#But a 9/10 for sheer effort

[rynrising44]

Guys I'm trying so hard to understand my ipad knock off but all i have is penup and limited free time, so this is what we get 😂

[wisecura]

Sheets

megumi fushiguro x fem-reader

p.1

p.8  ( ⸝⸝꩜ ᯅ ꩜⸝⸝;) p.10??

p.9

AN: this took a minute, but I was finishing the outline for a few of the other chapters and a few other works I've been doing. I was off from work for a bit, went back, had a set of traumatic back to back days. and well, writers block is one hell of a thing, y'know? aaaand with the seasonal changes I'm just tired maybe a bit down. but thank you guys for your love and support!

warnings: this story may cover sensitive and uncomfortable topics. please read at your own risk, violence, lashings, blood, mental breakdowns, yandere, obsessive behavior, possessiveness, mommy kinks, mommy issues, arranged marriages, forced marriages, angst, eventual smut, clan politics, age gap (5 years from meg, and a little over 10 with toji), toji aint the best dad, mentions of child abuse, slowww build.

Short summary: Your arranged marriage to Toji Fushiguro had been sudden and unexpected, but now you found yourself living under his roof alongside your moody stepson. Your only directive from your clan head before moving in was clear: keep a close eye on Toji, the notorious Sorcerer Killer, and his son, a potential sorcerer prodigy.

threats and cwuddles

an: i said what i said

How utterly pointless.

There he was, standing before the pathetic excuse for a man—the one you called uncle, the so-called leader of your disgraceful clan. The ridiculous get up had him holding back a joke, as the man seemed to sneer down at him. His expression oozing disdain—as if he wasn't even worth the effort of a proper glance.

Toji nearly laughed at the sheer audacity.

This man, puffed up with self-importance and brimming with hollow authority, presumed to have the upper hand?

Absolutely comedic.

Toji let his eyes drift over the man slowly, deliberately, as if assessing a weak opponent in a fight he knew he’d already won. Everything about him screamed mediocrity wrapped in false power—his carefully pressed robes, the practiced tilt of his chin, the way he held his hands behind his back as if it really added weight to his presence.

But Toji saw through it all. He always did.

Authority like this was a farce. A staged act meant to instill fear in those who’d never known freedom. And Toji? He was already a foot out the door. And he didn’t play by their rules. Not now. Not ever.

He could kill him in seconds...if he really wanted to. 

"So," Toji said, his voice dripping with derision. "This is the man in charge, huh? Can’t say I’m impressed. You look more like an angry little chihuahua guarding a bone that isn’t even yours."

Your clan leader's sneer faltered for a second at his blatant disrespect. It wasn't often someone so ill-mannered showed their face in his estate, let alone had the audacity to open their mouth in front of him.

But they were all the same to Toji—weak, predictable, and utterly worthless.

Toji wasn’t the type to be a hero—never had been, never would be. Kindness just wasn’t in his nature, and every decision he made came with a price. He didn’t hand out favors for free, and he certainly didn’t involve himself in someone else’s mess out of the goodness of his heart.

So why was he here?

The answer was annoyingly simple.

you.

Maybe it was because, technically, he was your husband. Sure, it was only in name, but the fact remained. Or maybe it was because of Megumi—his dumb, lovesick son—whose actions, if not his words, made it painfully clear just how deeply his affections for you ran. 

From the surface, Toji could make excuses, just how he may have when he first picked you up from this clan. But deep down, way below—in the dark recesses of his mind, Toji understood the real reason.

It wasn’t about obligation or some half-hearted attempt to help Megumi.

It was the moment you'd broken down in his arms.

Sobbing, so uncharacteristically vulnerable, your back covered in those deep, fresh lashes—five if he counted correctly. Clinging onto him, in a way you hadn't ever done before, even when Megumi had been ignoring you. And he could see the scars from previous lashings. Some faint, a light pink indention, and others a solid light purple.

He wasn’t good at comforting people—really. And what good was an assassin in that situation?—but something in that moment had made his head snap. And a mix of different memories and bottled-up emotions compelled him forward. He'd never made impulsive decisions. And Toji Fushiguro was never one for kindness.

But now, here he was. Standing in front of your uncle, the so-called leader of your clan, ready to do something he knew was reckless. Something that could potentially mess things up for both you and his son. A defensive action like this could easily hint at a deeper relationship between the two of you, which was not something he really wanted. These geezers weren't brand new to mind games, but neither was he. And, sure, he could just kill the guy, but that seemed like way too much effort. A few choice words should handle it.

"So, tell me...why is the Toji Fushiguro bothering to grace me with his presence? I can’t imagine you're here to meet the in-laws?" He was fishing, hoping he would rise to the occasion, hint at any personal glimpse into the killer before him.

Toji didn’t take the bait. He just stood there, calm as ever, his face giving nothing away. God, did he hate these clan politics. His dark eyes casually swept the room, clearly bored—not impressed by the fancy decor, not intimidated by the guards at the doors, and definitely not by your uncle. Honestly, he'd rather be back home, digging into some of your homemade yakitori. This whole thing was turning out to be a real drag.

"What’s the matter? Are you just here to puff your chest and waste my time?" He's getting antsy now,

Toji’s lips twitched into an almost imperceptible smirk. His gaze razor-sharp, locking onto the older man. There was a pause as your uncle locked eyes on Toji's. Unmoving, unflinching, before Toji took a deliberate step forward, closing the distance just enough to make the clan leader stiffen. "You know," Toji said, his voice casual, almost conversational, "it’s funny. For a guy so full of himself, you’re awfully quiet about those welts you sent her home with."

Your uncle's eyes widened—but only for a moment, leaning back with mock nonchalance. "Welts? I have no idea what you're talking about. And what's it to you anyway? Don't tell me you've actually caught feelings for her?"

"Feelings? Don’t kid yourself. I’m not here to play hero, and I’m definitely not here for her." Toji shrugged casually, tossing his head to the side and leaning back to give him some room, his eyes flicking over the clan leader, as if taking his question seriously. "But let’s be honest—she doesn’t look as hot in bed when she’s got all those welts. Kinda ruins the mood, you know?"

Stunned, the clan leader chuckled uneasily, trying to regain some semblance of control. He shouldn't have been too surprised given the Sorcerer Killers stellar reputation for the debauched lifestyle. You were technically his wife afterall, "Ah, well—that makes more sense. Using the whore for what she's worth, I guess." Toji could practically hear your resale value dropping by the second, as the clan leader processed this thought before continuing in an almost thoughtful murmur. "Just here to make sure your toy stays intact."

"Call it whatever you want. I don’t care. But if you think I’ll let you mark her skin up again, then you’re even dumber than you look."

The clan leader’s sneer returned, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of uncertainty. Much like a petulant child, not getting his way. "And if I don’t? What then, Fushiguro? You’ll kill me?" Now lets not go putting ideas into his head...

Toji let out a low chuckle, shaking back in laughter at the fear creeping into his voice. "Kill you? Nah. You’re not worth the effort." He paused, feigning a change of heart as his voice dropped, leaning in again for the kill, his words a hefty weight. "Actually, maybe I’ll stick around. Tear this whole place apart just for fun. I hate this sorcerer bullshit anyway. Watching your precious clan crumble might actually make my day."

The clan leader’s face twitched, his bravado faltering again under Toji’s unrelenting gaze, his words hanging in the air-message loud and clear.

"Fine," he muttered, waving a hand dismissively. "If it means that much to you, no more marks. No need to make this a bigger deal than it is."

Toji smirked, satisfied. He stepped back as he turned toward the door. "Good. Glad we could see eye to eye," he said oh so smoothly.

With that, he strode out, leaving your uncle in an uncomfortable silence. Toji knew the man wouldn’t see him as anything but a threat, and that was exactly what he wanted. As long as they kept their grubby hands off you, he didn’t care what they thought—or what he had to say to make them believe it. And hopefully your home clan wouldn't go around making decisions on this calculated move alone.

Now, it was time for some well-deserved meat.

Thankfully, your clan visits were few and far between.

The trip home that day had been nothing short of brutal, and your clan head’s disdainful disregard for how you might explain the aftermath to your husband lingered in your mind like a bitter aftertaste.

The weeks dragged on, and before you knew it, the seasons had shifted. Fall gave way to winter, winter melted into spring, and eventually, summer arrived again. Yet, Megumi’s absence remained a constant despite the seasonal changes. 

Determined to stay connected despite the distance, you’d picked up a cell phone not long after Megumi left. Toji had handed over both his and Megumi's numbers with his usual air of indifference. “In case of emergencies,” he’d said, tossing the paper onto the table like it was no big deal. But to you, it was. Your focus had been on one number only: Megumi’s. He was the hardest to reach anyways. 

What would you even say? Hi, how are you? Too formal. I miss you already. Too much. The hesitation gnawed at you. After a few moments, you settled on something simple and sent it off, heart pounding in the silence that followed.

Megumi’s replies, however, had been scarce—short, distant, and frustratingly neutral. You tried not to let it sting, reasoning that he was busy adjusting to his new life at Jujutsu Tech. He had training, studies, and an entirely new world to navigate. But the lack of insight into his world left you feeling unmoored and oh so helpless.

Did he eat well? Was he overworking himself? Did he even want to hear from you? The unanswered questions piled up, an invisible weight pressing on your chest.

When his birthday came, you’d agonized over whether to call, but the fear of interrupting—or worse, being brushed off—kept your fingers from dialing. Instead, you texted him, wishing him a happy birthday in a message that felt far too impersonal. Hours later, his reply came: a simple thank you.

It was polite, but it wasn’t enough. It didn’t tell you if he was happy, if he’d smiled at your message, if he’d even thought of you beyond that brief acknowledgment. The distance between you felt larger than ever, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was slipping further away—or if you were.

You hoped—prayed—that he’d found some happiness at school. That maybe the time away had helped him grow, helped him heal in ways you couldn’t. You wondered if his sharp tongue and stubborn attitude had softened enough to allow for real friendships. Did he smile more? Did he laugh? You pictured him in that new world, surrounded by people who might understand him better.

As summer approached, anticipation and unease twisted in your chest, a slow, suffocating knot that tightened with each passing day. The thought of seeing him again stirred a mix of emotions—excitement, yes, but also a quiet fear that plagued you. Would he still look at you with that same guarded expression? Would the distance he’d created remain? Would he persist with questions you couldn't answer?

His parting words haunted you, echoing in the quiet moments when your mind wandered too far. You replayed that last conversation over and over, dissecting every syllable, every pause, every look. The unspoken questions lingered like ghosts: Had you done enough? Said enough? You’d wished, countless times, that you’d found the right words to ease the tension before he left.

Now, with the summer sun creeping closer, you could only wonder if it was too late to mend what had been broken—or if it had been broken at all.

And then, one quiet afternoon, he came home.

The sound of the door creaking open sent a jolt through you. Without thinking, you found yourself halfway down the hallway, your heart pounding in your chest.

When you saw him, you froze—and so did he.

He stood in the doorway, his tall frame outlined by the golden glow of the late afternoon sun. A faint breeze followed him in, tousling his hair and leaving it slightly messy, adding to the disheveled charm he carried so effortlessly. His piercing eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to fall away.

Neither of you spoke. The silence stretched, laden but charged, his gaze lingering on your face as if he were trying to memorize every detail. He looked different—older, his features sharper, his presence more commanding. You still found yourself struggling to recognize him each time you saw him—such a common occurrence now that it was almost expected. There was something in his eyes, something softer, more vulnerable. He looked like he wanted to say something.

“Megumi,” you whispered, full of hesitance. Your voice almost broke under the weight of the moment, a flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

He didn’t move, his hands still gripping the straps of the bag slung over his shoulder. For a second, you thought he wouldn’t respond. Then he exhaled, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction as he stepped further inside.

“Hey,” he said softly, the warmth in his voice wrapping around you like a balm. It was a simple word, but it carried so much—a mixture of relief, uncertainty, and something deeper—something unfamiliar, that made your chest well up.

You’d missed him more than you dared to admit. More than you’d allowed yourself to feel during the long months of silence. And now, standing here, the space between you felt both impossibly vast and achingly small.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Then, without a second thought, you closed the space between you and wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug. He stiffened, caught off guard, before slowly, his arms came up to hold you, and to your surprise, he hugged you back. Not hesitantly or awkwardly, but fully, his arms wrapping securely around you and pulling you close, almost flush to him. His head dipped down, his nose brushing against your hair as he held you firmly against his chest.

“Welcome home,” you murmured, unable to keep the brittleness from your tone, your cheek pressed against him. The words felt fragile, as though the moment might shatter if you spoke too loudly.

He didn’t respond immediately, but you felt him exhale, a deep, contented sigh that seemed to come from somewhere buried deep inside. His nose pushed further into your hair, and his grip tightened just enough to knock the breath out of you.

“I missed you,” his voice so quiet it was almost lost in the stillness. You hadn't expected it, the sentiment not lost on you. It'd been too long, the texts too short, and the emptiness of the house too loud. But the way his arms enveloped you, strong and protective, took away all of those negative feelings.

Your arms tightened around him in return, head still laying on his chest. The words slipping from your lips, practically dripping with affection. “I missed you too.”

Finally, after what felt like both seconds and forever, he shifted slightly, loosening his hold just enough for you to pull back. When your eyes met his again, you couldn't help the small smile plastered on your face. He looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered, and it sent a bittersweet ache through your chest, a feeling you didn’t quite know how to name.

The corner of his mouth twitched, “You text a lot, you know that?”

A soft laugh bubbled out of you. “And you’re terrible at replying.”

“Dinner’s already started,” remembering the pan still on the stove. “You’re probably starving.”

He didn’t let go immediately, his hands lingering on your arms as if reluctant to let the moment end. “Yeah,” his voice low, as a faint flush crept up his cheeks, he finally stepped back. “Starving.”

You gave him a warm smile, brushing your hand lightly against his arm before turning toward the kitchen. Even as you moved away, you could feel his gaze lingering on you from behind—heavy, unrelenting, and more present that he previously was. Whatever walls had been between you before—whatever distance he’d tried to create—seemed to crumble in that quiet, intimate moment. Just what happened while he was at school?

Dinner that night was warm and comforting, a feeling you hadn’t experienced in what felt like forever.

“So, how was school? Are you making any friends?” you chirp, pacing around the kitchen, so aware of his eyes tracing your every movement. The excitement in your tone was impossible to miss, a lightness that hadn’t been there in months. After so many quiet dinners with only Toji for company, the thought of someone else at the table made you relieved. Even if the two of you had been getting along better recently.

Megumi glanced up from his plate, pausing for a moment before answering. “It’s...fine,” he said, his tone clipped but not unkind. “I’m focused on my training. That’s what matters.”

You hummed, a small smile tugging at your lips. You don't miss the evasiveness of his answer. “Still, I hope you’re finding time to enjoy yourself, even just a little.”

He didn’t respond right away, fiddling with his food, his gaze briefly dropping to his plate.

“Make any friends?” you try again, gently.

“A few,” he admitted, his tone reluctant but not dismissive.

“Really?” you hum out again, glancing over your shoulder at him. You wanted him to open up to you, but with his nature it wasn't exaclty going to be easy to get him to talk. “Anyone special?”

He shrugged, eyes still downcast. “Not really,” he replied, his voice neutral but you saw the way he trailed off, lost in his own thoughts.

You paused, raising an eyebrow at him, deciding to press a little more. “C’mon, Megumi,” you teased lightly, turning back to the stove. Your tone intentionally unserious. “I know you’re not that antisocial. You’ve got to be opening up a little, right?”

His lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but the expression didn’t quite land. “It’s fine,” he groaned, though his tone softened slightly, as if the question hadn’t entirely annoyed him. “I’ve been busy.”

You hummed again in acknowledgment, not pushing him further, but your smile lingered. You were just glad to have him here, back where he belonged. Actually talking to you. Even if he wasn’t saying much, his presence spoke volumes.

Your questions continued easily—about school, his classes, his life outside of the house—and though his answers were typically grumpy and brief, you didn’t mind. It was the fact that he was answering at all, the fact that he wasn’t shutting you out, that made it all feel worthwhile. You didn’t dare bring up the tension from last summer, not wanting to risk spoiling the fragile good mood.

Toji was out for the night, leaving the house blissfully quiet, and Megumi made no comment on the food, though he cleaned his plate for the second time. It was a small victory, but it still left you smiling as you settled onto the couch afterward.

Megumi surprised you by sitting beside you. He didn’t say anything, just crossed his arms and leaned back, his expression neutral as you put on a movie. Sure, he'd sat near you before, but the long months that followed his absence made you tense a bit. He didn’t seem particularly interested in the movie you put on, but you heard no complaints.

At some point, exhaustion crept up on you. The day had been long, and the warmth of the room, combined with Megumi’s quiet, steady presence, lulled you into sleep. Without realizing it, you shifted slightly, leaning toward him, your head eventually coming to rest against his shoulder.

Megumi, of course, noticed immediately.

He stiffened at first, his entire body going rigid as he felt the soft weight of you curling against him. His breath hitched, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it would break out of his chest. His mind screamed at him to stay still, to not move or make a sound.

But then he glanced down.

You looked so peaceful, so utterly at ease with him, and it sent a surge of emotions through him that he could barely contain. Warmth, nervousness, longing—it all tangled together, leaving him frozen in place. The faint light from the television cast soft shadows across your face, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

You trusted him so much, leaned into him so easily, and it made him ache with something deep and primal. He didn’t know if he deserved this—if he deserved you—but he couldn’t stop himself from savoring the moment.

Tentatively, he allowed himself to relax, his shoulder shifting slightly to give you more room. His fingers twitched in his lap, aching to reach out and brush a stray strand of hair from your face, but he held himself back. He couldn’t ruin this.

He stayed like that, unmoving, as you curled closer, your breathing soft and even against him. Every part of him burned with the overwhelming need to keep you like this, to hold you, to never let you go. 

When the movie ended, and the room fell into quiet stillness, he carefully reached for the blanket draped over the back of the couch. Gently, he pulled it over you, his hand brushing your arm as he tucked it around you. The brief contact sent a shiver down his spine, but he forced himself to pull away.

He refused to leave, wanting to be with you like this as long as possible. 

p.1

p.10

come home

[waterfae]

A Good Pillow [Part 3]

Summary: A glimpse of your budding friendship with Ominis and your growing feelings after the events in the Scriptorium.

Pairings: Ominis Gaunt x Reader, Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Warnings: canon-typical violence, mild language, angst, comfort, fluff, friends-to-lovers, unhinged Slytherins, complicated relationships, house-neutral reader, no use of Y/N, no beta

Word Count: 1.1+ K

Part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

|| General Masterlist || Hogwarts Legacy Masterlist ||

You. Were. Livid.

Ignorant?! You inwardly screamed as you emerged from the Undercroft. He dared to call me ignorant?! Your mind reeled, trying to process the conversation you just had with Sebastian. All you wanted to do was get as far away as possible; you needed to calm yourself before you did or said anything foolish.

“Not sure what I did to deserve that.” Sebastian muttered as you pushed past him causing him to stumble.

You instantly came to a halt – triggered by his words – and turned on your heel, jaw slacked incredulously as you faced him, “Are you serious right now?” You stared at him and he merely glared back, the dark corridor making him appear more menacing. “Are you daft?” You added in an attempt to coax him to say anything that could counter your bewilderment.

Sebastian continued to glare with no effort to form a reply. You held his gaze for a few more moments, disappointment setting in as the silence continued. All you could muster at his lack of response was a growl before stomping off in petulance. You couldn’t help but think that after everything the two of you had been through: the secrets, the quests, the danger, the camaraderie...reduced to this? You wanted to cry out of sheer frustration.

So lost were you within your thoughts that you didn’t notice that you had just marched right past Ominis. With his wand out, he had sensed you coming around the corner and quickly rose from his place from the stone floor to greet you only to find himself completely neglected as you darted past. Immediately, he followed behind and called out your name when you showed no signs of stopping.

You jumped in surprise and turned to face the speaker, hands patting your chest, “Ominis! You gave me a fright!”

He let out a soft chuckle, “Perhaps if you were paying attention to the world around you instead of the one that has entrapped your thoughts? You wouldn’t have had such a fright.” He brought his wand up further to get a better sense of you and began cautiously, “Y’know...I waited quite a bit in the Great Hall earlier this evening. Where were you? You weren’t at dinner and neither was Sebastian.” His voice suddenly turned disapproving, “You two certainly took your time with whatever feats you may be up to now. Dangerous and life-threatening, no doubt.”

You huffed, not saying a word. Ominis half expected a sarcastic or defensive remark, but when none came, he asked with brows furrowed, “What’s wrong?”

You debated whether or not to say anything. He could clearly feel that something was amiss, there was no denying that, but if you told him that it was once again due to your exploits with Sebastian it might only upset him further. The friendship between the three of you was barely hanging on as it was with all the things happening around you.

“I am not ignorant!” You eventually stated unable to keep it in any longer as you crossed your arms over your chest indignantly.

Ominis took a step back at your sudden exclamation and dropped his wand to his side, “Never said you were, darling.”

“Sebastian seems to think so.” You mumbled.

“Ah...I see.” He let out a sigh; it the was sigh of a tired young man, “I suppose you two have had another row.”

You nodded, “Yes.”

Ominis pinched the bridge of his nose. It was getting more and more exhausting to deal with your mutual friend. His only comfort was that at least you had each other and that neither of you were alone with the matter. He could sense you were still struggling with your emotions and didn’t pry for more information. For now. He could only assume that the incident, whatever it may have been, happened only recently as your wounds appeared to still be fresh.

Wanting to give you some sense of relief, he took a step forward, reached out, and swiftly pulled you against him. You stumbled forward as he encased you in his arms. The surprise from his sudden action caused your body to stiffen initially, but once you felt his hold on you tighten, keeping your body snugly against his, you allowed his warmth to envelope you and relaxed. You could feel him lightly patting your hair, his chin resting against your head, and his warm breath on your neck. You let your eyes close, relishing in the moment and slowly you brought your own arms around him, turning your head to bury it into his shoulder. You felt a deep exhale come from him as you did so.

“We’re losing him, aren’t we?” You finally whisper.

You could feel him shaking his head, “I...I still want to hold onto hope that isn’t the case.”

You gave a slight nod.

He slowly pulled out of the embrace, but still remained close as he brought a hand up to your face, thumb caressing your cheek. You looked up as he did so, staring up into his pale eyes.

“I don’t know what it is that you are up to.” He began warily, “Neither you nor Sebastian will speak of it, but it seems important.” Both his palms now cupped your face, “Do be careful. And I hope in time, you will trust me enough to tell me.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you Ominis.” You whispered back, leaning into his touch, “You put up with enough as it is. It will only worry you more. I’m just trying to keep you safe. As my friend.”

“As my...friend.” He repeated your words. You felt his hold on you tighten slightly and a flash of emotion you couldn’t quite pinpoint darted across his features, “Well as your friend, I will worry regardless. I, too, wish to keep you safe.”

“Ominis…” You reached up and placed your hands on his that still lingered against your cheeks. He closed his eyes at the sound of his name.

“If you haven’t already noticed, I care for you. Deeply. More than you could possibly know. Allow me this, at least.” He lightly placed his forehead against yours, “As your friend…” He repeated so low, so softly you almost didn’t hear it before his lips descended onto yours.

You instantly melted into him, softly returning his kiss. It was not wild with unbridled passion, there were no fireworks or sparks of electricity; it was a gentleness and sweetness that put your whole being at ease and made your heart soar all at once.

And he continued to kiss you in that corridor among the dancing candlelight and sleeping portraits.

a/n: I highly recommend listening to "My Dear" by Chen as it's the song that plays in my head when I watch the scene play out in my mind's eye. Just listen for and imagine the build up, then right at 01:05 is when it happens. I am squeeing just thinking about it!

Thank you for continuing to follow along. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated and my askbox is always open. ♡

[shanastoryteller]

Happy pride!!! I would die for a continuation of lady mo please!

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39

Wei Wuxian is keeping himself upright through sheer force of will and his utter refusal to let Lan Zhan be right about anything.

He has been sort of exhausted lately, but he’s been training himself into the ground and keeping to ridiculous Lan morning routines and he has a curse mark slowly killing him, so he thinks he’s entitled. He would have made it to the Jin tower just fine if he hadn’t run into Song Lan and had to hunt down a town fierce corpses and fight Xue Yang. That alone would leave most people exhausted, so he has a perfectly good excuse for his vision to be going fuzzy on the edges.

Except he’d literally rather fall off his sword and snap his neck then admit that. He can’t even let that happen, because A-Qing is flying on his sword with him, and she’s not even a cultivator. Her bones will break a lot easier than his will.

He’s not even injured. Or, well, not any injuries that count. He once fought off fierce corpses right after having his core ripped out, being tortured, and dropped from a height high enough to kill. Some bruises and cuts are nothing, and they don’t feel like anything now. Maybe he should have let Xue Yang stab him a couple of times. It would have made everything more believable and also would have let him nap with his dignity intact.

They land back at the inn and the rest of the Lans look extremely relieved and then confused when they see their newest additions. Except for Jin Guangyao, who only shows that he’s noticed them by raising a single eyebrow and looking to him immediately.

Jin Guangyao is a stone cold bitch that’s too smart for anyone’s own good. Wei Wuxian sort of regrets that they’d never had any reason to really get to know one another during the war. Surely Jin Guangyao could have steered him away from some of his worse decisions.

“We’re bringing guests,” he announces to all of them, jumping to the ground and nudging A-Qing to do the same with a guiding hand on her hip. “Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen, who I assume you all already know. And A-Qing. They’ve had a rough time and we’re going to be very nice to them.” He looks over to Lan Xichen. “I guess it’s a good thing that you brought the carriage. They can ride in there the rest of the way.”

The awkward silence is broken by Jin Guangyao saying, “Madame Jin is not fond of accommodating extra guests.”

Madame Jin is going to make Jin Guangyao deal with it because she’s petty that way. Apparently Jin Zixuan plays interference as much as he can, but considering he’s no longer fighting fit and the perfect heir he once was, his ability to influence his mother has been similarly reduced.

A politician down to her core. Wei Wuxian might be able to admire it if it didn’t make him hate her so much.

“I’m not fond of Madame Jin, so I’m sure it even outs,” he says carelessly.

Some of the Lan go to the effort to pretend to be appalled but most of them seem to have no problem agreeing, regardless of all the rules of propriety and respecting one’s elders that he’s breaking. People take their cue from their leaders and Lan Xichen is straight up just pretending he didn’t say that, probably because he agrees.

He’s treated to the rare sight of Jin Guangyao’s dimples. “Can you at least pretend not to be a menace? I can only put out so many fires at once.”

“I can pretend,” he agrees and then A-Qing is faking a coughing fit to hide her giggles.

[defectivevillain]

this winding labyrinth, ch10

chapter ten: departure

pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Reader (reader's race & gender are ambiguous; no physical descriptors or pronouns are used)

summary:

You wish you never met Hannibal Lecter. But you yearn for his presence. You want to forget him. But he never truly leaves your thoughts. Now, you’re left to pick up the pieces of a broken design. A battle of instinct rages on in your mind—one of bittersweet relief and cloying grief, fearless resolve and poignant regret; a clashing between affection and antipathy, pride and pain. What will win, in the end? Only time will tell.

this is chapter 10, act 2 of this broken design. if you haven't read act 1 or chapters 1-9, this won't make too much sense.

ao3 version | Spotify playlist

author's notes: Frederick is so cunty. He INVENTED cunt. This man stared down Abel Gideon and didn’t even flinch. He just said “see you in court.” 💅 This man left Hannibal a copy of the book he wrote *based on him*. That shit was crazy!! I don’t care what anyone says. Frederick is cunty.

Anyway. This chapter has been eluding me for a while. I wanted to live up to the intensity from the book, but I felt like that was impossible for me to accomplish. I also didn’t want this to be a straight replication of the book scene, so… I tried to make this deviate a bit more. So, here goes. It’s a bit shorter as far as chapters go, but whatever.

I also made small edits in the first installment of this series, changing the writing from Hannibal giving you his clothing to Hannibal just giving the reader clothing in their size. I realized it wasn’t inclusive to all body types so I wanted to change it. Plus, imo, it’s even more homoerotic to think that Hannibal specifically bought clothing for you and kept it at his house. That’s very gay. Anyways. Back to regularly scheduled programming!

Warnings: typical violence/blood; kidnapping, death, vomiting. Lots of gore for this one. To avoid spoilers, I’ll put more in-depth warnings in the endnotes.

Frederick Chilton wants to pick you apart. And he isn’t the only one—far from it. That’s the danger of being in a position like yours—a federal agent tasked with chasing after killers and criminals. The thrill of the chase… It forms a relationship between cat and mouse, predator and prey. Frederick may be a predator, but you are not his prey; you have a much larger carnivore on the prowl nearby, haunting your shadows and waiting for you to slip. Frederick may be intrigued by you, but Hannibal Lecter is utterly fascinated by you. There’s no denying the harsh shift in his behavior, from silent and nearly despondent in your absence to verbose and enigmatic upon your arrival. Frederick had tried to pull that energy out of him through their sessions, but he was entirely unsuccessful. Lecter was well aware of his research interest, and seemed perfectly content with keeping his lips firmly closed in the first years of his captivity. 

The thought interests and infuriates Frederick in equal measure. After all, having unrestricted access to an intelligent, self-aware sociopath is a very rare opportunity. The sheer strides Chilton could make in the field of abnormal psychology from even a single test score from Lecter… Frederick has to actively push himself away from those thoughts. They are nothing more than a deluded fantasy, for Hannibal Lecter completely defies quantitative reasoning. 

Frederick muses on the nature of Hannibal Lecter as he approaches the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. The building is still a bit of an eyesore. Since his promotion to Head Administrator, he’s made efforts to both repair the space and modernize many of their practices. Whether those efforts have done much to improve the institution’s reputation is another story altogether. 

He’s looking forward to sitting down at his desk and getting through the mountain of paperwork waiting for him. The thought has been bearing heavily on his mind over the weekend, and Frederick is eager to do something with the restless energy that he can’t seem to suppress. 

He’s one step away from the stairs leading up to the entrance when a sudden harsh pain erupts in the back of his head. Frederick topples to the ground as his blurring vision slowly fades to black. The last sensation he can register before succumbing to unconsciousness is a vice grip on his ankle. 

A harsh ringing sound forces Frederick to acknowledge his hazy new reality. His head lolls forward and he blinks open his eyes, only to be met with an unrelenting darkness. It takes him a few seconds to realize he’s been blindfolded, and a few more to register the bindings around his wrists and ankles. He seems to be restrained in a chair. 

Frederick isn’t new to being kidnapped—not after Abel Gideon. But this particular situation feels different. Something deep in his chest—an inexplicable yet unwavering conviction—tells him he won’t survive this particular encounter. Because if his captor is who he suspects… he will show no mercy. 

He immediately starts fidgeting and struggling, but the effort is pointless. Frederick has been tightly and effectively restrained. Fear strikes at his heart as his senses work to interpret the space around him. Darkness camouflages the majority of the space, but Frederick can just barely make out some sort of projector screen in front of him. There’s a projector situated right next to him, tauntingly close and within reach. But what good would it serve?

The sound of footsteps sends Frederick’s heart roaring in his ears. He almost feels trapped in the foreign room, time moving like a slow sludge as another presence makes itself known. The person—evidently his captor—steps behind him, their breath practically hitting Frederick’s neck in their proximity. 

“Frederick Chilton.” His captor’s voice breaks through the stiff air and sends a shiver down Frederick’s spine. It sounds like he has some sort of speech impediment, as his S’s are drawn close together. Frederick has very little time to dedicate to that observation, as his blindfold is roughly yanked off. “Lay your eyes upon me. If you don’t wish to look, I will make you look.”

Frederick’s eyes water and he blinks a few times, only to find himself staring at a blindingly white projector screen. Before it stands a shadowed figure, towering over him in near darkness. The man takes a step forward and Frederick just barely stops himself from inhaling sharply at what he finds.

The man is wearing an elegantly patterned kimono; he has a cleft lip, his face slightly disfigured. His knuckles are cracked and bloodied. The man looks at him with gleaming eyes, almost appearing to salivate before him. Frederick’s heart drops to his throat as he remembers everything the FBI deduced about this killer and his personality. The Tooth Fairy stands before him entirely unmasked… and Frederick is assailed with the unshakable conviction that he is not going to live to escape this nightmare. 

“Do you understand?” His captor asks after a few minutes. 

Frederick doesn’t understand anything that’s happening. But he has the wherewithal to recognize the answer the man is looking for. “I understand,” he says through gritted teeth. His mouth is growing dry and his stomach is aching. Just how long has he been confined here? 

“Do you understand who I am?” The man insists. 

“I understand,” Frederick repeats. The only thing he is able to adequately understand is the pulsing fear running through his bones, cementing his fate to die a slow death behind these crumbling walls. Frederick can’t even begin to understand or comprehend the man before him. 

“I am no man,” his captor says, as if somehow sensing his thoughts. His voice echoes in Frederick’s ears, igniting goosebumps along his skin. “I am many things, but never a man. Do you understand?”

“I understand.” Frederick is too terrified to say anything else. He can’t deviate from his agreement, for fear of losing his life to this behemoth standing before him. Indeed, his captor is inhumanly tall—looming over him with a far too intent gaze. Every rational part of Frederick’s mind is reminding him of the likelihood of his own impending death. 

“Do you see?” His captor demands.

“I see.” Frederick chokes out. The man quickly breaks the distance between them, his large hand crawling up Frederick’s neck and cradling his jaw. It takes an immense amount of effort from Frederick to remain pliant under the killer’s grip. His touch is deceptively light, almost gentle. Frederick’s breaths are shaky and shuddering. He is forced to be frozen in his bonds, as this man’s thumb carve paths along his face. 

“Once upon a time,” his captor murmurs, his voice almost a whisper. Frederick is terrified of this man—terrified of the juxtaposition between his purported cruelty and the delicacy with which he’s touching him now. Frederick nearly chokes on a breath when the man’s thumb glides over his Adam’s apple, before sliding up to his cheek once more. “I would’ve killed to be like you.” Frederick doesn’t need to think about that statement too much to understand the gist of what he’s saying. He can’t imagine the kind of cruelty and harsh treatment this man has been faced with on account of his facial disfigurement. And while that is no valid excuse for the crimes he’s committed, it contextualizes the desperation behind them. The desire to be seen. The need to be perceived. 

“But not anymore.” He continues. Frederick swallows past the acidic feeling in his throat. The man’s hand keeps rising higher, higher, higher. Now, his right hand stops at the edge of Frederick’s cheekbone, his thumb close enough to make Frederick’s eye flutter instinctively. “Bear witness to my Becoming.” 

It happens in a dizzying blur. His captor’s hand twists, his fingers locking into sharpened hooks. Frederick doesn’t even have the time to flinch before the man is digging his hand into his eye socket and yanking, dragging his eye out in a brutal move that rips a horrified scream from Frederick’s lips. He has never been in so much pain before. It feels as if his captor is digging deeper and deeper into his eye socket, ripping at anything and everything. Frederick’s vision goes dark on the left, deep red tears streaking down his face. In a harsh, disgusting snap, his eyeball is firmly ripped out. His severed optic nerve hangs out of the cavern that sits on the left side of his face. Someone has been screaming in a raspy, broken voice—and it takes Frederick several moments to realize the sound is coming from him.

The killer holds Frederick’s eyeball in his hand. Frederick feels nausea bubbling up his chest and into his throat with frightening speed, barely giving him a chance to prepare before he’s lurching forward in vain and promptly throwing up. Within seconds, he’s dry-heaving as saliva drips down his lips. He’s shaking and trembling, as the vision from his right eye almost pulsates in time with his heart. 

Frederick wants nothing more than to sink into unconsciousness. But the killer is shaking him roughly by the shoulders and hitting him every time his eye threatens to slip shut. At some point, Frederick’s exhaustion is temporarily at bay. “I want you to repeat after me, Frederick,” his captor demands, a camera in hand as he stares at him. “You can do that for me, can’t you?” 

Frederick can hardly respond. He manages a jerky nod and the man hums, starting his camera and giving him the words to say. Frederick is horribly delirious, the words falling to mush on his tongue. He’s slurring through the blood in his mouth and what he’s saying holds absolutely no meaning to him. 

His captor is cruel and merciful in the same breath, for once Frederick truly starts to lose the battle against unconsciousness, he is freed from his bonds and led to collapse on the floor. His cheek meets the scratchy carpet and he blinks tears from his uninjured eye, the man before him morphing and swirling in darkness. 

A wet wipe is rubbed harshly over his face, roving over his cheekbones and following the path the killer  had made with his fingers only moments ago. Frederick lets out a pained whimper and the pressure stops, replaced with an achingly tender swipe along his skin that still seems to hurt. His mind is buzzing, a dull hum that refuses to leave him in solitude. As much as he tries to stay awake and aware of his surroundings, the pain ripping through his face is enough to drag him into the shadows once more. 

He does not wake as he is bound to a wheelchair and thrown into the back of a van. Frederick does not wake, even during the horribly bumpy car ride that ensues. If he were able to pull himself from the unseeing void, he would recognize the fate that awaits him. But he is unknowing of the horrors that have not yet ended. 

Frederick is only broken from his slumber by the harsh screeching of the van arriving at its final destination. He blinks and the doors slide open, revealing his captor standing outside with a mask secured over his face and gloves covering his hands. Frederick can discern little of the environment around him, save for the inky black night devoid of stars. The man then steps into the back of the van and rolls Frederick out onto the pavement.  

“A mortal cannot witness the transformation of a god without dying,” he remarks, his hands gripping the handles of the wheelchair. Frederick desperately tries to escape, despite knowing it’s no use. His vision is still adjusting to the loss of his left eye; he’s exhausted; and the ropes binding his ankles and wrists are rather tight. The killer seems to know this, as a strange sort of smile rises on his lips. “This has always been your fate.”

It is only then that Frederick notices the red gasoline canister he’s holding. Even through his exhaustion, his mind rapidly connects the canister to the box of matches poking out of the killer’s pocket. The Tooth Fairy is going to burn him alive. Frederick begins to writhe and squirm as his adrenaline spikes, but his struggling is futile. There is nothing human in the monster’s face as he upturns the canister, coating Frederick in gasoline. Frederick is nearly hyperventilating now, as flashes of significant moments in his life come to mind. 

He stares up into the eyes of his captor, searching for a hint of humanity to appeal to. But there is only an unfeeling abyss. Terrified, Frederick watches in mute horror as the Tooth Fairy circles around him and stops behind him. He hears the telltale sound of a match being lit; a searing warmth greets the side of his face, before a match crawls down his shirt and his entire body is consumed with flames. At some point, Frederick is shoved forwards—sending the wheelchair careening down an incline with increasing speed. He screams until his voice dies in his chest. Fire paints his tunneled vision a remarkable orange-red, with the air around him flickering and waving with the sudden heat. His last breath ripped from his chest, Frederick Chilton slumps back in the wheelchair and surrenders to the relentless flames.

warnings: gore involving eyeballs/eye sockets & ensuing blindness; kidnapping and captivity.

next chapter

endnotes: Did I have to make that so homoerotic? No. Do I regret it? Also no.

Wow. I really made Frederick go through it. *Sigh.* I love hurting characters I like.

anyways, thanks for reading! <3

check out my other works, sorted by fandom.

friendly reminder that i don't give permission for my writing to be shared to other sites, stolen, copied, translated, or used in any way. thanks!

hannibal taglist: @its-ares @tobbotobbs @xrisdoesntexist @gr1mmac3 @tiredstarcerberuslamb @yourlocalratwriter @kingkoku @kahuunknown @atlas-king1 @pendragon-writes @slipknotcentury @cryinersaved @the-ultimate-librarian @starre-eyes @pendragon-writes @peterparkeeperer @gayschlatt69 @flow33didontsmoke @mrgatotortuga @house-of-1000-corpses-fan

[moochii-daisies]

2015.04.

- 18+, Minors DNI

Warnings - Content Contains: Cussing, suggestive moments, mentions of sex, TW: pills, drugging (MC describes bits of the night it happened) a fight, drinking, smoking, MC is not doing well but will be okay. Some tears and hurt (attempted comfort). Unhealthy coping mechanisms (a consistent theme). If I missed anything pls lemme know!

Sidenotes: what happened, my only "plan" note for this was "game night". a dark turn of events? quelle surprise! things are gettin real. as always, thank you for reading if you do and i hope you enjoy <3

Find the rest here!

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     I want you to imagine a scenario.

     Let's say that the person you were seeing (technically) began living with the person you (almost) saw before them. Are you with me so far?

Now - be sure to include the Almost person's person that they are now seeing (confirmed).

     Oh - and their five other roommates are there too.

In this totally hypothetical scenario, do you think that things would always go smoothly? That the power of friendship would prevail over any and all odds?

No?

     Well congratulations, you're much smarter than I was.

Once the excited, albeit intense, welcoming party was over - the guys focused on moving things from their cars and U-haul trailers into the house. Lacey and I busied ourselves with things we could carry on our own, jumping up at any grunts or cuss words uttered in our general direction. Our cue to come help out.

I was worried at first, about Lacey and I spending too much time together. Her face turned sallow as soon as Yoongi stepped up on the curb and left us, her arms resuming their crossed position over her leather jacketed chest. But the worry didn't last long.

With Jungkook and Yoongi occupied - she seemed to relax around me. Shoulders sagging a bit as if she had been holding them, postured in an attempt to seem taller (she was a few inches shorter than I was). Turning to me with a shy smile, she lifted her eyebrows with an expression that I interpreted as saying, "Just us girls now, huh?" and I returned the smile.

There was no point in making things more awkward than they had to be. If Yoongi - no, never mind. It just wouldn't hurt to make the effort to be friendly, you know? I had no right to be the only one pissed off or weirded out over the situation. We were all in it together anyhow.

This thought seemed to be a shared one as Lacey and I settled into talking quietly together, casual conversation about how ridiculously some of the guys had packed. Joon had of course, labeled everything with a thick black Sharpie. Perfectly packed boxes that weren't too heavy, placed in the U-haul in an orderly fashion. A model packer. Chef's kiss, a 9/10 (One point was deducted only because we found out later that inside of the boxes were a wreck). Hobi was the only other one who would have gotten a score higher than 5. Although he had technically packed everything neatly - the sheer amount of clothing bags knocked him down a couple points. And his incessant fussing over anything getting wrinkled whenever he saw Lacey or I with one of them warranted another point deduction.

But still - even with his nitpicking, at least we knew where to put what.

Everyone else besides Joon and Hobi had packed in, what I could only assume was, a sleep-deprived, over-caffeinated (bordering on coked out) frenzy. Jimin had decided to label his stuff with glitter pens and stickers to indicate their contents - Lacey and I spent 10 minutes staring at a holographic duckling sipping on a pina colada before we finally deduced that it was bathroom supplies.

"A rubber ducky!" Lacey had nearly screamed her realization and snapped me out of my frustrated fantasy of torturing Jimin for the answers to his sticker code.

Tae had exclusively used vintage luggage bags that smelled like mothballs and old perfume which, despite being sturdy, were still sporting their original leather straps from 1901 and not meant for heavy duty packing. Especially not every single book and art supply Tae had in his collection. I walked by him with one in my arms, waddling in a semi-sumo squat and glaring daggers at him while he took a cigarette break. He let me take a drag, murmuring that he'd take dinner in the foyer once I was finished - immediately begging me not to drop his stuff once he saw the look in my eyes.

I felt closer to Lacey than I expected to once we got to Jungkook and Yoongi's belongings. Both of stood in front of their respective piles, snorting out laughter that had us leaning on the back of the U-haul for support.

To our left, was a giant collection of paper bags with barely legible words in red, black, blue and green ink scribbled onto them (Jungkook's pile) and to our right, was a giant collection of black garbage bags that had been tied with various knots at the top to differentiate between them (Yoongi's pile). Some gym and music equipment that couldn't fit into the bags had simply been shoved into places they could fit. Hoodies from both of them tucked in for some semblance of cushioning.

"Good god girl, like, I was literally there with them while we packed and somehow...somehow I missed," Lacey was wiping away tears from laughter and gesturing at the piles in front of us, "All of whatever the hell this is.".

"Okay, okay - lowkey - I have packed the exact same way before..." Choking back my laugh, I had just started to get the words out before Lacey smacked me on the shoulder with a "Shut up!" - dissolving back into a fit of mirth.

"No! I'm serious!! It's so much faster to just shove shit into bags and be done with it!" I was giggling out my defense, trying to reach for a paper bag without ripping it while Lacey began tugging on the plastic of a garbage bag. How gently we had to pull to prevent the bags from ripping only sent us over the edge more, each one making less than a few inches progress at a time.

"What the hell?" A deep voice, one that almost sounded like a jaguar purred and reverberated in the air behind us. It raised the hair on the back of my neck and clicked an anchored chain around my ankles. Shackling me back down to the ground.

Lacey turned abruptly to look at Yoongi with a cheeky wink. "You've got a good friend here defending your honor babe." she teased, gesturing at Yoongi to come get the bag she had been attempting to pull out.

Yoongi kept his eyes low, even though it was dark out, as he moved forward to stand next to me. I had gone into freeze mode, focusing all of my energy into inching the paper bag in front of me closer and trying to make out the words scratched onto its side.

"My honor huh?" Yoongi's response was slow and gruff. It rippled through my ears and into my brain, the small space between our shoulders feeling too close and too far all at once.

I glanced back at Lacey, who had lifted one foot to rest against the hood of her gray car. Her attention seemingly concentrated on lighting her cigarette in a fight against the evening breeze.

"Uh, more like your packing choices. Glad bags? That's name brand man." Nonchalance. I could do this. He wasn't going to see me falter. Jesus Christ the bag in front of me was becoming my Everest.

A snort on my right shot through my body and my neck muscles tightened in an effort to stop myself from turning to look at him.

"Yeah well, you know me - only the highest quality will suffice for my shit. Speaking of -" He cut himself off, and even though I was actively fighting the urge to glimpse at him with every fiber of my being, I could feel him shift to look at what I was doing - which was gripping the edge of the paper bag between my index and middle finger. Trying to pull it closer purely with willpower instead of practicality. Because I could have gotten it easily, if I had lifted myself up into the U-Haul a bit more to get a better grip. However, I couldn't visualize any way of doing this that didn't wind up with my ass in Yoongi's face.

Yoongi seemed to have realized this and out of the corner of my eye, I saw his head move to look toward Lacey, who by the sound of it had won her battle to light her cigarette and was now clacking away on her phone.

Okay, this was good. This was good, right? Lacey was right there behind us, this was a good way to gauge how normal we could be around each other. Just, regular degular friends. Two adults with a normal and manageable amount of chemistry. Definitely not a relationship that gives tangible proof that the red string theory is real. For sure. Neither of us would -

Long, strong fingers wiggled in front of my strained eyes before poking me on the nose. Tearing my gaze away from the blue letters in front of me, the streetlight was shining back out of Yoongi's dark and piercing ones. Stars in his eyes, like there were when I went to see him.

Fuck.

The dejection must've showed on my face, Yoongi's expression turning into concern mixed with something else. Maybe my nervous system had dysregulated the situation out of proportion. He's a kind and caring person, I knew this. Maybe it was just me who felt strapped onto a surgical table that was tied to an extreme roller coaster. Yeah, he was just making the same effort that Lacey and I were making - to not make things more uncomfortable than they needed to be.

Those were thoughts I remember having before they were electrocuted away from our hands coming together in unison. His, palm up and stretching out for me to place mine in.

The "zzt" that came from our skin touching felt thunderous and the pained shock I was experiencing was reflected back at me through his expression. His usual stoic demeanor zapped to reveal the more vulnerable emotions underneath. God, even the callouses on his fingers felt like heaven. Had his skin always been so soft? Or was it just the contrast?

Well, it's not like I could ask him.

I wished I could have asked him.

Instead, our hands dropped in sync the same way that they had risen.

After clearing his throat and reaching up the same hand to rub at the back of his neck, Yoongi twisted his head to look towards Lacey but directed his question at me.

"Seems like...you needed help?" The annoyance in his voice struck a chord and the building heat of the moment we had just shared was doused out with frigid water.

My own feelings of annoyance filled me up to the brim, flooding out into my reply before I could even think to stop it.

"Seems like a pretty girl over there needed help lighting her cigarette." I all but spit the words at him, staring back at the bag in front of me and feeling him bristle at the jab.

There was a moment of silence after that. And it was quiet enough to hear the rest of the group bustling inside, a few disgruntled words like "Fuck no the lamp doesn't -" and "HA! Try putting it somewhere-" ringing out from the open front door.

Lacey hadn't seemed to notice. Thick whiffs of smoke blowing over to where Yoongi and I stood released us from the strangling tension, both of us instinctively reaching into pockets for our own cigarettes.

After we had lit them up, Yoongi opened his mouth while I watched the exhaled plumes twist around in the air. But I never got to hear what he wanted to say. The sound of Jungkook's airy giggle snapped his parted lips closed and he scoffed. Skulking off towards Lacey without looking back, leaving room for an energetic JK as he leapt off the curb to where we were all standing.

If Jungkook had noticed anything going on, he didn't let it show. Leaning down to inhale from the cigarette I was holding and snaking a tattooed arm around my waist.

After a satisfied exhale, he hummed and nuzzled his face into my neck. The cool metal from his lip rings added to the tingling sensation that fizzed a little stronger with each kiss he was pressing against me. They melted all feelings of annoyance towards Yoongi and replaced them with something much sweeter.

I turned my face towards his sculpted chest, an effort to hide the blush that was taking over it.

"Did you figure out my color code baby?" Jungkook grinned the words, nipping at the top of my ear as he did. My mind raced, shuffling noises from Lacey and Yoongi's direction making it impossible to conjure up a single thought beyond "what the fuck". Knowing I needed to answer the question but desperate to buy myself some time, I gave into my impulsivity - something that felt unusually strengthened in JK's presence.

Reaching my free arm around his lower back, I held tight onto his shirt for balance and lifted up onto my toes in order to bite him on the cheek. It squished between my teeth as he broke into a full smile. And I hadn't noticed the tip of my nose being cold until it was pressed against his warmth.

"You couldn't figure it out could you?" Jungkook teased, somehow maneuvering us so that my arms were around his neck and his wrapped around my lower back - hands patting me on the hips once they had assumed their new position.

I didn't care if anyone heard me.

Letting out a small whine, I released the soft bread dough of his cheek to gripe at him. "OooOoOohh I'm Mr. Jungkook and I came up with an asinine color coding system because I'm soooOOOoo smart." My brattiness was rewarded with a kiss on the forehead and my favorite shit-eating grin.

After a brief pause, and a lifted eyebrow I sighed. Trying to rack my brain for some kind of JK logic, landing kind of simply on - "Um, blue...is for bathroom stuff, right?" It wasn't a confident guess, but I peered up at him hopefully. Maybe he'd be happy I tried and would let me believe I was right.

I was met with rounded doe eyes - surprise and pride flashing their way through at my guess. Without looking away, Jungkook reached one arm back to flick the bag I had been struggling to get towards us with frustrating ease. As he turned our bodies to look down at what was packed inside I was more taken aback by its appearance than the actual contents. Thoughts of answering correctly gone in an instant as I tried to make sense of what I was looking at.

"You- you can't - baby what the hell?" I spluttered, untangling myself from Jungkook to peer into the incredulously packed paper bag.

Soaps, toothbrushes, toothpaste, hair care and other bathroom supplies (I guessed right) were all packed in Tetris-style. Each space meticulously filled. Washcloths rolled up into any open space to help prevent anything from moving.

I had packed in bags for sure but never so perfectly. Never like this.

As he continued reaching for bags, I remained dumbfounded until he wiggled his eyebrows and ducked his head to press a quick kiss against my lips. Using one hand to jump into the back of the U-haul, effortlessly. Too sexy for his own good.

Unable to believe what I was seeing, I pulled each bag closer to me so that I could check inside. Every single one was the same as the first and the laughs that Lacey and I had shared earlier started to bubble up within me.

Being close to Jungkook was like having soundproofing against my sensitivity to Yoongi and the sound of Lacey's voice getting closer felt like it was coming from a million miles away.

"What? What? Wait Yoongs - girl, what is it?" Lacey was panting as she came over and I gave a silent prayer of thanks that I had no idea what the two had been doing since JK came outside.

"So, uh, I never packed like this I'll tell you that much." I told her dryly, tilting one of the bags so that she could see the inside of it.

A guffaw came out of her as she doubled over.

"Okay wait, wait - what the fuck?" She wheezed, blinking back tears, "Did you know he had this in him?" and I couldn't stop the smile that crept up at her question.

I shook my head no, grabbing the hand she held out to help her stand upright.

With a little finishing sigh and quick adjustment of her jacket she looked up at me with a strange look. Almost a challenge. Almost pleading.

"Well. Then I guess you two still have a lot to learn about each other." She winked with the words before calling out to Yoongi, "Babe! You've got packing competition over here!" Her words stung more than they should have. A sting that softened with the small grunts of effort Jungkook was making in the U-Haul.

What the fuck did she mean by that though? Did she know things about Jungkook that I didn't? I mean, to be fair, she had been around and known him for much longer than I had but still - what the hell did she mean by that?

The sense of relaxation that had given relief up until that point was gone. And I chewed on the inside of my cheek mindlessly. Reaching to light another cigarette after accidentally biting down too hard. Tobacco and metallic iron. I pressed my tongue against the bitten spot, trying to will the pain out of existence and searching for something to focus on. As Jungkook walked back and forth to take intermittent puffs, I wound up fixated on the way his muscles rippled underneath his baggy white t-shirt. Pausing occasionally to flick away ash, doing so with an aggression that I couldn't figure out how to rid myself of.

The couple's chattering behind me turned into wet smacking sounds. Little "ooh"'s and "mm"'s from Lacey filled my bones with an angry molten lava. Was it really necessary? To do this when I'm right here? When we were right there? The cigarette had burnt down to the filter but I still stamped it out under a combat boot. Twisting my heel back and forth until all that was left was a flattened piece of brown that blended in with the fallen leaves.

Lifting the same foot, I grabbed onto the side of the U-Haul and hefted myself up into the back of it. Flinching slightly at the metal clanging that pinged around its walls. Jungkook had stopped arranging boxes once I entered, a baffled "Baby what-" escaping from his lips before I managed to launch my own against them.

If we had been a more awkward couple - the forcefulness of my kiss would've stopped it just after it started. Luckily, we weren't.

Ok, to be fair, I don't know if we even were officially a couple but - anyways. That's not what mattered.

What mattered is that after my clunky stumbling into his arms and after the slight bumping of our teeth - Jungkook grabbed ahold of me, letting me knock him off balance. His back pressed against a tall stack of boxes gave him firmer footing and he sighed, the edges of it tinted with a small moan.

I think I lost my mind in the moment. My hands diving greedily underneath his shirt to drag my nails down his back and pull him closer. Stepping my feet so close to his body that room between our pelvis's no longer existed.

There was more to learn about Jungkook. Sure. We hadn't really gone into our pasts just yet. But one thing I did know, was that whatever fire I came at him with - he would match.

A firm squeeze on my ass and the rough movement of his hips proved me right. His hard on rubbing against me in a way that felt too good to ever be considered sinful.

Big hands. Warm hands. And curious fingers flirted with the gap of skin showing between my top and my jeans. One made its way to cup my chest, squishing it before toying with the fabric that was getting in the way.

"Baby- Baby hang on, we- mph," Jungkook's attempts to get me to slow down were valiant but ultimately made in vain. The sensation of his lips against mine only made me hungrier. Had I forgotten to eat today? It didn't matter. I would've chosen Jungkook instead of food even if a buffet of my favorites had been there.

Sounds of his ragged breathing, that usually would have sent me on edge, only stoked the need. Unable to remove me without causing harm, he settled for breaking the kisses. Pulling away for a few seconds at a time to look at me with curiosity and the slightest hint of fear.

The third time he did it, I nearly growled. Successfully capturing his bottom lip in a bite, sucking on it just a little before pulling back myself.

"Whyyyy do you keep. Stopping!" It was huffed out darkly, the pounding of his heart beat against the front of my body so strongly I could feel it between my legs.

It was beginning to ache. That he was so close and still so far. I needed him closer. I would have fucked him right in that open U-Haul, in front of Yoongi and Lacey and the whole neighborhood if I could have.

But instead, I clenched my legs together, feeling them brush against the hardness tenting his baggy jeans and made him wince. The look of pain both deepened the ache and softened it. All my muscles turned to steel. Waiting to hear him speak. Cementing my hold around him like if I loosened it at all, I'd never feel him so close again. His own (much more developed) muscles were tightened around me as a form of damage control. Even if I wiggled my ass off, I wouldn't have been able to get out of them.

The two biggest problems, and also two of the parts I appreciated the most about Jungkook - was that he would always choose to trust me and he would almost always give in to what I wanted.

And while I waited for my response, holding onto him like a dog unwilling to give up a bone, Jungkook decided to trust me. Chuckling to himself as he loosened his grip. Hands gently brushing hair behind my ears and away from my face. Holding it in a tender but firm grip before resuming the kisses at a much slower pace. I wasn't going to turn any of it away, pressing my lips back against his as strongly as I could while he held my head in place. Once I had sullenly accepted my fate, I grumbled out between each kiss - "I", "Would never", "Stop you", "You big", "Big", "Stupidly hot", "Jerk.".

A snicker against my lips preluded a sigh.

Lightly dragging the tip of his rounded nose against my own, his arms moved around my shoulders and I was yanked back against his solid upper body. The slight lift in his pectoral muscles acted as neck support and my cheeks were smushed to the point of blurring my vision. Feeling a pout form, I made a disgruntled noise at him. The vibrations tickling the back of my throat and buzzing against my ears.

"Oh baby, baby, baby. What am I gonna do with you, huh?" There was laughter in his voice and a warmth on the back of my head as he pet through my hair.

"Is it fair to let the rest of the guys take care of all the moving?" His tone wasn't condescending, it was genuine.

I "hmph"'d out a no.

"Would it be nice of us? To have so much fun while the others are working so hard?"

"...No. I guess not.".

"Would it be good friend behavior? To fuck each other senseless on probably everyone's belongings?"

The visual memory of Yoongi's pile being next to Jungkook's flashed through my mind. And I gulped down the bratty response I had planned to say.

My rigidity and sudden silence went straight to Jungkook's ego. I almost never acted like a baby, let alone a brat. Not because I didn't want to mind you, but because I didn't like to in front of most people.

Jungkook was different.

And he knew that.

And good lord, did it make him happy when I did.

"Aw baby. Were you so focused on getting me inside you that you forgot what we were doing?" His tone was playful now.

"Can you believe that my babygirl, that's usually so considerate, was SO desperate for dick that she didn't care about getting real down and dirty?" He was thoroughly enjoying this while I made attempts at burying my face, cheeks burning at the truth of his words.

"Who would've known? The sweet girl that calls me a big baby all the time is actually, secretly, an even more perverted and bigger baby than-" His rambling gloating was making me glow red.

Clutching a hand into a fist, his shirt wrinkled with it and I lightly tapped his muscles in a faux punch. Mumbling, "I'm not the baby, you're the baby." with as much ferocity as I could gather.

The frustration that had been building up since that moment with Yoongi had dissipated and left me putty in Jungkook's arms. All fiery passion transformed into something sticky sweet.

Kisses started against the top of my head with an exaggerated "mwah" sound until his lips found my ear, my cheek and then my own again.

It was the sweetest kiss. The curvature of his lips held mine. A content, "ah" escaping from deep within him. But just beneath that sense of contentment, was a mutual fight against a shared craving. The feeling of his opened mouth sparked at the embers he had just put out. Which he realized as soon I had reestablished my boa constrictor-esque hold on him.

Pressing a hand flat and directly over my mouth, Jungkook barked a command with an authoritative tone I'd never heard from him before.

"Baby. No.".

My body went slack. Staring at him for a beat as my glassy eyes worked to find focus.

I don't know if it was due to shock, or if I had become delirious from being around him (and everyone else) again. But once I started laughing this time, I couldn't stop. And Jungkook couldn't either.

We kept laughing until the others came out to see what was going on, Lacey and Yoongi had disappeared to their room which made it easier to stay lighthearted.

When asked what we had been doing, Jungkook opened his mouth - about to blurt out very honestly what had just happened. This time it was my turn to cover his mouth, blabbering about how we had gotten caught up trying to separate whose boxes were whose.

The deadpan stares and wave of lifted eyebrows let me know pretty quickly that nobody was buying it.

"I'd like to request that all...unsavory behavior be kept to our own dedicated rooms." Jimin piped up, tonguing his cheek and trying to look stern.

Jungkook communicated what I was thinking, "Dude, you're too pretty to be the boss. Use those pouters as the good lord intended and pout about it." Jungkook cracked a grin at Jimin's scowl. Scooching us out of the U-Haul to stand with the rest of the guys.

"Well if you're done being lewd, do you wanna come see the house?" Hobi put emphasis on the word "lewd", eyes darting back and forth between Jungkook and I.

Jungkook's hands raised to feign innocence while I sheepishly feigned interest in everyone's choice of shoe.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Lessgo." Jungkook was cavalier, a hand grazing mine to interlock fingers and keep me at his side.

If anyone else had something to say, their moment was lost the second Tae threaded his fingers between my own to hold my other hand. Beaming at everyone, he lifted our hands and shook them a bit. "Onwards!" He rallied with a pure-hearted excitement. The others gave in to laughter right away, closing doors behind us as we trudged towards the house.

I don't think I can remember a single time that front door was locked. Oh, besides that one time. But that happened later.

What happened next was me gawking for a solid uninterrupted 3 minutes. Partially due to the house itself and the rest due to the lack of furniture that the guys had actually brought.

Like their previous home, this one was older and a little worn down. Chipped yellow paint on the exterior, a wooden front porch that they had settled the same sunken in couch onto. The same rocking chair and side table from before were also placed to replicate their previous set up, looking like they had been there for years instead of a couple hours. A dark, shingled roof covered the two-story home more sturdily than their old place. There was no stained glass on the front door but the lightbulbs inside had all been changed to warm, low light. Spilling onto the wooden planks as an invitation to its cozy interior. Except, this house was much larger than their last (my city was much cheaper) and the living room that had once been cramped with the gigantic couch, makeshift TV stand, books and art now seemed to go on endlessly. The couch only taking up a quarter of the space that it used to.

Beyond the sea of living room was the kitchen, curving around to the left - the rest of it unseen from where we stood. In the kitchen was a door leading to the basement, where Jungkook, Yoongi and Namjoon's rooms were nestled. Behind our position in the entrance was a staircase that led up to the rest. Boxes littered open areas but still, even then, the amount of space available made me realize that they hadn't brought any other furniture besides what was on their front porch and in their living room and my worried mother mode was flicked on like a light-switch. We moved through the house together while I hovered around each of them with the same energy as a nervous hummingbird. "Do you need this?", "Let me write this down, I'll get you this.", "Oh my GOD you guys didn't bring this?" bumbled out of my mouth as I flitted until Hobi sent Jungkook and I to his room to occupy me.

And that was how they moved in.

30 days later, Jin came bursting through the front door with a rosy pink glittery cowboy hat and matching feather boa. A darker pink looped in cursive letters around the rim of his sunglasses spelling out - "I'm that girl" three times each. Holding a pipe that Sherlock Holmes would have loved, Jin flicked his lighter and sank onto one hip. His neon green, red and blue button down was hanging off of his shoulders, flames around the middle of the shirt hiding a waist much smaller than anyone would expect.

Once he had taken a few comically loud puffs, Jin flipped a wrist up to lower his sunglasses - and gave us all a Big and Cheesy wink. When we didn't immediately react with a round of applause the glasses were whipped off, yells blaring through the echoe-y entryway of the house.

"WOW. I TRAVELED ALL THIS WAY AND THAT IS HOW YOU GREET ME? I WORKED SO HARD TO HAVE A GOOD ATTITUDE FOR YOU EVEN THOUGH IT WAS SO LONG I TRIED TO P -" Jin's full volume grievances were drowned out by an eruption of cheers from everyone.

Full moon lips pressed themselves together and Jin turned to blow the ash from his pipe outside, stepping back in with a pout.

"It doesn't mean as much when you guys do it after I -" Jin's moodiness was cut off by Jimin this time.

"Hey man, are you a little tired? That was a really long drive, you wanna take a nap and we can unpack for you?"

The rest of us shuffled to the side as Jimin corralled Jin up the stairs towards his room.

"See how I'm not making you carry my bags for me? See how kind of a person I am to you?" Jin's suddenly sleepy voice said weakly. Taking plodding steps ahead of Jimin.

Jimin scurried around Jin to stop him from bumping into corners and things, "Uh-huh, you're really brave dude, it's one of the reasons I look up to you." He paused after each step up the stairs, clearly struggling with Jin's half-time pace.

It was my first time experiencing Sleepy Jin. And I remember thinking that I had no idea there was that side to him.

Anyway - the thought that covered that one for a long time was different. It was focused on Jin's arrival being the moment the house fully felt like a home.

While almost everyone got honed in during the start of their new jobs - Jimin, Tae and I were left to help hang things up, put communal things away, etc..., etc..,. It was much easier for us to change work schedules or get time off. I got lucky and switched shifts with a coworker, Jungkook was able to sub for Jimin at the studio and Tae was working from home selling his art prints online - dedicating more of his focus towards his upcoming installation. It mostly went well. Mostly. We found random bookshelves and mattresses for sale around town and helped get things settled, a little less cluttered.

And we also spent hours arguing over how to nail various things to the walls. Jimin was sure we needed a certain tool for it, Tae believed the hanging itself was a creative process and I kept a bottle of Gorilla glue in my pocket to threaten them with whenever their arguments got too out of hand. Everyone felt included in the resulting decision though, - I'll leave it at that.

After about two months had passed, we had all begun to get comfortable with our new routine. I spent 4-5 days a week with them at theirs, sometimes stealing Jungkook away to be alone all over town, sometimes sneaking him into my apartment whenever my mom was working late. My sister had met and loved the guys, putting a subtle bit more effort into her look when she knew Hobi would be around. It was cute, the way that Hobi would puff out his shoulders in her presence, trying to look disinterested until a sound effect would slip past him - turning him cherry red while my sister would break her neutral expression to giggle at him.

Yoongi wasn't around too much. Lacey and I fell into an afternoon coffee and smoke routine whenever Jungkook and Yoongi both were at work. She had gotten a job bartending at a club nearby, only working weekend nights - asking me to go shopping or out for drinks on some of her days off. It was nice until one of us was suddenly hit with the strangeness of the entire dynamic. Jungkook and Yoongi never really interacted, as far as I could tell. The schedule at the dance studio was pretty consistently 2-8 or 5-9. Yoongi on the other hand was working part time at a restaurant as a cook and part time at a convenience store. His 2-12's extended from 2-5's. Sometimes we'd pass by each other on the stairs during the mornings I couldn't sleep. Him heading down to bed, grunting or nodding his hello's as I made my way up. A moment of mutual sleep deprivation, albeit for very different reasons. Sometimes I wanted to offer him coffee or breakfast. To see if he wanted to smoke or talk about how his shift went. But I kept quiet instead. Not wanting to disturb the comforting peace that was still in its infancy of being established.

It was five months in.

Almost half a year after moving when that game night happened.

At the three month mark, Jimin declared to the rest of us that the house had become too tame for a bunch of 20-something's. We were high as all hell on the couch when he did this - a likely reason for the ideas that came spouting back in reply. Ones that we had no right to attempt even when we were stone cold sober. Things like, "We should rent a gigantic trampoline and throw a party with prizes for whoever does the most gnarly flip off the roof". (Jungkook's). Or, "We set up a DJ station right, like buffet style, and whoever plays the best set becomes our honorary party DJ." (Hobi's.)

After much deliberation and a round of bong rips later, we decided on game and party nights for alternating weekends. "Throw a rager, get our money up, recuperate, chill game night. Then repeat." Namjoon said before blowing out a cloud of smoke. We all nodded in agreement, too stoned to counter or throw out any alternatives.

Now, Joon said "chill game night" but they wound up being more like mini-parties.

Usually someone would bring out the bong and place it on the low glass coffee table on Friday morning. Then someone would wind up bringing home drinks "to have with the game" and the 24/7 corner store a block away from their house gave us ample access to "fill up", as Jimin would call it, throughout the night. But we never actually played any games.

This wound up bothering us to the point that we made up a drinking game. One that became our go to event of the evening. So technically, for all intents and purposes - it was a game night.

The rules were simple. Kind of.

Rule 1: If anyone caught you sober - you had to take 3 shots. (Yoongi, who always got home last, hated this rule.)

Rule 2: If a drink was found unfinished then everyone had to pour their own into it until the cup was refilled. Followed by gathering in a circle around the unfinished drink's person and yelling "chug" until they did so. We each had our own assigned cups and a single Sharpie from the move - that somehow never got lost - to initial beer cans. This rule was taken very seriously. (Tae was so notorious for doing this that he became "The Two Rule Champion".)

Rule 3: Time-Up - Basically, it was a play on the concept of a "time-out". If anyone was caught moping or feeling down, they would have two hours to vent or wallow before a mandatory dance party. At least one other person had to be present and it was only over once the mopey person had started to cheer up. (This was a Jimin + Hobi combo rule. Partly as an attempt to help keep things regulated and partly because at least one of them was always down to dance.)

Rule 4: Someone must always be designated as the "game night head counter" and "key bearer". (Ok, this one was because of me. They quickly realized my habit of convincing someone to go somewhere with me once I'd gotten a little too sloshed. This person and I may have passed out on a bus after leaving game night, and it's possible that we woke up a state over with only two dead cell phones and the clothes on our backs.

...And we may have done it again, only to wake up in a small beach town with no service in the middle of a windstorm.

I can't say that the rule wasn't deserved.)

And finally, Rule 5: Absolutely no canoodling allowed outside of each person's designated area (their rooms).

This last rule was agreed upon unanimously. Nobody offered up a sassy remark, witty jab or dry sarcasm. It was collectively understood that everyone cared about each other, and that ruining the overall vibe of the house was no-one's goal.

At least not until that game night.

The temperature had dropped with the sunset and our tradition of fancy attire for these "game nights" was biting me in the ass quite literally. Cold nipped at the skin underneath my dress, a swishy but short little number that was wine red and crushed velvet.

Stomping my feet onto the wooden boards beneath them, the front porch shook a little. A piss poor attempt to warm myself up to be honest - but my heart wasn't really in it.

I was on a mission. Scanning the side table for a neglected (but not empty) pack of smokes. My arms were crossed over my chest, hands rubbing at the exposed upper parts. The cold temporarily subsided as I caught a glimpse of what I was looking for - one lone Marlboro Light. Gross, who the hell smoked these? Nobody in the house did, we collectively shit on Marlboro's (as if what we smoked was any better). Well, beggars can't be choosers, right?

I snatched it up between my fingers with a sense of triumph that quickly faded. Realizing that I still needed to look for a lighter.

This dress did not have pockets.

And Jungkook said - wait, where was Jungkook?

Pausing my hunt for a lighter, I straightened up. Feeling fabric slink down my back and with a fresh awareness of the frigid night air.

I think I was drunk.

Trying to remember where Jungkook had gone and why I wasn't with him sent a ripple of goosebumps up the right side of my body. Where he always stood. Where he should have been. We definitely didn't start the evening this way. We were annoyingly inseparable. So what the hell happened?

I remember Namjoon started the game night early, almost immediately after he had gotten home - he'd had a pretty rough week at work. And that we all ended up dancing with him for a Time-Up until some other people showed up.

One of those people introduced himself as Yoongi's coworker before waving Lacey and Yoongi both over to join us. And then - and then?

A snapshot image of the kitchen found the forefront of muddied thoughts. I could see the back of JK's head, the shoulder of the grey zip up hoodie he had on, and pretty opalescent nails clinging around his bicep.

Oh yeah.

Lacey had just gotten her nails done that color.

That's right.

To make matters worse, I only noticed this after being lost in conversation with Yoongi and his coworker.

I couldn't remember when Jungkook had left my side or if Lacey had been there at all.

God, I really hoped I was drunk.

I sank onto the front porch couch, the tickling on the back of my legs from the wooly covering barely registered.

But it did so just enough. Just so that I could stay sitting on that couch instead of using the flight response to leave my body. I felt strange. Not the usual fucked up strange - more like something was off. Making me not myself. Turning me into a ghost made of marshmallow fluff and weird feelings.

One of my hands had flopped to my side and a lighter was pressed into it. A blurry glimpse of tattooed fingers helped usher out a sigh of relief.

Lifting my head took concentration, and the additional work to get my eyes to meet his sparkling marbles had me feeling out of breath. Sparkling like stars.

Hang on.

Heat on the back of my head brought the world back around me. His hand was big enough to cover it entirely and the sounds coming from inside the house washed into my senses, rushing water from a broken dam.

"NoooOo I saw it! I saw you! You, you - uh, shit ok, no I know what I saw!" Joon was bellowing in a way that let me know he was swaying. Beer cans crinkled before the sound of metal being hit dinged underneath, Yoongi's low and rumbled, "Swish." following after. Other voices jumbled together, music bumping over and underneath them, overlapping and loud - how had I not heard that?

"-by." Wait, there was something.

"Baby." Jungkook's voice was a foghorn. The sound of it rounding out to fill my hearing up completely. Everything else got caught behind a filter and a beam of life came back to me - my head wobbled as it looked towards him, the weight gone from my eyelids in an instant.

He was standing and shaking out each leg, one light gray sleeve rolled up with fingers still tangled into the back of my hair.

"Goddammit, baby did Yoongi give you something?" The tightness in his words kept my eyes open.

Oh that's right. That's why this was all so hazy.

"Correction sweet boy," I warbled, "I just so happened to take something from him actually. If you, you, uh - yeah, most likely." I think that's what happened. A blue pill in the palm of a hand blinked into memory. Yeah, something like that then.

I was pressing my thumb against the lighter and it was taking Herculean effort to get it to light. The hold in my hair was tugged tight enough to set off pinpricks and a slight burn shot down the back my neck.

A tangerine glow was flicked to life for me and I inhaled the cigarette that I had been dangling in front of my lips with a weak wrist. I was immediately hit with the spins and a head rush that made me go limp. I vaguely remember hearing a "woah" as my head dropped its full weight into Jungkook's hand. The cigarette dropped to the floor and there was a shadow that felt like a ray of sun. Heat cast by his body getting closer, bending over my drooping frame to pick up the smoke and keep it for himself. I had enough energy to focus on breathing, grateful for the way he held my head - preventing any strain on my neck.

A thumb rubbing along the base of my skull is all I thought about for the new few moments.

And then - my arms were around Lacey and Jimin, who were each holding a hand and around my waist. All three of us pressed onto one cushion of the couch. Being propped up like that, I could see a bit more of what was happening.

Jungkook was moving very fast and Yoongi was moving with him. Joon had an arm around Jungkook, trying to turn him away from Yoongi without getting an elbow thrown back into his face. Hobi and Jin were darting after Yoongi, trying to stay between the two and keep space between them.

I squinted at the scene, trying to sort out how many of them there were until a pressure on the sides of my head made me aware of another presence. Gently tilting my chin upwards, the swimming sensation in my vision became still water for a moment after recognizing Tae's eye smile.

"Ok. All here." It was like talking with a mouthful of pudding.

"Seriously Lace, what the hell did he give her?" Jimin hissed above my nodding head.

"I swear to god I don't know. I told Jungkook already, I just saw her take a little blue pill and thought I should tell some...one..." Her words trailed off as I felt Jimin straightening his back beside me.

"You need to cut the shit, did you tell him Yoongi gave it to her? Did you see who gave it to her? Were you the one who did?" Jimin was seething.

"I told Jungkook-" Lacey began to repeat. And that was all I heard because that was what she was telling Jungkook. That thing I had been so mad about seeing. A loopy and effortful laugh shook my body in a way that made me nauseous.

The air between Jimin and Lacey neutralized before they both shifted a bit closer to press more support against my legs.

"Jungkookie - you're really needed over here." Jimin sounded worriedly impatient. I almost wondered if he actually said it, it felt so far away. Barely audible. There was no way Jungkook could have heard it.

But the sound of panting dropped into my ear and down my stomach in an instant. Jungkook had heard Jimin and was crouched in front of me, gently resting both elbows on top of my thighs while he helped hold my head up.

"From a friend," Words slurred out of my mouth as I dragged an iron tongue, "Yoongi shared." Keeping my eyes open was almost surely going to make me hurl - something I was fighting against with the few bits of consciousness I was maintaining.

Lips pressed in a straight line and a dutiful nod from Jungkook were worth the sick feeling that came from trying to glance at him.

After that, bigger chunks of time were lost.

I remember being set down in JK's bed and the feeling of my cheek pressing into the top of his thigh. My head resting in his lap like that slowed the spinning. Everything sounded like it was underwater.

Or maybe I felt like I was underwater.

A burning crept into my shoulder and made it impossible to ignore the fact that Jungkook had left at some point. My overly relaxed muscles sunken into a contorted position. I don't know why but the sharp pain of moving tightened my throat and choked me up. The desire to cry heaved in my chest, cut off by a whirlpool of confusion.

Absolutely nothing made sense. I didn't know how I had gotten there, even though it was a safe place. Had I really gotten drugged on game night? By that - wait, who was that?

The pieces of the evening I could remember replayed themselves and I strained to listen for any indication that a fight was going on outside.

I was met with silence. Waiting in the dark. No light from the hallway made it hard to tell if anyone else was in the house at all. JK's room felt like it doubled in size. My focus became as alert as it could get - anxiously anticipating the first sign of footsteps. I don't know how long I waited, but I remember the recognition of Jungkook's gait being followed by a more muffled one.

"Baby, it's Yoongi," a whisper fell over the room that felt louder than the creaking of the door. I lay motionless under a few layers of blankets, watching as the sudden light from the hall brought the walls back to where they should be. "I'll be right outside. As soon as he leaves I'll be here, don't worry." I never had to worry long with Jungkook.

A weight pressed onto the mattress next to me and my first night at their old house played along with real time. Eerie deja vu.

Yoongi's voice cracked when he spoke, "I'm so sorry. I didn't- It doesn't matter, I'm just so sorry." The mattress moved beneath us with a tiny tremble. Or maybe that was Yoongi. A plopping of tears onto bedsheets rang out into the quiet air.

Unable to get words out, I reached a hand back until it bumped against his. The top was slightly damp from his crying, and I attempted to wipe at it with a thumb before tugging it towards me. I could feel the limb drop, spent from the exertion it took to do what little I did.

A thinner arm, but just as warm and strong as Jungkook's found its way around me. Long fingers curled around the side of my ribcage and a wide palm pressed against my stomach.

A little sharp, Yoongi's chin tucked into the back of my shoulder. A repeated string of "I'm sorry"'s were murmured out, spreading warmth across my back in a mild wildfire. I couldn't figure out what he was saying sorry for. Placing my hand over the one on my stomach to try and get the message to him.

I lost what happened after that.

The next thing I can recall, was Jungkook laying on his back underneath me. Holding me to his chest in a full body headlock.

"Mm?" Jungkook managed to croak out the questioning sound mere seconds after my eyes opened. Pressing the back of his hand against my cheeks and forehead before resting two fingers on my neck to monitor my pulse.

I still felt trapped in submerged slow motion.

A plastic water bottle crinkled in his grip while he lifted it over his body. Unscrewing the cap with his other hand and placing the rim of it beneath my bottom lip.

He was even a natural at doing things like this? Or - had he needed to get good at this with someone else? The water tasted sour as it was tilted into my unbelievably dry mouth. It took a couple swallows to get rid of and I tried to use the time to think of a way to get the lid back from Jungkook. But by the time I had finished drinking, his head had knocked onto my shoulder and pinned me further down. The tickle from his light snore making me wriggle like a worm on a hook to get the lid back on the water bottle by myself. Even unconscious - his hold around me remained tightly fastened until the "oh shit" I uttered after spilling some of the bottle made him double down.

"JK!" Was gasped out and I remember that the rawness of it sounded like it couldn't have come from me.

The water bottle was tossed onto the floor behind us, rolling to a spot we wouldn't think about until nearly two days later.

"Baby, baby, baby," Jungkook dragged his nose across my face, following its path with sporadic kisses, "It's okay, it's okay, lemme love you.". And suddenly, I couldn't hear anything else but that. Lips ghosted across mine before pushing together into a kiss. Sleepy, slow and too purposeful to believe it was done unconsciously. "It's okay, lemme love you." singing me back to black in a lullaby.

I slept for the entire next day and most of the day after. Yoongi and Jungkook started to interact with each other a bit more while I was recovering. Jungkook treated me like I was made of the most fragile glass and Yoongi helped him, a little apprehensively. They had planned for Jungkook to call Yoongi's work and get the guy fired. Or maybe to beat him up. It all stopped feeling real. I know they didn't go through with the plan though, whatever it had been.

Yoongi returned from his next shift with news that the guy had bailed. Didn't show up, phone out of service, ignoring anyone that showed up at his door (or maybe he had moved away completely). Either way, nobody knew. Nobody saw him leave the party. I couldn't even remember what he had looked like.

Justice isn't always swift.

Despite speaking more, the trust Jungkook had in Yoongi - and in him being around me - had shrunk considerably.

Looking back at it now - helping that trust rebuild should've been a bigger priority.

Instead, we came up with an unofficial 6th rule - Only housemates (or people trusted by housemates) were to be allowed at game night.

And for three of us - a 7th rule became a vow. One so unspoken that none of us could put it properly into words.

But that's the thing about promises that can't be made out loud. Silent signings of emotional contracts.

If you've no way to explain it, how can you describe what's been broken?

[ivystoryweaver]

Moon Knight s2 wish list pt. 2

Read part 1

1. Marc's sheer badassery and skill sets

2. Suit up! I want to see all the suit transitions INCLUDING JAKE'S

3. Moon Knight is famous for blood showing on his white suit. I know the armor heals him but...damn, Disney, show some blood

4. GLASSES

5. Steven infodumps, fanboys and shows off his intelligence

6. SKIN

7. Let this baby boy speak all the Spanish he wants. I will read 60 straight minutes of subtitles since I don't speak it

8. Speaking of Spanish, more languages from the system. I wanna hear French and Arabic too, plz. Or whatever they each speak. (with better effort on subtitles and such, Disney?)

9. Marc calls Steven buddy some more. And they call Jake something too? (What should they call him?)

10. Steven's moral center shines

11. Jake gets this close to his alters (preferably without death)

12. Steven's bravery and brutality (what a mix!)

13. If the system is on the spectrum, let them be so. They are Jewish, let them be so. Let them be who they are. Same goes for all aspects of their culture. I know it's a superhero show, but represent where you can.

What do you want to see?

My Masterlist

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

[seventeenlovesthree]

Time Saver - a Taishirou Fanfic, Chapter 1: Lightning Strike

Summary: Takeru struggles to find the inspiration to continue writing his novel. It's a warm Summer night in July 2015 and the last thing he expects is a sudden lightning strike - one which may affect him, the other Chosen Children and their future to an extent he cannot fathom yet...

Word Count: 738

Chapter POV: Takeru Takaishi

Chapter List: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]

‘One thing that shall never be underestimated is that there is always something unexpected to expect when Digimon are involved.’

Once he had finished that sentence – as stiff as it appeared to him –, Takeru leaned back into his chair and stretched out his arms. He had been trying to get into a habit of daily writing his novel for a while now, but today, the words simply didn’t want to flow.

After yawning loudly into the silence of his room, he let his eyes roam around. Patamon was already fast asleep, dreaming of chocolate frappuccinos on his bed as the clock on his laptop taunted him with how late it already was.

“Almost midnight…”, he mumbled to himself. The chat window had gone silent an hour and so, without much distraction, he didn’t even have an excuse for the lack of creativity that had been haunting him all night. Unfortunately, he didn’t feel like sleeping either, so the urge to just go and text the others to see if anyone was still awake was incredibly tempting…

Takeru was pretty sure that Koushirou was still up, as always. Maybe Iori was up late studying. Hikari was having a week off from kindergarten duty, so he might be lucky in trying to reach her. Maybe his brother, who currently resided in the United States for an internship, was not busy for once and could text him back?

“I shouldn’t though…”, he groaned, knowing he had to be responsible. In sheer desperation, he opened the Chosen Children app on his laptop to take a look around the map and chat options, hoping to find any news he could occupy himself with, regardless of where in the world somebody was texting. It was a shame that gate hopping wasn’t a thing anymore since the Digivices had vanished almost three years ago – and they still hadn’t figured out how to make it work with Koushirou’s technology. Still, Takeru liked checking on the app, just like he liked checking the general group chat. It was giving him a sense of serenity to see everyone interact casually, just when everything finally seemed mostly peaceful.

… Which was his last thought before he caught the glimpse of lightning striking outside from the corner of his eye.

“Woah!”

There had been a loud noise – somewhere not too far away from his apartment complex, so he had naturally jumped up from his chair.

“Wha- Takeru?”, Patamon shrieked, woken up by the rumbling as Takeru rushed to his open window. It had been a warm Summer day in the middle of July, but there was a chilliness right now that sent a shiver down his spine. His eyes sought through the night sky, trying to locate any kind of strange occurrence – and apparently, he wasn’t alone in his assumption that something about this lightning had not been ‘natural’.

“I can feel something…”, Patamon murmured, still half asleep, but alert enough to fly next to his human partner onto the window sill to join his efforts to look around.

“What do you mean? It wasn’t a digital gate, was it?”, Takeru asked, heart racing, both with worry – and excitement. Not that he had wished for a nightly Digimon attack disturbing the peace they had worked so hard to achieve. But a part of him really missed the supernatural experiences they used to encounter on a daily basis.

“I’m not sure… Something like an energy spike…? And doesn’t it look more foggy to you?”

Takeru squinted his eyes. “Yeah, it does…” Never had he missed the responsive beeping of his Digivice more than in this moment. Either way, whether or not there really was a Digimon involved, he felt validated in sending a warning into the group chat after all.

‘Just witnessed a lightning strike near my flat. Did any of you see anything? Patamon says there was an ‘energy spike’?! Will check out if there’s anything dangerous out there. I’ll keep you guys updated!’

“We should go and see if anything happened. You ready?”

“Aaaaawwwwlways!”, Patamon agreed with a yawn in between and Takeru quickly grabbed his phone. It was still odd to be able to trigger an evolution just with the “power of his belief” facilitated by the phone. But with Angemon by his side, he was confident that they’d be able to face any threat out there. And maybe gather some more writing inspiration in the process…

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

Number 9 must give a piggyback ride for Number 10 while riding on the back of a zorse (a zebra x horse hybrid)

Wait, so Kyoko's number 9, and Sakura's number 10?

Correct.

So...KYOKO has to give SAKURA the piggyback ride?

While riding...this...

For the record, a hybrid between a Horse and a Zebra is called a Zebroid. A Zorse is a specific kind of it.

Are you sure you can handle this, Kyoko?

I…honestly don’t know if this is even physically possible.

*Despite the tension, the group urges her on, and Kyoko, ever determined, approaches the Zorse with an uncharacteristically hesitant look. She mounts the creature first, gripping its reins tightly as she adjusts to the strange sensation of being on such an odd animal. Then, with a deep breath, she motions for Sakura to climb onto her back.

Please excuse me...

HNNGH!?

*Sakura, trying her best to be gentle, carefully wraps her arms around Kyoko’s shoulders. Despite her efforts, the moment she fully places her weight on Kyoko, the detective nearly buckles under the pressure, her face showing a rare expression of struggle. The zorse, surprisingly calm, begins to move forward, its steps slow and steady.

This…is…so much harder than I expected…! GAH!

*Kyoko fights to keep her balance. The weight of Sakura combined with the awkward ride on the Zorse makes the usually composed detective look completely out of her element. Her face shows a mix of intense concentration, mild panic, and sheer determination, emotions she seldom shows so openly.

I’m going to be crushed… I’m going to be crushed under Sakura’s weight while riding a hybrid animal…this is…beyond ridiculous!

Maternity leave not working out Kyoko?

SHUSH! Aaaahahahagh!

I-I’m sorry, Kyoko, I can get off-!

No…no, I’m finishing this…!

*With every step the Zorse takes, Kyoko’s face twists between grimaces of exertion and uncharacteristic looks of vulnerability. Despite everything, she pushes through, holding on for dear life. Finally, after what feels like an eternity for Kyoko, the Zorse completes its lap around the room.

DONE! You're done!

HAAAAAAH!

*As soon as they stop, Kyoko practically collapses from the effort, allowing Sakura to carefully climb off her back. Breathing heavily, Kyoko slides off the Zorse and stumbles, clearly exhausted but still holding her head high.

I…did it.

Congratulations...allow me to aide you.

Haaaaaahh...

*Kyoko relaxes as Sakura gives her a well-earned massage.

[bonefall]

Ask Etiquette

HELLO sorry for the intimidating post lmao, I just need something to toss up on the masterpost because I feel bad deleting asks and then people will never really have an idea of why I never answered them

I get a ton of asks (usually anywhere from 10 - 20 a day!) and I'm not able to get to them all! I try to answer as many as possible but I'm still just one guy. So with that in mind, there are some sorts of asks I will simply not answer, and some 'requests' I have for people who send them in;

Please keep your asks short PLEASE try not to send me essays if you want a response; I still love reading them! But if you send me walls of text/analysis you are asking me to write a lot in response, which I'd rather spend on actually writing or designing cats. (On that note if you send a bunch of questions at once, the likelihood I respond goes down.)

Do not send me personal questions Listen... I'm a stranger on the internet. I'm overjoyed to see when my art connects with people and helps you realize things! But don't ask me sensitive questions like how to move out of your abusive parents' house!! PLEASE learn internet safety and get less comfortable with volunteering that kind of information to people you don't know!

Do not ask me personal questions you do not need to know what i study or where i work. get less comfortable asking these sorts of questions to queer people on the internet, especially when they talk openly about having previously been abused or stalked. (not that a person should even need to be as open about that as i am)

If I don't have a good response I won't answer Especially for suggestions I don't vibe with. I try to only say "No" if I have a particularly interesting "No" to talk about, if that makes sense! If I had to write a full explanation for every veto or idea I don't vibe with, this blog would be 90% what isn't in BB.

No AUs within the AU. "What if Hawkfrost survived his impalement? What if Firestar never joined? What if Tigerstar was never born?" Listen, buddy, you're creating an exponential distraction for possible ways the story could have gone and I'm not looking to write several essays for the literal hundreds of alternative ways Clan history could have been written. It takes you 5 words to ask "What if X never died" but it takes me paragraphs to answer. (This isn't about suggestions btw, I very specifically mean ppl asking hypotheticals for fun.)

Don't be rude. I feel like this should go without saying but please mind the parasocial gap. Especially if you're on anon, I don't know you, your backstory, or your cadence.

No "Fight Baiting" You're free to ask me to speak about fandom trends, or for my opinions on general ideas, character discussions, and popular arguments! But it crosses a line if you're linking someone's posts with their uncropped usernames, sharing unsolicited google docs, youtube videos, etc, with the intention of getting me to attack a third party. We can talk about ideas without making it a PVP battle.

And, lastly, CLANMEW ASKS!!

I make a hard effort to get to everyone!! Those are published on Clanmew Day (WHICH IS NOW JUST GOING TO BE THE 30TH OF EVERY MONTH SO THAT IT'S LESS CONFUSING) but PLEASE understand I get a ton of them.

As I write this I have more than 26 tabs open of unanswered Clanmew asks, a lot more in my inbox, and 9 already in the queue. So that you understand the sheer volume of asks I have there.

If I didn't get to you that month, chances are that I'll get to you on the next, but please understand why I ask for folks to not re-send asks

So here's Clanmew-specific requests;

PLEASE just try a translation on your own first! Don't just send me raw lists of OCs to translate, give it a go first using the Lexicon, just so I can see you tried. I will happily and gladly make more specific words for you when I see you try!

When you send OCs you've translated, ask me for a new word at the end if you didn't already in your list. Just in case I can't think of a witty comment or a word suggestion, you will help me a lot

Please try to format with lists like this one Folks will send me double or triple-indented lists and it will take up my entire screen when they've only sent like, 5 names. Remember that posts you send to me go on people's dashes, be considerate please You can open a list like this by starting a new paragraph, typing -, and then an immediate space. Hold Shift + Enter to indent without adding another bullet.

If you could put "Clanmew" somewhere in your ask, like even if you open up with "Clanmew: Here is my question blah blah," it would help immensely I physically can't get to every ask I receive on Clanmew Day, so if you have "Clanmew" in your ask somewhere, it makes it a lot easier for me to find it when I can finally answer! I really wish Tumblr had ways to sort asks, but currently, I've just gotta make due with Cntrl + F.

[thecreaturecodex]

Protean, Heputwisa

"King of Spades" © deviantArt user RayEtherna, accessed at her gallery here

[More proteans! I went for the mammalian design for this protean as an homage to D&D's arcanaloths, especially the Planescape depiction of them as hyper-competent conspiracy masterminds. To go with that theme, I gave it a number of SLAs drawn from Ultimate Intrigue, which is a book I haven't used much. As a reminder, all of my proteans have names that are anagrams for people who are thematically linked to their purview. See if you can figure it out! There's also a reference to an upcoming protean lord I'm working on, although it might be a while before that comes to fruition.]

Protean, Heputwisa CR 18 CN Outsider (extraplanar) This creature looks like an unusual combination of canine and serpentine forms. Its head is like that of an exaggerated jackal, with a long muzzle and pointed ears. A mane of hair grows along its neck and shoulders, which is accentuated by jagged spines. Similar spines grow from the wrists above its clawed hands, and along its long serpentine lower body.

A heputwisa is a powerful protean that embodies conspiracies and lies. They craft and cultivate rumors, spreading them from person to person and watching them mutate and take a life of their own. Few heputwisa are content with a single conspiracy at once, and they often stoke multiple false beliefs at once, some of which are at odds with each other. Some create their own conspiracies more directly, forming cells of rebels that plot against the status quo, or infiltrating a lawful organization to disrupt it and stymie its efforts. Some heputwisas are content to merely create criminal networks or incite revolutions, whereas others seek nothing less than the breakdown of consensus reality.

Heputwisas usually enter combat in disguise, taking the shape of another as an apparent betrayal. Their combats are often as much for show as they are to inflict physical damage, and they may flee after a couple of rounds if they feel they have made their point. The bite of a heputwisa causes its victims’ bodies to revolt against themselves, suffering warpwave after warpwave. Perhaps most dangerous is their ability to disrupt teamwork with their sheer presence. A heputwisa might float over an army squadron invisibly, causing their tactics to fall apart without lifting a finger.

Heputwisas are among the most solitary of the proteans, as they typically view others of their own kind as rivals. Two heputwisas in the same area will usually devote their energy and resources to uncovering the other’s conspiracies, which results in escalation and frequently violence. Only the presence of a protean lord can cause heputwisas to work together, and even then usually at some distance, each contributing to part of a greater conspiracy. The protean lord Etna is one of the greatest patrons of heputwisas, and at least a half dozen of these proteans are sewing seeds of dissent to achieve her ultimate, ambitious goal of regime change in Hell.

Heputwisa             CR 18 XP 153,600 CN Large outsider (chaos, extraplanar, protean) Init +10; Senses blindsight 60 ft., darkvision 60 ft., Perception +29 Aura betrayal (30 ft., Will DC 29), cloak of chaos (DC 25)

Defense AC 33, touch 20, flat-footed 26 (-1 size, +6 Dex, +1 dodge, +4 deflection, +13 natural) hp 312 (25d10+175) Fort +21, Ref +24, Will +23; +8 vs. mind-influencing DR 15/lawful; Immune acid, divination; Resist electricity 10, sonic 10; SR 29 Defensive Abilities amorphous anatomy, freedom of movement, mind blank

Offense Speed 30 ft., fly 90 ft. (perfect) Melee bite +33 (2d6+9 plus lingering warpwave), 2 claws +33 (1d8+9), tail slap +31 (2d8+4 plus grab) or touch +33 (ego whip) Space 10 ft.; Reach 10 ft. Special Attacks constrict (4d8+9), ego whip, sneak attack +3d6 Spell-like Abilities CL 20th, concentration +27 Constant—cloak of chaos (self only, DC 25), mind blank, tongues At will—aura alteration, compulsive liar (DC 19), greater teleport (self plus 50 lbs only), invisibility, paranoia (DC 19), rumormonger (DC 19), suggestion (DC 20) 3/day—confusion (DC 21), deceitful veneer (DC 21), quickened glibness, quickened greater dispel magic, modify memory (DC 22), they know (DC 21) 1/day—crime wave (DC 24), demand (DC 25), mislead (DC 23), pox of rumors (DC 25), word of chaos (DC 24)

Statistics Str 29, Dex 23, Con 24, Int 24, Wis20, Cha 25 Base Atk +25; CMB +35 (+39 grapple); CMD 46 (cannot be tripped) Feats Combat Expertise, Deceitful, Dodge, Great Fortitude, Greater Vital Strike, Improved Feint, Improved Vital Strike, Improved Initiative, Multiattack, Power Attack, Quicken SLA (glibness, greater dispel magic), Vital Strike Skills Appraise +28, Bluff +35, Diplomacy +31, Disguise +35 (+55 to resemble a specific person), Fly +22, Intimidate +31, Knowledge (history, planes) +31, Knowledge (arcana, local, nobility) +28, Perception +29, Sense Motive +29, Spellcraft +28, Stealth +26, Use Magic Device +28 Languages Abyssal,Common, Protean, tongues SQ change shape (greater polymorph), perfect copy

Ecology Environment any land or urban (Maelstrom) Organization solitary Treasure standard

Special Abilities Aura of Betrayal (Su) All creatures within 30 feet of a heputwisa must succeed a DC 29 Will save or become filled with dissension. Creatures that fail their saves are no longer treated as allies to other creatures and can't provide flanking, use or benefit from teamwork feats or aid another actions, or allow other creatures to move through their space. Any spell or effect that requires a willing target fails if used on an affected creature, and even harmless effects require an attack roll (if applicable) and require affected creatures to attempt a saving throw to resist their effects (if a save is allowed). In addition, if a creature casts a beneficial spell or uses a beneficial supernatural ability (such as channel energy) while in the area of the aura of betrayal, it must succeed a DC 29 Will save or include the heputwisa in the effect. This is a mind-influencing effect, and the save DC is Charisma based. Change Shape (Su) A heputwisa can change shape at will, but does not gain the healing benefit as is usual for a protean. Constrict (Ex) A heputwisa’s constriction deals bludgeoning and piercing damage. Ego Whip (Su) The touch of a heputwisa inflicts severe doubt. A creature touched by a heputwisa is affected by an ego whip IV spell (CL 25th, Will DC 29). A heputwisa can inflict this penalty along with one of its melee attacks as a swift action. Lingering Warpwave (Su) A creature bitten by a heputwisa must succeed a DC 29 Fortitude save or be affected by a warpwave. Each round, it must attempt another DC Fortitude save—if it fails, it is affected by a warpwave again until it succeeds a save to end the effect. A dispel chaos or similar effect removes a lingering warpwave. The save DC is Constitution based. Perfect Copy (Ex) A heputwisa can masquerade as a specific individual using its change shape ability, gaining a +20 to all Disguise checks to appear as that individual.

[yumiyue07]

Through Fire and Blood

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★ POV: K-idol x reader

H/N = His name Y/N = Your name

M/N1 = Member 1’s name (choose any member of your bias’ group) M/N2 = Member 2’s name (choose any member of your bias’ group

Trigger warning: swearing, violence ｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

H/N’s scream, raw and filled with unimaginable pain, tore through the warehouse, reverberating off the walls and piercing your heart. In that horrific moment, you could only think one thing, clear and unwavering amidst the chaos: "Better me than him." You braced yourself, forcing your mind to accept the inevitable, a rush of cold fear twisting through you.

H/N, despite his injuries, refused to give up. Fueled by sheer willpower, he struggled to push himself up, managing to get onto his knees. But before he could make another move, one of Cobra’s men stepped down on his back with brutal force. H/N cried out in pain, his body jerking under the crushing weight. The man twisted his boot into H/N’s wound with sadistic pleasure, laughing as he kept him pinned.

"Stay down, hero," the thug spat, drawing more cruel laughter from Cobra’s gang.

Desperation and fury burned in H/N's eyes, his muscles straining as he fought against the boot pressing him to the ground. His breath came in ragged gasps, but his focus never wavered from you. He could see Cobra's gleaming knife, aimed directly at your chest. The malice in Cobra's eyes was undeniable, and time seemed to slow as he lunged toward you, his arm rearing back for the deadly strike.

M/N1 and M/N2 tried to come to your aid but were also held back by Cobra's men. They were pinned down, their struggles futile against the overwhelming force of their captors. They could only watch in horror as the scene unfolded before them.

You locked eyes with H/N in that instant, your heart breaking as you saw the horror in his gaze. You were almost glad that he was being held back. He was powerless to stop it. "No!" H/N roared, his voice a desperate, guttural sound, his entire body trembling with the effort to fight off the man holding him down. Every second stretched into an eternity as the blade came closer, the air thick with the weight of what was about to happen.

You closed your eyes, every muscle tensing as you braced for the sharp, inevitable pain of the kn*fe piercing your flesh.

But instead of agony, there was silence—broken only by a wet, gurgling sound that wasn’t yours.

Confusion fluttered through you, and with a heart pounding in your chest, you forced your eyes open.

Standing protectively in front of you, his body between you and Cobra, was Jun Ho.

Time froze. The knife was embedded deep in his chest, right where your face should’ve been. His back was slightly hunched, as if shielding you even now, as blood seeped through his clothes. A single ruby tear slid down the blade, glistening under the dim light. Cobra had struck him, not you. He had taken the blow.

A scream rose in your throat but choked off before it could escape, leaving only an unbearable weight of horror. Your mind struggled to process what you were seeing. Jun Ho… he had protected you?

"Filthy traitor," Cobra hissed, his face twisted with cold satisfaction. He stared down at Jun Ho, eyes filled with sadistic pleasure as he registered the betrayal. "Serves you right." His words dripped with venom. "You wanted her for yourself, didn’t you? I saw the way you looked at her. You thought you could have her?" His sneer widened, pulling the knife out deliberately slow, twisting it just enough to drag out the pain. Jun Ho’s body jerked at the movement, but he remained silent, his jaw clenched, refusing to give Cobra the satisfaction of hearing his agony.

Blood poured from the wound, a flood of crimson staining Jun Ho’s once-pristine suit. You watched in helpless disbelief as the man who had brought you into this dilemma sacrificed himself, the weight of his betrayal to Cobra now crashing down with deadly finality.

"What a waste of talent," Cobra added with a disgusted sneer, his hand dripping with Jun Ho’s blood.

Jun Ho crumpled to the ground, his body folding in on itself as he collapsed onto his back. His face twisted with agony, yet through it, a fleeting expression of peace lingered in his eyes as they met yours.

"Just in time, right?" he rasped, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his blood-stained lips. His voice was barely more than a whisper, weak, fading fast.

Tears blurred your vision, overflowing in a torrent that mirrored the storm of emotions raging inside you—sorrow, disbelief, guilt. "Jun Ho… why?" you managed to choke out, your voice cracking under the weight of your feelings. You turned to the room, pleading desperately, "Someone, please, help him!"

No one moved. The room stood still, the cruelty of your captors evident in their cold indifference. You were alone with him now.

A shadow of a smile flickered across his face again, his breath shallow and ragged. "Take care of yourself, princess," he whispered, the familiar nickname somehow cutting deeper now. "I can't… do this for you anymore."

"Jun Ho...thank you," you murmured, your voice trembling with a depth of gratitude that felt too small for the moment. "I’ll never forget what you did for me."

His gaze softened, a mixture of sorrow and quiet resignation in his eyes. He had spent so long straddling the line between loyalty to Cobra and his own inner conflict, but in this final moment, he had chosen. He had chosen you, over everything else. He had played with fire, knowing the cost, but he couldn’t have watched you die—not like that. This was his final act of redemption.

His chest heaved with one last, shallow breath. Then, silence.

Jun Ho was gone.

The weight of his lifeless body lay heavy in the room, but even heavier on your heart. The one person who had shielded you, who had seen you beyond just a pawn in this deadly game, was now lost. You had harbored a secret hope that, once this nightmare ended, you could somehow convince H/N to take him in, to offer him a way out of Cobra’s world. But now, that hope was crushed. His sacrifice, his redemption—too late.

Tears streamed uncontrollably down your face as you stared at his still form. His death felt unbearably heavy, his final act a price you hadn’t wanted him to pay.

"I’m so sorry," you whispered, your voice barely audible, a fragile thread of sound breaking under the weight of guilt. "I didn’t want this to happen."

You looked over at H/N, fear gnawing at your insides as you watched him struggle. You couldn’t bear to lose him. His face was pale, and a small pool of blood had formed beside him.

"I'm fine," he whispered, a faint smile flitting across his face. Despite his words, you could see the pain etched in his features.

Cobra, however, seemed to revel in the chaos, his eyes gleaming with a twisted amusement. "Oh, how dramatic," he sneered, his voice filled with contempt. "You all disgust me." He gestured around the room, taking in the scene of fallen bodies and desperate pleas. "I'll just end this now," he declared.

"You know, I've changed my mind," he continued, his voice laced with a chilling indifference.

Fear gripped your heart like an icy vice as Cobra turned to you, his cold, predatory gaze on you. His words dripped with malice, his twisted amusement feeding off your terror. "You're not worth being my bride," he sneered, as if tossing you aside was as inconsequential as discarding a broken toy.

"I'll start with you, my dear," he continued, stepping toward you with deliberate slowness, savoring the dread he knew he was inflicting.

You struggled against your bindings, the chair beneath you creaking as you strained to move, to fight, to do anything. Panic surged through you, your mind screaming for some way to stop him, but there was nothing. Jun Ho’s body lay still beside you, his sacrifice a raw wound in your heart, and H/N—oh God, H/N—was still on the floor, weakened and barely able to move.

H/N's gaze met yours, desperation and fury mingling in his eyes. He tried to rise, gritting his teeth through the pain, but Cobra’s men kept him pinned down, their mocking laughter echoing cruelly through the warehouse. "It’s not your turn yet, hero," one of them jeered, twisting their boot deeper into H/N's back, forcing him down as he groaned in pain.

Cobra’s shadow fell over you as he loomed closer, his knife glinting menacingly in the dim light. He reached for you, his hand cold and unfeeling, when suddenly, H/N's voice broke through the suffocating tension. "Don't you dare touch her!" he growled, his voice thick with rage and determination.

Cobra paused, a cruel smile twisting his lips as he glanced at H/N. "Still playing the hero, huh? Haven't you learned yet?" Cobra, however, wasn't fazed. He reached over and, with a sickening casualness, pressed the tip of the knife against your cheek. "I'll slit your pretty face first and then your throat," he said with a sadistic grin. "Let's see how much your 'knight' can save you now."

Cobra's words, dripping with venom, sent a chill down your spine, but you refused to back down. Despite the terror clawing at your insides, you kept your gaze locked with his, determined not to show the fear he so desperately wanted to see. The knife at your cheek felt like a brand, its cold sting a reminder of just how close to death you were.

Using the last of his strength, H/N twisted his body sharply, grabbing hold of the man’s ankle. With a force fueled by desperation and rage, he yanked the thug’s leg out from under him, sending the man crashing to the floor with a grunt. The moment his captor was down, H/N sprang up, adrenaline surging through his veins, ignoring the burning pain in his abdomen. Before the thug could react, H/N delivered a savage punch to his jaw, knocking him out cold.

Gasping for breath, H/N rose to his feet, the weight of his injury bearing down on him, but he never faltered. His eyes locked on you and Cobra, who was still pressing the kn*fe to your cheek.

"Let her go, Cobra," H/N growled, his voice hoarse but unyielding. "This is between us. Leave her out of it."

Cobra turned his head slightly, acknowledging H/N’s words with a sneer. "Oh, you don’t get it, do you? She’s the key to breaking you," he said, pressing the knife harder against your skin. The bead of blood grew into a thin trickle, tracing a crimson line down your cheek. "She’s why you’re weak. I own you now."

A guttural sound of rage ripped from H/N's throat. With a force that seemed impossible given his battered condition, he rushed at Cobra, grabbing him by the legs and throwing the crime boss off balance. The knife wavered, slipping away from your face just as Cobra stumbled, his sneer turning into a snarl of surprise.

"Get your hands off her!" H/N bellowed, adrenaline fueling his every movement. He rose, using every last ounce of strength he had left to shove Cobra back. The room seemed to pulse with the intensity of the moment, every breath, every heartbeat stretched taut with tension.

Cobra, regaining his footing, spun around, his eyes alight with fury. "You think you can stop me?!" he roared, lunging at H/N with the knife raised high.

Time slowed as you watched in horror, your heart pounding in your chest. H/N barely managed to dodge the first swipe. As Cobra's hand swung towards his face, H/N countered with a powerful punch, connecting squarely with Cobra's jaw. But the second came too fast. Cobra’s blade slashed down across H/N’s arm, a spray of blood following the movement. H/N staggered, clutching his wounded arm, but he didn’t fall. His determination was unwavering, fueled by the sight of you in danger.

"You’re going to have to kill me to get to her," H/N growled, stepping between you and Cobra, his body a shield despite the agony tearing through him.

Cobra wiped the blood from his lips, his expression darkening. "Gladly," he hissed, lunging forward with murderous intent, his knife aimed straight for H/N’s heart.

To be continued...

♡

I cried while writing Jun Ho's death part. T^T I really thought about changing the plot again. But yeah, I had to add a shocking moment...

Please like, share, and follow! ♡＼(￣▽￣)／♡

Stay tuned for part 18!

Love, YumiYue 🌙

(⌒▽⌒)♡

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Disclaimer: This story is a work of fan fiction inspired by Stray Kids’ song “Freeze”. All characters and events are fictional and are not intended to represent real people or events.

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[king-k-ripple]

Kirby Games Ranked From Easiest to Hardest

If you haven’t played a Kirby game and don’t know where to start, hopefully this can help you decide based on what you want from Kirby. If you’re looking for a game to simply relax with and have a good time, games ranked 13-9 will suffice. If you’re looking for a challenge, every Kirby game ranked 5-1 will be up your alley despite the popular belief in all Kirby games being cakewalks. Finally, games 6-8 are what I consider to be an average difficulty by Kirby standards. Keep in mind that the difficulty of these games will be based on simply finishing them, not necessarily 100%ing them, though some games require 100% completion to be finished regardless and I will take that into consideration in games where it will be applicable. If you have played these games, I’d love to see where my rankings agree and/or disagree with the rest of the fandom. Without further ado (oh look a Kirby pun), here are my rankings:

13: Kirby’s Epic Yarn

It is literally impossible to die and no collecting is required. Very little to no effort is needed to finish this game. I wish I could say more, but there isn’t anything else to talk about.

12: Kirby Star Allies

The reason why this ranks so low is because a good amount of the game plays itself with the helpers both in puzzle solving and combat. Bosses, often the hardest parts of Kirby games, go down in mere seconds. The reason why it’s not at the very bottom is because it’s at least possible to die in this game, and there are more one-hit kills in this game than any other game in the series. Yes, there are difficult stages like Heroes in Another Dimension and the return of the infamous Shiver Star factory level, but both of these are completely optional and therefore not make the base game any harder.

11: Kirby Super Star Ultra

The combination of being able to take like 10-12 hits and the sheer power+versatility of the copy abilities makes you almost unstoppable (except for auto scrollers). Not even the extra modes like Revenge of the King are all that hard, and Meta Knightmare Ultra is far easier than the main story because you can heal yourself up to 5 times by collecting 10 blue orbs from killing enemies per use, and seeing as enemies are everywhere, your ability to heal recovers and stacks fast.

10: Kirby Nightmare in Dreamland

Not a lot stopping you except for the eratic enemy behavior, but your 6-point health bar makes it only 1/6th as bad as instant death, and seeing as every door is a checkpoint with about 2-5 doors per stage, and the fact that this game showers you with lives, this game isn’t much of a challenge either. Although this game’s Meta Knightmare is an actual hard mode with only three HP and a lack of blue orbs, it has the same issue as Star Allies’ hardest levels in that it’s optional and doesn’t make simply finishing the game any harder.

9: Kirby Squeak Squad

This is the first game on the list with something that can genuinely halt one’s progress, that being the star seals. The player will not be able to progress to World 7 if they missed at least one star seal. With that being said, the required star seals only barely raise the challenge since there are only five of them, three of which are easy to obtain. Mecha Kracko, Dark Daroach, and the Star seals in 4-2 and 5-1 are the only somewhat hard parts of the game. Aside from that, it’s basically Kirby Nightmare in Dreamland 2 but even more forgiving with combat because of the ability scrolls and health upgrades.

8: Kirby’s Dreamland 1

Both the levels and bosses are pushovers. It doesn’t help that this is the shortest Kirby game by a long shot, so there isn’t much challenge the game can throw at you. So why is this in the middle of the list? It’s because of King Dedede, who is easily the hardest Dedede fight in the series. It’s all thanks to the claustrophobic arena you fight him in, making the window for evasion of Dedede’s attacks far smaller than the fights in the rest of the series. I legit “game overed” to this fight many times when I played Dreamland 1 for the fist time. Even to this day, Dedede knocks me out a few times before I get the hang of his move set. Regardless, one very difficult boss fight in an otherwise easy and short game can only get Dreamland 1 so high up on the list.

7: Kirby Return to Dreamland

Now we get to the games that consistently require effort to finish, and not just limited to one or a few instances. Return to Dreamland is basically Kirby Star Allies but with less automation in that you have to perform a lot more tasks yourself, from problem solving to obstacle dodging to combat. Although the number of one-hit kills isn’t quite as high as in Star Allies, it’s up there, especially in Egg Engines.

6: Kirby 64 the Crystal Shards

This entry would be a solid contender for the hardest game in the series if it weren’t for its cheat code, because Kirby 64 has the highest number of mandatory 100% completion tasks, but because the code exists, Kirby 64 is middle of the road when it comes to difficulty, and it plays a lot like Return to Dreamland, being a straightforward action platformer where the meat of the game is overcoming tricky to fight+dodge enemies+obstacles, with a fair amount of obstacles being 1-hit kills. The reason why 64 is above Return to Dreamland is because Kirby is nowhere near as agile in 64. Not only can he run out of flight, but he walks and runs slowly, making avoiding obstacles harder to avoid than Return to Dreamland.

5: Kirby’s Dreamland 2

If you’re like me and prefer easy games over hard ones, this is where the franchise transitions from a lot of fun to kind of frustrating. This game has a 100% completion requirement in the form of rainbow drops, though there are only seven to collect. While that sounds easy, getting the rainbow drops in 4-4, 5-5, and 6-2 are some of the hardest things to do in a Kirby game. 4-4 and 5-5 are fast-moving auto scrollers that can easily one-shot you and take away the power you need for the Rainbow drops. 6-2 has an insane amount to steps to get its rainbow drop, and all must be performed in a row flawlessly. Another thing that puts this game high on the list is the lack of time to react to pretty much anything and everything. Ever played Marble Garden Zone from Sonic 3? The zone where you move far too fast and the hazards move far too fast for you to react? Imagine if every stage was like that, it was on a 10-9 aspect ratio, and the sprites were large relative to the screen. That is basically the level design of Kirby’s Dreamland 2. With no time to react to and prepare for any enemies or hazards, a player is likely to take hits and die quite often, many of which feel more like the game’s fault than a lack of the player’s skill.

4: Kirby Planet Robobot

3: Kirby Triple Deluxe

2: Kirby and the Forgotten Land

Triple Deluxe, Planet Robobot, and Forgotten Land all share the same reasons for their high placements on this list. The first reason is not allowing non-completionists to finish any world if they haven’t obtained enough collectibles, many of which become inaccessible if the player fails to collect them after one attempt. The second reason is because unlike the rest of the series, completing the boss rushes are required to finish the games because the final bosses can’t simply be fought in the main stories and instead are locked behind the tail ends of the boss rushes, and unlike the regular stages, there are no checkpoints or continues in the boss rushes, so the margin for error is insanely small. The reasons why the Kirby games are in this order are because Triple Deluxe on average demands more sun stones than Robobot does for code cubes and the absence of the stone ability in Forgotten Land makes the boss rush at least ten times harder than it was in Triple Deluxe and Planet Robobot.

1: Kirby’s Dreamland 3

Imagine taking the difficulty of Dreamland 2’s 4-4, 5-5, and 6-2’s rainbow drops and putting it in every single stage of the game. That is basically what you get for Dreamland 3. There is not one heart star that isn’t a pain in the butt to get, and the worst part is that they are all mandatory. Because there is absolutely zero margin for error, I have no choice but to put this game above all the others when it comes to difficulty.

This truly was an interesting way to analyze the Kirby series, and if you have a difference in opinion, I’d love to hear what Kirby games gave you the easiest and hardest time.

[demispark]

Donald Duck Is Among The Strongest Mages in the Final Fantasy Universe (Who Rivals the Divine)

I am, perhaps, the least qualified person for this task, but I love mentioning it and @ancestorlegacy said this should've been an option in my poll for KH topics to explain to my friends who nothing about it, and I just couldn't resist.

I have no idea how long whichever post I'll write when the poll is over will be, so writing this in advance means I'll still be able to post a Kingdom Hearts infodump on April 1st like I wanted to.

(After writing this, it's getting a little long, so if you don't want to read the whole thing, I'll put a TL;DR at the end of the post.)

Donald has a tendency to die quickly, misuse magic by hitting enemies with their elemental affinities (causing them to be healed), and often doesn't heal Sora when most needed.

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR - Kingdom Hearts III, Bravely Default, Final Fantasy XVI, as well as some non-story spoilers for Kingdom Hearts I & II

The beginning of this story is immensely funny. Remember how the title of this post says that Donald Duck is an incredibly strong mage? That tends not to be the case for most of the series.

Whether he is or isn't powerful, he is highly unreliable. He has, however, been known to throw a good Flare spell in his time.

Allow me to introduce Flare Force, a Limit in Kingdom Hearts II and a Situation Command in Kingdom Hearts III.

This whole maneuver is called "Flare Force", but Donald's firework-summoning spells themselves are known as "Duck Flare", "Rocket Flare", and "Megaduck Flare", respectively.

With that "Mega-", now seems like a good time to explain the various Flare Spells for context.

In the Final Fantasy franchise, Flare is a high-level magic spell. One of the "ultimate" Black Mage spells, in fact. It's often non-elemental magic, but is also the final form in the line of Fire magic in others.

I'll refrain from discussing all of the different offshoots of Flare, and just discuss the relevant upgraded forms.

Still with me? Great.

Higher forms of Flare tend to be given metric prefixes:

- Nanoflare = one-billionth (10^-9)

- Megaflare = one million (10^6)

- Gigaflare = one billion (10^9)

- Teraflare = one trillion (10^12)

- Exaflare = one quintillion (10^18)

- Zettaflare = one sextillion (10^21)

Now, setting aside the discussion of how these firework Flare spells compare to Flare and Megaflare, we can now get to what you've all been waiting for: Donald Duck vaporizing a final boss-level opponent with some of the highest grade Black Magic in the FF Universe!

Golly, wasn't that amazing? Now, we can FINALLY get into why this scene makes Donald one of the strongest mages ever.

Recall how I said that Flare is an "ultimate" Black Magic spell. Donald cast a spell equivalent to ONE SEXTILLION of an endgame offensive spell.

I mean, he appears to have either passed out for exertion or straight-up died from the effort of casting it, but that's not important. Why? Because now I can finally explain what the last part of the title of this post means.

While Donald now shares the title of strongest mage with two others to date, there is one difference: he's just a mage.

First up: Airy the Fairy.

She was a companion-turned-major antagonist in Bravely Default. While her master plan involved successfully destroying dimensions, this wasn't a direct result of her own power. Furthermore, she was a servant of the God of Destruction, Ouroboros, and was being powered-up and supported by the god during the fight in which she uses Zettaflare. Therefore, I do not believe that she can be compared to Donald's sheer might.

No, the only true comparison is to the one who is so strongly associated with Megaflare and its associated variations: Bahamut.

In case you hadn't heard, Final Fantasy XIV's original launch was so bad that they destroyed the setting of the game in canon. Bahamut's Teraflare was the cause.

Bahamut obliterated an entire continent with one spell, and Donald's spell was many, many orders of magnitude higher.

Fast forward to Final Fantasy XVI, however, and it seems that the legendary King of Dragons may have finally become a match for our feathered Flare-casting friend!

... Or maybe not. See, I haven't played Final Fantasy XIV. In fact, the only games mentioned in this post that I have played is the main one the post is about, the Kingdom Hearts series.

I'm a little hazy on the details because of that, so forgive me if I have gotten anything wrong, but Bahamut's Zettaflare failed. I mean, Airy's clearly did too since she was defeated by the protagonists of the game she was in, but Bahamut is THE Megaflare guy. Gigaflare, Teraflare, Exaflare, all used by Bahamut or some version of Bahamut.

Outplayed by Donald fucking Duck. Thank you for coming to my TEDtalk.

TL;DR - Despite being typically unreliable, Donald Duck successfully vaporized a major foe with the absurdly high-level Zettaflare spell. Airy (a fairy backed by a God of Destruction) from Bravely Default and Bahamut (A massively powerful and legendary dragon who is a staple of the FF series) from Final Fantasy XVI have also used Zettaflare, but to much less effectiveness compared to the mortal duck mage.

[evenstarfalls]

Ranking the past years sewing projects in an attempt to convince myself that I am hot shit and need to actually work on the stuff I have planned: let's see how this goes

I have actually done quite a lot of sewing in the past year—kind of been getting back into it as a hobby. Most of it has been based on online instruction guides and improvisation, it's kind of a messy journey but I have been having success (and arguably more importantly, fun).

Blouse made from cut up shein top and satin.. I am not happy with this and have yet to wear it out. Straps are poorly done and the satin doesn't really match, I am seriously considering replacing it with green fabric (may or may not be a thrifted top). 4/10

Too small Shein dress converted into top. The front looks good. The back is another story but the front looks good!!! Sleeves fit weirdly and limit the range of motion however I think that's Shein's fault. 5/10

Plaid pants. I used a real pattern for these!! I love them they're so silly however they stretch too much and I always feel like they're going to slip off. 7/10

Jurse. I love it however it has not held up particularly well, probably due to both construction and materials—the pockets have holes worn in them. I still use it sometimes. 7/10

Victor Vale poodle skirt. Unfortunately I am too self-conscious to wear it much in public. I need to add more characters. 7.5/10

[redacted] dress I had to redact this one for doxx reasons. It is made of like 23 cut up neck gaiters and an old bedsheet. I spent like a year planning this dress. And I love it. Has some construction issues but idc 8/10

Love Händel oversized tshirt dress. I love it I love the Phineas and Ferb of it I actually wear it quite a bit. My only issue is that I wish I'd seamripped the hem before adding the ruffle but that's. Not something noticeable. 9/10

Corset. I spent an ungodly amount of time on this but it looks awesome fr. I wore it to my first ren faire! 10/10

Queen/kitties reversible vest. I love it I really do and I think Freddie Mercury would agree. Wore it when I saw Queen + Adam Lambert. And I still wear it a lot. And get compliments on it. I love this vest. 10/10

Franny Robinson cosplay Halloween dress and bonus creepy frog stuffed toy. I would consider this one to be unrankable actually due to the sheer amount of time and effort I spent on this. I had to drop a class bc of this dress. Objectively poor construction but I don't care it looks good and I love to wear it. I listened to an AUDIOBOOK while making this. I am going to wear this dress as many times as possible. I am...really proud of this dress. 100/10

[cleveradjacent]

2,9,18 ! For the ask game

thank you tumblr user bigsoggyballs 2: What fanfic do you wish you got more response on?

def restless and all that loves you. i'm proudest of the former, but it didn't get much attention, i assume because it's gen. as for the latter, i picked it for the sheer effort expended, though it's a dark work and i get why not many people would wanna attach their username to something like that 9: What’s your favorite line(s) or scene(s) that you have written? my memory is trash so i don't have a favorite line, i went and skimmed through no trophy and picked a nice passage. context: vasya reminiscing 10 years after ogt's death about how he pocketed his prosthetic

You only remember how you got the trophy. Trudging along the track, all of your thoughts melting down into a scalding liquid and pooling at the wound in your shoulder. There was nothing around, just the sun, and the piercing gleam of the rails, and your pain. Then, there was a body. Head scattered, like a broken Christmas toy, pink and white. His Arisaka nearby, and something small shining up from the littered grass. You picked up the small thing back then, feeling its wet reddish coat. You wiped it off on the ground and stood there, as if the Christmas toy had just slipped from your own hands and shattered.

as for scenes, hard to pick a favorite, but there's one buried far into this weapon wants where a convoluted chain of events leads to ogata hugging a corpse and realising he's not afraid of the touch for the first time because the other person can't perceive him. i just think it's neat.

18: Recommend someone else fic!

i will never get tired of recommending cat's cradle. if i started writing out all i adore about it, i would make this already lengthy answer three times as long. it's an engrossing multi-chapter journey that might leave your jaw smeared in a thin veneer on the floor. it inspired this weapon wants. ohhh you wanna read this fanfic you wanna read it so bad. if you can handle an exploration of ogata as an SA survivor, go ahead and do it