the guys make their way over, offering their profuse thanks before diving in to the boxes.  One of the bigger boxers, Chris, turns to you, but avoiding Din’s eyes, asks, “Do you mind helping us with a lady question, ma’am?”

Ma’am?  You giggle to yourself, that’s a new one; you decide that the moniker is a sign of respect for Din and not any commentary on your age so you smile, “Sure, what’s up, boys?”

“Is it okay if a man doesn’t care about your lingerie?”, he continues quickly, “I mean not your lingerie!! Hypothetically… I mean, um, that is…. Um, in general like, if a girl is wearing lingerie, do you have to pretend to like it?”

You must look so confused because Din steps in and explains, “Brian’s girl wore something nice for him and he told her he didn’t care about lingerie, so she left and now she isn’t speaking to him.”

Din looks thoroughly entertained, but Brian looks both so mortified and curious from where he’s standing a little further back that you decide to take pity on him and try to keep your expression thoughtful.

“Here’s the thing, guys, we don’t wear it for you or anyone else; lingerie is for ourselves.  To make us feel any number of things: sexy, confident, soft, sweet, powerful, whatever.  So please don’t tell a woman you don’t care about her feeling good?” There’s a chorus of “Ohs” and some nodding among the crowd.  You start gathering the boxes that hold Din’s dinner as you continue, “And in general, I think effort should always be acknowledged?”

There is a murmuring of consensus and you mouth to Brian, “Call her” before you head up the stairs to Din’s office; you feel Din’s foot steps close behind, and behind his, the dog’s.

Once in the office, the pup plops himself down on the dog bed Din keeps under his desk, as you lay out Din’s dinner in front of his computer.  You realized you never asked if he wanted to have dinner in his office, so you quickly confirm, “I didn’t mean to assume you wanted to eat up here!  Did you want to or do you want to go back down to the group?”

Din loves your thoughtfulness, but the idea that he might want to spend time with a bunch of gym rats instead of you is laughable.  He takes your hand and leads you over to his small office couch; sitting, he pulls you down on top of him so you’re straddling his thighs.

“Pretty bird, nowhere I would rather be than right here.”

Your lips meet his for an eager kiss, and your hands automatically reach up to run through Din’s hair as his roam your back and knead your ass.  When you pull back, you see he has a lazy grin on his face; he really can be so adorable and you give him a little peck on his nose before asking playfully, “So, did they ask you what you thought of lingerie?  What did you say?”

Din laughs, “I told those youngsters they need to appreciate how lucky they are that any beautiful woman would let them look at her, never mind in her underwear.”

You chuckle and lightly kiss his nose again, “What about you?”

“Me? There’s only one beautiful woman I see in underwear and I appreciate her very, very much.” Din punctuates his last words with a light spank to your ass causing you to give a little yelp in surprise.

“No,” you continue, almost shy, “do you… like it?”

“Like it?”, Din kisses your neck as he continues, “Baby, your lingerie drives me fucking crazy.”

He doesn’t stop kissing your neck, but does move his hands to untuck your shirt and slip his hands underneath, lightly running them up and down your bare sides.  Whispering hotly in your ear, he goes on, “Always, so fucking sexy, bunny.  You’re like a sweet little present ready for me to unwrap.”

His hands have moved up to your breasts, thumbs running over the tops of your bra lace before dropping slightly to rub over your hardening nipples through the fabric.  Kissing across the column of your throat, his voice low when he reaches your other ear, “Love the way your tits spill out of your bras and the tops bounce, right into my mouth. And these…” Din rolls your nipples between his fingers as he speaks, “I love I can still get your nipples hard even through this pretty lace. Fuck you’re always so pretty in your pretty lingerie, baby.”

Din has his mouth buried in your neck, but you can still hear his dirty words and they’re making you moan, “Pretty sounds too, bun.  You always make the prettiest, sluttiest noises for me when you’re all wrapped up.  Drives me insane.  Sweetheart, love sucking on your tits through the fabric, getting it all wet.  Have to stop myself from biting down and ripping it off with my teeth, you get me so hot.  And your panties, fuck, baby…”

You whimper as Din growls, “Fuck.  So pretty, barely covering your hot ass and sweet pussy.  Goddamn, I love how soaked they get for me.”  He takes one hand out of your shirt and snakes it up your skirt; just brushing the front of your panties with his knuckles, finding them wet, “…like this. Fuck yes, pretty bird.”

By now, you’re making little movements to grind against Din’s hand, hoping to find the delicious pressure you need. You kiss him hard and he uses his other hand to lift and bunch up your shirt just above your bra; he leans back to admire your lingerie choice today: mint green and sheer, with embroidered floral lace covering your most delicate and delectable parts.  With the slight up and down motion you’re making, your breasts are already bouncing and Din cannot take his eyes off of you, “So soft, pretty girl.  And.. there we go, right into my mouth.” He dives in, taking as much as your breasts in his mouth as he can and sucks, causing you to let out a throaty moan.  You clasp both your hands over your mouth to muffle the sound, and in that split second have a moment of clarity. “Din!” you chastise, as you gently push him off your chest by his shoulders, “you haven’t had dinner yet! You’re supposed to be eating.”

Din flashes you the biggest smirk before pulling you down by your hips and turning you so you’re laying your head at one end of the small couch, “Oh, don't worry your pretty head, bunny. I plan on eating.”  You can’t help but giggle as he starts to move down your body.  Down your chest, mouthing each lace covered breast before moving on and peppering your stomach with kisses.  Din leans back and lifts your skirt until he sees your matching panties, not missing the way a spot is darkening on the fabric. “All this for me, sweetheart?”

“Y-yes,” you moan quietly, closing your eyes in pleasure.

Din reaches forward and starts to rub your clit through the fabric, earning him a louder whine, “Please, Din… please.”

Without stopping his slow circles on your clit, Din shifts back on the couch and crouches down to face your cunt, “Love how wet you are for me, pretty bird.  Looks good enough to taste.”

He uses his free thumb to hook the gusset of your panties and pulls them aside; the cool air hits you right away and you have a moment to enjoy the chill against your wet core before Din dives in.  He starts by licking a stripe up your seam, and repeats this with increasing pressure while putting more and more of his mouth on you.  Your head falls back and you cry out in pleasure with every pass of his tongue over your hole.   Head now cloudy with desire, you use your hands to pull down the cups of your bra, freeing your breasts so you can grab at them and pull on your nipples; when Din sees this, he groans into your pussy and the vibration makes you whimper.  Taking this as encouragement, Din licks up and begins sucking on your clit while he teases your slit with his fingers.  Your slick having now coated two of his fingers, Din plunges them into you in one smooth motion, all the way in to his first knuckles causing you to let out an obscene moan from the stretch.  You once again clasp your hands over your mouth to muffle your sounds, but Din uses the hand that isn’t pumping in and out of you to pull your hands down by the wrist and place them back on your breasts, “Want to hear you use your whore mouth, bunny,” he mumbles as he nips at your clit.

“But what if someone hears and comes up?”

“Not even those knuckleheads downstairs would be dumb enough to come in,” Din chuckles, “Let them hear you, baby.  Let them know how good their boss makes you feel.”

Din’s right, none of the guys would come up and bother Din while you were here, but for a moment, you imagine what it would look like if one of them did open the office door right now: you splayed out on the couch, with your top pushed up and your bra pulled down, tits hanging out while their boss has his fingers deep in your cunt and his head in between your legs.  The whole image has a fresh wave of arousal leaking out of you while you clench hard on Din’s fingers.

“Oh, did my little slut like that?  Does it turn you on, the idea of other guys seeing me wreck your pussy?”

“Oh, g-god. Din, no…I-“

“Don’t lie, pretty girl. You’re a filthy slut, aren’t you?  Want other guys to see your pretty tits and wet pussy, knowing they can only look and they can’t touch?”

“Yes, daddy! I’m such a fucking whore for you.  Only you can touch me like this… feels so g-good.  Oh yes..yes!” You’re babbling now as you start to feel a familiar coil tightening below your stomach.

Din knows your body well, so he doubles down on your clit, sucking and toying with your nub like a man on a mission.  He adds a third finger and keeps up a steady rhythm that has you hurtling towards the edge. 

“I’m close!” you gasp, your eyes are closed and your hands pulling and rolling your nipples so hard it hurts just the right amount to add to your overwhelming pleasure.  The squelching coming from Din’s fingers fucking your pussy mixed with your and his filthy noises are pushing you further and further towards your climax; you’re almost there when Din growls into your cunt, “Come for me.”

And you do.  You come hard on his hand and mouth, crying out so intensely that ironically, no noise comes out as you shudder and arch your back off the couch.  Din slows down his hand and slowly fucks you through your high while he continues to lightly kiss you all over your mound.

When you’ve come down from your climax, Din removes his fingers from your dripping hole; you pout a little from the loss but gladly open up when his brings his fingers up to your mouth, taking in all three fingers and sucking them clean.  With his hands clean, Din straightens you up, adjusting your panties and bra so everything is sitting on your body pretty again and pulls down your shirt and skirt.  You can still taste yourself on him when he kisses you tenderly, “You did so good, pretty bird, coming so sweetly for me.  Did that answer your question about how I feel about your lingerie?”

Smiling, you nod, still a little light headed from your orgasm, “What about you, Din?” You run your hand gently over his crotch, feeling his hard cock strain against his pants; you look up at him with want in your eyes.

Din smirks.  “Don’t you worry, bunny.  When I’m done this paperwork, I’m going to take you home and soak that pretty bra and panty set in my cum.”

[gimmethatagustd]

venor (3) | kth + jjk

The barista at the university’s café keeps telling Jungkook not to come back, but Jungkook is too busy daydreaming about kissing the beauty marks on his face to be paying attention to his warnings.

○ Pairing: Tiger!Taehyung x Bunny!Jungkook

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: Hybrids, predator/prey, college au, strangers to lovers, slow burn, fluff, light angst, eventual smut

○ Word Count: 3,419

○ Warnings: None

○ Notes: Honestly, I feel sorry for Yoongi. He's doing his best 🫠

○ Post Date: February 18, 2024

○ Masterlist | AO3 Cross-Post

○ What was Jai listening to? The series playlist

Biting his bottom lip, Jungkook stares at the text message’s timestamp from five minutes ago. He cups his phone in his hands to block anyone from peering at the screen and dims the screen’s brightness, just in case the predators standing in line with him get nosy.

He’s at the cafe. 

Obviously, he’s at the cafe. 

It’s a Sunday afternoon, and Jungkook has no idea if Taehyung works weekends, but he’s here at Venor Cafe, waiting in line between a lizard hybrid and a jaguar hybrid. This time, though, Jungkook came prepared. He’s wearing a pair of loose sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt that falls past his butt. He used one of Yoongi’s hair ties to secure his ears and stuff them inside his bucket hat. Totally incognito. He could be a tiger, for all they know! 

The thing is, Jungkook genuinely needs some caffeine. He’s taking a break from studying with Yoongi in the music studios, and Venor Cafe is the coffee shop closest to campus that isn’t overpriced. The possibility of seeing Taehyung is an added bonus, just a tiny extra component to the self-care errand Jungkook was planning to run anyway. 

At least, that’s what he tells himself. 

There’s a little jitter to Jungkook’s movements as he approaches the counter. His wide eyes scan the employees, and his heart sinks when there’s not a single copper curl in sight. 

“Hello! Welcome to Venor Cafe; what would you like today?” the hybrid at the register greets. She’s a snow leopard with beautiful blue eyes and a spotted tail. 

Exhaling the air he’d been holding in, Jungkook rambles off his order without any mishaps. He even orders something for Yoongi, hoping it can be a sufficient apology for going against his hyung’s advice. It’s nice of Yoongi to be worried about Jungkook, but at this point, Jungkook thinks he has made it clear that he can take care of himself. Just look at him now! A prey in disguise. 

Despite the crowd that has gathered in the cafe, Jungkook receives his order fairly quickly. He lingers for a bit, folding napkins into the pockets of his sweatpants and unwrapping straws for both drinks he bought. Eventually, he runs out of things to keep himself busy and can no longer stall. 

“Um, excuse me?” Jungkook calls out from the side of the counter. 

The snow leopard hybrid looks up from the drink she’s preparing. “Yes?”

“Is, um, Taehyung working today?” 

“Who’s asking?” Her tone isn’t necessarily aggressive, but the downturn of her mouth and the wrinkles between her eyebrows match the defensive question. 

“Jungkook,” he replies, too caught off guard to know how else to answer but with the truth – even if Taehyung won’t even know who Jungkook is if his coworker mentions it to him later. 

After appraising Jungkook and likely deciding he doesn’t look like a threat, the snow leopard replies with a simple,

“No.” 

“Cool, cool. Um, thanks!”

Jungkook lifts the drinks and paper bag of mini donuts he’d bought with gratitude before ducking out of the cafe through the front doors. So much for fixing his bad first impression. Or was it his second? Third? At this point, Jungkook can’t keep track of all the failed opportunities to introduce himself to Taehyung as a normal person would.

Jungkook treks back to the library, balancing the drinks and snacks rather precariously through doors pushed by his hips and kicked open by his sneakers. He and Yoongi have reserved a study room similar to the one Jungkook often books with Suyun. Private study rooms are handy when he and Yoongi don’t feel like dealing with predators misusing the library space and treating it like a social hour.

Yoongi is curled up in the corner of the study room. He decided to forgo the table and sat on a beanbag he dragged from another room in the library. Jungkook thinks it’s typical cat behavior, though he doesn’t dare comment on it. Yoongi might not have claws, but his eyes shoot daggers.

“You went to the damn cafe, Jeon Jungkook.” Yoongi’s tail swats at the ground before flicking back up in the air.  

“I brought back snacks!” Jungkook hip-bumps the door to close it and plops on the floor with Yoongi, holding out the iced Americano he knows his friend will like. “A drink for you, a drink for me, and donuts to share. I’m an amazing roommate.”

“You’re a pain in my ass,” Yoongi complains around a mouthful of donuts.

“You love me.”

“Sometimes, Jungkook, I think you are a bit naive.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and gets up onto his knees to reach his laptop on the table. Careful not to knock anything over, he settles on the floor with his laptop on his thighs and his back leaning against the wall.

“Optimism and friendliness are different than naivety. You wouldn’t know because you’re a grumpy old man,” Jungkook points out as he pulls his hat off. When he finally unties his ears, he massages the base of each as they flop back into place, sore from being pulled backward at such an unnatural angle. 

Yoongi closes the book he’s reading and smacks Jungkook in the shoulder with it.

“Take that back.”

“No!”

“Hmph,” Yoongi grunts, sounding just as grumpy as Jungkook knows that he is.

The two hybrids are silent for a while, both focused on their studies. Jungkook is working on designing a mobile app for one of his classes— it’s a video game similar to the Pokemon games he would play on his GameBoy when he was younger. From the looks of it, Yoongi is reading a novel, though Jungkook isn’t sure if it’s for fun or for class. That’s always how it is with the creative types, he supposes.

“Well,” Yoongi says slowly after clearing his throat. It comes out stunted, a little awkward. “Did you see your tiger?”

Cheeks heating up, Jungkook slumps against the wall and shrugs his shoulders to his ears.

“I didn’t…”

“But?” Yoongi gives Jungkook a sidelong look.

“But… he’s kind of in one of my classes now, so I’ll see him on Tuesday…”

Bewildered, Yoongi sets his book down and turns to look at Jungkook. His tail smacks Jungkook’s leg and wraps around his ankle, though Jungkook doesn’t think Yoongi even realizes it due to how excitable he’s getting. Jungkook still doesn’t know why this is such a big deal.

“How is he in one of your classes?”

“Hyung, I’m trying to do my assignment.”

“How, Jungkook?”

With a sigh, Jungkook puts his laptop on the floor and shakes his leg free of Yoongi’s tail.

“I don’t know. He just showed up last week. My friend said sometimes predators get to take classes with prey if they want to overload their courses to graduate faster.”

Suyun is probably correct; she’s one of the most intelligent people Jungkook knows. Jungkook doesn’t mention that she was the one who told him, though. He doesn’t want Yoongi coming up with any ideas about Jungkook being friends with one of the only prey students dating a predator on their campus.

“Jungkook,” Yoongi gives him an exasperated look, “I’ve heard bad things about that specific group of predators that Taehyung hangs out with.”

The confession doesn’t sit right with Jungkook. It feels like Yoongi is overreacting, and it reminds him of his parents. So many prey hybrids let fear and paranoia dictate how they live and who they spend time with. Jungkook doesn’t want to be like that, not anymore.

“And where did you get this information?” he challenges with his arms crossed.

Yoongi waves his hand, gesturing all around them.

“Everyone knows this. It’s common knowledge. They’re shady, okay? Starting fights at parties, drugs, sleeping around, stuff like that.”

Jungkook has lived a sheltered life, but everything Yoongi lists sounds like typical college behavior — at least, what Jungkook has heard about predator college students. Maybe he is naive.

“I promise I won’t do any of that stuff, hyung,” Jungkook says with a tug of Yoongi’s ear. “I’m a good kid.”

Yoongi scowls and smacks at Jungkook’s hand.

“A nuisance is more like it. Now do your assignment.”

-

On Tuesday, Jungkook arrives at his class on time, not out of breath and not sweating through his clothes. He crosses through the double doors at the back of the lecture hall and eyes the tiered seating as other students shuffle down the aisles. There are plenty of seats available since class hasn’t started yet. Near the front of the room, Jungkook spots Suyun talking with another student. Jungkook would immediately head for the fold-down seat beside Suyun any other day. He’d pull out the adjustable desk attached to the seat and prep his notebook for the day’s lesson, maybe even get out his phone to record the audio in case he got distracted. Jungkook wouldn’t hesitate to go to his usual seat any other day. 

But today, Taehyung is on time.

The tiger hybrid sits in the back like he did the week prior. Again, Jungkook thinks Taehyung looks too big for the seat, his long legs and broad shoulders sticking out compared to the smaller frames of his prey classmates. His striped tail drapes over the armrest of the seat next to him, and his ears flick as Jungkook approaches him.

“Can I sit here?” Jungkook asks, the words nearly sticking in his throat. 

Setting down the pencil he’d been twirling between his fingers, Taehyung turns his head to look Jungkook up and down. The slow drag of his gaze makes Jungkook’s skin prickle. Taehyung’s sharp, feline eyes trigger Jungkook’s fight-or-flight response. It takes tensing his muscles for Jungkook not to bolt down the aisle and sit with Suyun instead.

Part of Jungkook knows that this is an instinctual response to being near a predator. He wonders if Suyun still feels this way about Jackson or if she has gotten used to him enough that her body doesn’t react like this anymore. 

An even tinier part of Jungkook thinks that, maybe, he kind of… likes it… 

The adrenaline is exciting, and the dangerous energy Taehyung gives off makes Jungkook feel wanted – in a way he never has before. 

Jungkook may be a bit naive, but he’s not stupid. He notices that Taehyung’s eyes linger on the smooth expanse of skin his shorts reveal. Jungkook silently thanks his morning self for picking a cute outfit for the day. He feels much better in cute jean shorts, a striped rugby shirt, and his artfully dirty white Converse than the usual athleisure he wears when he’s feeling lazy. Still, Taehyung’s predatory gaze makes Jungkook’s cheeks heat up, yet he refuses to look away when Taehyung’s feline eyes meet his again.

“Of course, bun,” Taehyung finally responds with a low purr that vibrates from his chest.

“Um, thanks!” A bit flustered by the unexpected use of the nickname in the middle of class, Jungkook quickly sits down beside Taehyung. 

Jungkook tries retrieving his notebook from his backpack, dropping it on the floor twice before finally getting his desk in order. He can feel Taehyung’s gaze while getting his phone out to prepare the audio recording. A text message from Suyun is the first thing that pops up on his phone screen, and he sincerely hopes Taehyung doesn’t see it because it’s a complaint from Suyun about Jungkook ditching her for a predator.

Digging around in his backpack, Jungkook’s fingers scrape the bottom and find his back empty aside from his tablet and a binder. He’d been so worried about getting to class on time that he forgot his little sparkly gold zipper bag that carries his pencils and pens. This is what he gets for being old school and enjoying a break from electronics in his courses that aren’t for his major. 

With a sigh, Jungkook leans back in his seat and weighs the pros and cons of asking Taehyung for something to write with or just using his laptop to take notes like most other students. He doesn’t have to worry about it for long before Taehyung decides for him. 

“Need one of these, bun?” Taehyung whispers close to Jungkook’s ear, his breath tickling his neck from Taehyung leaning in. 

With a shiver, Jungkook gently takes the pen Taehyung offers. It’s lightweight but smooth and inky, satisfyingly gliding across the page of Jungkook’s notebook. 

“This is a nice pen,” Jungkook whispers back and feels silly for complimenting Taehyung’s pen. 

Taehyung winks at Jungkook with a low chuckle before returning his focus to their professor. 

Jungkook tries not to show how flustered he is, but he’s sure his scent sweetens with how embarrassed and nervous Taehyung makes him. 

Unfortunately, class passes the same as it had last time– with Jungkook daydreaming about Taehyung and all the questions he has for him, and Taehyung being such a diligent student that Jungkook never catches him looking his way. Whatever Suyun said about Taehyung watching him must have been a figment of her imagination because Jungkook is positive he would notice if it was true. 

Jungkook notices everything. 

Taehyung’s fuzzy ears flick every time Jungkook shifts in his seat. He switches hands to write halfway through the lecture, perhaps because one of them got tired.  His scent spikes closer to the end of class, that soothing smell of summer rain that makes Jungkook tingly all over. 

It should be embarrassing how much time Jungkook spends thinking about the predator beside him and not what his professor is teaching, but it’s not his fault Taehyung is so alluring. 

“And as a reminder,” Professor Jung raises his voice in anticipation of the noisy buzz that comes with the end of class as students pack up, “We’ll be choosing final project topics soon, so please don’t let that fall by the wayside.” 

Jungkook has definitely let his project ideas fall by the wayside. It’s fine; he performs well under pressure. 

Catching Suyun’s eye across the room, Jungkook sends a silent prayer that she doesn’t come charging up to him with Taehyung still in his seat. He tries subtly shaking his head at her, but he’s not sure his point gets across. 

“Thanks, by the way.” Jungkook holds out the pen, but Taehyung doesn’t even look at it. 

“Keep it.” 

“But,” Jungkook watches Taehyung pack up his backpack, “It’s yours.” 

“And now it’s yours.” 

“But I don’t need it.” 

Wearing a lazy grin, Taehyung grips the edge of Jungkook’s desk and leans in slightly, even as Jungkook subconsciously leans back. 

“Y’know,” Taehyung begins with a lick of his bottom lip. When the grin returns, Taehyung reveals sharp canines that extend slightly further than the rest of his teeth. “I heard you missed me over the weekend, Jungkook.” 

Before Jungkook’s cheeks even flush a deep pink, Taehyung is already pushing himself up to stand at full height. He gives Jungkook one last look and slips past him down the row of seats, never leaving Jungkook’s sight until he’s through the classroom’s double doors. 

“What the hell was that?” Suyun is on Jungkook with a quickness, her large, rounded ears sticking up out of her straight hair. 

Jungkook exhales slowly. “I… don’t know?” 

Gathering his notebook and Taehyung’s pen, Jungkook almost misses the slip of paper folded in half and teetering on the edge of his desk. It’s intentionally folded and perfectly aligned at the edges, and the paper looks different than that of Jungkook’s notebook.

He doesn’t mean to be secretive, but Jungkook twists in his seat to hide the note when he opens it. Suyun is trustworthy; there’s no questioning that. Still, Jungkook wants to have the chance to process whatever this note is before he shares it with anyone else. 

It’s a good call, considering what’s scrawled on the inside in small, messy lines. 

vante95 2 pm Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays  10 am Saturdays

Jungkook refolds the paper and shoves it in his pocket. His entire face burns like a summer wildfire. He can barely stand up without tripping over himself, and he slings his backpack over his shoulder with shaking hands. 

Taehyung gave him his KakaoTalk and work schedule. 

Taehyung essentially invited Jungkook to text him and visit him at work. 

Jungkook thinks he might be sick from how nervous he suddenly feels. 

“Earth to Jungkookie,” Suyun shoves Jungkook in the arm as they go about their typical routine of walking to the library after class to study. “What is going on with you and that tiger, huh? You’ve been acting so weird the last week.” 

Chewing his bottom lip, Jungkook contemplates how to answer Suyun’s questions. He opts for the truth, spilling his little no-so-secret infatuation with the predator in hushed whispers as they cross the main quad in front of the library. 

“Do you think I should text him?” Jungkook holds the wrinkled note out for Suyun to read. A curious smile brightens her face, exposing her cute buck teeth. 

“Oh my gosh, yes. He’s so cute, Jungkook! Don’t believe all that silly stuff about predators being bad. They’re not all so terrible,” Suyun urges. 

If anyone knows what it’s like to trust a predator, it would be Suyun. Her encouragement is all the permission Jungkook needs to open the app on his phone and type in Taehyung’s KakaoTalk ID. 

Jungkook doesn’t know why he expects an immediate response; he already knows Taehyung has work right now. Still, he feels disappointment sink like a rock in his gut after five minutes pass and his message is still unread. Should he have waited to text him? Does it seem desperate to send him a message so quickly after receiving his contact info? 

Trying to pull himself together, he gets settled in a study room with Suyun and puts his phone on Do Not Disturb. He may be determined to get to know the mysterious tiger hybrid, but school will always come first. 

Suyun stands at the whiteboard, which takes up an entire wall. She works diligently to draw diagrams of something chemistry-related that Jungkook doesn’t understand– many lines connecting hexagons and acronyms he doesn’t recognize. Jungkook may be studying science, but not that kind of science. 

“So,” Suyun asks as she writes mathematical equations in pink marker that look more confusing than the hieroglyphs they were just studying, “Do you like going here better than your other school?” 

“I do, but I think it’s a lot harder here. I feel like all I do is study.” 

Suyun laughs and smiles over her shoulder at Jungkook. 

“I totally get that. We need to do something fun, maybe go clubbing. I could see if Jackson’s friends are throwing any house parties. I feel like there’s usually a few of them right before finals, as like, a morale boost.” 

“I’ve never actually been to a party…” Jungkook admits quietly, though rather than embarrassment, he feels giddiness at the prospect of experiencing another new college experience he was previously denied. 

Suyun whips around and accidentally flings her marker across the room. Giggling, Jungkook gets up to search for the marker.

“Oh my gosh, Jeon Jungkook, we are going to a party. What else haven’t you done? I need to pop your cherry.” 

“What!” Jungkook nearly shrieks. The shock of her statement makes Jungkook mess up his throw, and he ends up nearly chucking the marker in Suyun’s face. 

“Sorry, that came out wrong. I’m not, like, trying to take your virginity. Is that what you thought?” 

Jungkook hides behind his laptop once he returns to his seat. He’s not ready to admit that, yes, he is a virgin. Admitting that usually gets him weird stares and inappropriate comments. One time, an old friend of Jungkook’s said he “screamed virgin”– whatever that means!

“Maybe we can start with a house party and go from there…” Jungkook offers with a suspicious look thrown at Suyun’s back. Maybe dating a predator has had an impact on the mouse hybrid, who otherwise should be naturally timid and prudish. 

“Sure, sure. I’ll text Jackson right now. We’ll have all week to figure everything out.” 

When Suyun reaches for her phone, Jungkook impulsively checks his as well. His heart leaps into his throat, and his palms sweat when he checks the notifications he’d silenced during their study session. 

Series Masterlist

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories. 

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd​ - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here.

[liveyun]

h a e g e u m | 02 (repost)

banner by @archivededits ♡

—pairing : yoongi x female reader

—genre : mini series, crime au, thriller, angst, eventual smut

—w : (M) non-Idol!BTS; barely edited ; italics are the flashbacks , explicit scenes in form of injuries, blood, angst + amygdala lyric parallels, please, this fic is not for minors at all, reader is kept hostage for a while ; slight gore ; multiple POV’s, cameo of a certain bunny (classic) , (explicit scenes of) panic attacks, mentions of being drugged, sexual harrasment innuendos and slight mentions, yoongi and the chopstick scene, rifles and Jeongguk, someone gets actually k#lled by them, passing out of exhaustion, Yoongi is slightly mean.

part 01 | next | 2009 | chapter index | taglist

03. WHOSE FAULT?

a/n : hello!! if you're bumping across this twice, that's right. it's reposted because this damned site glitched bad while all what i tried to do was to edit. also, i’ve made some minor changes, too :D happy reading!

Your throat burnt.

At first, you couldn't understand why did you wake up— your head felt heavy on your neck, eyes burning at the sensation of keeping them open. Throat felt as if raw salt was rubbed furiously over a wound. Sweat stuck on your flesh like your second skin, and your muscles felt painfully sore.

I don't know your name

Raindrops. The raindrops felt gently on your cold, yet burning skin as you struggle to keep your eyes open. It was dark, dark all around. Your ankle was in pain, yet you remained lying down in the floor, listening to the rain drumming on the roof. You felt your jacket cling uncomfortably to your damp skin and you shiver at the feeling of the your blood mixing with the rainwater which clung to your flesh. You don't honestly remember wearing a jacket, because you were dressed in a tee..

You felt the dotting scabs on your skin moisten as water dripped down, feeling your body convulse with the cold which blows over the haunted room.

As rain pours outside, the shelter's pathetic state becomes even more apparent. Water drips incessantly from the leaking roof, forming puddles on the uneven ground. The walls, once painted but now peeling and discolored, offer no insulation, allowing cold drafts to permeate the interior. The musty smell of dampness and blood and lingers lingers in the air, making it difficult to breathe.

A journey through memories

Your hair falls on your sight of your now blurry vision. Your eyes are tired, and irritated. They feel painful to be opened, and cold droplets travel down your cheekbones, dripping down your hair tresses. You gasp pathetically trying to breathe, twisting your head to find a certain someone.

Him.

You spot him, lying right beside you. His white tee, transparent due to the rainwater, sticks to his pale skin, propped half-way through his upper torso. His messy parted bangs fall over his eyes, making them disappear.

His lips are slightly parted, trying to gasp air just like you, water dripping down his temple just like yours, his skin shining with the small droplets of water taking homage on his small, button nose. He's drenched as you are. And even more injured; his jeans, once a light faded uraniun blue, is now soaked with blood and mud, ripped open at his knees. The flesh of his right thigh was sliced open, blood clogged down in between the fabric and his flesh.

A blood chilling shiver runs down your spine at the sight; at how you feel the pain in your chest despite yourself.

His white tee is already ripped in half, a long, throbbing scrape extending from his sternum to his belly button.

Your vision travels upto his face, noticing bruises on his neck and cuts on his lips, and when you reach his eyes, you notice that..

His scar is bleeding.

Though you don't see the whole of it, covered with his mass of hair, but you see a droplet of crimson bleed out of the scar, now a maroon transversal thick line, dried scab. It bleeds out and mingles with his silky, wet skin with the rainwater, but the bleeding didn't cease. A drop falls out, slowly, slowly.

Your chest tightens at the sight, yearning to reach out to him and wipe it off, and even without thinking twice, you cup his cold, wet cheek. Wiping off the blood which trickles down. You wonder if it hurts him as much as it hurts you to look at.

Though you yourself feel shocked at your action, you don't budge. You simply stare at him, and your touch has maybe stirred something in him. You see the brown of his eyes sparkle open at your touch, barely a creak, as he sighs, softly in your touch.

How do you feel these days

“ Run. ” his voice came out rather hoarse, as if not been in use since a long time.

Tears threaten to well up in your eyes at his words.

“ But Yoongi, you're injured..” your voice is shaky by the time it reaches out of your throat. He shakes his head, a small, tired huff coming out of his lips which sounds quite like a laugh.

“ I'm all fine, Bonbon.. ”

and when his eyes meet your own, a thunder cracks up in the now distant, weeping sky.

And the rain increases in its entirety when his blood soaked hands reach up to cup your cold, now drying cheek, wiping off a lonely tear with his thumb which made its way down the confines of your eyes.

A sob threatens to bubble up it's way up your chest seeing him so weak, so vulnerable like this, all this because of you, you feel like drowing and never getting up. His brow furrows as more tears slip down your eyes, a sob spilling out of your lips as you break down completely in his touch.

“ I can't leave you like that, Yoongi, please..” you're sobbing by the time you hold his wrists cupping your cheeks. He pulls your face closer to his, not untill your foreheads touch. His breath mingles with your own as his eyes locked to yours own, and even if they weren't clearly visible, they were filled with emotions, glossy.

You cannot afford to lose him. You cannot be selfish. You want to stay by his side, hold his hand and treat his injuries. Just not the physical ones, but also the ones which take time to heal, leaving behind scars for eternity.

“ Bonbon, you have to stay strong for me. You would, won't you..? ”

You have to stay strong.. for him?

A small cry of his names leaves your lips as you hiccup, his gentle, yet patient fingers caressing your burning skin with delicacy.

It's just not a simple question, it's a ask for a promise. A promise which you grant him with shaky hands and trembling voice, with slurred sobs and a broken heart.

You know that he's hurting as much as you are, even if his own emotions are buried inside for your sake. He's not pretending, he's being real here. If you die, you both will die. It's funny really, how you feel your heart cracking as pain blooms from the lower ribcage to right at the centre of your chest, the tightening knot in your chest which threatened to break at any moment.

But if one of you escapes, you— you don't know.

The shed under which you're resting feels small as you run, run in the downpour which doesn't seem to cease at ay point. The earth is gloomy with grey skies and grey beach sand as the shine, leaving behind footprints of your own. You struggle to see your path infront because of the never ending tears welling in your eyes as your body screams to stop, stop behind and take him with you, take his pain away with you, your whole being screeches with pain.

But you don't stop, because you have made him a promise.

Memories I want to have erased

–

You gasp as your eyes fly open, searching frantically for whatever you just saw infront of your own eyes. But what your eyes met..were certainly not what your dreams did.

A wave of darkness washes over you, seemingly suffocating the air. Nostalgia floods over you for some unknown reasons, because this reminds you of something you don't wish to remind yourself. The walls, once painted a faded shade of white, are now covered in peeling, cracked wallpaper, revealing the decaying plaster beneath. The faint scent of dampness permeates the room, hinting at years of neglect and abandonment, along with the rough years of angst it might've faced throughout its years of youth.

You realise that you're alone and helpless. You do not wish to pry on your nerves any longer, because you remember him, and his face the last thing before you're met with darkness. You huff a small breath, you're alive.

But at what cost?

Dim light from an unknown source filters through the tattered, moth-eaten curtains, casting eerie shadows across the room. The floorboards creak underfoot, as if whispering secrets long forgotten. Cobwebs drape from the ceiling like forgotten tapestries, swaying gently in an unfelt breeze caresses your skin, comforting you in an eerie way. Overall this room is awful in its appearance, yet it's not so disgusting as you'd imagine it to be.

You soon realise that your hands feel numb, almost dead from the lack of circulation. It doesn't take a rocket science genius to find out that your wrists are tightly tied behind the chair you're seated, and so are your legs together. Your wrists jerk as a reflex as soon as you realise that you're still in your uniform, now soaked with sweat and your hair is tied in a ponytail, though you don't remember doing so anyway.

You exhale out a sigh through your nose as even you're gagged with a cloth tied over your mouth, feeling perspiration accumulate on the underside of your eyes are droplets, blinking away. The room feels awfully quiet except the obnoxious winds blowing and the sound of rain mixing together, and you realise that you're done. Your eyes scan over to the room, squinting hard to make out the objects you can visualise in the centre.

In the center of the room, an antique wooden table sits, covered in a layer of dust and neglect. A single flickering candle, its flame struggling against the darkness, casts eerie, dancing shadows that seem to mimic the macabre atmosphere. A weathered, leather-bound journal lies open on the table, and you wish if you weren't seated so far away, you could've moved forward to take a look at the browned pages which seem so inviting right now. Alas, you're bound up.

It's actually intresting to you to know that you're still alive and not dead.

Your eyes scan everywhere they can, except that the room is bland. In the further corner of the room,there resides a weathered brown piano, standing as a silent sentinel of forgotten melodies. Forgotten, just as the memory you unlocked in your dream.

A lump makes it's way to your throat at the awakening of the nostalgia seeing the old brown piano. The piano's once-polished wooden surface has dulled with age, now adorned with a delicate layer of dust that tells tales of neglect and solitude. Its deep brown hue, once vibrant and lustrous, has mellowed into a warm patina, revealing the passage of countless years. It seems like the piano hasn't been used since decades, the thick layer of dust being evident for the proof enough.

The instrument's elegant frame, though showing signs of wear and tear, still exudes an air of dignified grace; almost as if it weeps silently for it's forgotten, yet it keeps its head high, gracefully. The ornate carvings along the piano's legs and edges, while faded and partially obscured, hint at a bygone era when craftsmanship held great significance.

As your gaze moves closer, the intricately designed ivory keys come into view. Once pearly white, they now bear the marks of age, with slight discoloration and tiny cracks that betray the passage of time and the touch of countless hands. The ebony sharps, though darkened, provide a striking contrast against the aged ivory.

A sense of melancholy hangs in the air, as if the piano yearns to be awakened once more, to fill the room with its resounding melodies and evoke emotions long dormant. Yet, the room remains silent, with only the soft whistling of the wind filtering through the cracks in the timeworn walls. You can only let out a longing sigh, wishing if you could help the piano with it's melancholy. Again, you're left with no hope.

A tattered sheet of music, yellowed with age, rests upon the closed lid of the piano, its notes long forgotten and its pages delicately curled. It speaks of past performances and cherished moments, now preserved only in the fading ink and fragile paper. There's something written in dark amd bold, a funky handwriting in black stands out the papers above all, but it's far away for you to read it. Only the winds which blow occasionally along with the splutters of rain reminds you that you're kept hostage, in an unknown place, now just a commoner, a no one.

You close your eyes.

You do not absolutely wish to dwell on your memories as a cop. You've tried to always be honest in your pathway of work, always working hard; but universe has always got different plans for people like you, and karma goes in her reverse path during times like these.

The same man who saved you from your demons, is now the same man who's possibly keeping you hostage, away from the world.

Yoongi.

Now known as agustD.

The room is filled with silence untill there is a creak of the floorboard underneath your feet; cracking obnoxiously. You know you had to be imagining things, but who knows? Anything can happen.

You do not know how much time has passed since you were drugged and terminated as an officer, but you're sure it hasn't been way too long. You were possibly shot a dose of pentobarbital, and because the toxins are relieved from your body, you wish to pee so bad. Your throat is dying for a drop of water. You gulp down your own saliva painfully, thanks to the gag you're bound with. It cannot be more than 48 hours; and pentobarbitals aren't really such strong of drugs to be used. The floorboard creaks again.

The air grew colder, carrying a faint scent of floral smear and an unidentifiable, sickly sweetness which you cannot recognise, but the smell floods you with an unknown memory which you cannot seem to unlock, yet.

Soon you can make out a silhouette in the dark, visibly a thin figure, possibly a man. If you're kept hostage, there's no need to pretend. You may will die or whatever, so pop off. The stranger's steps were unnaturally silent, barely making a whisper against the cracked floorboard; and you try to concentrate more on the noises of the crickets outside more than the throb of your head or the incoming steps of the stranger. His steps near you, this time, a bit louder, and suddenly comes to a stop.

Almost as if they're surprised to see your presence.

Your inner self is screaming over and over again to look up and take a peek at the stranger who's presence is felt in this room, and you finally raise your head up.

Your eyes widen.

Large, doe, coffee coloured eyes meet your own, and you swear you were just an inch away from gasping loudly into the cloth refraining you from doing so. His eyes are always capable of expressing his emotions, though his face remains perfectly stoic; slight almond shaped eyes with their gentle corners widen nevertheless his expression, and you can tell that he's as shocked as you are.

Jeongguk.

“Noona..?”

Aw hell man.

His voice has matured a lot, though the ridges of his voice retain the boyish charm you were once familiar with. It's now a lot more deep, more like a rasp in the beginning to a slow hum in the end, and you swear you feel your heart paining.

This kid has grown up to a man.

You're very well aware that he has grown lot much taller than he was, taller than how you are.

He has a well built figure though he remains clocked in his midnight black shirt and skinny jeans. His short sleeved shirt gives you a full view of his arm littered with art pierced on them, and so are his eyebrows done with. His face is a lot more angular and defined than how it was years ago, now slightly tanned, even, with his midnight blue hair flowing over his eyebrows.

You hum back a greeting to him, muffled.

“ Noona.. ”

He repeats again, almost as if he's trying to work his own brains out. His voice comes out as a statement of confirmation rather than a question, this time.

Your eyes never leave his own, as if you're questioning him all the questions you've ever had in your mind ever since you've come here.

You couldn't imagine that even Jeongguk would be with Yoongi, but somehow you had to keep that in mind, that Jeongguk grew up with Yoongi, practically. Even if that meant that Jeongguk was just a young teen when you left Yoongi, and you are only left to wonder what does the neglect of youth does to people. The innocence behind his bambi eyes retain themselves, and it aches you to the core to know that Jeongguk is just as pure that he chose to be with him, even if that meant that he has lost all of his means to live in a world of normal adulthood.

Why didn't you leave Yoongi? Why do you still work with him? Do you not know the dangers he possesses? But these questions don't enter the air freely, because either you're bound up, or you just don't want to speak.

Jeongguk takes a few steps forward, his brows creased. But freezes immediately as you two hear the presence of another person. There's a small thump nearby, and you almost visualise his bunny ears peeking up at the noise, getting alert; only the difference was that he was a grown up man now with a huge body. He turns away immediately his arm slides over the door to wham it open and stride over to see who's the intruder in the dark night.

You're left alone, again.

But not for soon, though. This time, the woodboard creaks again, and this time you feel a lot more anxious than how you felt earlier.

Your heart thumps wildly in your chest, perspiration gathering in yoir temples, and you breathe in wildly. The air around you feels suffocating as suddenly there's a gaint man in the entrance, stumbling his way inside. He sways on his toes as he walks with steps, with a flushed face and an disheveled appearance. You freeze in your chair immediately as you realise that this man is drunk, watching his dirty clothes and drool slipping over his overgrown hair, screaming lack of personal hygiene.

This man instills a sense of danger and unease with each step he makes inside the room, suddenly taking homage on the floor with his upper half propped up on the wall nearest to the door.

He slurs something in his speech which you don't quite understand, but you do catch on his satoori dialect as he speaks.

You just pray to God Jeongguk appears soon as possible, because your restraints are bound quite tightly, a way where you feel is almost impossible to open up so that you can run. But you fear you cannot do it with how limp your body seems to be now. Even in a situation like this, you trust Jeongguk more than anything else because if he had any notorious intentions, he'd have executed it by then, but he didn't really, did he? You tug faintly at your wrists, only to feel a jerk of pain shooting up your arm at the loss of circulation.

Please, no. You cannot even fight back this man in this state. Even if you wrte trained enough for situations like these, panic fills your veins. You desparately try to free yourself without making any possible noise, as you see the man grunting to himself.

That's when his rusty eyes meet your own.

Shoot. His lips stretch to a grin, more like a smirk, and you know you're damned. He stumbles to get up properly, mumbling incoherent words as he nears your chair with such loud steps that they alone makes you want to throw up. You don't know whether to panic even more and trash around in vain, or just sit in silence and accept your destiny because this would happen whether you do something about it or not, no matter how strong your efforts are, but your body gives up.

You're kept in hostage by Yoongi, and you're bound to be eaten alive by monsters in the dark. You're about to die being captured by the flames you, in your whole career fought to extinguish all the life. His leather shoes are seen in your vision, telling you that he's standing infront of you.

Did Yoongi honestly hate you so much, now to have you in this situation?

Tears sting in your eyes as soon as you watch the dirty, blood scabbed, glove clad hand of the man resting on the hand rest of your chair, right above your own. His hand feels disgusting to be on the top of yours and he fucking reeks of weed and cheap booze. His breath really brings up bile from your stomach, and your head feels light headed. You harshly turn your head to the side, hoping to cut off some of the stench.

That's when you feel rough fingers grip your chin and turn your head to the person standing infront of you. Oh god, the stench is so fucking disgusting that you now seriously think you're either going to pass away or throw up all over. Harsh fingers raise your chin up and you finally get to see the man hovering over you.

His eyes partially hidden behind long, unkempt bangs, adding a mysterious and unsettling element, adding to the dread already setting down your stomach. His gaze is intense, malicious even, piercing through you with an unsettling combination of amusement and malevolence. It's as if he knows something you don't, and he derives pleasure from your unease and discomfort. His body is so close to yours that you almost feel squished in between the chair and him. You wish to deliver a straight punch and run away from this punk, but maybe…this is your fate.

You squeeze your eyes close tightly, not wanting to face that motherfucker any longer. You feel his stinking breath near your lips, and you nearly lose it all. You grit down on your teeth, feeling your body give up as longer as you resist the restrains on your wrists; as you try to trash up your wrists in an attempt to free yourself up. But that goes vain when the front legs of the chair lift themselves up and the hind legs fall behind. Perhaps you lose your balance, or the chair gives way unexpectedly. As you tilt backward, your feet lose contact with the ground, leaving you momentarily suspended in mid-air.

A sudden rush of adrenaline courses through your body as you realize you're falling backward. Your arms instinctively shoot out to either side, attempting to grab onto something for support, but the momentum is too great. Time seems to slow down as you brace yourself for the impact, your heart pounding in your chest, realising that you're still very much bound and the man is free. You did the stupidest thing ever, and now he has access to you in a better position.

The chair tilts further back, and with a mix of surprise and panic, you feel the sensation of weightlessness. The man leaps forward, and you anticipate the harsh fall and the impact on your head as you'll fall. The chair's backrest supports your upper body, while your legs dangle in the air. As you continue to descend, you feel a moment of weightlessness..

But the fall never comes. You expect the impact of the hardwood; of the pain, but that never comes..

Only, it feels as if time as frozen— your eyes shoot open as you do realise that you're frozen mid air. The man is no where in front of you now— atleast not in your immediate vision. You realise that your chair is being held by someone in the position as you were.. You crane your neck, and what you saw was what you definitely did not imagine in the wildest of your dreams.

A single gunshot shatters the stillness. The sound reverberates through the room, jolting your somewhat sleepy and mild sense; A muzzle flash momentarily illuminates the darkness as the bullet is propelled forward at an incredible speed, and you're very well aware of the impact, because you expect yourself to flinch, but maybe years of handling a rifle gas taught you better.

Time seems to slow down as the bullet finds its target, the shabby man. It strikes with unyielding force, tearing through the air. The man's body jerks backward, caught off guard by the impact. Pain and shock register on their face as they realize the gravity of the situation.

A red stain begins to spread rapidly across the man's clothing as blood seeps from the gunshot wound, right on his left, clothed calf. He stumbles forward, struggling to maintain balance, but the force of the shot proves too much. With a gasp, his body collapses down with a loud swear on the floor, the blood quickly forming a small puddle.

Your heart rate is thrice the rate as it was a few moments ago, knowing that the man was shot right infront of you by someone who's most likely holding your chair in the same position as well.

Your breath gets clogged in your throat as you process the information, watching the man grunt and look up at the source of the gunshot; only for him to snarl with a curse, muttering something out with his arms trashing wildly in air, looking for leverage.

“ You're not a m..man..if you try sav..ing sl-sluts like he—”

You do not even have the time to blink when wiith lightning-fast precision, a shadow in the dark launches forward, almost like a wild cheetah hunting on his prey, closing the distance between them.

Only then you realise that in the faint lighting, you saw a pair of chopsticks grabbed tightly in their pale, right wrist, hovering mid-air as he hunches the sticks forward, right where their target is. They strike with the precision of a predator, targeting vital points on the startled man's body, who screams in agony from the sudden attack.

The man's eyes widen in shock as they feel the initial stinging pain, realizing the severity of the situation. The man's strikes are precise and calculated, finding vulnerable spots between the man's ribs and joints. Each jab and stab of the chopsticks draws blood, causing the man to weaken with each passing moment, grunting and screaming out curses. Blood squirts out with each jab, but the hunter never ceases his torment.

Despite his struggle, the man's strength begins to wane, his movements slowing as life drains from his body, with a final grunt.

And that's when the hunter raises their raven haired head up, to meet your eyes with his own, blazing with red hot anger, still hovering over the corpse of the man.

The same, pitch black, cold, raging, feline eyes which your vision last perceived before you passed out some forty eight hours ago.

The same eyes whom you recognised deep inside yourself the apparent first time you saw them through a camera, but you were caught in the strings of denial for yourself, all throughout.

Yoongi.

Who just murdered a man right infront of you.

With a pair of chopsticks.

Your exhale comes out rather as a stuttering breath when you realise that a match target rifle rests on the chair edge, right beside your shoulders.

Your eye follows the trail to the owner of the hand, the very beginning of tattoos littered on the tanned skin which glistens in sheen layer of sweat.

Jeongguk.

Your thoughts raced like wild stallions, colliding into one another, as a desperate attempt to grasp reality became futile.

Logical reasoning became a fragile thread, threatened to be severed by the onslaught of irrational fears; sure, you’ve done this countless times in the stretch of your career, but for the first time, you actually feel your heart thumping wildly at the sight of a rifle which, not even a few minutes ago, had someone fall victim to it's cruelty.

Your mind was slowly becoming labyrinth trapped in a conflicting emotions, unable to distinguish between genuine danger and figments of imagination, trying to process if any of these were even real.

Your neck hurts by the time you're looking up at the younger man, still holding your chair in mid-air.

His facial expression remains quite unreadable, with a hint of confusion in them; but as soon as your eyes meet his own puddle of coffee, they soften like butter kept in the open rays of warm sun. His ridges of eyebrows, though, remain a bit rigid as if still aware of the danger lying in the surrounding. But his voice comes out soft, soft, as he speaks to you,

“ Are you alright, noona..? ”

You almost wish to answer him; you truly do.

Your chest heaved as a response from the adrenaline rush dying in your bloodline, leaving your body lax in the restraints. Your dry lips open themselves to speak, but close immediately as you find your throat dry, and the gagged cloth prying your vocal chords.

“ It's not the time for this shit, JK, ”

a rogue voice interrupted your little trance you had fallen into, and you watch Jeongguk’s eyes travel to the source of the voice, of course, it's Yoongi. His brows furrow as you try your best to keep your eyes open, trying to turn your head at the man again, blinking with difficulty.

The more your tried, vision blurred, colors blending into an indistinguishable haze.

The piano reflecting a ray of light falling on the worn out ivory, a mass of raven black in the middle of your gaze, and a pale face. You try to clear your visions by blinking rapidly, but the attempts to steady yourself proved futile, as your body succumbed to the overwhelming burden of exhaustion, your unconscious mind succumbing to the blurred voices you hear, but failed to actually perceive them.

“ Hyung, listen to me. Noon— ”

“ Did you really think that she was in the condition to talk to you? ”

And finally everything was a darkness.

You were far lost to realise that the raven head tried his best to not actually prounce on the younger man, with anger, keening to accept that something far more dangerous could've taken place if the man to whom he laid down the responsibilities to atleast keep you safe for the time being could've not heard the other bastard.

You were far too fragile in a situation like this where he knew he had to do something to make sure you were okay, atleast, but right things never came in the right time for a man like Yoongi. But he knew that maybe it wasn't Jeongguk’s fault, entirely.

Good things never came to Yoongi themselves. Or even if they did, his presence, good fortunes wilted, for his company was a forerunner of demise. Like a toxic rain, his aura destroyed every gleaming opportunity that dared to approach his path. Blessed were those spared the touch of his presence, for in his wake lay the ruins of countless dreams, crushed beneath the weight of his cursed existence, just like how he crushed you.

reblogs and replies are always appreciated! 🌹

[angel-gidget]

DC Plot Bunnies on my Brain

Time-traveling Kon talks to his younger self about Tana Moon. I’ve been exploring the 90’s Superboy corner of fandom lately, and boy do those guys have some thoughts about Tana Moon. Muy negative.

I think an adult Kon who had a chance to talk to his younger self might also be able to express some criticism of Tana, but he would not be harsh about it. I think he would still view his younger self as having a lot of agency, and he would still remember how much he loved her.

So how do you explain to your younger self that the current “love of their life” isn’t actually good for them? Very veeerry gently.

Kon bed-hopping fic. I actually started this one over a year ago and have snippets of it on my hard drive. Basically, after the Gemworld and multiversal hopping, Kon has a paranoia about being alone, and he doesn’t have a place to stay. (I wrote this before reading about the Kents remembering him after all, so this is written with the assumption that he has nowhere to go.)

So Young Justice takes turns housing him. And then the sleepovers end up being a pretty effective way of catching up with old friends like the core four and getting to know the new ones like Amy, Naomi, and Jinny.

Kon/Lophi slow-burn. In my current Kon fic, I imply that if YJ had showed up later than they had, Kon would have felt duty-bound to stay on the Gemworld to raise baby Martha. I could write a story exploring that as well as his and Lophi’s relationship. However, core four fuzzies would still be involved, bc the team would 100% find a way to visit Kon on the regular if he were stuck in another dimension.

Kon/Amy slow-burn. Set after the YJ multiverse hopping storyline. With no way to return to the Gemworld, Kon and Amy are left to mourn it together. This leads to bonding. Amy does, however, have some experience with going between worlds and have some coping mechanisms to offer Kon. In turn, he’s able to make her feel more at home with the team.

Amy Winston character exploration via Young Justice. There is a LOT to explore. For one thing, Amethyst was never a very character-driven comic, so there’s a lot of scenarios where I have no clue what Amy would do. So I gotta start writing to find out.

In her own 80’s title, Amy can go back and forth between being confidently heroic and remembering that she’s a scared kid. Part of that was the physical transformation she would go through. Turning into a physically 20-something a la Shazam made her feel more confident. But she doesn’t have that trait in YJ continuity.

So maybe her magic is the key? In the 80’s series, Amy’s magic was very strong on the Gemworld, but would fade to nothing when she crossed over to Earth.

So what if in this Wonder Comics YJ ‘verse, her magic is fading away slowly while she’s stuck on Earth and that gradually eats at her confidence? What if she does bond with the core four, but then becomes scared to tell them that the thing that (in her mind) makes her a superhero is fading away?

Post-Mini Series Amethyst story. I have a very detailed write-up of this in my drafts. I was very frustrated with Amy being turned into, like, a Gemworld deity thing at the end of her OG series. But I write out a plot taking place after it that would allow me to really come to terms with it and have fun with where the characters are at that point. Might post the outline later. Basically makes Amy, Young Princess Emerald, and Donal (Topaz and Turquoise’s son) all co-protagonists.

Tim/Cassie detective competition. In a (fairly recent?) Wonder Woman storyline, Cassie referred to herself as a detective, and asked for time to investigate the murder of Hypolyta. What if that had consequences? What if there is some kind of, idk, Teen Detective Competition and maybe Donna enters Cassie’s into it bc she thinks she’d be into it?

Of course, Tim has entered but only because he sees it as chance to get close to someone else he’s actually investigating. But as soon as he sees that Cassie is one of the entrants things get… genuinely competitive for both of them. And then the trash-talking somehow turns into flirting when neither of them were paying attention?

Tim/Cassie preboot Identity Exploration. Cassie is reveling in having Kon and Bart back from the dead. She and Kon are “just friends” now, and tho a lil’ awkward, it’s still good. But a few passing comments between the three of them lead Cassie to realize that some of the things she knows about Tim’s civilian identity are contradictory.

She begins to obsess a bit. After all, Tim was her main support through OYL and other hells, so shouldn’t she know him better than anyone?

Meanwhile, she is utterly failing to make a go of her “Drusila” identity. When Tim hears about that, he offers to help. And as Tim teaches Cassie how to be someone else, he ends up revealing things about himself that clarify some of those contradictions that stumped her earlier.

Tim/Greta set during 90's YJ. Steph gets frustrated with Tim's lecturing and breaks up with him. Secret sees this as an opportunity, and shoots her shot. Tim has had an insane day and decides "ok, why not?" Queue their relationship subtly changing events throughout the YJ and Robin series.

[yoke9494]

Baby Bunny.🐇 Pt.1

Bonten mini series.

* pt. 1

*(Request) Hybrid bunny reader/ animal hybrid Bonten. First time ever writing something like this so I'm sorry if it's bad! I tried my best. Have any tips? Let me know!♥️

*Don't know how to label this chapter but the whole series will contain Angst/Smut and the fallowing TW.

*⚠️ Trigger warnings!: Sex trafficking, drug/alcohol use, stockholm syndrome, rape, (not on reader) mental and physical abuse,.. Sanzu.

_______________________________

How did you end up here?

You knew better.. You knew better than to walk home alone, especially at night.. Though you lived in a small town, covered by thick forest-- that didn't mean a predator would never find its way in..

You knew better than to stay at Molly's home for longer than you were allowed to.  But time had gotten away from you when you began to tell Molly about a date you had coming up with your boyfriend who was half lovebird. He was such a beautiful man with midnight black hair and the bluest eyes you've ever seen.

You had a feeling he was going to propose since he had been extra excited about your date together. He even told you to go out and buy a new dress, plus to get your nails and hair done also. All with his hard earned money..

She was over the moon for you! And a little jealous. Being half sheep herself, her parents only let her date her own kind. (Yes, they were stuck up and awful-- the complete opposite of your beautiful Molly. She was such a sweetheart with a soul and heart made of gold.)

Her words repeated in your head as you walked home. "I'm so happy for you Y/n! Elden is such a sweet and handsome man. Just the type of guy a shy little bunny like you needs! Eeek! Can I be your maid of honor?!"

You shook your head as you tried to rewind the memories of you day. A way to keep the fear of the darkness away.

How could you fall for such a easy trap? You replayed the event over and over in your head. Wishing you had handled it differently...

******

"Help! Oh miss.. help!"

You heard a pained voice coming from the opposite end of the road. The streetlights were always dim and didn't provide a far range of coverage.

"Help! Please! I hurt myself."

You swallowed down your fear but still couldn't move. The prey in you was too scared.

"Girl! Come help me up!"

The voice that called out to you didn't sound familiar at all. Your town was so small that you knew everyone by their voice.

Your spotted and floppy ears slightly picked itself up on instinct. Your cotton ball tail shivering as if it was dead of winter.. Something wasn't right.

Maybe you should run back to Molly's house and ask her father to walk you home. Yes you were an adult but you weren't physically strong.

Fast footsteps came your way. The person began to yell out to you again.

Your ears shot up and you began to run. Molly's house was a lot closer than your own so you decided to go there.

"Grab her! But don't hurt her! Bunnies bring in a good amount of money!"

Your heart was racing-- your skin crawled with panic and fear! You pushed yourself as hard as you could as you rounded the corner. Nearly tripping over your own feet like the idiots do in horror movies. Your poor calves felt like they were being ripped to shreds!

But there it was.. The gate to Molly's home!

You were so close! All you had to do was swing it open and run to the door and scream at the top of your lungs.

"Got you!"

No.. No. No. No. No..

Completely darkness covered your vision. You struggled against two large sweaty bodies as you tried to free yourself.-- a sour burning smell burned the little hairs in your nose. You tried to scream but your mouth was muffled, suffocating from whatever they had shoved onto your head..

"It's okay bunny-- go to sleep."

Like hell you were!

"There you go."

One of the males cooed into your ear as suddenly your body began to give up on its own. Your brain kept trying to make your arms and legs move but you began to feel like mush. Your brain became hazy and it felt like you body was a million times heavier. Your eyelids felt like they were made of led--

Voice's faded in and out..

"Took her a while-- I swear I used half the bottle."

"She's gonna be a problem... But not for us!"

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

Your body jerked and startled you conscious. What was going on?--

Your body felt like it was run over by a truck, your head was spinning and your could feel your body breaking out in a cold sweat.

A sudden whisper had you panicking.

"Shh. It's okay. Here drink some water."

You tried to blink the blurriness away.. Molly? Oh thank goodness it was her! You tried to speak-- to tell her about the most terrifying dream you had.

You must have fallen asleep while you both were gossiping!---

"Mol--" you couldn't get a word out. You gasped for air and it felt like you had swallowed sharp pins. Your tongue was as dry as sandpaper..

Molly whispered to you. "Shh. Don't try to talk right now. Drink-- slowly."

You felt the rim of a plastic water bottle brush against your lips.-- Expecting a flow of cool refreshing water to wet your tongue-- you gagged when a dirty taste filled your mouth. A wheeze left your throat when you wanted to ask Molly what she had given you? It tasted like nasty pool water!

"I'm sorry. It's all we have."

What was she talking about? The town had access to the cleanest well water around..

Finally your vision came to and you wanted to scream. This person wasn't your Molly!-- This person was another sheep, with the same beautiful white curls as your best friend-- but her face was different, eyes, nose, mouth and ears..

You rolled your eyes and noticed she had you on her lap. Her hand running through your hair as she wore a worried look.

Your voice was so weak. "Who are you? Where am I?"

You couldn't see anything besides her. It was so dark-- but you swore you could hear quiet whimpers and small sniffles.. Like you were surrounded by people crying?

You tried to sit up and let out another gasp. Pain ran through your body while whatever energy you just had completely disappeared..

The girl shook her head. "Please don't move yet. You still need to rest-- it'll take awhile to get whatever they used on us out of your system."

Your body was jerked again. More pain set your nerves on fire-- even the girl herself looked pained as she tried to keep herself up right.

You felt your eyes sting as you began to cry. You couldn't move, you couldn't see, you couldn't even speak! You were so scared-- you wanted to go home! You wanted you parents! You wanted your love Bird to come hold you and tell you that he'd cherish you forever.

"Rest a bit more okay? I promise you we won't hurt you-- were all scared."

What was happening?--- you needed to go home. But your body gave out once more..

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

This time your body was woken up by loud clanking noises followed by the sounds of male voices.

"holland lop bunny huh? We don't get many of those. Call our clients in Tokyo-- fuck what was his name?- Hajime. The bastard has bids on the more exotic girls.."

The voices began to fade away with retreating footsteps..

Your body shivered. It was freezing! You felt sore and still a bit weak. Your eyelids felt sticky that you had to force them open--

Metal bars? Behind that was what looked like dirty cracked concrete?

With a low groan you were able to roll your body from its side to your back.-- a wave of nausea took over..

"Hey bunny. Take it easy.. you'll hurt yourself."

Your eyes roamed over... A flat rusted metal roof, more bars . Were you in a cage?!

You silently answered your own question when you met eyes with the same sheep from before. She sat on her knees in a rusted cage in front of yours.

You gasped and covered your eyes when you noticed she was naked. She let out a weird sound that almost sounded like a pained laugh.

"Don't get shy Bunny. We're all naked here.."

What did she mean? You peeked up and used the bars to slowly help you sit up. Gritting your teeth as you did-- You bones felt stiff-- how long were you asleep?

Your eyes began to water when you got a good look at what was around you. Rows of dirty cages filled with one or more naked bodies.. Mostly women, but you swore you saw a masculine body or two.. You tried not to stare-- Completely terrified and exposed just like the rest..

"What's happening?"

The sheep was about to answer you but another voice came from the cage beside you. "They're going to sell us, Break us, and turn us into slaves.."

She was a love bird just like your Eldon... Only she had chestnut hair and large gold eyes. Her face was bruised and her body was dirtier than all the rest..

"This happened to me before--. I got away.." Her eyes began to water. "But they found me-- punished me.. and now I'm going to die here."

She began to cry. Soon the room almost filled with small whimpers-- even your own tears began to roll down your cheeks.

Sold? Slaves? Breaking?--

The sheep across from you began to panic. "Everyone shh! If we make too much noise they'll come back down here again. Do you all want what the poor skunk got--"

Her eyes traveled to the cage on the opposite end of you. And you made the mistake to follow her gaze---

You let out a scream, you really didn't mean to-- Your body scurried away, closer to the love bird. The cold metal dug into your back as you tried to get as far away from the beaten and dead girl..

The lovebird reach over and covered your mouth. You could feel her shaking against you-- "Quiet!"

And you were. Everyone was-- heavy footsteps sounded like they were so close! But then they began to fade away.

Some let out a breath they didn't know they were holding. ----

A sharp pain bloomed at the back of your head. The love bird had yanked your head back by your hair.

Her voice was low but it held Anger. "You need to shut up. They won't come down here and beat you but they'll beat us. You're worth more money than half of us combined."

You scratched at her skin and she let you go. Of course she called you a bitch but you didn't care. You just wanted away from her and the deceased girl next to you. But all you could do was curl you body into a ball as you sat right in the middle of your cramped cage.

You shook your head and looked at the sheep. She was the only one who seemed a little sane. "I don't want to be sold.. I want to go home-- I miss my boyfriend, my Molly, my family.."

The sheep gave you a sympathetic look. "You don't have a home anymore pet. .. But She's right you know. Bunnies that look like you are rare. - you have the long floppy ears and huge puffy cotton tail. Your kind is naturally obedient.. Someone with money will most likely keep you as their arm candy or trophy wife. You'll have to be okay with that life if you want to live."

"--- Or they'll breed her and sell off her children till she dies.."

Another voice-- A male cat? His body was lean with a bit of muscle and he had dark grey hair, but his ears had white stripes.. He was next to the sheep and had been curled up this entire time.

His bright green eyes locked on you. "I've heard stories about that when I was working in a night club. Your kind can have a good litter if I'm not mistaken. 5-6 if you're lucky?"

You nodded... You had so many siblings it wasn't funny. (47 brothers and sisters) "I was a part of a litter of 10 actually. My mother was very fertile.."

He shook his head. "I'm so sorry. Let's hope you aren't that lucky.. They'll kill you faster if you don't provide them many spawns.."

You gulped-- but didn't say a word as your ears picked up.. Someone was coming!

You could heard two separate steps of heavy feet. They heard you scream! They heard you and were going to take it out on everyone. They'll all hate you even more--

Two dirty looking men began to walk down a couple of concrete steps at the end of the room. "Meal time!"

Almost everyone scooted closer to the bars as you stayed huddled at the back. You could hear the bowls being thrown at everyone along with soft smacking and chewing.

You didn't notice it before but your stomach began to growl.. When was the last time you ate? It had to be the dinner you had with Molly before you were taken..

When the man reached your cage he slammed a dirty metal bowl in front of the bars. He gave you a quick look that left you feeling violated.. But his attention went over to the lovebird..

What was she doing? She had curled up into a ball-- had he gotten hurt somehow?! She didn't look like she was breathing...

"Hey! Feather bitch, meal time."

She didn't flinched..

The man walked away from your cage and you scooted to the bowl.. it had what looked like white rice and some type of brown slop on top... It didt look appetizing-- it smelt sour..

You looked at the sheep and cat as they ate. The male cat locked eyes with you and motioned to your bowl. He mouthed the words "Eat." Before reaching his hands out and getting another scoop with his fingers.

The man began to hit the lovebirds cage as you reached out to the food. The rice was cold and a bit hard-- the tan mush on top tasted horrible. Sour and it felt slimy going down your throat.. But you were so hungry, so weak..

"Bitch get up!"

You stopped trying to chew and just swallowed. It seemed like everyone was trying to mind their own business and eat--

The sheep gave a quick glance and looked worried. But she held her head down and closed her eyes. The cat swiped off any food on his fingers and covered his ears.. He looked disappointed?

You scurried back into the middle of your cage when the man yanked open the lovebirds. He reached in and--

She screamed.. She screamed and called him every dirty name in the book. Her little talons scratched into his skin as he groaned in pain..

"Son of a bitch!!"

She was yanked out by her hair and began to scream. Your eyes wide as her body hit the ground in front of your cage. It was such a loud *Thud* that you were sure you heard a crack when her head was shoved to the ground..

God help her... What do you do? What can you do?!

Nothing....

His belt hit the floor before he picked it up and began to hit her back with his metal buckle. His friend had join him in holding her down.

Your tried to look away. Closed your eyes tight as her screaming made your body shake. But you could hear everything..

You heard them speak in a language you never heard. They began to laugh as you heard the zipper of their pants being pulled down..

She was crying now. You tried to cover your ears but they were right in front of you. Tears squeezed out of your eyes as they began to use her body..

She yelled, cried, begged them to just kill her..

Your heart was breaking.. "please stop."

You tried to yell. But you were a coward, a coward who was just yelling in her mind.

"Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop!-- please stop hurting her!"

When they were done with her you were still yelling in your mind. Trying to escape as they threw her bruised and abused body back into her cage. She was no longer conscious but still slightly breathing--

"Bunny you okay?"

It was the cat-- why was he asking you that! You were far from okay! You could feel what you had just ate coming up your throat. Your mind panicked and brought you home.

Your mother in the kitchen, cooking.. And your father at the table telling her what was in the newspaper. Your warm home on the side of the largest hill in your town. Covered in while flowers and thick trees.

You found a way to escape... But you really should have payed attention, you should have opened your eyes.

If you did, you would have seen another man enter the basement-- You would have seen him point at a few cages before he pointed at yours.

You wouldn't have been frightened when your cage jerked and 4 men began to carry you out with a few others.

"What--?"

"Shhh." It was the cat!

He was being carried right in front of you. "Stay quiet, stay calm.."

You felt queasy all over again...

...................

[blankdblank]

Garlic & Clover

Pt one of a mini series that is currently unfinished. Now, for this it might seem a bit hard on the Dwarves, I love them, but sadly this plot bunny was not the kindest on them at the culture habit Dwarves have to not overshare outside their trusted circles and kin. They will make nice in the end, promise. Just have to get there first. 

If you wouldn’t mind let me know what you think and if you also want to be tagged or taken off the tags let me know. Stay warm and cozy out there in yoru corner of the world. :)

@theincaprincess​, @lilith15000​, @devilishminx328​, @jesevans​, @tigereyesf​

...

...

“She reeks of garlic again,” you could hear the words echo through the stone halls. Not an uncommon occurrence, nor the silent forced grins and greeting nods of the head you mirrored on your way to an invitation only dinner at Oin’s home.

Once one of the bubbliest of the members of the Company, rules and social decorum had you back to those days at your final foster home. The one you were told you had to bear or you would be cast to a group home, the one you could never do or be respectable enough to be kept around when guests came over.

Middle Earth was nothing like the tiny flower bed of clover you had been allowed to grow up in the attic to focus on while you were pretending you didn’t exist. A magical forest like any you hadn’t seen before in your wildest of dreams. And it was there you found what your Gran would have called a sign from the Saints. A four leaf clover on which you wished in a return visit to clear out your things before they would throw them out and found yourself in the middle of a band of Dwarves accompanied by a Hobbit and a Wizard.

“I miss you,” echoed deep down in your very core to your long lost Gran and lost loved ones.

You studied hard and still it was never enough, all the way to a pair of Masters Degrees in Psychology and Linguistics. You hoped it would be enough, sent to live with one of the top Criminal Psychologists in the world and one of the most renowned masters of Dead Languages and forgotten histories contacted for the most essential of rare cases that had them living in infamy. Another notch on their belt. Another trinket to boast about and never touch.

The door opened and you smiled bowing your head to the servant who allowed you in after seeing you had brought the servant you had been forced to hire to act as your morality compass for others to see you were never alone to be improper in public situations. One who kept their distance by the very scent of you.

While your nose burned in a now tolerably miserable way behind the servant you strolled through the uncomfortably homey dwelling filled with hearty chatter and laughter. Through the roar of painful pasts you kept a grin in greeting all of these supposed friends who eyed the towel wrapped dish in the basket you bore with both hope and dread. “I brought some boiled potato slices and some oiled veggies. We can never seem to have enough.” You said convincingly with a weak chuckle the others laughed gladly at in ease for not having to relive your first dinner invitation while you convincingly held back the wish to act on this latest crack in your heart.

Four years you had lived here and still to this day the appalled looks on the faces of your supposed friends stabbed at you in a stunning refusal of your chicken pot pies in a try to surprise Thorin at his first meal out of the healing tents.

“I miss you,” again it echoed in your heart while in the taking of your seat at the table as the final guest and around the simple dish of yours free of anything personal to you or your past their clan dishes had every memory with your Gran roaring. Family dishes with hints from around the world that had tears brimming in your downward cast eyes to every bland, bitter or oily to the oddly edge of being burnt while being perfectly moist. Every bite unflattering to the next no matter how you tried it with some of the most lifeless bread you had ever tasted.

Somewhere out of the back of the apartment a soft sound of the twins Dis had given birth to had your free hands clench atop your lap in a faked adjustment of the napkin laid there. Enabling a touch of the ring on your right hand, rose gold and meant to memorialize the husband and child lost long before the pull to this world. A teardrop diamond angled at the tip out of the band that drops into a V, the band topped by small diamonds, an heirloom from your grandmother paired with the newer similarly diamond topped rounded halo band like a crown to hint to your son’s name meaning of King. War had taken the one and an infection set in by injury from an accident took the other who were buried together where you couldn’t visit anymore. Not far away from the joint plot holding the parents you never met.

“I miss you,” pooled into your chest like a slow flood of inescapable melancholy to chase off the thought you had to be cursed to lose all you loved. Not unacceptably long your hands left your lap to adjust to help you finish this meal. Muffled compliments came from those who dared to sample your safe dish while you stomached your small yet un-insulting portion.

Dessert would be next and yet still under thirty you took your required leave to return home, or at least to the four walls you were granted. Down nearer to the markets and workshops where the young lived supervised to protect their morals, even those not of Dwarf blood where you had been given lessons and chances to conform. Not one who understood how badly this hurt. Behind your door your breaths wavered as you glanced at the apron from your Smithing lessons, for which you had to change and get some rest to attend in the morning.

…

“How long do I have to bother with this? The Lass has the patience but in the time to teach her the craft her life would be spent. She’s no metal in her bones.”

Audibly for you at least the crack of the dam was heard and a glance over the shoulder of your teacher the Wood Smith he had been speaking to shifted his gaze with lips parted at the astonishing to them quiver of your lip and instant tears you forced a smile through.

On the verge of buckling to their knees at the unexpected reaction, that had every student and Master in this forge in stunned silence. All watching the folded leather apron you had intended to put on set on the station to your right. And in a frail but determined tone you said, “I am unquestionably thankful for your efforts to teach me, and I cannot put into words how painful it is to know I will never be enough to be worthy of it.”

Straight around you turned and in a flurry of sniffles and wiped away tears that had every Dwarf and namely the Dams stare your way at the unthinkable tearful young female on her way back to her protected quarters. No one had died and so there was clear fault to have stirred such a reaction and since there was no family involved one of the Ruling Clan would have to be sent to investigate.

Not that you would know them personally, as since the moment you met them it was made clear that any in depth information on family or their internal workings beyond the simplest of things such as hunger, exhaustion, or wish to smoke, play music and be merry was not permitted. Only outside of kin signaled and intention of courtship alone. So those degrees you had worked so hard for were all but useless and there was apparently no way to find employment as a therapist here.

All the way to the door you had managed to keep just a few feet ahead of your assigned shadow, and once at it your trembling hands worked the lock to open the heavy stone barrier that after another step through the small opening you said, “I plan on peeling and cooking with garlic. No need to sully your reputation any more by lingering to reek like me. I know you have plans to marry into a good clan. I won’t be leaving again today.”

The door was shut in the servant’s mid step a good six feet away and for an awkward moment they paused and waited as if you would change your mind then turned away. Inside however your face scrunched up in a collapse of that façade while you blindly found your way to the kitchen to stress cook.

Even behind tears you could feel your way on muscle memory alone. You knew just what you wanted, what she would make you. A surefire cure for a breaking heart. Garlic bread, lasagna and a ratatouille to go with it on top of several servings of a cake you had baked the day prior in some pretend game you always held as if you could be welcome to stay for dessert and intrude on time to discuss personal things.

“I miss you,” again and again the words were pressed into the dough for the bread and the making of the pasta on a press you had made yourself in now past tense lessons never to be had again. A project that had them scratch their heads along with the other tools you made to help with noodle making and other baking tools. Possibly saltier that usual due to shed tears you missed their falls while you worked the meal together, including the Dwarf loathed garlic.

Dinner wouldn’t do much as you had to eat it alone again except for the knitted pair of otter dolls you had made on your nights in when you got tired of stabbing your fingers in tries to learn embroidery.

Above the front door a small hawk flew through the messenger door that spun behind it to shut again and landed on your raised arm as the minimal counter space was already taken up.

“Hello,” you said. From around its neck you accepted the pouch with the letter inside you brought out with a soft, “Thank you,” small offering of treats and some water on top of your table you carried it to allowed it to rest while you sat down to read the letter from King Thranduil.

 *.*.* Thranduil *.*.*

 ‘King Thranduil,

I know we only met and spoke a couple times but I was wondering if you might be able to possibly offer an official invitation so I might take up your generous request to visit your kingdom?

I understand if the offer has been revoked after all these years, yet Lord Elrond lives too far away to write to conveniently for a response.

Could you still issue an invitation anyways with a symbol of a flower in the corner to show that it is fake to just me so that I can follow Dwarven tradition and have a proper reason to be able to take leave of King Thorin’s Halls?

Either way I shall forever be in your debt.

Yours Sincerely,

Jaqiearae Pear

 P.S. If you cannot recall me I am the one who kept you from treading on the ducklings between two of your meetings.’

The words across the page had the King pulled back to that first week when you had stayed in his guest rooms, fully bound and yet as the guards had tried to bring you to him the curious stares up at the architecture and questions had him curious himself and offering much more comfortable rooming for you and the Company. Moonlit snow like white unruly curls to match the deep purple eyes containing silver flecks like mesmerizing constellations on a petite body slightly taller than any Dwarf yet far too short for any race within the East only adding to his prisoner’s alluring mystery.

Just a sudden hand in the center of his chest while his eyes were on a set of pages held him in place. And that same curious stranger with that same curious innocent glowing gaze was behind that hand that held him in place so effortlessly even when both wrists were bound in mithril chains linked to a belt that could be grabbed by a guard if need be. Much unlike the Dwarves confined to their rooms between meals with the King. From your hands downwards his eyes followed yours to the smile worthy sight of a line of ducklings he almost had broken in his distraction in a shortcut through a garden.

“Why would Miss Pear imagine I would rescind my invitation?” he murmured to himself and then promptly moved to his desk to write out a lengthy invitation to be taken as open for as long as you wished.

He had crossed paths with you a few times in Erebor since then, far beyond chance of forgetting you.

The last time after being turned out after a few minutes of a fruitless trade talk when in passing he greeted you kindly and rather boldly you offered him and his group a meal. With your shadowing servant to a delicious yet unfamiliar meal the group spoke of the change of the seasons in the Kingdom to keep the known decorum.

Since that first meeting he knew there was something you wished to say and that was why he allowed you to roam at your whims and keep his best architects enthralled with someone who was hungry to learn everything they could.

With a hawk regrettably two weeks late after returning from a trip to Lothlorien he sent off his reply and hoped the wait had not been taken as a refusal to aid in most likely some time away from the strict lifestyle of the Longbeard Clan compared to that of the Silvans.

 *.*.* Jaqiearae *.*.*

 “There’s no flower,” you whispered to yourself in your own tongue that had the bird’s head cock to the side as you sat mesmerized that the kind King who didn’t spread the distaste for who ruled the Company you were a part of onto yourself. Across your lips a grateful grin eased that at least in all this you might have a glimmer of a friendship somewhere since Gandalf had left you here.

They were supposed to be your friends and you stupidly assumed they might smudge traditional rules to still keep daily meetings. Yet you barely caught a glimpse across the crowded marketplace or the bustling streets of Dale when you were able to shop there as they each had their own roles in the final stages of the rebuild of that ring of the city.

Now you were merely a ward of the King Under the Mountain and nothing more. Not even allowed to be employed or courted until you reached your 50th birthday and set to live off of a set allowance from the Crown as you were laughably also too young to enter into contracts and left out of a slice of the ocean of gold shaped pie.

 .

 With a sigh the knock on your door that clearly belonged to your assigned shadow had you on your feet and in a childlike tantrum stomping your way to the door you opened to find her there with a bow of her head, “Miss Pear, Prince Dwalin is here to see you.”

Through the door you stepped and at the set of chairs you were to use when meeting a fellow unmarried person alone you sat down with a cross of your ankles. Ignoring the chill of the marble floors on your bare feet and the wooden seat on your lower thighs your shorts didn’t cover, not even with your oversized flannel you had changed into from the more conservative thick layered shirts and pants supplied to you by the trunk full to keep you like the few other wards well dressed as per order of the King.

Across the small table from you Dwalin bowed his head in return for your flash of a grin and cleared his throat. “Miss Pear, we were made aware of an upsetting earlier today in the forges and we wished to settle any misunderstanding or discomfort any of the Smiths might have caused you.”

You shook your head and said, “They didn’t do anything but state the truth. I’m absolutely useless here.”

His head shook and still holding his far from familiar tone meant solely to absolve this issue on official business alone, “Miss Pear you are a ward-,”

“I am my own person!” you cut him off and his mouth parted, “A fully grown adult being treated like a useless child! You’re supposed to be my friends and I can’t even get any of you supposed friends of mine to even talk about anything of substance or try a single nibble of what foods aren’t remotely Dwarfly to sate your comfort!

I wear your clothes, eat your demanded dishes in monthly dinners, speak your language and none of you even bother to ask me what I might like or feel comfort in!

Well I’m so sorry that you all missed your home so terribly that that you can’t bother to show the least bit of respect to someone in the same boat as you! I can’t ever go home even if I wanted to and none of you have ever missed the chance to spit on my heritage or culture!

So if you don’t mind I have dessert inside and much like the last few years I fully expect to be eating all of it myself to gather strength for my trip to the Greater Greenwood. King Thranduil has issued me an official invitation and I will not do him the disservice of making him wait for my company, something nobody who isn’t paid to do so inside this mountain feels free to accept without a structured invitation!” Up you popped and promptly went inside your room. Slammed the door and huffed your way to your table to angrily eat your way through the cake until you decided to get packing to leave as soon as possible even if it meant using the river that sprouted from this mountain.

 *.*.* Durins *.*.*

 “We spit on her heritage and culture?!” Thorin just about growled, not out of anger at you but more for how they had slighted someone they had only meant to ever shield from harsher cultures to have been dumped upon. He drew in a breath then asked, “What did she mention about an invitation from Thranduil?”

Right away bylaws of the Wards of the King Under the Mountain were to be brought up to consult each for the majority of requirements and restrictions to see what wiggle room they could make to grant some more comfort where obviously some was lacking. Social constructs however would be hard to broach the topic of as you were still of ward age in their culture. Yet clearly the issue had to be seen to be made as flexible as possible since clearly for some time this pain had been stewing until it bubbled over today.

By the time they made it to your quarters however you would be gone.

[ausetkmt]

On the morning of June 12, 2022, Ángela Astudillo, then a law student in her mid-20s, grabbed her water bottle and hopped into her red Nissan Juke. The co-founder of Dress Desert, or Desierto Vestido, a textile recycling advocacy nonprofit, and the daughter of tree farmers, Astudillo lives in a gated apartment complex in Alto Hospicio, a dusty city at the edge of the Atacama Desert in northern Chile, with her husband, daughter, bunny, and three aquatic turtles.

Exiting the compound, Astudillo pinched the wheel, pulled over next to a car on the side of the road, and greeted Bárbara Pino, a fashion professor, and three of her students, who were waiting inside.

They headed toward a mountain of sand known as El Paso de la Mula. Less than a mile from her home, squinting into the distance, Astudillo saw a thread of smoke rising from its direction. With her in the lead, the two vehicles caravanned toward the dune, the site of the second-largest clothes pile in the world.

As they got closer to El Paso de La Mula, the thin trail of smoke had expanded into a huge black cloud. Astudillo stopped the car and texted the academics behind her.

It looks like it’s on fire. Hopefully, it’s not there. :( :( :(

She then dialed them directly and asked, “Do you still want to go?”

Pino, director of Santiago’s Fashion System Observatory at Universidad Diego Portales, had planned this trip for months. Astudillo had volunteered to be their guide. The mound of discarded fabric in the middle of the Atacama weighed an estimated 11,000 to 59,000 tons, equivalent to one or two times the Brooklyn Bridge.

By the time the team reached the gates of El Paso de la Mula, more than half of the clothes pile was on fire. Smoke obscured everything, hanging like an opaque black curtain. Municipal authorities turned the group away, forbidding them to stay on the premises. But Astudillo knew the landscape, so she directed the team to the dune’s far side, where access was still unimpeded.

There, the students surveyed the inferno. It was “like a war,” Pino said. She felt waves of heat. Black smoke unspooled from the burning clothes. The air was dense and hard to breathe. Smoke coated the back of their throats and clogged their nostrils with the acrid smell of melting plastic. They covered their faces, trying not to breathe it in. Then the group heard a series of loud pops as mini explosions burst from within the vast expanse of burning garments.

Despite the danger, Pino and her students rummaged, pulling out specimens to examine from among unburned portions of the pile. On prior visits to the clothes dump, Astudillo had uncovered clothing produced by the world’s most well-known brands: Nautica, Adidas, Wrangler, Old Navy, H&M, Ralph Lauren, Tommy Hilfiger, Forever 21, Zara, Banana Republic. Store tags still dangled from many of her findings. The clothes had come to the Atacama from Europe, the United States, Korea, and Japan. Now, as Astudillo began taking pictures and uploading them to Instagram, Pino wandered the mound, horrified and fascinated by the grotesque volume and variety of apparel: ski jackets, ball gowns, bathing suits. She plucked out a rhinestone-encrusted platform stiletto in perfect condition. She crouched to search for its match, but the wind was getting stronger. If it shifted, the team realized, they’d be trapped in the spreading fire.

For 14 years, no rain has fallen in Alto Hospicio or the surrounding Atacama Desert region. Those dry conditions, coupled with the nonbiodegradable, predominantly synthetic, petroleum-derived fibers that modern clothes are made with, meant that the pile never shrank. Instead, for more than two decades, it grew — metastasized — with every discarded, imported item that was added.

In 2021, six months prior to the fire, a photographer from Agence France Presse, Martín Bernetti, captured a bird’s-eye image of this sprawling mound of apparel, essentially an oil slick, strewn across the edge of the Atacama desert.

The aerial image was picked up by news outlets across the globe, from the front page of the New York Postto the BBC, and continues to circulate today. But the mountain of clothes depicted by that 2021 drone photo is utterly gone. As Astudillo, Pino, and the three students witnessed, and unwittingly tasted: The blaze tore through the pile, throwing black plumes of toxic ash into the air.

The town of Alto Hospicio sits on a cliff above the Pacific Ocean, a bedroom community for the seaside vacation city of Iquique below. Imagine if Atlantic City in New Jersey were simultaneously hemmed in and backed by a high Nevada plateau, and if the two locales were connected by a two-lane switchback highway.

Each day in Iquique’s port, giant cranes pluck containers full of discarded clothing from the decks of ships and deposit them onto flatbed trucks. No one really knows exactly how much clothing passes through the port every year; estimates range from 60,000 to 44 million tons. Next, they head to the nearby Free Trade Zone, known locally as “Zofri,” where trailers back into the warehouses of 52 used-clothes importers and forklift operators transfer sealed bales of clothing, or fardos, inside.

Chile is the biggest importer of secondhand clothing in South America, and between 2020 and 2021 it was the fastest-growing importer of used clothing in the world. The port of Iquique is an established tax-free zone, incentivizing this booming industry of castaway textiles.

From Zofri, bales of clothing are sold, uninspected, to merchants betting that at least some of the items inside are sales-worthy. “When you buy, you are buying with your eyes closed,” one former merchant said. Sometimes 80 percent of the garments in a bale are usable. Sometimes the opposite is true. Because bales are so cheap, however, most merchants need only sell 40 percent to turn a profit.

According to the global environmental advocacy group Ekō (formerly known as SumofUS), an estimated 85 percent of the used clothing imported into Iquique remains unsold. Chilean federal law states it’s illegal to dispose of textiles.

Considered Iquique’s backyard, Alto Hospicio is one of the poorest cities in Chile, widely known as a place to abandon pets and dump trash. In the late 1990s and early 2000s, the small desert town is where more than a dozen teenage girls mysteriously vanished, until their apprehended killer led authorities to bodies buried in desert graves.

In 2001, Manuela Medina*, a former gardener, saw an opportunity in Iquique’s growing textile abundance. Relocating to Alto Hospicio, she established an unauthorized compound on government lands at the base of El Paso de la Mula, the huge sand dune at the far side of an unregulated shantytown. Every few days, she hired a fletero — a driver with a jalopy — to travel the switchback roads, out of the brown dunes of Alto Hospicio, to arrive in the colorful oceanside city of Iquique, which sits a thousand miles north of the country’s capital, Santiago.

Near the dock where cranes unload massive container ships, inside Iquique’s free trade zone, Medina ventured into the contiguous warehouses, asking secondhand clothing importers, “Do you have any garbage?”

Back at her compound, Medina unloaded her wares in piles on the ground where she had the luxury of storing them indefinitely — the Atacama Desert is one of the driest places on Earth, meaning items don’t undergo normal degradation from elements like rain. Here, Medina sold her piles to merchants and others for $10 each.

As more and more bales of ropa americana, or secondhand clothes, arrived in Iquique, the clothes flooded importers’ warehouses and overflowed vendors’ stalls in open air markets, including La Quebradilla — one of the largest open air markets in South America, located just a few miles from Medina’s unauthorized compound.

Soon,importers and secondhand merchants began to deliver surplus used clothes directly to Medina. Fed by daily truck deliveries, and then by multiple daily tractor trailer load deliveries, Medina’s pile grew.

By 2020, Medina’s gargantuan desert dump had become an open secret in Chile, stretching across dozens of acres. Others followed her model, creating mini-dumps across the desert and along roadsides, but Medina’s pile remained the largest.

On March 29, 2022, Paulin Silva, an environmental lawyer, stood before the Primer Tribunal Ambiental de Antofagasta, a regional tribunal in northern Chile that specializes in resolving environmental issues within its jurisdiction. She was presenting a lawsuit, brought on behalf of herself as a resident of Iquique, against the municipality and the federal Chilean government for their inaction over the sprawling, unregulated clothes dumps. For her submission of evidence, she asked the tribunal to join her in touring the mound of clothing.

For weeks, her informal team of supporters (a geographer, her sister, and her brother-in-law) had been documenting the problem, joking among themselves, “In which dump are we going to party tonight?”

Since obtaining her law degree, Silva has prosecuted a handful of environmental cases, but this one was personal, and she felt empowered to tackle it: “I have the education; I am a lawyer; I can do something,” she said. She’d grown up in northern Chile, a pencil thin country bordered by the Pacific Ocean. Her father is from Alto Hospicio and her mother is from Iquique. At 35, she’s several years older than Astudillo, the co-founder of the nonprofit Dress Desert, whom Silva asked to be a witness for the case. When Silva was a child, she observed people dumping clothes everywhere — the streets, yards, and city squares. Because this was the only place she knew for so much of her life, she thought, “It’s normal for people to live with … garbage accumulated around them.”

This local “clothes-blindness” was documented by Astudillo’s colleague, Bastián Barria, an engineering student and her co-founder of Dress Desert. In November 2020, he and others conducted a survey to ascertain local attitudes regarding the clothing waste. Of the almost 400 people in Alto Hospicio he surveyed, representing less than 1 percent of the town’s population, more than half did not think there was any issue.

When Silva was 18, she moved a thousand miles south, to Valparaiso in central Chile, to study law and that was where she remained until the pandemic, when she returned home. That’s when she realized the dump situation had worsened. Exponentially.

During the decades between Silva’s girlhood and today, clothing production worldwide doubled, while utilization — the number of times an item of clothing is worn before it is thrown away — declined by 36 percent. Countries like Chile, Haiti, and Uganda became depositories for fast fashion discards. In 2021 alone, Chile imported more than 700,000 tons of new and used clothing — the weight equivalent of 70 Eiffel Towers.

“Even if we stopped clothing production throughout the world tonight,” said Francisca Gajardo, an Iquique-born fashion designer, “we still have more garments than we need or that the Earth can safely hold. It won’t go away nicely, and we’re not stopping today.”

Nine days after the giant fires, around 4 p.m., Silva was having a light meal, the Chilean equivalent of afternoon tea known as once (pronounced “on-say”), with her family in northern Chile. A few days prior, the Primer Tribunal Ambiental de Antofagasta had informed her it was ready to view her case evidence by touring the clothes pile in person. Silva took out her phone to share the good news on Instagram with Desierto Vestido, but before she could, she saw the images of the burning clothes Desierto Vestido had just uploaded and shared.

Silva sprang from her chair to process what was happening to the evidence in her case just a few miles away. She suspected why the court had been willing to view the landfill: “Because obviously the matter was burned,” she told Grist.

While no official cause of the fires has ever been reported, local residents claim it began late on Saturday night or in the early hours of Sunday. Days later, toxic air still clung to the area. Astudillo, who visited the site regularly, described the pile as “volcanic” — with clothes smoldering under the sand, venting smoke full of textile chemicals from synthetic materials. She warned, “You can’t be outside for long.”

In the days following the fire, on June 22, instead of leading the tour of the prosecutorial evidence, Silva filed a statement to the Primer Tribunal Ambiental de Antofagasta: “With sadness and shame I inform you that 11,000 tons of clothes in the textile dump were burned.”

Although Paulin provided the court with Dress Desert’s smartphone video recordings of the clothes in flames, the defense argued that the Instagram account where they’d posted the videos could not be verified and confirmed. Lacking a certifiable timestamp, the films were inadmissible.

One year later, in August 2023, the Primer Tribunal Ambiental de Antofagasta called a trial hearing so that all parties involved in the case — the Consejo de Defensa del Estado, the body that judicially represents the state in Chile, the municipality of Alto Hospicio, and Silva — could present evidence.

During the hearing, the Mayor at Alto Hospicio, Patricio Ferreira, said that one of his priorities is to “transform this problem into an opportunity to generate employment.” He alluded to discussions he had with European businessmen to explore initiatives related to recycling.

Silva got people to testify in her favor, activists and academics who have given statements to different media outlets about the environmental problem generated by the textile landfill in the Chilean desert. But on the day of the hearing, none of them arrived.

“At the end of the day, in practice, I am alone in this action,” she said.

Chile’s government recently voted to adopt recycling measures that make certain producers accountable for their waste. Known as the extended producer responsibility law, or REP using its Spanish acronym, the legislation passed in 2016 and took effect in January 2023. Currently, Chilean companies that make tires and packaging (such as bags, plastics, paper or cardboard, cans and glass) must comply.

Eventually, according to the Ministry of the Environment, Chile intends to incorporate clothing and textiles as a priority product into the REP law.

However, in the case of clothes, many describe the REP as a “paper solution” that lacks tangible enforcement, said Pino, from the Universidad Diego Portales.

In parallel, the Ministry of the Environment is developing a circular economy strategy for textile waste. Unlike the REP, the agency crafts public policy for the public and private sectors to prevent overproduction.

The ministry has been holding workshops and conversations to collect input from stakeholders, including academics, business executives, retailers and nonprofit leaders. It is also tabulating the results of a preliminary survey on consumer clothes-buying habits. The details of this circular economy strategy is expected to be published in March this year.

At the minister’s invitation, Pino has shared her fashion expertise — both in the markets and in the desert — with the group. “These two things are wonderful initiatives,” she said about both efforts, but she lamented that they fail to address the issue of used clothes.

A decade ago, when the REP was first being discussed, Denisse Morán, president of the Tarapacá Recyclers and the head of ServiREC, a recycling cooperative that operates within Iquique’s free trade zone, sought out her local representative to request that the law apply to both clothing producers and clothing importers.

“Oh, because you are from Iquique?” she recalled him asking her.

“Not only because I am from Iquique,” she replied, “but because we all wear clothes.”

For years, many residents in Alto Hospicio saw the piles of textiles as more of an opportunity than an eyesore or environmental threat, something that supported the local economy.

When Jazmín Yañez arrived in town from southern Chile in 2018 almost penniless and on the brink of homelessness, for example, someone gave her a few cast-off garments and household garbage — from towels, kitchen implements to furniture — to sell. Ever since, Yañez, now 28, has waged a zealous campaign to salvage, fix, and reutilize all “waste” materials. She operates an informal store from the kitchen of her house called Stop Recicla: “Your trash is my treasure,” where she sells, exchanges, and gifts items such as rugs, used clothing, school supplies, costumes, and electronics to impoverished mothers, like she once was.

It’s this trash/treasure duality that kept Astudillo and other locals from viewing the region’s booming used clothing trade as a problem. But six months before the fires, in January 2022, Nathalia Tavolieri, a Brazilian journalist, invited Astudillo to El Paso de La Mula, where she encountered Manuela Medina’s mountain for the first time.

Astudillo had seen numerous clothing dumps strewn and mounded throughout the desert, but nothing as big as this immense tangle of blouses and pants. “It was terrible,” she said, weeping as she recalled her first visit. “Maybe if I had been older, maybe I could have done more things [to stop this from happening].”

The experience galvanized her. She had already co-founded her nonprofit Dress Desert, or Desierto Vestido, two years before, to raise awareness and creatively respond to the country’s burgeoning waste clothing issue. As part of the project’s efforts, she and 20 other members host workshops and conversations. They upcycle castaway materials into new garments and craft household items. Seeing the vastness of Medina’s clothing pile, Astudillo stepped up her resolve, because “many people don’t see — or don’t want to see.”

“It was very, very hard,” she said, “to know that we live in a place that is so polluted and damaged by everyone’s waste.” Several months later, Astudillo brought Gajardo, the clothes designer and a fellow Iquiquean, to the dump, and gained an ally in her efforts. Despite growing up and shopping at the region’s numerous outdoor secondhand clothes markets, Gajardo was appalled by the scope of the waste. She developed rashes from rummaging among the fabrics.

“The fact that we have a desert, the fact that there’s a place to receive this, doesn’t mean that the place has to become the dump of the world,” she said. Since then, Gajardo’s conviction to never design clothes from virgin materials has deepened. Additionally, through her brand You Are the New Generation, she offers workshops in reusing garments, and visited Kansas City, Missouri, last year through the U.S. State Department’s Young Leaders of the Americas Initiative to teach people to make new clothes by harvesting old ones.

Other entrepreneurs have attempted to turn the clothes problem into revenue, but have faced a series of setbacks.

Franklin Zepeda is a celebrated Chilean entrepreneur who toured Europe’s textile recycling plants before returning to the region in 2013 to establish Ecofibre, now known as Procitex. (Its name is an acronym meaning Proceso Circular en Textil in Spanish).

With seed funding from CORFO, the Chilean economic development agency, and later from private capital, Zepeda was able to route textiles imported into Iquique to his plant, where they were disassembled, shredded, doused with flame retardant, and transformed into insulation panels. Zepeda got praise for this work in several major international news outlets, but he shuttered his plant in Alto Hospicio in 2021 because of unfavorable economics, including the taxes on shipping the insulation panels to other regions of the country.

Dario Blanco, manager of the ZOFRI User Association AG (AUZ), a trade association that brings together businessmen from the Iquique free zone, believes that the solution to the region’s problem of discarded clothing is out there — it will just take the right company and policies. And there are plenty of entrepreneurs, fashion designers, and environmentalists working on the issue of textile waste, both in Chile and internationally.

As Bloomberg reported in May,New York, California, Sweden, and the Netherlands are developing legislation similar to Chile’s extended producer responsibility law that went into effect this year, mandating that the fashion industry fund recycling programs via tariffs calibrated to the quantity of garments produced.

In order to help New York City uphold its existing law limiting or forbidding textiles in the waste stream, FabScrap, a nonprofit founded in 2016 by a former New York Department of Sanitation worker, receives 7,000 pounds of pre-consumer textile waste each week. Sorted by volunteers, the nonsynthetic scrap items are sent to a New Jersey facility that shreds the material, producing “shoddy,” a stuffing used to fill punching bags, sofas, and soft toys.

A Czech company called RETEX has been attempting to bring its fabric-macerating technology to Alto Hospicio. Blanco says that in exchange for securing a contract with Chile, the company promised to hire local workers. But, Blanco admitted, negotiations like these have fallen through in the past. For example, he said, a Spain-based company, Egreen, planned to open a fabric-waste processing plant, but the deal was scrapped late last year.

Read Next: How clothing forms the fabric of society, both past and future

The governor’s sustainability adviser at the Regional Government of Tarapaca, Pablo Zambra, recently formed a 25-member committee that includes stakeholders such as Astudillo and Barria from Dress Desert and Morán, the president of the Tarapacá Recyclers, to publicize economic incentives for circular economy initiatives. Collectively, they hope RETEX will succeed in doing what Zepeda’s company failed to do: turn a profit. As of this writing, no importers are involved.

Meanwhile, every day, container ships continue to offload more cargo.

In the fall of 2022, Alto Hospicio’s mayor, Ferreira, acknowledged the unsolved problem but blamed clothing manufacturers, citing a “lack of global awareness of ethical responsibility.”

“Our land has been sacrificed,” he said.

Pino agrees that the fashion industry and its consumers are culpable. “We have to worry about the complete cycle: before, during, and after our clothes,” she wrote in an editorial published in 2021.

She believes a more comprehensive solution is necessary, including regulating the entry of textile materials to Chile, educating consumers about prolonging garments’ lives, promoting Chile’s homegrown fashion industry, and supporting research to design new uses for fabric waste.

Ecocitex, founded in 2020 by engineer Rosario Hevia in Santiago, has sprung up as another Chilean company addressing a surfeit of garments.

Ecocitex operates in a manner contrary to the country’s organized and informal secondhand clothes markets. It invites people to recyclehigh-quality clothing or pay$1.50 per kilogram to leave poor quality clothing and walk away empty-handed.

During the pandemic, Andrea Espinoza Pérez, a civil industrial engineer at the University of Santiago, initiated a study on the ecological impacts of projects like Ecocitex. She wanted to know: Did factory-processed, used clothing produce fewer emissions than the original clothing manufacturing process? With data provided by Ecocitex’s founder Hevia, scientists determined that the clothes deconstruction processis effective because it keeps waste clothes out of landfills, and it replaces the demand for virgin materials. However, the study found that Ecocitex’s procedure is highly energy-intensive — using about 73 percent of the energy required to produce the same product from raw materials.

Meanwhile, neither Zepeda’s Procitex nor Hevia’s Ecocitex in Chile, nor Fabscrap’s efforts in New York and Philadelphia, have matched the direct profitability of Medina’s now-defunct business. (Medina has started a new business storing tires.) In fact, all have relied heavily on a variety of underwriting measures, including subsidies, nonprofit funding, subscriptions, or volunteer labor to generate their products.

In recent years, Zepeda has earned his living as an employee of Chile’s largest retailer, CENCOSUD. He collects surplus clothes donated by customers, and produces insulation panels for buildings that are sold by the same retailer.

As for Ecocitex, in June, the business caught fire and the building was destroyed. The cause is still under investigation. Undeterred, Hevia has launched a campaign to rebuild. Meanwhile, she is raising funds by selling blankets made from recycled fibers to a mining company.

By last January, the height of the Chilean summer, the gigantic, unsightly clothes dump at El Paso de la Mula, the one Agence France Presse had shown the world, was nowhere to be found.

All that remained was a smattering of ashes and the tread marks of bulldozers. Here and there, across Medina’s unofficial backyard, small piles of garments peeked out of the sand dunes. But according to municipal officials, dumping and burning continues. Rey, an indigent man who lives by the side of a desert road in a blue and yellow tent emblazoned with “National Geographic,” attests that he and others accept money from nonprofit refuse-disposal contractors or freelance truckers in exchange for setting fires to whatever waste is discharged from a truck. This way, the trucker can keep more of his hauling profits, which would otherwise be whittled down by the official dump fees.

Astudillo says that beyond the limits of Manuela’s dune, there are as many as 200 micro-garbage dumps, and consequently, miles and miles of ashes in the desert — not just scattered over the ground, but also in the air. She told Grist in late December that this is an everyday thing. “You go out to buy bread and you smell the burning smell. You smell the materials that make up the clothes: oil and plastic. After 5 in the afternoon, I no longer let my 7-year-old daughter leave the apartment, and I close the windows to prevent smoke from coming in.” She also confirmed the abandoning of clothes continues: “They throw it away, they burn it immediately.”

On December 12, the Primer Tribunal Ambiental de Antofagasta issued its final ruling in the case with Silva, commissioning a unit of experts to carry out an on-site report on the accumulation of textile waste in different areas of Alto Hospicio, and to propose a solution to the accumulation of waste.

The municipality of Alto Hospicio, which claims it does not have the workforce to adequately address the problem, has also installed nearly 100 cameras along the main roads as a means of tracking polluters, and has begun doling out fines as high as $350 for illegal dumping. So far, trucks have been apprehended transporting domestic and industrial garbage, as well as bulky items such as mattresses, washing machines, and furniture.

Drone footage recorded by Cheng Hwa, one of Pino’s students, the day of the June 2022 fires captures the municipality fighting what was in essence an oil fire. Hwa, who grew up in Iquique and now works in tech for the hospitality industry, had long been aware of the desert dumps but didn’t comprehend the magnitude until he witnessed them at close range.

He’s haunted by what his drone footage made visible. “How the desert of sand starts to turn into a desert of clothes,” he said. “It has no limit; there is no closure … Clothes begin to appear on the ground until the horizon is completely covered.”

In Iquique, he often glances up toward the high plateau of Alto Hospicio. “You can’t see the dump, but [you can see] the column of smoke on days that [clothes] burn. That cloud of smoke lets you know … It makes [the issue] visible on a day-to-day basis.”

Thirty miles south of Iquique, toward the city’s main airport, on her family’s farm, Astudillo and her parents drop pieces of used clothing on the ground, but in a purposeful way. Over the past 20 years, Astudillo’s father has experimented with growing trees in the infertile, saline soils. Many of his efforts failed until he began using certain fabrics to mulch his trees. This improves the quality of the soil, enabling it to retain moisture. For the past year, Astudillo has been working with one of the Zofri importers, who asked to remain anonymous. She consults with his staff about the clothing bales and recommends ways of sorting the material into specific categories based on fiber content, some of which she collects personally. Those items — a pair of cotton shorts, a T-shirt, a blouse — become mulch for a pine and eucalyptus forest rising in the desert.

Recently, as Astudillo was leaving the farm, she stashed a few perennials in her truck and drove them to Manuela’s compound in Paso de La Mula. Just beyond Medina’s courtyard, where sky- blackening fires had once burned, Astudillo troweled a small hole for the plants. As she dug, she dislodged several odd socks and a faded blue sweatshirt — discarded clothes that had survived the fires, but were buried by bulldozers.

Astudillo filled the hole, amending the desert sand with compost and garden soil. “For me it’s like a Band-Aid for a wound that is so big in that place,” she said. Then she tucked in cardinal flowers — a native plant whose petals resemble shooting flames.

Editor’s note: During visits to her compound in Alto Hospicio, Manuela, the owner of the secondhand clothing dump, told Grist reporters her name was Manuela Medina. However, other outlets have used the surname Olivos. Her legal name is Manuela de Los Angeles Medina Olivos.

[paradoxgavel]

You’ve taught me so much. I can now say I understand a little bit bette why people love this series so much. It really is good. (i was just in it for Sun/Moon but I guess I should look into investing in a timeshare)

Ah, heh. Yeah, they're in the Pizzaplex, which is kinda a whole different part of FNAF from all the stuff I talked about in that post. I did say I'd do a summary of the Pizzaplex era lore, too, so! Here goes!

Also, for Sun and Moon specifically, there's this really great document where folks have compiled all of Sun and Moon's lore!

Fazbear Entertainment - still its own company though not run by William or Henry anymore - at one point, tried to improve their reputation by, in-universe trying to make it seem like all the events of the company's past were just fictional. In an attempt to do this AND profit off of this, they started developing the Freddy Fazbear Virtual Experince (Help Wanted VR). The company they hired to develop the game was sent a box of old animatronic parts recovered from the burned down Pizzeria - including some old circuit boards that they were asked to scan, digitize and upload into the game to help development along. It would seem that one of those circuit boards may or may not have come from William's body, Scraptrap, where William's soul still existed, as he was being tormented by Cassidy. Because, soon, a glitch began to appear in the game - looking like a man dressed up in a golden rabbit suit. Glitchtrap.

In Help Wanted VR, you play as a beta tester for the game named Vanessa. By playing through the game, she winds up allowing Glitchtrap to manifest himself in the game more and more until he's able to communicate with and, eventually, possess Vanessa - making her dress up as a bunny and go by the name Vanny. And he had her set her sights on the newest Fazbear location - the Pizzaplex.

Now, the Pizzaplex is kinda odd. It's the first Fazbear Entertainment facility that was built without Afton being involved. As such, the animatronics aren't (as far as I can tell) powered by Remnant - but really are basically sentient AIs in super high-tech robot bodies. There's the main performers - the Glamrocks: Glamrock Freddy, Glamrock Chica, Roxanne Wolf, and Montgomery Gator.

There's also a Glamrock Bonnie, but… he's out of commission. There's evidence to suggest Monty attacked him, buuut there's also evidence to suggest Monty was framed. Either way, though… Freddy and Bonnie were best friends, possibly in love, and poor Freddy misses him horribly.

Then, there's the Daycare Attendant - Sun and Moon! Two AIs who share a body, switching back and forth based on lights on or lights off.

And, in the arcade, there's DJ Music Man and his little mini Music Men. There's not a lot to him but he's big and cool and I like him a lot, hehe. And there are the Staff Bots - humanoid bots that can be programmed by the staff to hand basic tasks like handing out maps, cleaning floors, fetching animatronics for repairs, things like that. There's a LOT of Staff Bots rolling around the place. They seem to have largely replaced the human staff.

The place is still dangerous in that Fazbear Entertainment is a shady fuckin company that doesn't abide by OSHA regulations and could really not care less about child endangerment, but… the animatronics themselves actually don't seem possessed or evil or powered by Remnant or anything initially. In fact, they're generally apparently nice to be around, and can form emotional bonds to each other and to humans. They're just kinda. people. living a good life of chilling out and entertaining kids and having a fun time. And things are good. (It IS built on top of the site of the old Pizzeria, but like. it's fine. it's cool. there's a big, melted amalgamation of animatronics from the pizzeria called The Blob that exists bc of that, but. that's probably fine. whatever the hell that thing is.)

But things go south when Vanessa, possessed by Glitchtrap, becomes a security guard at the Pizzaplex and begins infecting the animatronics with Glitchtrap, who turns them most of them hostile and dangerous. It all comes to a boil one night when a kid who is likely homeless and may have been living in the Pizzaplex, Gregory, gets trapped in there after being chased by Vanny. He spends the night getting chased down by the corrupted animatronics. The only one who isn't corrupted is Freddy - as he glitched out and switched to safety mode right as the infection was taking place. Gregory explains to him that kids have been going missing lately, and that if someone doesn't do something, they'll keep going missing. So, Freddy spends the night trying to keep Gregory safe and help him get to the bottom of things.

There's some evidence to suggest that one of the first animatronics Glitchtrap infected and turned dangerous was Moon. It seems to be the case that Sun and Moon both used to be really excellent Daycare Attendants - Sun handling playtime with the kids when the lights were on, and Moon handling naptime and bedtime when the lights were off. And it sounds like Moon used to be really good at his job - gentle with kids and good with putting them to sleep. But… things started to go wrong because of Glitchtrap. Some sort of accident must have happened with Moon, because now, when we go to the daycare in the game, there are bright lights on at all times, backup generators to keep those lights on, and Sun basically begging us to never, ever turn the lights out - so it seems to be implied that after getting infected, Moon wound up attacking someone, and so, the Pizzaplex just kinda… tries to keep the lights on at all times so that he can't be active anymore.

So, Gregory spends the night trying to survive with Freddy, dodging the animatronics, and trying to figure out what's going on and stop it. He winds up attacking Chica, Roxy, and Monty, both to keep himself safe from them, but also to obtain special upgrades they had that would make Freddy more capable of helping him survive and get where he needed to go. Namely, he took Chica's voicebox, Roxy's eyes, and Monty's claws, leaving them all destroyed. But, at some point, Freddy winds up being taken out of the picture - either infected by Glitchtrap as well, or torn limb from limb by Staff Bots, depending on the ending, leaving Gregory to sort things out in the end.

Eventually, one of two things happen, depending on the ending. In one, he goes down through a sinkhole into the Pizzaplex to what seems to be the remains of the Pizzeria underneath. There, he discovers an endoskeleton covered in the remains of a corpse and wearing part of a rabbit costume - known as Burntrap. It was, at first, assumed that Burntrap was what was left of William Afton's body because. that would make sense. That doesn't seem to be the case, but I'll get to that in a bit. In this ending, Gregory also discovers the Blob, who attacks him as he tries to stop Burntrap. Gregory winds up escaping, and the Blob turns on Burntrap and grabs him, dragging him away, back into the depths of the ruins. This isn't what seems to be the canon ending, but it is still relevant!

In the other ending, the one that seems to be canon, Gregory discovers that, in order to keep her posssessed, Glitchtrap has trapped Vanessa's consciousness or soul has been trapped inside an arcade game - Princess Quest, in arcade cabinets all across the Pizzaplex. Gregory plays through all of these games and, in doing so, eventually sets Vanessa's consciousness free, and Glitchtrap loses control of her. The two of them find Freddy - or, what remains of him. His head. And the three leave the Pizzaplex together, leaving all the infected animatronics behind.

Eventually, either way, the Pizzaplex burns down, and falls into ruin.

Buuut... there's this thing called the Mimic. So, long story short - the Mimic was built by an inventor named Edwin Murray, to be a playmate for his son, David. The Mimic was designed to copy any behaviors it witnessed, could copy voices as well, and could stretch or shrink to be able to wear any animatronic suit it came across. David and the Mimic were best friends until David, one day, got killed in a car accident. Edwin, stricken with grief, was left with only the Mimic as a reminder of his son. And when it started mimicking some of David's old behaviors at Edwin to try and communicate with him, Edwin lost it and lashed out at the Mimic, attacking it and tearing it apart, leaving it for dead. But Fazbear folks learned about the Mimic eventually, and decided something like that could come in handy, so they sent folks to go collect it. And it used what it learned by being torn apart by Edwin to, well, tear them apart.

This went on for a while before they eventually managed to capture it and bring it back to the Pizzaplex, where they planned to mass produce it so that they could use its ability to mimic witnessed behavior as a shortcut to bypass having to program each and every endoskeleton they wanted to use. However, one employee, who was tasked with dismantling old endoskeletons, decided to borrow it to get it to do the work for him. He taught it how to dismantle the endoskeletons - rip off their heads and their arms. And you'll never GUESS what it started doing to humans!! So, they scrapped the idea of mass producing it, and planned to destroy it, but they weren't quite able to catch it. So, it went around, causing mayhem and continuously learning and adapting, watching the whole fiasco with Gregory over the security cameras.

And it seems?? like the Mimic was Burntrap. The corpse it was wearing wasn't William's - it was a lady it had attacked and crushed inside a suit in the books. But it does, at least, seem like the Mimic was also being influenced by Glitchtrap. So, Gregory and Vanessa escaped, and I'm guessing Vanessa explained the situation with Glitchtrap and how he was the thing behind everything and that he's still influencing the Mimic, making it even more dangerous than it already was to begin with. So, Vanessa finds a way to trap the Mimic in the ruins of the Pizzaplex, using a security system she's designed to scare, chase off, or attack any intruders that might potentially be lured into setting the Mimic free. The security system is called MXES!

But… the Mimic finds a way to reach out to one of Gregory's friends, Cassie, by mimicking Gregory and asking her to come save him from where he's trapped in the Pizzaplex. She's given a mask - Vanny's old mask - to wear, which implants a chip in her head, allowing her to interact with the virtual world, and the security system Vanessa set up to keep the Mimic trapped. Cassie ventures into the ruins, where she meets all the destroyed animatronics that were left behind. She winds up helping some of them. She gets Chica a new voicebox, and when she gets to the Daycare - where Moon is still in control due to it being all dark in the ruins, and is desperately trying to stay in control after being kept inactive for so long - Sun, reaching out to Cassie through her mask, begs her to reboot them. She manages to do so, which brings them back online as Eclipse - a combination of their two AIs, that seems to exist when they're in safety mode and works to keep things safe and tidy and fix whatever necessitated them being put in safety mode. It seems like Sun and Moon are both stable and in control now, Eclipse gently shoos Cassie out of the daycare so they can clean, and Sun thanks Cassie for helping them.

And Cassie used to come to the Pizzaplex a lot as a kid, and Roxy was always her favorite, and she has a happy memory of celebrating her birthday with her. Roxy remembers her, and in doing so, manages to snap out of Glitchtrap's influence and try to help her, but… the Mimic eventually tricks her into shutting Roxy down. And eventually, Cassie goes down to where the Mimic has been leading her and she helps it shut down MXES and set itself free. And she's horrified when she realizes that it was never Gregory she was following down there. The Mimic chases her, and there are a couple of endings. She either manages to get it into a Scooping room, where it gets scrapped, or… it pretends to be Gregory again to make her think Gregory is betraying her and hacks the elevator she's trying to escape in, making it fall, and trapping down there with it.

Annnd… that brings us up to the present, really! There's still a lot that's kinda not super clear in the lore right now - there's debate over whether Glitchtrap really is William or if it's the Mimic's AI, and it's not clear if Glitchtrap still has any influence over the animatronics after the Princess Quest ending and into Ruin, but... this is just how I've come to understand things!

[astrcthesiai-archived]

👛  — personal effects!  - For Chrome!

headcanons ; rainbow series ... (purple/pink)

👛— personal effects! for a headcanon about what my muse keeps on them (in their bag or similar carry item), and why they always have these things on their person day-to-day.

Trident :: Chrome keeps a portion of Mukuro's trident in her bag. It has since turned into a spear for the final arc in the manga. I would like to think Mukuro has a separate one made for himself as both people are of different heights and weights. Chrome excels more in evasion and Mukuro excels in strength. I like to think of these two as two sides of the same coin, or yin-yang inverted. Chrome is what Mukuro wants to be but cannot and vice versa. It has since become a bident (canon divergence on my part), which is the weapon used by Hades or Pluto, ruler of the Underworld. It symbolizes Chrome growing into her own as a person, and being someone both the Vongola and Mukuro can rely on.

Mist Ring & Box Weapon :: Chrome is the keeper of the Mist Ring unless Mukuro has need of it and the box weapon. To me, they are both the Guardian of the Mist. I think Mukuro thinks it is better in her care, and he can communicate with her through the Mist Owl (Mukurou) as needed. As for Chrome, she will give them to Mukuro so he can perform his own duties as the other half of the Guardian of the Mist. Chrome has other tricks up her sleeve since the last chapter of the manga.

Coin Purse :: I think it's a little owl plush, because of Mukurou/Mukurowl. She replaced the right eye with a red one to make it more accurate. When she was younger, Chikusa and Ken bought her a chrome skull wallet because they did not know nor did they care at first what Chrome's tastes were. She eventually purchased a black cat wallet with her allowance.

Black Cat Wallet :: I want to think it was a black cat she saved as a thirteen-year-old. So, she got it to commemorate the cause by which she eventually met her chosen family. She still loves cats, but she still gets some anxiety while crossing the street at intersections. She replaced the right eye with an eye patch. She calls it "Kuroneko". It carries her passport as well.

Pineapple Cell Phone Holder :: Ken bought it for her along with Chikusa and while she dislikes the fruit, she can't bear the thought of hurting Ken and Chikusa. So, she's kept it in mint condition. She thought it was adorable that Ken tried to make an eye patch for one of the Pineapple's eyes.

Keychain & Keys :: She has several keys with various coverings on them. One is for her self-storage space, which she sometimes uses as an apartment to Tsuna's horror. It has a tunafish rubber covering on it just for that. She has a master key to all of the Kokuyo Gang's hideouts, naturally. It is unassuming with its black cat key covering. She drives a Subaru, so she has a star key covering. She has a master key for hideouts to the Vongola which is hidden in her pocketbook or tote bag.

Tablet or Notebook/Mini Laptop :: For communications.

Pen & Notepad :: For writing notes.

Sentimental Circus Make-Up Bag :: She got this from M.M., and has kept it cause it was the first (begrudging) gift from M.M. Chrome keeps her cosmetics in this bag. She thinks the twin bunny mascots and everyone else are like the Kokuyo Gang, so she's taken a liking to the stationery mascot.

Oracle Deck & Tarot Deck :: For the funsies...

Travel-sized Ouija Board Keychain :: Just to horrify her friends. I'm sure Mukuro would like to burn it too...

[dollsciple]

a comprehensive list of my Doll Collection:

🐇 13th Anniversary Eggzorcist

🔪 13th Anniversary Sadie

📚 13th Anniversary Damien

🍎 Snow White

🌬️ Frozen Charlotte

🦩 Flamingo

🏫 (mini) School Time Sadie (+stationery kit)

🥀 Elisa Day

🏥 Doctor Dedwin & Nurse Necro

🪞 Vanity

🪽 Tenebre

🤡 Cuddles

🦠 Maggot

🌦️ Rain

💜 Violet

❄️ Nohell

🦴 Envy

🎈 Schtizo

😵‍💫 Sybil

👸🏻 Queen of Hearts (variant)

👑 Deadbra Ann

🍭 Wrath

💤 Sloth

🖍 Rotten Sam and Sandy

🌳 Sunday

🪓 Lizzie Borden

🧸 Return of Sadie

😈 Sin (Series 1)

🐰 Return of Eggzorcist

🩵 Bunny of Doom Eggzorcist

🐈‍⬛ Funk Out! Jade

🐒 Wildlife Safari Meygan

🐼 Tokyo A Go-Go Fianna

🌟 Funk n Glow Sasha (2nd edition)

🌨️ Wintertime Wonderland Sasha

🏷️ Trend It! Meygan

👼 Costume Party Yasmin

🛍️ Strut It Cloe

💚 Shrek Yasmin

🤏🏼 Lil' Bratz Cloe

💤 Sleep Over Yasmin (2nd edition)

✌🏽 Boyz Dylan (1st edition)

💇‍♀️ Funky Fashion Makeover Cloe (1st edition)

🌳 GCDS Sasha

🦖 GCDS Yasmin

🌈 Jimmy Paul Roxxi & Nevra

🍼 Babyz Jade (Rerelease)

🫧 Funk Out! Cloe

⛱️ Beach Party Jade

👡 Original Series 3 Felicia

🌄 Phaedra Westward

🍬 Sweets

💝 Miss Celebrate

🎨 Emi Vanda

🍼 Bon Bon (Big BB)

💤 Neonlicious (Lounge)

🖤 Shanelle Onyx

🦾 Fame Queen

👝 Neonlicious (Fierce)

☀️ Sunny Madison (Cheer)

🎛 Pop B.B.

💫 Lonestar

✨️ Agent Glamour

💿 Berrie Skies

🌸 Rosie Redwood

🦋 Wildflower

🩷 Pinkie James

☀️ Sunny Madison (Series 1)

👭 Sunny & Luna Madison (2 pack)

🌙 Luna Madison (Series 1)

💗 LaRose

🦋 Poppy Rowan (Fantastic Fashion)

💞 Bubblegum DJ

💜 Lavender Lynn

🦋 Poppy Rowan (Series 1)

💖 Rosetta (Sparkle & Shine)

🧠 Moanica D'Kay (Monstrous Rivals)

🍹 Ghoulia Yelps (Skull Shores)

🤾‍♀️ Ghoulia Yelps (Physical Deaducation)

🛏 Twyla (Creepover)

🛏 Clawdeen (Creepover)

🛏 Draculaura (Creepover)

⚡️ Frankie Stein (1st Wave)

🇫🇷 Ghoulia Yelps (Scaris, City of Frights)

🩱 Venus McFlytrap (Swim Class)

💐 Draculaura (Monster Ball)

💜 Polly Pocket Monster High (compact)

🦉 Ghoulia Yelps (Booriginal Creeproduction)

🐍 Cleo de Nile & Deuce Gorgon (Booriginal Creeproduction 2-Pack)

🦣 Abbey Bominable (Booriginal Creeproduction)

👻 Spectra Vondergeist (Booriginal Creeproduction)

🏞️ Treesa Thornwillow

🖤 Clawd Wolf (Howliday Love prototype head)

🦴 Jack Skelligton (prototype hands)

❄️ Abbey Bombinable (Student Dolls)

🔥 Heath Burns (Scare-adise Island)

⚡ Frankie Stein (Frightfully Tall)

🤏🏼 Ghoulia (Micro Figures)

🐇 Twyla (Fearbook)

🦸 Ghoulia Yelps (2024 Deadfast)

🪮 Kelsey (Naturalistas)

💐 Hip (What's Her Face?)

🍎 Misa Amane (Custom Bratz Slumber Party Cloe)

🖤 Pinkie Pie (Boutique)

🌈 Rainbow Dash (Equestria Girls Collection)

[bookgeekgrrl]

My media this week (11-17 Dec 2022)

📚 STUFF I READ 📚

🥰 The Bullet That Missed (Thursday Murder Club #3) (Richard Osman, author; Fiona Shaw, narrator) - just a joy to spend some more time with Joyce, Ron, Elizabeth, Ibrahim and the rest of the gang for another adventure

😊 Love of a Particular Kind (Laura Kaye (laurakaye)) - 59K, Clint/Coulson, BIRD-BASED omegaverse, excellently detailed worldbuilding, absolutely fascinating

😍 The Moon's Gonna Follow Me Home (turningterrific) - 82K, canon-divergent Sterek - love this story of Derek finally leaving BH, finding safety & healing and the slow burn development of his relationship with Stiles

😊 Charged (cydonic) - 47K, no-powers AU with rich single dad Steve and accidental nanny Bucky

💖💖 +176K of shorter fic so shout out to these I really loved 💖💖

the world throws its light underneath your hair (greatunironic) - Stranger Things: steddie, 6.5K - this series is incredible and every new entry a delight

Quench (AidaRonan) - MCU: stucky, 9.4K - because the brilliant phrase 'body like a Mack truck made of ribeye' popped into my head and I had to reread this forever fave

Bring Us Some Figgy Spankings and a Happy New Year (Kellyscams) - MCU: stucky, 7.3K - some fun porny holiday goodness

📺 STUFF I WATCHED 📺

Mamma Mia!

One Day At A Time - s2, e13; s3, e13

How To Build A Sex Room - s1, e1

Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again

Leverage: Redemption - s2, e6

The Old Guard

The Sandman - s1, e11

🎧 PODCASTS 🎧

Off Menu - Ep 143: Siobhán McSweeney

The Sporkful - Rick Martínez Hates The Word ‘Authentic’

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Luciadagen

You're Dead To Me - Medieval Christmas

On the Media - Re-Sorting the Shelves: A Look at Bias In the Dewey Decimal System

Switched on Pop - How Bad Bunny won 2022

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - The Sponge Capital of the World

Decoder Ring Plus - Cellino & Barnes, Injury Attorneys, 800-888-8888

Betwixt The Sheets: The History of Sex, Scandal & Society - Trash

Artifactual - Live From Pearl Harbor

Artifactual - Sanborn Fire Insurance Maps

Artifactual - The We Three Trio: Music from the Space Race

Artifactual - Finding James Bond's Vehicles

99% Invisible #518 - Mini-Stories: Volume 15

Vibe Check - The Holiday Hottie Survival Guide

ICYMI Plus - Why Did NBC’s Internet Culture Reporter Spend So Much Time on Reddit?

Twenty Thousand Hertz+ - Endless Hertz

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Duke Riley and the poly S. Tyrene Maritime Museum

Ologies with Alie Ward - Meteorology (WEATHER & CLIMATE) with Marshall Shepherd

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Getting Lost

Betwixt The Sheets: The History of Sex, Scandal & Society - Rochester: The Restoration's Filthiest Poet with Neil Gaiman

Off Menu - Ep 4: Nish Kumar (Christmas Special)

You're Dead To Me - The Victorian Christmas

You're Dead To Me - Christmas with Charles Dickens

Strong Songs - The Music of Star Wars: Andor

🎶 MUSIC 🎶

"Godzilla" [Blue Öyster Cult] radio

Eagles

Presenting Bad Bunny

Foundations of Metal

Multi Cello Retro TV/Video Game

The Clash [The Clash]

Give 'Em Enough Rope [The Clash]

London Calling [The Clash]

Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)

Kylie Christmas (Snow Queen Edition) [Kylie Minogue]

Christmas Through Your Eyes [Gloria Estefan]

If On A Winter's Night [Sting]

Christmas Island [Jimmy Buffett]

'Tis The SeaSon [Jimmy Buffett]

Quality Street: A Seasonal Selection for All the Family [Nick Lowe]