#I Am All of Me is RIGHT THERE. and so is like ... literally any of the other songs that came from Shad05..

[flaminhotlili]

you make me wanna blush.

synopsis — telling your lads boyfriends that you have a crush on them <3

warnings — just disgusting fluff i fear

featuring — xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus, & caleb (separate fics)

notes — this is my first fluffy work and it's reminding me how single i am irl 😀 also if u want to be tagged in my future works don't forget to send me an ask asap! anyway have fun reading and lmk what yall think!! love u lots <3

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After receiving a weirdly ominous text from you–we need to talk, ASAP–Xavier was relieved to notice the shy smile on your face. It didn’t seem that important after all, but his curiosity was already piqued. As he sat on the empty chair next to you, he smiled when you tucked in a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m here. What did you need to tell me?” he asked you.

You glanced at your boyfriend and immediately looked away, your face heating up. “I have something to tell you…” you muttered. 

Xavier waited for you to continue talking, scooting closer to you. He leaned closer to you and blinked curiously. 

“I… have a crush on you, Xavier.”

Xavier let out a laugh and grabbed your hand, kissing it firmly and then letting it rest against his cheek. “That’s what got you so worked up?” he teased, contradicting the quickening of his heartbeat. 

“Hey! Confessing to you like this takes hard work!” you protested and squished your boyfriend’s cheek in your hands. Xavier chuckled and kissed your palm, “Don’t worry, I have a crush on you too.”

Zayne could already tell that you were up to something from the way you were trying to stifle your grin. He sat across from you on the dining table, where you kept stealing glances at him. Zayne wiped the corner of his mouth for any crumbs and focused his attention onto you.

“Okay, what are you up to?” he asked directly. 

You grinned at your boyfriend, “I… have a huge crush on someone.” you replied.

Zayne raised an eyebrow at that; that was not what he was expecting. But he finally knew what you were up to. He then smiled, picking up an uneaten macaron from the box you bought for him earlier. “Is that so? Tell me who this person is.”

You giggled, glad that he was playing along. “Well, he’s a really good doctor at Akso Hospital… and he’s super smart…”

Zayne hummed, “He sounds familiar. Is he a colleague of mine?”

“Hmm, does a Dr. Zayne Li ring any bells?” 

Zayne chuckled and gestured for you to open your mouth, where he then gently placed the macaron into it. “That’s good to know, because I believe this Dr. Zayne Li has a crush on you too.” he said. You laughed at his reply, kissing his fingertips as you chew down on the macaron. 

Rafayel thought he’d gone deaf, “What did you just say?”

“I said, I have a crush on somebody.” you repeated, your smile growing wider. Rafayel frowned deeply; why would you have a crush on somebody else when he was right there? 

“You’re being ridiculous, cutie. I’m literally right here! Why would you have crushes when I’m right here?”

You rolled your eyes, letting out an exasperated laugh. “I have a crush on you, dummy!” you said.

It takes Rafayel a while to register what you had just told him. By the time it sinks in, you were already bent over laughing at him. Rafayel whined, “Hey, this isn’t funny!” he protested, pulling you into his arms. You continued to giggle, “It’s a little funny–you got so worked up!”

Rafayel affectionately rolled his eyes at you, opting to place a thousand kisses over your face to shut you up instead. 

“Sylus.”

Sylus looked up from his phone with a hum. You walked into your shared bedroom in just his shirt, your face still wet from washing it. “What is it, sweetie?” he asked, holding out his hand for you to take. He pulled you into his embrace, placing a gentle kiss to your head as you sat with your back to his chest. 

“I… have a crush.”

“Oh?” Sylus smirked, instantly getting what you were up to. You nodded, your face hilariously serious for such a tiny thing. “Yeah. I’ve had it since forever.” you replied in a hilariously serious tone.

“Is that so? On who?” he asked, playing along. You let out a breathless laugh as his large hands began massaging your back. “I’d like to know so I can… have a little chat with this person,” he added.

“Well, how are you going to have this little chat with yourself, then?” you asked, turning your head to face him. Sylus let out his signature expensive laugh and kissed your nose.

 “Alright, you’ve outsmarted me, kitten.” he said fondly.

Nothing can ever truly bypass Caleb, not even your harmless pranks. He could already see what you were up to from miles away, but he pretends to be oblivious about it anyway. 

“So, Caleb…” you said, grabbing his arm and letting it rest over your shoulder so you could be closer to him. Caleb welcomes this skinship, trying his best not to smile. “Yeah, Pipsqueak?” he asked.

You hesitated for a moment, biting your lip as if you were actually nervous. Caleb chuckles and slides his arm down to your waist, pulling you closer to his chest. 

“I… have a crush on somebody.”

Caleb scoffed, “Really now? Who is this lucky person?” 

You pretended to think about it, “Mmm, I don’t wanna tell you… you might know who he is.”

Caleb smirked, of course you wouldn’t tell him right away. “Aw shucks, I wanted to tell you who my crush is if you had told me yours.” he said with a faux pout. 

You immediately snap your attention to his words, trying to find out if he was messing with you or not, “You’re not being fair!” you whined. Caleb laughed at your reaction, hugging you with both of his arms around you this time. “Then just tell me who this mystery man is and I’ll tell you who my crush is!”

“It’s you, obviously!” you said, pouting up at Caleb. He cooed at your flustered face and kissed the apples of your cheeks. “That’s great to know, Pipsqueak, because I have a crush on you too.” he sighed, his lips against your flushed skin.

[rafes-slut]

He is being baby about having to use condom

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x You

Warnings: Smut, breeding kink, raw sex, slight dub-con elements (pressuring), possessiveness, explicit language

Summary: You were feeling extra cautious, knowing you were in your most fertile days, but Rafe wasn’t having it. He wanted you raw—no barriers, no protection, no excuses. And he wasn’t afraid to whine, beg, and push just to get his way.

You knew how this conversation was going to go before it even started. The second Rafe's hands slipped under your shirt, fingers grazing your bare skin, you placed a hand on his chest to stop him. "Wait—do you have a condom?"

He groaned, immediately throwing his head back against the couch, exasperated like you'd just told him you weren’t in the mood at all. "Baby, come on."

You sat up, arms crossed. "No, seriously. Do you?"

He let out a long sigh, his hands rubbing at your hips, squeezing like he could convince you through touch alone. "I don't have any left," he admitted, already pouting. "Used the last one last time."

Your brows furrowed. "Okay, then we’re not doing anything."

His grip on you tightened slightly, a desperate edge creeping into his voice. "We don’t need it."

You shot him a look. "Rafe. I’m not playing. I’m literally at my most fertile right now."

He smirked like that fact only turned him on more. "Exactly why we don’t need it."

You pushed at his chest. "That is exactly why we do!"

He groaned again, letting his head fall against your shoulder, acting like you were torturing him. "They don’t even fit me right. They’re too small."

You scoffed. "That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard."

"I swear, they are. Feels like they’re choking me." He nuzzled into your neck, lips brushing over your skin as his voice dropped lower, coaxing. "Feels so much better without it. You know that."

You shivered at the way he was speaking, but forced yourself to focus. "Rafe, I’m serious."

"So am I," he murmured, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His blue eyes were dark, hazy with lust, but there was something else there too—a deeper kind of hunger. "Baby, just this once. I swear I’ll pull out."

You bit your lip, hesitation flickering across your face. He saw it, latched onto it immediately, sensing the cracks in your resolve. "I want to feel you," he whispered, dragging his fingers along the hem of your shorts. "All of you. No barriers. No nothing. Just us."

You exhaled shakily. "Rafe…"

He caught your lips in a kiss before you could protest further, slow and deep, his hands sliding under your waistband, squeezing your bare thighs. You could feel him—hot, hard, pressing against you even through his sweats. He was desperate. You could hear it in the way his breathing grew heavier, feel it in the way his grip tightened.

"Tell me you don’t want it like this," he murmured against your lips. "Tell me you don’t want me to fill you up."

Your stomach flipped at his words, heat pooling between your thighs. Your body betrayed you, pressing closer instead of pushing him away.

He felt it, grinning against your mouth. "That’s what I thought."

[igotanidea]

My level of messy: Jason Todd x reader

„What are you doing?”

A simple question dictated by unusual circumstances.

Any other Saturday morning, Y/N would be all over the place, huffing and puffing, cleaning the dust, vacuuming and doing all the things that usually came with weekly cleaning up the place.

That day, however, she was sitting on the couch, with something in her hands, looking –

Well it was hard to put it into words.

So he didn’t, instead plopping next to her, sending her a few inches up due to the impact.

“I’m re-reading my old journal.”

“Ok.” Jason nodded. The silence that fell after that acknowledgment was his attempt at giving her a chance to elaborate. “Aaaaaand? Why are you crying?”

“I’m not crying!”

“Mhm. Same accusation, same answer every time.”

“I am not-“

“Y/n/n, we’ve been through it a million times before.” He rolled his eyes “save us both some time sweetheart, and explain it, so I can make it better for ya, huh?”

“You’re gonna laugh-“

“Mh. Yeah. Sure. I’m gonna laugh at my soon-to-be-fiancé watering her eyes out. This is how big she thinks of me. That’s just effing great!”

“Stop being dramatic and – wait. Whoa, whoa. Hold back. Rewind. Soon-to-be-fiancé?”

“Not the point. Why are you crying?”

“I’m not-“

“Ah!” Jason groaned and before she realized what was happening she was being held down on the couch, with him hovering over her like a freaking predator with dangerously glistening eyes, tickling her side.

“Jason!”

“Talk or I’ll hold you captive forever.” His fingers were mercilessly rubbing her side making her giggle.

“But I am literally not crying now!”

“Talk!”

“Will you let go first?”

“No.”

“But-“

“Talk!”

“God!” she groaned, trying to wriggle and make herself a little more comfortable

“I mean it, princess, talk or-“

“You do realize your threats have no effect on – AAH! Ah! Stop! Fine! Fine, I’ll talk, just stop tickling!”

“Good girl. Now – what is the reason behind you trying to make yourself unhappy huh?” he brushed away tears from her cheeks, helping her sit up, now having made sure she won’t deflect anymore.

“It’s just – “ she sighed “do you ever feel like hugging your younger self?”

“Hugging my-“

“Don’t look so shocked. Do you? Actually, you know what, do not answer that question, it’s stupid-“

“Yeah.” He cut her off with one word, letting himself be vulnerable for a moment.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do feel like – well – maybe not hugging but at least saying some nice shit to that rascal.”

“Right…”

“I see a piece of my past self in every kid I stumble upon in the Crime Alley.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Big bad red hood getting all emotional. See what you did to me?”

“Well, for the record, it’s your fault. We were talking about me and then you just hijacked the conversation, acting like you’re a victim or something – “

“You’re so selfish, did I tell you that?”

“Not today, no.”

“Well, you’re selfish princess.”

“I am but a lady in distress and you refuse to help a lady in distress with offering a strong arm.”

“I’m not prince charming, Y/n/n. I am Red Hood.”

“You could be a red prince charming?”

“If you’re hinting at Deadpool, then let me tell you not a benchmark when it comes to Disney princes.”

She laughed softly, her mood becoming a little better, just by this banter, any outside would deem mean and harsh on both of their parts.

“Fine. Fine, have it your way” he raised hands in surrender. “What were you crying about – oh, wait, you call me inconsiderate but I think I actually did ask you that before-“

“I can’t remember.” She chuckled.

“You can’t remember why you were crying?” Jason frowned a little, sensing some sort of trap

“Yes.”

“Um… no?”

“Um… is this one of those situations when you pretend to have temporary sclerosis and then remind me of the tiny mistake I made a year ago on Monday, at 11.25?

“No!” she chuckled again “No, I’m being serious, I can’t remember. Wanna know why?”

“Because every time I feel down and like I’m a mess you come around and – “

“- prove to you that there’s a whole other level of being a mess?”

“NO!” she patted his chest in mock offense “will you let me finish the sentence!”

“Stop this domestic violence at once, young lady.” Her wrist ended up in his grip and away from any possibility of him getting abused again.

“- you come around and you prove to me that all you need in life is a person who matches  your kind of messy and crazy.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s called a partner in crime-“

“Ugh! You’re so dense! This is a whole different thing!” she opposed, becoming a little agitated, missing the obvious point that Jason was just messing with her in sheer selfish pleasure of seeing her eyes sparkle with mirth and her cheeks flushing.

“Y/N.”

“Why can’t you just understand that I’m trying to say—”

“I get it”

“No, no you don’t!” she wriggled against his hold

“Hey! Hey, stop it! Stop! Look at me!” his hands moved from her wrist to cupping her face. “I get it. Really. I know what you’re saying and I think –“

“Yeah?” she looked deep into his eyes.

“I think you’re my kind of mess too. And I think we match.”

“Like on Tinder?” she grinned pushing her luck

“God you’re impossible!!”

Yeah. So maybe it truly was about finding and keeping the person who was on the same level of craziness. The one who would understand that sometimes, healing trauma was about laughing at it and finding a way to move on with that laughter on the lips.  

[writesvani]

dear me | 05

lawyer! jungkook x privatechef! reader

SUMMARY: Once upon a time, Jungkook and you were everything. Best friends who shared every moment, every secret—except one: you were in love with him. But life changed. High school ended, real life began, and slowly, you drifted apart, the distance between you growing too wide to cross.

The end. Except it isn't.

One day, after a long day at work, you open your email to find a message from 13 years ago—written by your younger self. A letter you’d forgotten, sent by a service you paid to remind you of your youth, your love for him. As the emails keep on coming and you keep reading, the flood of memories hits you, and you realize something heartbreaking: you never stopped loving him.

But now, it’s too late. Jungkook is about to marry someone else. Or is he?

estranged childhood best friends-to-friends-to-lovers?

TRIGGER WARNINGS (for this chapter): unrequited love, misunderstandings, unresolved feelings, angst, smoking, alcohol consumption, crying, feelings of abandonment, longing, emotional breakdown, strained friendships

comment here for Dear Me taglist;

SERIES M.LIST;

— previous chapter // next chapter (pending...)

wc: 3,3k // date: 1st of April 2025

CHAPTER FIVE — Us & immaturity; happy reading my gummies...

AN: listen, i literally CRIED like a baby writing this. like, what even is this? wtf did i just write? i’m literally breaking my own heart over here. like if i could step into this fic, i’d kick myself in the shins for writing this, but also hug myself because this is perfect??

anyways, new goal for the next chapter is 400 notes because y'all insane gummies reached the last goal in LESS THAN 48 HOURS and it made me question both my eyesight (like am i seeing this right? did i accidentally write 250 comments myself?) and my sanity. love you all, but also, what have i done to my brain? anyways, enjoy, i guess? and please, if you ever see me sobbing while writing, don’t call the authorities.

also, i’m AWARE that this chapter is shorter, BUT IT NEEDS TO BE OKAY? don’t question it. next chapter is a 7-8k word BEAST, so i hope that fuels your souls and prepares you for the emotional disaster that’s coming. you’re welcome (or maybe you’re not?).

Alex is the kind of person who makes you question your life choices—whether it’s with his sharp words or the shots he keeps sliding across the bar, it really doesn’t matter. Either way, you’re fucked.

The world around you is a hazy swirl of reds, yellows, and blues, the neon lights of The House bleeding together in your vision like an abstract painting you’re too drunk to interpret. The music pulses through your bones, a steady thrum in your ears, but all you can focus on is the lightness of the glass in your hand and the way your mind feels just a little too hazy.

After the absolute disaster that was the “Jungkook proposed to you” fiasco, Alex,the absolute mastermind he is, in his infinite wisdom, decided to make it up to you all the only way he knows how—by getting every single one of you completely, utterly shit-faced.

Yoongi didn’t want to drink anything besides beer—refusal might be the better word for it—but Alex, being the sly fox that he is, somehow convinced (read: manipulated) him into going for whiskey. That alone would’ve been fine, but now, poor Yoongi has somehow ended up steaming his throat with a hellish mix of tequila, vodka, and Red Bull. And the boy is drooling.

He’s slouched over the bar, hair a mess, strands sticking to his forehead, hands awkwardly propping up his cheeks like they’re the only thing holding him upright. Nina isn’t faring any better—downing shot after shot with the same reckless determination, her twin brother’s misery mirroring her own.

Jungkook, in all his supposed glory, decided to steer clear of the weird mixes. Instead, the genius opted for Devil’s Ice Tea. Nuh uh. The cocktail is made of seven different liquors, and it’s absolutely wrecking him. His fingers twitch against the bar, his hand slipping every so often, forehead softly bumping against the surface in a slow, pathetic rhythm.

You’re no better than the rest of them. Your head is practically glued to the bar like a stain that refuses to be wiped away, the alcohol swirling in your system making it impossible to lift yourself up. You try—desperately—to pry your eyes open, to do something. But everything is hazy.

Somewhere in the background, you hear Alex yell, "One more round, on the house!" (quite literally), and somehow—somehow—Yoongi and Nina manage to cheer in response, following him with the same weird enthusiasm.

When you somehow succeed in fluttering your eyelashes open, your vision is still swimming, unfocused. But then—there. A pair of eyes. Watching. Reading. Observing.

Jungkook is looking at you.

His face mirrors yours—cheek pressed against the bar, eyes heavy-lidded from exhaustion and alcohol. But unlike you, he’s turned directly towards you, fully absorbed, gaze unwavering.

Somewhere deep inside, the rational part of you is screaming. Move. Turn away. Say something. But the alcohol coursing through your veins is a bitch. And the bitch screams back. No. Stare.

So you do.

“Hey.” His voice is barely a whisper, but even through the daze, you catch the way his irises flicker, searching. For what, you don’t know.

“Hey,” you answer, lips tugging into a lazy half-smile.

Silence.

The world keeps moving around you. Yoongi and Nina are cackling at something—probably something stupid. Glasses clink. Cheers erupt. Alex slides fresh drinks in front of you both, the sound of glass meeting wood barely registering. But through it all, there’s one thing you feel the most.

The weight of Jungkook’s stare. The slow, rhythmic pounding of your heartbeat—against your ribs, in your ears, in your throat.

He murmurs something.

You don’t catch it. Not when the new band has decided to bless the entire bar with ear-shattering music that will surely leave you half-deaf for the next decade.

But then—he says it again.

“Missed you.” His speech is slurred, but the words cut clean through the noise, sharp and certain.

For a second, it feels like you’re twelve again. Like he’s telling you a secret—one that isn’t meant to be spoken aloud anytime besides this very moment.

Your brain struggles to catch up, to formulate a proper response. “Mm,” you manage, blinking sluggishly. “Did you?”

Jungkook swallows. “Yeah.” A pause. “A lot.”

And there it is.

You exhale.

“I missed you too, you know.”

"Liar, liar, pants on fire," Jungkook sings, his voice climbing a few octaves higher than before, yet still quiet—just for you.

Your brows twitch. The movement sends a dull throb through your skull, but the alcohol numbs it, drowning the sensation in warmth. "Huh?" Your words come slow, heavy on your tongue. "You calling me a liar?"

"Mhm." His cheeks puff slightly, lips curling into a teasing grin. "I am."

"Well, I'm literally not lying."

"Uh-huh. Suuure."

Your groan is exaggerated, exasperated, as you tilt your head back against the bar. "What's wrong with you?" You shift, sitting up, ignoring the way your spine protests. The weight of intoxication drags at your limbs—and so does the way Jungkook is looking at you.

You reach for the shot Alex placed in front of you, the liquid burning as it slides down your throat. Jungkook watches, then follows suit, but instead of a shot, he takes a slow sip of his cocktail, lets it linger, destroying his senses sip by sip.

"Nothing," he muses, swirling his straw between his fingers. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing. I just said I missed you too."

"I caught that," Jungkook says, voice smooth, laced with something unreadable. "I just said I don’t believe you."

Your gaze narrows. "And why is that, Mr. I’m so different from everyone else I just had to get a different drink?"

Jungkook smirks, tongue poking against the inside of his cheek before he leans in slightly, eyes dark.

"Because you don’t care.”

Something inside you twists, claws its way up your ribs, settles in the hollow of your chest. You blink.

You don’t care?

The audacity. The sheer recklessness of those words, slicing through the air like they aren’t flaying you open, one heartstring at a time.

You don’t care?

Your lungs seize. Your eyes scan him, searching, dissecting. Looking for the punchline, the telltale glint of a joke, anything to soften the blade he’s just shoved between your ribs. But there’s nothing. No teasing curve to his lips, no flicker of mischief in his stare. Just honesty. A brutal, unwavering honesty that makes your stomach churn.

Your fingers twitch. The craving sets in—a familiar itch crawling under your skin, something to settle your nerves. Your hand moves on instinct, sliding into your pocket. Relief washes over you as your fingers trace the shape of the pack. Thank God.

“I’m going for a smoke,” you mutter, ignoring his words entirely. You push yourself off the stool, movements sluggish, dizzy. You don’t wait for a response. You just flee.

You burst through the doors, the air outside slicing against your skin. The rain has left the walls damp, and when you lean against one, the cold seeps through your clothes, but you don’t care.

The cigarette is between your lips in seconds, fingers shaking as you light it. The first inhale drags the tension from your body, slowing your pulse, dulling the edges of the night.

It doesn’t work.

Your heart still pounds like a trapped bird. Your fingers still tremble.

"Didn’t know you still smoke."

The voice behind you is low, cutting through the night like a blade. You jump, nearly choking on the next inhale.

“You don’t?” you shoot back, your voice sharper than you intended.

"Not anymore," he mutters, his footsteps cutting through the quiet. He comes to a stop beside you, leaning back against the wet wall as well.

You glance at him, cigarette between your fingers. "When’d you quit?"

"A while ago. Senior year of college, I think."

"Huh. Had no idea."

Jungkook scoffs. "Yeah, well... not like you know a lot about me anymore."

Your jaw tightens. "Gee, I wonder whose fault that is."

"Me too," Jungkook shoots back, voice edged with something sharp. "Because it sure as hell isn’t mine."

You turn to face him fully now, narrowing your eyes. "Are you accusing me of something?"

He lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "God forbid."

"No, you definitely are." You take a slow drag of your cigarette, exhaling through your nose. "Why’d you even follow me out here, Jungkook?"

He hesitates, then sighs. "Because I wanted to talk."

You scoff. "Well, you’ve got a funny way of talking"

He groans, dragging a hand down his face. "Can you not be so damn immature for once?"

Now, that actually makes you laugh. "Wait, I’m the immature one?" You take a step closer, tilting your head. "You’re the one playing games, dancing around whatever the hell you actually want to say."

He ignores you. Completely. Like you never even spoke.

"You know, those things will kill you one day," he mutters, eyes flicking to the cigarette you’re holding.

"Oh no, a girl has hobbies," you deadpan, taking another drag.

"Smoking isn’t a hobby. It’s a death wish."

You huff out a laugh. "Then I guess it’s a lifestyle choice."

"A shitty one."

"One I prefer," you bite back, exhaling smoke. "Now quit stalling and just say what you wanted to say."

A second passes. Then another. It stretches, lingers, turns wild between you—until finally, he speaks.

"Why’d you stop calling?"

His words hit harder than they should, threading through your pulse, setting your nerves on edge.

Your forehead creases. "What?"

"When we—when I... Why didn’t you ever call me?" His voice is quieter this time, uncertain.

You stare at him, lips parting, but nothing comes out.

"Because you stopped, Kook." His nickname rolls off your tongue, but it feels foreign now—like you’re not sure if you still have the right to use it.

Something flickers across his face, the way you use his nickname stirs something in his chest. He exhales through his nose, shaking his head. "I felt like I was the only one trying, you know?" His gaze stays locked somewhere past your shoulder, like looking at you would be too much. "So I stopped. I wanted to see if you’d reach out. If you’d call, text—anything." His jaw tenses. "But you didn’t."

The heaviness of his words settles in your chest, pressing down, making you feel smaller, like the air around you is closing in.

"I thought you moved on," you finally manage, voice barely above a whisper. "With your life. Your new friends. College. I didn’t think I fit into your world anymore.”

Jungkook feels like someone’s been feeding him stones, each one sinking deeper into his gut. His limbs feel heavy—partly from the alcohol, partly from how close you’re standing, and partly because, for the first time, he wonders if he really did ruin everything.

He never saw it that way. Never thought you felt like a burden. Never imagined you thought you didn’t fit into his life anymore. Because if there was one thing he used to be sure of, it was that the two of you fit together effortlessly. A twin flame, or whatever those TikTok gurus call it nowadays.

"There was always a place for you in my life," he says, fingers twitching at his sides. Unsure if he should reach for you. If touching you would make this easier or worse. "You always belonged, you know."

You exhale sharply, moving your head just enough to meet his eyes. "I didn’t feel that way."

Something in his chest tightens.

"You were always busy, Kook. Always studying, or out drinking, or with people I didn’t know, or with Nina. And whenever we did talk, it felt like we had nothing in common anymore. Like I was just… annoying you."

Jungkook blinks, stunned. "Yeah? Well, I felt like a dumb kid next to you. You had a real job, real connections, a boss and everything. And every time we talked, I—I don’t know. It felt like you were dreading it. Like you’d rather be asleep than deal with me."

He lets out a quiet, humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Like I was the one bugging you.”

"You weren’t bugging me," you say, but your voice is fragile, stretching into a slight pitch. You know this feeling. And you hate it.

Because you know what’s coming.

"The best part of my day was talking to you," you whisper, and it feels like a confession, like something torn straight from your ribs.

Your eyes burn. You try to fight it, to hold back the flood, to keep yourself from breaking open in front of him. But the weight of it all crashes into you, relentless. The tears come anyway. First, a slight sting at the corners of your eyes, then a single drop. Then another. And then they pour, slipping down your face, soaking into the frizzy air between you.

You hate this. Hate that you’re standing here, unraveling in front of him, hate that after everything, he can still crumble you to pieces.

You swipe at the tears with the sleeve of your jacket, desperate to make them disappear, to pretend like you’re still the person who can walk away from this.

Jungkook moves before you can stop him, closing the space between you in a heartbeat. His arms wrap around you, and fuck, you let him.

You don’t resist. You don’t even hesitate. You just fall.

And he catches you like he always used to.

His scent—jasmine and cinnamon, tangled in something unmistakably him—fills your lungs, and it hurts. It hurts because it’s familiar, because it reminds you of all the nights you stayed up talking until the sun rose, of laughter shared through phone screens before everything went down, of a time when none of this was broken.

How did you let it get this bad? How did you let so much slip away?

"Shh, don’t cry," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your hair, his voice so unbearably gentle that it only makes you cry harder. His arms tighten around you, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

You squeeze your eyes shut, a sob escaping your lips.

Your cigarette slips from your fingers, hitting the pavement with a quiet hiss.

"I'm sorry," you choke out, the words slipping through the cries that shake your entire body. "I’m so sorry."

Jungkook holds you tighter, and you can feel it—how hard he’s clenching his jaw, how his breath stutters against the top of your head. He’s trying so hard to keep it together, but you know him. You know he's on the edge of crumbling just like you are.

"I should’ve tried harder," you whisper, your voice cracking under the harsh truth of everything you lost.

"No," he says, and it comes out rough, like it's been ripped from somewhere deep inside him. "I shouldn’t have made you feel like you didn’t belong. I never—never—wanted to lose you."

Your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt, desperate, like holding on to him could somehow rewind time, undo all the ways you let each other slip away.

"It’s not your fault," you say, collapsing further into him, into the warmth of his arms.

"It’s not yours either," he murmurs, his voice barely more than a breath. But you can hear it—the break in his tone, the pain he’s trying to swallow down.

You squeeze your eyes shut, because if you look at him now, if you see him hurting the way you are, you’ll fall apart completely.

And somehow, at the exact same moment, the reality crashes into both of you—life altering, soul shattering, devastating in its simplicity.

It’s no one’s fault.

It was never about blame.

Life had happened, pulled you apart, twisted and bent you in different directions until the distance between you became something neither of you knew how to close. And instead of fighting against the current, you let it carry you away from each other.

Jungkook exhales a breath, then lets out a short, bitter laugh. “We’re so fucking dumb.” His voice is hoarse, like he’s been holding back too much for too long.

A small, fragile smile tugs at your lips, barely holding against everything playing out on your chest. “Stupid dumb,” you agree, your arms flexing around his body, holding him tighter, as if that could somehow undo all the lost years.

He’s so warm—the kind of warmth that seeps into your bones, settles beneath your skin, and makes a home there. The kind of warmth you’ve longed for in silence, in the dead of too many lonely nights.

And still, it doesn’t feel like enough.

You want to paint this moment into eternity. Let the imprint of his arms linger on your skin, write it onto the walls of your heart so you’ll never lose it again. You want to stay in it, fold yourself into this closeness and never have to remember what it felt like to be without it.

“God, I’ve missed you.”

Jungkook inhales deeply. His nose brushes against your temple, his arms pulling you in like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you. He lets you stay like that, buried beneath his embrace.

Lets you linger in his arms the way you’ve lingered in his heart for a lifetime.

"Me too. Too much," you admit. God, this isn’t enough. It will never be enough. You want to be underneath his skin, stitched into him by invisible threads that ensure you’ll never lose him again. That this is forever. It has to be.

When you finally pull apart, you’re breathless—like he’s taken something from you, stolen the air from your lungs along with the warmth of his touch. You stare at him, like he’s a shrine you’ve been praying to daily, like he holds every answer you’ve ever searched for.

"So," you cough out, cheeks still wet, voice laced with awkwardness. You don’t know what to say anymore.

"So," he exhales, stuffing his hands into his pockets like they’re the only thing keeping him from reaching for you again.

"What’s new, Kook?" you chuckle, forcing lightness into your voice, the remnants of his embrace still clinging to your skin.

"Well for starters, I'm getting married," he says, voice airy, head tilting to the side like he’s studying you, waiting for your reaction.

You laugh. Instinctively. Reflexively. Because what else is there to do? Because, finally, he is the one saying those words to you, not that stupid, perfect envelope sitting in the drawer of your desk.

"Congrats, best friend."

"Thank you, best friend," he echoes, smiling, oblivious—or maybe pretending to be.

He pauses. Hesitates. Then, "And I have a request to make," he adds, voice still so light, so casual, so goddamn unaware of what he’s about to do to you.

"I want you to be my best man—or best woman, whatever."

The moment shatters.

Oh.

Oh.

Your breath catches in your throat. You blink, once, twice, waiting for the words to make sense, to rearrange themselves into something less cruel.

But they don’t.

Jungkook is still standing there, hands shoved deep in his pockets, waiting—like he didn’t just hand you the sharpest knife and ask you to draw a smile with it.

You swallow, forcing down the lump in your throat.

"Yeah," you murmur, barely recognizing your own voice. "Of course. I'd be honored.”

taglist: @lovingkoalaface @santiiagopopegarcia @jadaocon1 @asyr97 @gukieater @themwordsblog @whatevevrerr @amarawayne @tititania @guwol @reallygenerouskoala @bgfdcvbnjk @kyljjk @whoa-jo @taekritimin123 @minimoninini @upo1313 @polnaraffsrack @tatzzz-25 @orphicepiphany @coletaehyung @bjoriis @epiphany-n @kimyishin @eegyo @dearmyfavoritepeople-bts @parkinglot-nights @mar-lo-pap @evrsncenewyork @jjeonjjk7 @minghaosimp @cerulean1riz @anumita-2007 @vantelover1306 @vynmin @nadzzzblog @jnghs @lachimolalajeon @joonwater @choijay-07 @notsevenwithyou @mononoaware16 @sky-23s-world @auroresce @sadgirlroo @arcadiaem @kokoandkookie @nakyra2 @kissyfacekoo @butterymin

[glitchfang]

if i can be sad and frustrated on main for a second. one of the worst things about having a sick dog, and now having a dead dog to me, has been how my extended family are going about it, because the expectation is that we need to get a new dog RIGHT NOW to give the other dogs in the family a buddy or to make my brother happy. literally started excitedly asking mom if we had a breeder in mind like an hour after he passed. like can you read the fucking room please.

[so-i-did-this-thing]

Hi! I found you from your tdov post, and your transition is just amazing. I'm sorry if this has been asked before, but do you have any advice for someone scared of transitioning? Scared of the change... In all aspects. I've wanted to take T for so long (10+ years) and now I finally have the chance, but for some reason I'm scared now. Thank you so much in advance!

It is OK to be scared at the thought of transition, even if you're sure you want to go through it.

You may find it helpful to journal some thoughts -- are you afraid of the negative physical side effects (and what is "negative" to you, anyway)? Could transition make you feel disconnected from your body? Like you are losing something? Are there physical aspects of masculinity that make you feel uncomfortable? Are you worried about impact on your mood/libido/how you process emotions?

A lot of testosterone effects revert back after usage stops. Some effects are permanent. Learn what your likely changes are, and what steps you could take to revert them, should this not be the path you wish to take. Trans femmes and ally detransitioners are people to look to here.

Are you more afraid of what would happen in your work and personal life? Are there deal breakers? What's the worst that could happen?

But as you do all of this, also ask yourself, "what is the best that could happen?" What are the big and small joys transition can bring?

A friend of mine once literally made an HRT pros/cons spreadsheet, it was a thing of beauty.

Only you can decide if HRT is right for you. But if you start, you can also decide to stop and it isn't the end of the world if you do -- it just means you explored a part of yourself pretty well and came to a conclusion HRT wasn't a good fit at this time in your life. Could be a good fit later. Might never be a good fit.

I evaluate my own transition constantly: For example, I have a wonky post-surgery chest -- is that stopping me from being shirtless around my partner, who loves me for who I am? ("Yes," I found out. And I am trying to be more casually shirtless so that doesn't get in the way when we want to be intimate. I am just not used to that physical sense of vulnerability + having my transition imperfections so visible.) But am I happier overall, despite some challenges? HELL YES, I AM.

We never stop growing as people, and you should think of transition as not having a set path -- you can engage with it and redefine it whenever you want.

[suzukiblu]

Day thirty of “Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it” behind the cut. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“I mean, like–it’s a little like–” Kon tries with another embarrassed wince, and burns alive, and just– “Like–it’s not as good as getting kissed, just–” 

God, he is not making this sound normal. Like not even a little bit is he making this sound normal. 

“Ohhhhh my gods,” Bernard mutters, then grabs his face again and kisses him. Kon’s still embarrassed out of his mind but like, he’s not gonna not kiss him back, obviously, so like–he kisses him back, and rewraps his arms a little tighter around him again, and just ignores the insistent demand of both his burning embarrassment and his over-optimistic dick trying trying to get–well, over-optimistic. Or like–a little ahead of itself, at least. 

Well, like, he tries to, anyway. 

It just feels, like–good, that’s all. Just–that’s all. 

Kon shouldn’t actually be embarrassed, given his entire life experience and also the fact that Bernard very clearly does not mind, but like–it just feels embarrassing, still. He shouldn’t even have said anything but it just would’ve been such a weird thing to lie about and– 

Why is he getting embarrassed so easily, some distracted part of him thinks. Like–as if he’s really–? 

“You are so hard not to, like, either fuck stupid or just cuddle into submission, it is the weirdest and most fascinating dichotomy,” Bernard informs him, leaning back from the kiss and rubbing his thumbs along the arcs of both of Kon’s cheekbones as he grins up at him. Kon feels sort of wooed. Or like–super-wooed. No pun intended or whatever. Just–wooed, yeah. Way, way too wooed. “Do you think we can make cuddle-fucking a thing because I thought we were doing a pretty good job of it the last time, so like, what are your feelings on refining the rough draft version later?” 

Yeah, Kon is way too easily embarrassed right now, what the fuck. 

“I dunno, man, I don’t know shit about editing,” he says, grinning maybe a little dopily back at the guy as he gives him a little telekinetic squeeze. “Might take a few tries, y’know? You got the stamina for that?” 

“Why did I not order any overnight-delivery sex toys when I was ordering the groceries,” Bernard mutters. “That was such an oversight on my part, truly, I am so sorry for letting down the side there. Really don’t have the equipment to put any pink kryptonite in it here, though, at least as far as I’m aware. Possibly I should’ve asked Tim about that one, come to think, but at least I could’ve gotten something standard.” 

“For literally just ‘til Monday?” Kon asks with a snicker. 

“I mean like you could keep ‘em, party favors or whatever,” Bernard replies reasonably. “But if you didn’t want ‘em I’m sure our toybox would’ve had room for a new plug and a nice fat strap.” 

Kon cannot actually even decide which one of those ideas makes him more insane–getting sent home with “party favor” sex toys to just, like–keep that Tim and Bernard had used on him, or the two of them keeping sex toys that they’d used on him. 

“You are way too good at this shit, I am not used to not being the kinkiest fucker in the conversation,” he says frankly, and Bernard laughs and gives him a quick little kiss. 

“What can I say, man, you’re inspiring me to bring my A-game,” he replies with a smug little smirk, then taps two fingers against the dip of Kon’s collarbone. “We’d definitely have let you keep the collar, though. You totally earned that.” 

Kon puts his hands over his face so he can, like, die in private for a moment, then bursts into laughter so he won’t just disassemble himself, and Bernard pushes himself up on his toes to kiss the back of his knuckles and then laughs harder, and Kon spreads his fingers to look at him while he’s still in all close and feels this weird giddy, like–warm feeling, and just, like–just really wants to kiss him some more. Like a lot more. Like so much more. 

Also he did not really remember how much he actually likes brown eyes, but he is being very strongly reminded right now. And like, that warm melty-sweet look that specifically Bernard’s eyes have is . . . a lot, definitely. 

Seriously, no wonder Tim’s so into this dude. Like–Bernard is clearly just very, very easy to get into, as a person and all.

[kangshxrtie]

KISS ME | KIM NAKYOUNG

this is my apology fic to @1luvkarina (forgot to say that)

sypnosis — after choi y/n spots her ex at a party, she asks the girl she just met to kiss her pairing — kim nakyoung x actress reader trope/genre — fake relationship, mutual pining, and fluff includes — choi yena, kim yooyeon, and kang hyewon word count — 1825 words

choi yena is the worst sister ever. she ditched you to get drinks for you both more than 20 minutes ago, and she’s still not back. now, here you are, standing alone in a room full of strangers, not knowing anyone, and still unsure where the heck any of your friends are. it's messed up, especially since they promised to stick with you.

"y/n!" you immediately turn at the sound of your name. finally, a familiar face.

"yooyeon! thank god you're here," you exclaim, relief flooding you. "yena left me here to get drinks, and i haven’t seen her since."

yooyeon laughs, shaking her head. "she probably got distracted by something, but it's okay because i’m here now."

"yeah, so much for that," you mutter playfully, still scanning the crowd, hoping to spot someone else you know. it's just a sea of faces, most of them people you've seen online but never in person.

"by the way, nakyoung's here," yooyeon adds casually.

"she is? oh my god, do i look okay?" you panic slightly, smoothing your hair out of habit.

"of course you do. you literally dressed up to come here," yooyeon reassures you with a smirk.

"yeah, but i need to look my best in the presence of nakyoung," you say, a bit too seriously.

"right," yooyeon teases. "you look great. now go over there and tell her you have the biggest girl crush on her."

"i can’t do all that! that’s way too much," you say, suddenly nervous at the thought.

"oh, so now you're shy?" yooyeon rolls her eyes, clearly amused.

"i’ve always been shy," you protest, though it’s only half true.

"please," she shoots back. "you’re literally the definition of an extrovert."

"not anymore. you know i’ve been more of an introvert lately, barely leaving my house, not interacting with people..." you trail off, feeling a little too honest.

"only because you got heartbroken," yooyeon points out. "but you're over that, right?"

"of course," you fake a laugh, trying to sound convincing. "totally over it."

"right, so go talk to her," yooyeon says, giving you a shove toward nakyoung.

you hesitate for a moment before rolling your eyes and sighing. "actually, hate you," you mouth at yooyeon as you move in nakyoung's direction. yooyeon just gives you a thumbs-up, smiling like she’s won.

you take a deep breath before tapping nakyoung’s shoulder. she turns around, and you suddenly lose your words. she's even more stunning up close, and now all the confidence you had is slipping away.

"hi," nakyoung greets you with a friendly wave, and you just nod at her, unable to say anything for a moment.

"you're choi y/n, right?" nakyoung asks, her voice warm and inviting.

"y-yeah. you know who i am?" finally, words come out of your mouth.

"of course," nakyoung smiles. "you're an amazing actress. i've watched everything you’re in."

your heart skips a beat. "wow, thank you." you can’t help but smile back, slightly starstruck. "i also love your group, by the way. you're an amazing singer."

"since you’re a fan, do you have a bias?" she asks, a teasing glint in her eyes.

"well, i like everyone, but my ultimate bias is dahyun," you lie. you can’t exactly reveal the truth about your slightly obsessive feelings for nakyoung, right?

"other than her?"

"hmm, right now, it’s kaede."

"what about the korean members?" nakyoung presses.

"oh, i love seoyeon," you say, barely skipping a beat.

"anyone else?"

"yeah, chaeyeon," you add.

"what about the one whose name starts with an n?" she smirks.

"nien!" you say quickly, a little too eager.

"the one who’s the main dancer?" she asks.

"nien is a main dancer?" you almost blurt out.

"i feel like you’re just fucking with me now" nakyoung says.

"do you really want me to say you’re my favorite member that badly?" you laugh.

"so, you do know who i am?" she says with a mockingly surprised look.

"of course. you’re in one of the biggest girl groups in korea," you say, acting casual about it.

nakyoung grins. "i just thought you knew everyone in my group but me."

"i just didn’t want to boost your ego," you tease back. "maybe after today, you’ll be my favorite."

"then that’s my new mission," she says, determined.

before you can say anything, yena finally walks up, holding a drink. "oh, great, you two met. my sister’s a big fan of yours," she says to nakyoung, looking far too pleased with herself.

nakyoung smirks, eyes flicking to you. "oh, really?"

"yeah," yena continues. "she collects your photo cards and has a poster of you in her room."

you internally facepalm. this is so embarrassing.

"it’s a little dramatic," you quickly cut in, "i have albums, but i’m not that obsessed with nakyoung."

"are you sure about that?" yena teases. "you literally threatened me to trade photo cards when i got nakyoung’s and you didn’t."

"shut up. you didn’t have to tell her that," you whisper, furious.

"well, i thought you’d be grateful," yena whispers back, clearly satisfied with herself.

"i think i completed my mission," nakyoung says with a playful chuckle.

"of course you did," you mutter. "thanks for that."

"well, i’ll leave you two to it," yena says, before giving you an exaggerated wink. "i’ll text you when we're leaving."

"great, you’re ditching me again," you grumble, but it’s too late; she’s already walked off.

nakyoung turns to you with a grin. "so i boosted your ego, huh?"

"shut up," you murmur, not sure whether you’re embarrassed or just enjoying the moment too much.

yooyeon’s words are still echoing in your mind, but you can’t deny it; talking to nakyoung is even better than you expected.

but before you can savor the moment more, you spot her. your ex. coming right toward you.

panic floods your chest, and you quickly come up with a dumb idea you’ll probably regret later.

"quick, nakyoung. kiss me," you blurt out.

nakyoung raises an eyebrow in confusion. "huh?"

"my ex is coming right for us. please, do me this one favor." you can’t meet her eyes right now.

nakyoung looks at you, her expression softening before she cups your face. she looks deep into your eyes, then closes the distance between you, kissing you slowly. it’s like your heart has stopped for a moment. you forget where you are, lose yourself in the kiss, in the feel of her lips against yours.

when you pull back, reality hits you hard. "holy shit, you’re a really good kisser," you gasp.

"same to you," nakyoung responds, her voice low. "i don’t know how your ex broke up with you if you kiss like that."

"sorry if that made you uncomfortable," you murmur, trying to play it cool.

"it’s fine. i enjoyed it." nakyoung smirks, and you can’t tell if she’s joking. "i’ll be your kissing buddy anytime."

you’re about to reply, but then hyewon walks up, completely cutting the moment. "hey, y/n. hey, nakyoung."

seriously?

"hello, hyewon 선배님," nakyoung greets her with a bow.

you just glare, keeping your mouth shut, and nakyoung seems to notice the tension, quickly pulling you closer.

"well, we should go, then, 자기야 (honey)," nakyoung says, and your heart skips a beat at the sweet term of endearment. she guides you away from hyewon.

"so i’m guessing that’s your ex?" nakyoung asks, once you’re out of hyewon’s earshot.

"yep," you mutter, still trying to shake off the awkwardness.

"that’s gotta be awkward. you must see her often," nakyoung observes.

you and nakyoung walked away from hyewon, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. honestly, you were trying to shake off the awkwardness, but every time you glanced at nakyoung, you felt a weird flutter in your chest. you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol, the kiss, or just the way she was looking at you, but it was a lot.

"are you okay?" nakyoung asked, sensing the tension, as she nudged you lightly with her shoulder.

"yeah, just... i didn’t expect her to walk up to us like that," you muttered, trying to shrug it off.

"don't worry about her. i'm right here." nakyoung flashed a grin at you, her hand gently brushing against yours. the simple touch sent a warm feeling through you, but it also made you more self-conscious. you were still trying to figure out how you ended up in this situation, but nakyoung’s presence was comforting in a way you didn’t expect.

as you walked further out of the building, the noise of the party felt less overwhelming with her by your side. she was right, though it was a little awkward when hyewon showed up, but with nakyoung, you felt like maybe you could make it through this night without stressing about the past.

"hey, i don’t know if this is too straightforward," nakyoung said suddenly, her voice almost shy. "but i think we should kiss more."

your brain short-circuited for a second. did she just... what?

you blinked, trying to make sure you heard her right. "what?"

"i mean, we’re here, the vibe’s right, and it was... pretty nice," she said with a casual shrug, as though she hadn’t just completely caught you off guard. "so, how about it?"

for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. the entire situation was unfolding way faster than you’d expected, but at the same time, it felt... right? your thoughts raced. could you really keep up with this spontaneous energy?

“give me your phone,” you said before you could stop yourself.

nakyoung raised an eyebrow, a little confused, but pulled her phone out of her pocket and handed it to you.

you quickly went into her contacts, tapping away, and before you even realized what you were doing, you put your number in under her contact, changing your name to "자기야 (honey)" as a joke.

"done," you said, handing her phone back with a casual grin. "call me when you’re about to leave, and i’ll meet up with you."

nakyoung looked down at her phone and smiled at the name you gave her. "will do, 자기 (honey)."

her voice, saying it again, sent your heart racing, but you couldn’t let her see how much she affected you. you just smiled back, playing it cool. the night was going better than expected, even though it was definitely unexpected.

you gave nakyoung a quick wave as you started walking away, your heart still pounding. you needed a moment to breathe and clear your head, so you decided to walk around and try to find yena so you could just hang out and chill for the rest of the night. maybe you needed a little break from the whirlwind of everything that just happened, yet you couldn’t help but smile to yourself.

might make this a series because i have so many more ideas for it

[midnight1nk]

So, this week's episode...

[spoilers below cut]

*GASP*

...

how come the Team does this to me? They get me every. single. time. chat, I don't even want to click on the episode BUT I HAVE TO KNOW IF MY THEORY WAS RIGHT OH WHYYYY

(the following is my live reaction:)

starting off already? well no complaints from me

it's giving "Trust No One" from WOTFI 2023 arc

PFFT HAHAHHAHAHAHA

ok ok ik it's supposed to be serious, but that "wha happen?" audio clip from Mickey Mouse Shorts really caught me off-guard. Who in the Team did that? I want to say thank you

anyway, Mario dude you gotta tell everything, especially to Karen

...well, the minecraft part isn't wrong but he's not telling the whole story

omg 4 really is doing the same thing as 3 did a year ago

which is crazy considering that 4 wasn't in 3's interrogation on Mario. They're so cosmically linked that they came up with the same interrogation method, well it's also Mario we're talking about

yeah, we'll let Karen do the rest

might as well give in, Mario. it ain't worth hiding any secrets

...4?

he's so silly I love him 💙

idk 4, maybe you should be an inspiring VA (4 would be the type of parent who would do all the characters' voices when reading bedtime stories 😌↕️)

oh. oh holy shit.

well at least you're getting it out of your system, Karen. but I do feel genuinely concerned you. I still understand but worried.

the shadows making it look like she's stabbing Mario isn't helping with my concerns

...what was that?

*wheeze* no 4, it's not the IRS

OH we got a sniper here, folks. WPNZ?

AND A ROBOTIC HAND? yeah, we're not just guessing anymore. the anon from my inbox who said that WPNZ may be a cyborg, you nailed it man

Ain't no way, Mario died (he literally cannot)

THE GMOD GUN IS BACK

HOLY SHIT nice save Karen

it's confirmed: 4 doesn't pay his taxes

Mario: "I am..." [*Invincible title card*]

he still got the walkie-talkie.... what the hell did WPNZ say to him?

YEP now we're putting the pieces together

*wheeze* Mario what was that run?

pull some strings, you say? perhaps... CONNECTIONS?

GET EM GIRLS /ref

secretive, ay?

what's with the dark room?

*flashback* I just remembered a traumatizing experience in my past, hang on I have to stim and I'll feel better. /ref

damn Mario ok

oh wait, I recognize this animation style. Anaidon, did you work on this scene? :D

PFFT THE DISTRACTION DANCE FROM THE HENRY STICKMAN SERIES OMG

I did not see that coming, ok who in the Team did that bc that was good haha. nostalgia go brrrrrrrrrr

No, WPNZ, it really did work ngl

oh shit

yep it's a cyborg hand if it's compatible with an actual arm

Gear up, it's for a swell battle!!!

FLAMETHROWER?! even Mario's not liking this

no, 4! this isn't Mario, it's Mr. WPNZ

😦

*pauses episode* ...chat, can you do something for me?

hold me back, and don't let go until I'm done. ready?

*ahem*

...WPNZ YOU SON OF A BITCH WAIT UNTIL I GET MY HANDS ON YOU AND I SWEAR YOU'RE NOT GOING TO LIVE TO SEE TOMORROW— *10 minutes and a nuke explosion later*

ok I'm good.

4 I'm going to need you to wake up buddy. c'mon you can't die, especially not you. 4 don't do this to me, you can't. you faced way worse stuff before, this can't hold you down now. your friends, your family, they're waiting for you to come back home. you can't leave them. 4 please

WE GOT A PULSE OH THANK GOD

IT'S A WEAK ONE THO, WE NEED TO GET HIM TO A DOCTOR NOW

I KNOW YOU DIDN'T MEAN TO, IT WASN'T YOUR FAULT 😭

at least Karen could finally get some answers

...a surprise?! OH HELL NO that guy nearly got them killed for ENTERING, it's a trap for sure

LET'S GO GET YOUR KIDS BACK but do be careful, we still don't know what we're up against

😭

get 4 outta there!! oh god, is the Crew gonna see 4 in critical condition? Beeg4? *head in hands*

I swear the Team is out to get me (also Mario carrying out 4 strangely reminded me of a scene from a fic I read long ago)

and ofc the whole building on fire goddammit

(btw that fall reminded me of the insomniac spider-man teasers ifykyk)

no Karen, hun you aren't. you're like one of the best parents of the entire show

you're trying to be better and give your kids the life you didn't get to have, that pretty much makes you a good parent overall

YEAH LOCK IN

alright, the moment of truth

huh? radio interference?

I FUCKIN KNEW IT YEP IT'S CONFIRMED

MR. WPNZ IS KAREN'S EX LOVER AND FATHER OF THE KIDS

(well nicc, looks like you get you keep your script after all)

oh, so he's pretty much a psycho, good to know *starts curb-stomping him*

I TOLD YOU ALL THE "HALF PINTS* NICKNAME WAS TOO SPECIFIC

what kinda monster? oh the mentally-messed-up yandere ass one, yeah that kinda monster

HE'S AT THEIR HOUSE?! FUCKFUCKFUCK

ok yeah I see how it is. violence isn't enough, time to commit crimes :)

no, don't end it there. please don't

*flips desk* AND THE MUTED-COLOR CREDITS OH C'MON

looks like I got something else right, it was a mini-arc. it's all within the math

Congrats to daekim_26 for your art being featured at the end credits! 🎉 hey, I recognize this, Ben reblogged this over on Twitter. ig the Team really liked your art

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

I. I'm just speechless omg. Like what am I supposed to say to that? Shadow, is this what you meant when you said we're not prepared for this? I need to walk out a sec, hang on.

ok I'm back. I guess first off, Team, wow. What an episode, it is absolutely insane how good it all was. Especially the writing and the voice acting for Karen, it tugged on my heart strings. And Anaidon, I KNEW YOU ANIMATED THAT SCENE haha!

Genuninely, bravo 👏👏👏 and my calculations were right after all

Actually, for me to post my theory hours before the episode was dropped, I'm surprised how much I got it right. Most of it, yeah, though I didn't expect how insane Mr. WPNZ is. More so doing it for himself and not the corporation, but still a lot of dedication was put into this. And he got a robotic arm! Not exactly like Clench (who has a mind of its own and can talk) but definitely advanced. So, the point could still stand that the tech, skills, and resources were based on his job at Hitman Inc.

Poor Karen, you can tell she's been very desperate in finding her kids by the voice acting alone. You can't blame her for going to these lengths. Like I said, understandable, but I do still feel concerned for her. And then, her psycho ex on top of everything smh, I won't be able to handle it.

And you can't even blame Mario either. He did the mission thinking it would help Karen, and Mr. WPNZ told him what to do. Then with the prosthetic taking Mario's arm, it wasn't even him. It was WPNZ, but I do feel like Mario's going to feel so guilty for what he did to 4.

Wrong things for the right reason 😔↕️

Speaking of 4, NO NOT MY BOY. Chat, I'm not okay. Like I knew he wasn't going to die, he's literally one of the main characters, but my heart dropped at that scene. Through the floor and 6 feet underground. I did ask for 4 angst, yes, but damn. Can you imagine how the Crew would react? Since 3 & 4 are cosmically linked, would 3 feel that 4's in critical condition? Oh Beeg, 4's his dad dude. Beeg may be pretty tough but he still cares for 4, hope he gets a bit of revenge for it. (and a sprinkle of mar4 angst)

...am I going to bring in goop!4 into this?

Who do you take me for? ofc I am. As I mentioned, the parasite would still be in 4, and because of what happened to him, it might be the necessary trigger for it to activate. After everything that had happened to him, the explosion really knocked him out. This is taken seriously, this mini-arc starts really close to the IGBP anniversary.... I wouldn't be surprised if the Team tease for the future goop!4 arc. Not immediately after the Hitman arc, far later. Baby steps, chat. If the Team drops at least ONE frame, a SECOND, about goop!4, I'll take it!

Anyway, since it is a mini-arc, we're not getting another teaser or a trailer. BUT we are getting an episode special, so we'll have to look out for that. In meantime, that's all from me. I'll see yall next time and remember, folks: numbers always go first!

man, Ben. I gotta say, the thumbnail you made, it was a cool reference to the Parasite movie poster. Awesome job!

...huh.

[chrysanthemum-gigi]

what do you think about luigi and a short gf 💖💖 like 5’0 and under (i think u mentioned u were 4’11) hehe

i am 4'11 so short gf/tall bf dynamic is really my KRYPTONITE 🥰. I firmly believe that height doesn't matter for him (so for any average height or tall girls reading this don't take that as me saying he'd 100% choose a petite girl). He didn't choose to date you because you're way shorter than him but boy does that play into y'all's dynamic. he's constantly giving you tight bear hugs, just completely wrapping your small body in his own. he's kissing your forehead and the crown of your head. cute little pecks over and over again whenever he gets cuteness aggression. especially when you pass by your favorite boba shop and you cutely ask him to get you one, holding onto his waist and pouting up at him. he acts like he won't get it for you at first but all of a sudden he starts giggling, pulls you in and starts going like a woodpecker, pecking the crown of your hair while you squirm playfully (bae wants to act tough sometimes but he eventually falls for the natural short girl CHARM ✨)

he always goes grocery shopping with you because a ton of your fave items are on the top shelf. he'd tease the absolute crap out of you, acting like he's going to give you the ritz crackers but then taking it from you at the last second, leaving you fuming. you're stomping your tiny foot on the ground, demanding that he put those damn ritz crackers in the shopping cart already. even though he's literally always teasing you every second of the day, there's never a moment where his good and pure intentions to help you out aren't apparent.

he's always taking your face in his big hands and playing with your face. randomly tugging your ear, booping your button nose or even taking your bottom lip and tugging it downward 🤗, squishing your cheeks tightly, loosening them and squishing them over and over again. at home, he'll tug your hair gently out of nowehere and then walk away like it wasn't him meanwhile he's sporting a grin that def gives him away... gosh, can we talk about how protective he'd be? Its not this in your face sort of protectiveness either, after all just because you're short doesn't mean you're incapable of looking after yourself... he always walks on the side of the sidewalk facing the street, with his arm around your shoulder and your arm around his waist, he's protecting your body with his own. always keeps a watchful eye on you whenever you're at a public gathering, he's holding your hand whenever you're in a crowded space or sometimes even hovers over you making a sort of "protective bubble of space" around you since short people tend to get lost more easily in crowds.

he'd always talk about how small your hands and feet are too 🫠 comparing hand sizes. your hands and feet are about half the size of his, he never passes up an opportunity to tease you about your baby hands and feet but you give him a taste of his own medicine when you tease him about his big hands and his finger toes, everyone knows the short girls run their mouths to make up for the lack of height 💖 On days where he's feeling a bit stressed out or he's in pain because of his spondy, he just smothers you with his weight (of course keeping in mind that he isn't actually hurting you), you actually let him be the little spoon for a change. He adores the warmth and the compactness of your embrace, you wrap your right arm around him, he takes the same tiny hand he'd tease everyday and play with your little fingers and nails, laying kisses on each finger.

he loves it when you take his stubbled face in your small, delicate hands and lay kisses on every inch of his face. he's intoxicated by your scent. he loves that you can so easily curl up on his lap, lean into him, resting your head on the crook of his neck. even though he teases you every waking moment of the day, do not underestimate the ferocity of his love or the lengths this man will go to ensure you feel and KNOW that you're safe, protected and loved 💕.

(a/n: i have nsfw thoughts on short gf reader but i think i'll save those for another time)

[agiar2000]

The sad thing is that no one, absolutely no one, learns from even the biggest, most obvious consequences. The people who voted for Trump are all still proud of their choice to maximize suffering for the most vulnerable and innocent. The establishment Democrats still think that progressivism is a losing strategy, blaming the socially conscious and "woke" for their loss, and want to keep trying to court the right. Every anti-voting (including those who vote 3rd party or independent) leftist I know is still proud of knowingly allowing fascism to take over and destroy everything worth preserving in the world because the Dems needed to be punished, because the Dems specifically need to be destroyed.

I do not see any way things can ever get any better, because just about every single group involved is horrible. Everyone is either psychopathically evil or incorrigibly stupid.

Obviously, that is an exaggeration. Not LITERALLY everyone is one of those, but the majority are. About half of the electorate is unfathomably evil fascists. If that were not the case, Trump would not have won. Most of the rest are some flavor of conservative, lacking in empathy and awareness, but not quite wanting to go full 4th Reich on the world. If that were not the case, the Dems would be progressive. Most of the REST cannot agree on any kind of working strategy, and, in fact, often adopt strategies that are counter-productive to one another. If that were not the case, there would be some sort of coherent leftist movement in the U.S., and infighting would not be the left's most common and well-known pastime.

It is really frustrating to look at the world and see that everything is just going to keep getting worse for the rest of my lifetime and likely for the slim remainder of human civilization that follows, and it will be entirely the fault of our fellow human beings. I do not want to die. I do not think that I or my closest loved ones deserve death, but humanity as a whole? Most people have not learned anything from recent events, but I learned one thing. I learned that humanity is collectively even more depraved than I ever imagined. If the planet were to just be vaporized instantly tomorrow, that at least would be more just than what the people in power have in store for us.

It feels weird that I simultaneously hate humanity and feel frustrated in wishing that I could do something actually effective to save it. I wonder what that says about me.

It is not a battle between pure good and pure evil because there is no such thing as "pure good". We have definitely seen plenty of pure evil, though. That is one reason hatred and despair seem like valid responses in this situation. I know that the enemy is far more evil than I am good.

In other news, I have been replaying The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time recently, so that is nice, at least.

when you refuse to vote from the left, the message sent to politicians is that left-leaning people are not reliable voters, that is why they court moderates after elections like this.

right-leaning people will vote for whatever idiot they put up, they are reliable voters.

so don't act shocked when you don't vote and the Overton Window shifts right

WHEN YOU REFUSE TO VOTE, YOU ARE ACTIVELY MAKING THE GOVERNMENT OF THIS COUNTRY MORE CONSERVATIVE AND YOU NORMALIZE THE ABSOLUTE MONSTROSITY THAT IS AMERICAN RIGHT-WING POLITICS.

if you don't vote for the candidate who will do the least harm and sit home or throw it away to a write-in or third party, the results will NOT be what you want. Even Ralph Nader eventually acknowledged this.

[aupea]

NOW PLAYING: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

PAIRING: RAFE CAMERON x FEMALE POGUE!READER | “PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE. DON’T PROVE ‘EM RIGHT!”

SUMMARY: rafe ‘kook king’ cameron meeting your pogue parents, despite their reservations (and yours)

RATING: tense / fluffy? / angsty? kind of the trinity i guess! |

CONTENT WARNINGS: fem!reader (she, her, hers probluns used), disapproving parents, some arguing ?, brief mention of rafe shooting peterkin, mentions of ward (dude is a whole trigger warning im sorry), rafe cameron x pogue!reader - not proofread (pls ignore any mistakes i beg of you my ego can’t handle it, NO PUN INTENDED)

AUTHOR’S NOTES: hi hi! so i know technically speaking this one is set to come second on the master list but i’m so bad at timing and had this one finished first so consider it a sweet (no pun intended) treat! taste will be dropping soon i promise, life got hectic 🫣 anyway enjoy!!

The day you had regretted most had finally arrived.

For two months, you’d managed to keep your relationship with Rafe a secret. It wasn’t that you wanted to, quite the opposite. You were proud of Rafe, happy to be with him, and could live happily with him if no one knew you guys were together.

But, your parents? Not so much. You knew you had to tell them eventually, and it was more of a sit down conversation.

After all, you had grown up a Pogue. Your parents knew you as their daughter who John B would pick up in the Twinkie, who would do advocacy work with Kiara.

So you dating the Kook king? It was probably their worst fear. They knew Kooks to be mean and snobby people. And who could blame them? That was the impression most Kooks gave.

Even Rafe.

“He’s not a good person! Do you know the rumors about that boy?” Your father asked. “He is not a nice guy, to anyone.”

“For heavens sake, his father is Ward Cameron!” Your mother adds. “He shot Peterkin, in case you forgot that.”

“He’s not a bad person, he was just hurt! And scared for Ward!” You defend, weakly. “It’s just.. the Kook culture. Everyone make mistakes.”

Your parents roll their eyes at that.

But, after lots of back and forth, they had agreed to meet Rafe for dinner. Just one dinner. You could get through that.

——

You stood outside of your parents house, Rafe picking you up at the high school on the Cut after your after school clubs let out.

“You look more nervous than I am.” Rafe comments as he stands beside you.

“Please don’t prove them right, okay? Don’t.. be that tough Kook guy.” You ask. “Cause I’ll sob if they don’t like you and I finally did my makeup right for this, and then I’d be really sad.”

“What? Worried they’d force you to break up with me?” He asks, hands resting in his pockets of his pants. His tone was a bit teasing, finding your nervousness only slightly funny, perhaps to better mask his own.

“Just don’t embarass me, motherfucker.” You murmur as you unlock the front door with your house key, stepping inside.

Surprisingly, your parents had stuck to their word of giving him a chance. They were open with him, friendly even. They asked questions about his life - his childhood, his family.

As you’d learned from your time with him, Rafe Cameron was an actor. He could play the part of the good boyfriend - or literally anything to get him what he wanted - quite well.

Whatever devil was usually on the Kook king’s shoulder seemed to be asleep for tonight.

You give him a small smile as your parents talk about him like they were actually warming up to the idea of you two being together.

Well, and a small smile to thank him for not embarrassing you.

[ghoulishhx]

I've got way too many thoughts as of late but Frank Castle with an artsy girl gives me the serotonin I need given I do lots of crafty shit myself.

I've got a patch jacket with around 350 hand studded spikes on the shoulders and do my own embroidery, just the image of Monochromatic Frank Castle with a brightly decorated art girl just brings me joy. Especially if she slowly integrates stuff into his clothes like sewing a simple but endearing patch over one of the tears in his shirts or jackets is just too cute

aaah thank you SO much for the request. im finally gonna try and get some sleep after posting this and i will work on the others tomorrow! if anyone wants to leave me any more asks, you can do so here :3

honestly, in my humble opinion I truly believe frank castle and an artsy girl go hand in hand. the juxtaposition between both personalities is just SO perfect to me. literally the ideal pairing.

a quirky, bubbly, artistic girl with tattoos, eccentric dress sense next to his stoic grumpy self, dressed in monochrome is just chefs kiss.

I can also imagine frankie is absolutely OBSESSED with his girl's work, calling each new project a masterpiece and genuinely taking time to look at every single stitch, brush stroke etc (he doesn't know a damn thing about any or it but you genuinely astonish him with your talent).

and the studded patch jacket omg I am SO jealous it sounds so cool!! thinking about frank watching you add all the studs one at a time-

"jeez sweetheart I dont know how ya do it, so much detail.."

him just wanting to assist you in any way

"ya need any help? lemme see doll, can't be that hard.."

when in reality he struggles massively. his big calloused hands fighting with the glue and the individual studs, cursing under his breath only wanting to help his girl UGH IM OBSESSEDDDD

──── ୨୧ ────

anyway here's a tinyyy little drabble to go along with my headcanon tehe

no content warnings, just pure fluff!

frank was a man of many talents, arts and crafts was definitely not one of them. and that's where you come in, his perfect girl.

he swears your work is the best damn thing to grace this planet, his words not yours. he takes your fingers and kisses them, tightly squeezing muttering how everything you touch turns to gold.

you wanted to repay him for his unwavering support. show him how much his words truly inspire you.

whilst putting away laundry on a Sunday evening, you look through his drawer full of his shirts, all as black as the night. but your eyes are drawn to one piece in particular.

it's old, you can tell he hasn't worn it in forever due to the sheer amount of cuts within the fabric. a light bulb goes off in your head, knowing EXACTLY what to do.

he catches you that evening, sewing away. the sight doesnt surprise him, youre always getting stuck into different crafts. he places a kiss to your forehead, trying to take a peek at your work but you shoo him away, not allowing him to see until the final result.

standing up from your chair, holding the material behind your back as you order him to close his eyes. he does, smirking not knowing what comes next as he is told to hold out his arms.

what he's met with when he opens his eyes, genuinely knocks the wind out of him.

his old favourite shirt, the one he wore on his first date with you (which he then foolishly decided to also wear on a work night, ruining it forever).

except it can't be, right? it was all torn up..

he hold the shirt close to him as he squints, noticing you've patched every single one of the slices. making it brand new.

this alone was enough to choke him, the gesture of you going through the trouble to do this, for him, fills him with a sense of importance.

you gesture to the long sleeve,

"frankie that's not all I did y'know" you giggle, raising the sleeve to his eyes. you watch as his eyes gloss over at the embroidery you added.

F C ♡ Y / N, followed by flowers. but not just any flowers.

peonies.

Maria's favourite.

"baby girl.. this is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me," he whispers, tracing each stitch with his forefinger, hardly believing his eyes. hardly believing anyone would do this for him. let alone someone like you. "thank you sweetheart. it's the most beautiful thing ive ever seen."

he pulls you close to his chest, stroking your hair and kissing the top of your head. not once tearing his eyes away from the work of art you bestowed upon him.

"I love ya, my sweet girl. the most talented person on the goddamn planet."

in conclusion, frank + artsy girl, a match made in heaven.

[veesdiaries]

𝐼magination, life is your creation

hiii girls! back with one more post, yknow every now and then i get this boost of motivation to come and post something, so here i am <3

most of us have been raised with the mentality of “you need to work hard to get what you want”, “money is hard to get”, “losing weight is hard” and all those type of beliefs! but what if i told you that… none of them is true? yeah that’s what you’ve read…

you can lose 10 pounds in less than 2 seconds, you can become millionaire right now, you can get that chanel bag you’ve wanting for so long showing up in your closet, you can wake up in your desired house!

today i wanna speak about the law of assumption. I’ll explain the basic and if you have any question you can send me on my profile!

what is the law of assumption?

it’s a concept that states that whatever you assume to be real, IT IS. Because you are GOD. There is no external power, you control everything. You assume then it’s true. And no, there is NO LIMITATIONS, you can literally assume ANYTHING.

2. but how do we do that? how to assume?

there is no key word or a magic spell to assume, it’s all about YOU. YOU give the words the magic they “need”. You don’t hope, you don’t expect your desire to happen, what you say is LAW. If you say you have a red car, then YOU DO HAVE A RED CAR RIGHT NOW. In the LOASS, it’s all about your imagination is THE real world, THE real truth. You can assume using affirmations, subliminals, pinterest boards, a song you like, closing your eyes and imagining… but remember; the method doesn’t manifest anything, YOU DO. No matter what method you choose to use, what manifest is YOU. Methods are just tools you choose either using or not.

3. Law of attraction x Law of assumption

i think we all heard at least once about the law of attraction, the universe, energy… but here we don’t work with that, simply because the law of attraction is FULL of LIMITING BELEIFS. Some like: you need to FEEL happy to manifest something, the universe controls everything, energy stuff, signs, right time and a LOT MORE. In the LOASS, you literally don’t need anything to assume what you want… there is no right time, energy and bla bla bla… there is YOU and only YOU. You decided every aspect of your life.

4. but how will all of this happen? how is it possible for me to lose 10 kg right now? or for me to have the car i’ve dreamed my whole life with?

well, when you decide to “follow” the LOASS, you STOP WORKING WITH THE LOGICAL. Or science or anything like that… time is only an illusion on the LOASS. No past, no future, just now. So working on the base you create your reality using your assumptions, you can lose 10kg right now and have the car you’ve always wanted! you want a logical answer? wrong place.

5. “when you look for something, don’t look in the physical, look in your imagination”

the real world is your imagination, THE creator. the physical world is THE creation of your imagination. So don’t assume you lost 10kg and then rush to the mirror and start looking for that thin waist you assumed for. You control the physical, not the opposite.

EXTRA.

now for you to see how this all works, let’s do this… imagine a blue butterfly, see how it flies so to close to you… now “let it go”. Don’t start looking around searching for this butterfly cuz you already saw it, remember?

i'm leaving here a post with a lot of links to the neville goddard's books, he's the one who made the law of assumption so popular!! you can find informative threads on twitter, here on tumblr but i'd recommend learning from the most trustful font! but pls, NEVER LOOK FOR INFO ON TIKTOK!!! THEY SPREAD A LOT OF DISINFORMATION AND LIMITING BELIEFS!!

on reddit there is also a community designated to neville goddard, i've heard a lot of good things about ir and the posts i've read were rlly good!!

(link!!)

again, any questions you can send me! <3

see ya!!

[th3-triangl3-ag3ncy]

@intern-ko @ghost-esc-tacy @chaosagentinblue

[Sr. Associate Ko's and Associate Ryanne's bags are also gone.]

"You are being dramatic, Player 3."

[The countdown is over. The screen changes.]

[Soothing music plays in the background.]

"Binjpipe, after a long, deep look inward, has decided to present: You Don't Know Jack."

[The company's chime is heard.]

"Binjpipe: No Whistle-Blowers Allowed." [The screen changes again.]

[The You Don't Know Jack theme plays in the background. The Agents hear a young man's voice.]

"I'm Cookie Masterson and I'll be your guide. Now, close your eyes, take my hand and JUMP!"

[The numbers 1, 2 and 3 appear on the bottom of the screen. Under the numbers are the names Associate Ryanne, Sr. Associate Ko and Associate Echo respectfully.]

"While we are waiting for the others to get here, I've been working on this monologue where I am a sea captain who—oh, you're all here. Uhhh, nevermind. For those who have never played this game before (and shame on you), let me give you all some advice. I am going to give you questions, you buzz in what you think is the correct answer. Get the answer right and you earn some Commendations. Get them wrong... you'll get Demerits. There are special question types, but I'll give you instructions before the question when we get to them. Oh! And one more thing. Sorry, apparently my producers are too lazy to tell me so they left me a little note in blue here. If you feel like you ever need some extra help on a question, you can get a handy dandy Phone-A-Friend but you will get 7 Demerits for that."

[There's a beat.]

"I literally did not understand hal—"

[Cookie is interrupted by the ROUND ONE screen.]

"...Let's get this show on the road."

[The Question One Segue plays.]

"First up: Let It Grow."

"Let’s just say I have a Grow Anomaly and I Roll 3, 1, 1, 4, 4, 2. I decided to use “I’ll Cover You.” Unfortunately, I don’t have any Persistence. My Teammate uses Overclock. Which of these are not true?

A: I gain a Burnout and lose a 3 on my next Roll. B: My Ability activates successfully. C: My Teammate is a Timepiece. D: I get to Roll again."

<MISSION/SESSION> 3 (S-3, S-2, E-1)

@intern-ko @ghost-esc-tacy @chaosagentinblue

[hrizantemy]

Hiii ☺️

I heard you want hot takes? Apologies I was a little more direct in my words

1) It's painful to me deep in my core how a woman could write abusive relationships like Feysand and Nessian without any shitstorm nor with any remorse. We have a groomer who branded a young woman and humiliated her to do his bidding and successfully made her submit to his manipulation. And we have a woman abused into a perfect little doll to give Cassian an heir.

1a) I hate that those two relationships are romantized

1b) That there is this idea that three brothers should have the three sisters is weird in a bad way

2) I get reminded by the love of characters like the IC that people lack media literacy and that the hate they send is a signal of the shift to the (alt-)right

2a) Velaris alone shows me that the IC are villains and I hate that everyone pretends that they are not within the series

2b) I hate that people give excuses for the blatant Imperialist and Colonialist messages that are portrayed.

2c) I hate that they portray this abusive mentality of "pull yourself up by ypur bootsstraps"

3) I wish the people who only read ACOTAR books who liked the smut to just spend one hour on AO3 because I'm disappointed that they have read this shitty smut and think it's well written x.x.

3a) I hate how the "kinky" scenes all were SA in some way because the people who were in the room never could consent and the first time Feyre had been roofied too!

3b) The whole book is just written around the bad smut scenes and it's frustrating and honestly bad...

4) I hate how abuse in ACOTAR is portrayed, especially how it's deemed "therapy".

5) I want to punt every person who says Nesta or Tamlin are narccissts into the face with a book on signs of narcissitic relationships because it's frustrating to me that the term is misused. (But I'm glad they have never suffered from a narcissist)

First of all—yes to all of this. You came in swinging and I adore you for it. We are not here to be soft about structural harm, aestheticized abuse, or weaponized smut disguised as “healing.” You laid out your takes so clearly and fiercely, and I am right there with you—and I’ve got thoughts to add too.

1) Romanticized Abuse and the Dollification of Women

The Feysand and Nessian relationships are… rough. Not just in content, but in how they’re framed. We’re told these dynamics are healthy, desirable, aspirational—and that’s the real horror.

• Rhysand branded Feyre. Branded. Her. In a public court while she was mentally and physically incapacitated.

• He drugged her. Touched her. Painted her. Paraded her. Lied to her. And every inch of that is excused with the magic words: “he was protecting her.”

• And Cassian? He didn’t fall in love with Nesta as she was. He punished her until she became someone more digestible. And that’s supposed to be healing?

Women aren’t projects. Women aren’t redemption arcs for men. The fact that SJM portrays submission—emotional, behavioral, sexual—as a form of recovery is disgusting. And the fact that fandom eats it up? Heartbreaking.

1b is the cherry on top—the three brothers, three sisters thing? It’s so regressive and clunky. Like fate just wrapped up everyone into neat little heteronormative, cis, monogamous pairings with no room for growth, messiness, or personal desire. It’s worldbuilding by way of convenience, and it completely flattens the characters.

2) Media Literacy and the Rise of Alt-Right Aesthetics

God, YES. This series absolutely traffics in soft-fascist, imperialist, and individualist ideologies—and the fact that so many people read it and say “goals” is chilling.

• Velaris is propaganda. It’s a luxury city built on silence, secrecy, and the suffering of Illyrians and the Hewn City. It’s literally gated utopia for the Inner Circle and their pets.

• The IC are painted as liberators, but they’re just bureaucratic tyrants with good hair. Their diplomacy is hostile. Their control over information and people is terrifying.

• The way people say “Nesta should be grateful” or “Tamlin is evil and deserves no sympathy” shows how far fandom has gone from understanding trauma, power dynamics, and actual abuse.

2c is a HUGE one—that bootstraps mentality is everywhere. “If you’re not healing the right way, you deserve to be punished.” Nesta gets exiled and stripped of her autonomy because she’s not recovering pretty. That is NOT therapy. That is punishment. And it reflects a very real-world idea that trauma survivors must perform wellness to be worthy of love.

3) The Smut. Oh gods. The Smut.

Say it louder for the people in the back: ACOTAR smut is not good. It’s repetitive, euphemistic, and mostly serves to either dominate the female character or reinforce power imbalances.

• AO3 has entire libraries of better-written, consensual, character-driven intimacy.

• In ACOTAR, smut is just violence with a bow on top.

• 3a is criminally underrated as a point. The fact that Feyre was drugged and then touched, painted, and controlled is not “kinky.” It’s sexual assault. And people still defend it.

There’s no meaningful consent in these scenes. There’s no space for desire outside of submission. And that’s not erotic—it’s terrifying.

4) Abuse Framed as Therapy

This might be the most insidious part. The idea that “being broken down” is the first step to healing. That you must be exiled, isolated, and humbled before you can earn love. That you should be grateful to your abuser for “fixing” you.

That’s not therapy. That’s abuse in disguise.

And it hurts to see readers—many of them young and vulnerable—take this in and think, “This is what healing looks like.” No. Healing is messy. It’s individual. It requires support, not control. Boundaries, not punishments.

5) Weaponized Psychology

Yes, yes, YES. “Narcissist” is not a synonym for “person I don’t like.” Mislabeling Tamlin or Nesta as narcissists just shows a shallow understanding of what narcissistic abuse actually is—and like you said, it’s a luxury of those who’ve never experienced it.

Nesta is a trauma survivor. Tamlin is an abuser—but a narcissist? Not necessarily. He’s possessive, emotionally volatile, and broken, yes. But labeling him a narcissist flattens his pain and removes any responsibility from the narrative that created him.

Also… how many narcissistic traits do we see in Rhysand, and no one says a word?

TL;DR: You’re Not Harsh. You’re Honest.

You’re not too direct. You’re just calling out the truth that’s been coated in glitter and inked in black leather. You’re seeing the systemic harm in the story structure. And you’re right to be angry. This isn’t about hating popular books—it’s about demanding better from stories that are being consumed by millions and framed as empowering.

You see it. You name it. And your voice is part of the shift toward stories that don’t just aestheticize trauma—but interrogate it.

I’m so glad you said all this.