#I know they were in a life-or-death situation

[iamluzgar]

I completely disagree...

Veilguard has the following themes explored: leadership (through Rook's journey, factions, gods, Solas), corruption (of people, of gods), myths (how the myths from Thedas were changed from the original story that we now know), traumas (of losing someone, of being raised violently in a family, of losing your family, of being invaded, of being molded into a specific person, of being betrayed, of being forced to do actions you don't want to do, of duty, of accepting the past of your people), invasion and resistance (of the blight, of the Antaam, of the gods), family (through Lucanis and Taash, but also through the way Neve considers the Shadow Dragons, through Bellara), identity (through Taash, Lucanis, Harding, to an extent to Emmrich), culture (through Taash again, Bellara, but also through the way older games gave us so much propaganda about Tevinter, because they only hear about the upper classes, and we actually get to experience a bit of its culture ingame), the fake division between spirit/demon (through Solas and Spite), blood magic (through the old elven gods and Solas), old elven magic, fade, death (through Emmrich in something that specifically targets the player: "how would you like your remains to be dealt with?"), mourning (Not gonna go into that one but you know several people who die during the game), chronic illness and/or terminal illnesses, the dwarves' past and culture. I probably forgot a lot more.

Like... Does the game asks you whether slavery is wrong or not? No, but the answer to that is obvious, it event shows you slaves and it is sickening. Does the game asks you to take a stand pro/against magister? No, but the answer to that is obvious. Does the game asks you whether we should believe in Andrastian religion? No, but the whole DAI situation showed that the Andrastian church was bullshit already, we know it is, and we know how much now from Veilguard. Does the game asks you to take a stand pro/against magic? I think we're past that point now. We know magic is a nuanced topic and that mages shouldn't be oppressed for who they are. We know there are cultures and society allowing them to thrives without being imprisoned. Those aren't complex sociopolitical issues, those are things that were explored and resolved in other games with a clear yes/no question. Dorian sided against slavery, because he learnt it was bad. At this point everyone and their mother know it's bad. We don't actually need artifically made points like in DA2 where, if you help the mages, they still fuck you up to make you consider maybe they don't deserve the right to exist (I love DA2, it's my fav, but that is not a deep serious political idea).

One point very positive Point of Veilguard is its nuance to the question it was visiting during the game. Should Harding try to commit to her kindness in the face of intense general trauma, or should she accept her anger? Should Taash go towards the Qun or should she go towards Rivain culture? Should Emmrich go Lich or should he keep Manfred? Should Bellara keep her culture's past or should she keep it? Those are all question that have no good answer, because they all come with nuances, with no clear yes/no question, with happiness and possible fulfillment in all cases. Just like in real life, and it's up to you, the player, to make an arbitration of whether you would live preferably in such a way or in another way for your characters. It's a personal discovery journey of what it means to be a person, a leader, a hero, of different pasts, colors, genders, family status, traumas, duties etc. Of making a choice and owning it, for the bad and the good. Veilguard is probably one of the most emotionally mature AAA game in the history of gaming, and we're AGAIN (hello DA2) gonna have to wait 10 years before people realize it.

Like sure, it's not perfect, it's rushed, it doesn't feel like 10 years has been put into it, some stuff in gameplay, level design and UI inventory aren't right, some narration choices aren't great, their choice of focus is debatable, you can't even be a healer mage. But on the themes, thesis, sociopolitical and larger issues? I completely disagree. They also matured in their game design quite a lot in regards to open worlds, quests and its number, and little QoL things I don't remember that made me go "aaah... That's great design". It's just not how we imagined it would be. And yes, me too, I would have loved to have a DA2 in Minrathous, making havroc freeing slaves and beating the shit out of magisters with Fenris, this would have been my favorite thing. This isn't what happened, the game is still very good, it still has incredible qualities if you take it for what it is and engage with the story, the characters and the environment.

I'm realizing there are 3 types of Dragon Age fans.

1) Gamers who play latest big flashy action game

2) UwU kissy dating and besties simulator

3) Interested in the sociopolitical and theological themes and thesis statements the series is historically known for

Veilguard is not made for fan #3. It is a very pretty game that has absolutely nothing it wants to say--to the point that what it says by saying nothing is often times pretty offensive.

[yukioos]

TEAR YOU APART

SUMMARY: viktor x vampire reader // you stumble into the piltover academy, not realizing where you are because of the sunlight. you haven’t had blood in days, and felt overwhelmed due to everything you were lacking. once you pass out in the halls, an old friend, heimerdinger, recognizes you, and has two men behind him. one of them, viktor, offers his blood to you and saves your life.

ASK: listen listen listen… viktor x his human experiment/project/anomaly/test subject. that’s all.

AUTHORS NOTE: hii!! im so sorry i accidentally posted the ask with the intention of using that post as a draft. anyway, thank u guys for 400 followers! this has 2.0k words. also pls send asks!! i’m working on a jayce oneshot too

WARNINGS: not proofread, kinda mean jayce, viktor n heimerdinger pick on jayce a bit, reader sucks viktors blood

you barged into the academy’s front doors, stomping down the hallways. it was in the middle of the day, yet far too sunny for your liking, but you needed a place to take cover. your body was burning in pain, and whimpers snuck out of your mouth. tears began to spring in your eyes, but you quickly wiped them away before they could drop down to your cheeks.

you walked up the stairs, trying to find a room suffocated in complete darkness. you panted, and you needed blood quickly. time was running out, and you felt your energy draining by the second. cold air enveloped your frame, so you wrapped your arms around your body. it was the coldest you’ve felt in your life, although you were burning minutes ago.

pain filled your legs, and you found it difficult to walk and even breathe. this wasn’t how vampires were supposed to act. you were supposed to be strong and intimidating, but here you were, holding your knees up to your chest and cradling yourself as if your mother was comforting you. suddenly, a door slammed open, and you heard three men talking about something you couldn’t comprehend. hopefully, they weren’t the bad people who would burn down the castles of vampires, like the ones in the stories dad would read.

heimerdinger gasped and in a chirpy voice, questioned, “miss y/n? is that you?” you only glanced up at the yordle, but didn’t have the strength to respond to your old friend. as your vision became blurry, you could only hear the creature command one of the men behind him, “jayce, pick up a bag of blood from the infirmary!” when the brunette hesitated, he furrowed his eyebrows and placed his hands on his hips, “what did i just say, boy? now!” he then pointed at the room labeled ‘infirmary’.

he held his hands over your shoulders, debating whether or not he should hug you. he felt immense love and care for you, and he was essentially your godfather. his eyes teared up, he had never seen you in a position like this before, it made the normally chirpy yordle feel emotional for you.

on the other hand, viktor felt awkward and nervous around you. he finally spoke up, “professor, do you know this woman?” he couldn’t help but stare at your eyes, devoid of emotion. he bit his lip and tapped his cane against the ground, impatiently waiting for his science partner to save your life.

footsteps stomped over to your side, and the dark haired boy asked, “is b positive okay, sir?” yet before your old friend could answer, your vision became dark, and you were met with frantic hands gently slapping your cheeks.

“no, no, no!” heimerdinger groaned, placing his hands on his head and shaking it with disappointment. the two men gave him a look of confusion, as a random girl appeared malnourished and on the edge of death. he continued, “oh gosh! that just made this situation worse!” he sat on his knees for a couple of seconds, placing his hands on his chin before his pet, porofessor, came over and sat next to him.

he then attempted to set his emotions aside, remembering it is his right to take care of you. he turned around and stood in front of you, with his hands on his hips. he stated, with furrowed eyebrows, “one of you needs to give blood to this young lady.”

before jayce could interject, as he held his hands out and opened his mouth, heimerdinger tutted and shook his finger. “we can’t give her blood from a bag, it needs to be from a living creature. i, unfortunately, was not thinking correctly when i told you to collect a bag from the infirmary. however, i expect one of you two gentlemen to give blood to her because yordle blood does not go well in vampires’ stomachs.”

the taller man rubbed the nose of his bridge and ran his large hand over his face, covering almost all of the skin. he sighed and took his hand off, “so you’re telling me that we have to give blood to a vampire?” he chuckled and splayed his hands out, as if he was shrugging, “with all do respect, professor, that’s absurd. i’m not giving blood to someone i just met. plus, she’s a vampire. they’re rabid animals—“

viktor interjected, reaching a hand out to jayce to stop him. he argued, “clearly, you haven’t studied vampires, jayce. there isn’t much information about them, but they are not rabid animals, especially this one here. they live in solitude, away from humans.” he glances to heimerdinger, who has a proud smile on his face, even in the darkest of times, “i will give the blood to her. it seems like you know her well enough to ask us to save her life.” he smirked.

the professor beamed and clapped, “i am proud of you, my boy!” he then turned to the stronger man and glared at him, “jayce, because you aren’t doing anything productive, carry her to the infirmary.” jayce didn’t protest this time, and even began to feel guilt, apparent due to his gaze at the ground, and puppy eyes sat on heimerdinger’s face. he then picked your body up, bridal style, and opened the door to the infirmary. he gently placed you on the soft bed, where your body seemed almost lifeless.

three chairs sat around the bed, where friends and family of the patient would bond together in their most vulnerable and sometimes last moments. the three sat down, and the professor struggled to climb on top of the tall chair. he sighed and placed his hands on the armrests, eyebrows furrowed and his expression unreadable.

it wasn’t until viktor spoke that he was knocked out of his trance. “professor, how am i supposed to give blood to… what was her name again?”

“her name is y/n. i watched the girl grow up in her castle with her mother and father. because i live for centuries, like them, they decided to make me her godfather. that was the best day in my life. never would i have expected her to see her like this…” he shakes his head, then widens his eyes, “oh, what am i saying? you didn’t ask for her life story!” he tried to be his chirpy and loving self again, but didn’t have the spark in his eyes.

he frowned and finally answered the brunette’s question, “i am not fully aware of how to wake her up. however, she should wake up to the smell of blood. then, you must let her take… a bite, preferably from your neck. maybe a couple of seconds will be good enough for the girl to have her health restored. it is a tedious process, my boy. you may begin to feel lightheaded, so you should have some water nearby. we will leave so it won’t be as awkward with us watching you.” he chuckled.

viktor bit his lip before nodding, and jayce took a glass from the cabinet above before filling it with water. he sat it on the table next to him, then held the door open for the professor. he then closed it, and you and viktor were all alone.

viktor attempted to grab a document but jolted his hand back once the pain settled in. he got a paper cut at the perfect time. your eyes opened quickly, and you smelled blood, causing you to rise and sit instead of lying down. you stared at the handsome boy in front of you, who happened to be holding his hand in pain.

viktor stared back at you with the same intensity, partially with fear and adrenaline. maybe the fact that you were pretty would make the pain easier to withstand. your eyes were wide, and viktor swore he saw a hint of red in them. your hands were perched on the bed, and you tilted your head at the frightened man.

through all his fear, he mumbled, “i understand you need… to feast for a moment,” he glanced down at the marble floor, “it’s okay.” he motioned over with his hand for you to take a bite.

within a second, you were out of the bed and sitting on his lap, with one hand on his neck. you rubbed his shoulder comfortingly before sinking your fangs in, eliciting a groan from him. his eyes widened and he began to pant, knowing he was currently losing blood by the second, but not a deathly amount.

he placed a cold hand on your hip and gently squeezed it, not noticing his own action. once you gained consciousness of your surroundings, you gave him a plush kiss on his neck, where you bit. some blood was smeared on the surrounding skin, so you grabbed a nearby tissue and cleaned it up. you smiled at the marks your teeth had left, but frowned once you saw the man wasn’t looking healthy.

you mumbled an, “‘m sorry,” and grabbed the glass of water for him to take. you then asked, “thank you for saving my life. how can i repay you? surely there’s something i can do.”

he slowly drank the water with shaky hands, accidentally letting some of it spill over his clothes. he closed his eyes and leaned his head back, placing the glass on the table. he whispered, “give me a second, please. i would like to… recollect myself.” so you nodded, then stood up and sat on the infirmary bed, giving him space.

he looked good, with disheveled hair and clothes, especially his tie. you’ve seen a lot of good-looking men in your long life, sometimes telling heimerdinger about them, but you never saw one as handsome as the one in front of you.

he apologized and rubbed his face, then stared back at your curious eyes. jayce was completely wrong, he couldn’t believe that vampires were dangerous as soon as he saw the innocent and loving look on your face.

he gave you a small smile, and stated, “i was thinking maybe i could ask you questions about your species. we do not have much knowledge about vampires, and the piltover community would love to know more. you don’t have to live around here, however, but i would appreciate you come by sometimes to teach me about your culture.”

he was genuinely interested, but it was even better that he wanted to know more about you, not just your people. he wanted to know about you as an individual being, and not everything had to be vampire-related. however, he wouldn’t admit this to heimerdinger. he was like an overprotective father, although he only saw the two of you interact once or twice.

so you and viktor began to talk about your culture for a couple of minutes before you were interrupted. the brunette remembered you didn’t need to sleep at night, so you preferred to talk early in the morning, when it was still dark. he learned you preferred to fly around at night, where people would never suspect you were a vampire, and no one could bother you.

you learned he was a renowned scientist, originally from the undercity, zaun. he felt like he didn’t always belong in the city of progress, as he was a cripple who believed he was looked down upon. you empathized with him, knowing vampires were never treated fairly in their years of living.

when it was almost time for your nightly fly, you quickly asked, “can you schedule the questions for three in the morning?”

that, of course, didn’t align with his schedule, but he agreed, “yes, that is perfect.” you nodded and smiled, and he shouted, “stay safe out there, miss y/n!” as you jumped out of the lab window, before transforming into a bat and roaming in the sky.

[msfandomsblog]

Alastor x FEM! ballerina/reader

So glad ya'll enjoyed the first one! (or I hope you did) cus there's more!

the dividers I used are made by @aquazero

warnings: drunk angel dust, spear threatening, cursing, Alastor (he's his own hazard), blood/death suggestion, a bar. and if a missed any feel free to comment!

part 1s right here!

Being the person you were you made quite a few friends, angel dust for example.

You weren't completely heartless, come on people.

You listened as he told you how unfair his life was, how much he wanted to be true actor like you were when you were alive. You listened to every ramble, sob, cry and drunk slur. In his eyes you were a saint, a place to hide and a true friend.

You never let anyone touch him if you could help it. Most of the time this meant sitting next to him as he got drunk and flirted with every half-assed demon who came up to him. You'd then take him home to wherever he was currently staying.

You never left him alone in this state.

But you found more times then once he'd put himself in a garbage situation and you couldn't help till it was to late.

Lets just say blood was spilt more then a couple of times to protect angel.

He never did let you kill Valentino tho.

But when you became an overlord you made it clear how you felt about him.

You did enjoy the others company though! Rosie was one of the sweetest cannibals you'd ever met, Camilla was perfectly civil, and you and Zestial were thick as thieves.

As for the radio demon, you never met him.

He was ofc around when you died but your rise to power didn't start until after he'd disappeared. You'd ofc heard stories, legends, and even silly rhymes the hell-born children of cannibal town made.

Like I said you have never met him, that was until..

you did.

You were helping angel out of a bar, not that anyone messed with him too much knowing he was your friend. he was half drunk and rambled about the hotel he was staying at. You told him he could stay with you instead but then he lunged at you saying "Pleaseeeeee n/n!! Charlie will be sad if a don't gooooo!!" Oh yeah he was definitely drunk. You sighed and slowly asked him to show him were to go.

You knocked on the door seeing the princess and went to ask to come in when the door was slammed in your face.

Not very kind for a hotel set on redemption, you'd heard little of the hotel but enough to know that it certainly would be fun to watch.

you heard whispers behind the door the princess and another female

Vaggie!! Its The Black Swan!!! Shes at the door!!" the princess whisper shouted at the female Vaggie.

....aegh.... 'The Black Swan' your overlord title and another reminder of why you were in hell.

"WHAT!? Don't let her in!! Its bad enough we have to deal with one mass murdering overlord!!" Vaggie whisper-yelled back angrly.

"But what if shes here to help? like Al?" The princess offered quietly.

Al? what overlord had a name, or nick name such as Al?

As much as you wanted to continue listening to their entertaining conversation you had a passed out angel dust on your back and you'd like to set him down safely. So you knocked again.

The princess opened the door slowly, you gave her a small, graceful smile.

"Hello my dear princess! My friend here tells me this is his place of residence!" You turned to show angel on your back.

"OH MY SATAN!? WHAT HAPPENED!?" Charlie shouted worriedly.

"He's just drunk dear, nothing major." you said in a voice laced with a calm tone as you placed him down on the couch as you entered.

You stood up straight dusting yourself off and turning towards the princess.

"Y/n, Y/n L/n, or as you obviously know me as The Black Swan." you put a hand out for her to shake, but was stopped by a shorter moth demon pointing a spear at you.

Your smile fell as your raised an eyebrow at the small demon.

"what do you want?" she said angrly.

You gave a small closed mouth chuckle, you recognized the voice to the whisper-shout you'd heard a minute ago.

"and you must be Vaggie," You used a finger to move the spear away from your face.

"I am here because my friend angel dust has gotten himself into another 'situation'." You moved swiftly behind Vaggie. She'd barely had time to register you moved until you shook Charlie's hand.

Charlie smiled and shook your hand happily.

"Oh! I'm Charlie! Welcome to the Happy Hotel!!" You gave her a confused smile.

"Happy hotel? Your sign said the Hazbin Hotel." You said moving your hands behind your back looking only slightly down at the princess.

The girl groaned, "Dammit Alastor," She muttered cursing a demon. The name was familiar but you couldn't recall where you heard it before. Then it hit you.

An old rhyme cannibal children would sing to Rosie about the radio demon.

(melody is the London bridge is falling down)

"Alastor is coming to town, coming to town, coming to town. The radio demons coming to town, my fair lady"

You looked around the hotel, somewhere in here was the radio demon? But how? yes you'd heard whispers, and there was Charlie on the news but........ could he possibly be back?

Charlie was waving a hand in front of your face.

"Hello? Miss y/n?" Charlie said with slight worry.

You snapped back to reality and moved her hand down away from your face.

"No need for the formalities Charlie, please just y/n will do." you said trying to wave off your sudden spacey-ness.

"Oh, well its wonderful to make your acquaintance! I was wondering if you were staying?" Charlie gave a hopeful smile.

After your death you never thought of redemption or the chance of going to heaven that was one of the reasons you wanted to become an overlord. On the other hand if angel was spending his time here, maybe it wasn't all too bad.

"I might as well!" You said giving a curt smile. You could sense Vaggie staring bullets into your head which made your smile slightly wider.

"But I do have questions my dear princess," you said placing a warm hand on her shoulder. "For one, what exactly do you do here?"

Charlies smile somehow got more excited, "Well we haven't many guests yet but we plan on having classes on things like, self-control, forgiveness and apologizing."

"Dear, what your offering, is a mental facility." You gave her a empathetic smile. "You must give Sinners a reason to come!"

Charlie turned pointing, "We have a bar!" she said hopefully. Silently wishing to please you.

You chuckled, "Charlie, you will only attract drunken flies with that honey." You moved over towards the bar looking down to see an asleep cat demon behind the counter.

"Hello!" You grinned as the demon jolted up looking at you with distaste.

"What the fuck do you want?" He said as he grumbling something about another shit-eating grin. Your smile shrank slightly.

"are you the bartender of this.... little establishment?" You said gesturing faintly to the bar.

"Yeah? what's it to ya?" his gruff voice obviously annoyed. "Oh just checking," You moved away from the bar back towards Charlie when you noticed she was calling for someone. So you briskly moved towards her and when she turned back she yelped.

"Oh its just you," Charlie said taking a breath. "Sorry you"re, um, quite fast!"

"Who were you calling for? I could quite hear." Charlie gave a nervous smile, "oh just my co-founder!" she turned a bit away from you.

You raised an eye-brow curiously.

Then you sensed something and before anyone else could react your left hand grabbed the wrist of someone trying to grasp your right shoulder.

You were unfazed but you heard a blitz of static though the air making Charlie turn her head.

You turned around to face The Radio Demon.

"well, well, well! I didn't think I'd see the day..... The Radio Demon." Your smiled matching his vaguely annoyed one.

You let go of his wrist and took a step back so he was no longer invading your personal space. "Nice to finally put a face to the name. That is, uh, I did think you'd be taller."

Charlie was honestly surprised that Alastor didn't speak first or in that case let you speak to him in the manner you were. She knew he also often invaded others space without permission, but didn't expect you to be able to deflect that.

Finally Alastor,after staring half angrily at you for about a minute, said something to you.

"And who might you be my speedy friend?" His composer regained as his smile brightened. He disliked the fact he'd been caught off guard, by what he thought was a sinner no less.

"My names y/n, but my formal overlord title is 'The Black Swan'. I'm a newer overlord, I doubt you've heard of me." You gave him a close-lipped smile.

"I can't say I have." He said his smile strained.

"Ah well you'll be seeing quite a bit of me! I intend to join in Charlie's little dream! I see her being quite the queen someday." You said placing an arm on Charlie's shoulder.

"Oh its nothing, but thank you for deciding to stay y/n!" charlie chirped happliy.

"Oh my pleasure!" You said smiling wide as she gave you a small hug.

"Yes thank you," Alastor said with a knowing threat in his tone.

Heyyyyyy! I hope ya'll are liking this so far I worked very hard on this part so I hope it shows!

And for anyone wondering about what your powers are you have;

Hypermobility, which means fast reflexes, you are abnormally aware of your surroundings, you can move quickly without making a sound. you can fly if that wasn't said in part 1, and you know some simple spells.

again hope everyone is enjoying this and sorry for the waiting in-between chapters!

See you later little humans!!!

[jesswritesthat]

Bakugō Katsuki: Wish

Fandom: BNHA // MHA — [ Masterlist ]

Summary: ~0.8k, angsty

Request: chapters 365 -like you know how bakugou is currently severely injured in manga /anime instead of bakugou almost dying it's the reader who takes all the hits and blows for him when fighting shigaraki crushing reader arm maybe taking huge blow in the chest to protect bakugou.

Warnings: Spoilers, blood, injury.

>>>>——————————>

War.

A thing that can be so beautiful and romantic when painted the with a creative brush.

Real war was painted in blood.

A fact you knew all too well now that you were drowning in the thick of it. Deep lacerations would leave scars on your skin once the blood was wiped away, and you’re certain adrenaline was numbing the searing pain of broken bones if you even survived the next few seconds.

Shigaraki was immensely intimidating and had the power to fortify it, waves of hands flowed like a tsunami and despite both yours and Bakugōs’ perceptive attempts to dodge and attack yourselves, it felt suffocating. After hit after hit, you’d found your body getting in the way all on its own - willing his attacks against you rather than your explosive ally. After all, if anyone was going to win, it was going to be him, the ‘symbol of tenacity’ as you’d mockingly dubbed him once.

Your movements were something Dynamight was attuned to though, within seconds he’d realised what you were doing and wasted no time in callously reprimanding you for it - hearing the splinting snap of bone and your pained but ferocious cry left him flying to you with explosions spiralling at the offending appendages.

“(H/n)! (L/n) dammit!”

“It’s alright I have another arm!”

It was a poor attempt at humour and false confidence, but if you dare try and acknowledge the reality of the situation you’re certain you’d breakdown, so you’d cling to this idiotic denial in order to keep fighting.

“Then use it and keep fighting with me!” It was blunt, and everything you’d expect from Bakugō during battle but it meant he understood your unspoken anxieties and further distraction was the last thing needed when you were in the midst of a life or death situation.

So you both continued fighting perilously, yourself preventing any hits from landing on Bakugō when you could regardless of his adamant refutes.

“Moron stay outta my way and stop getting hurt! I’ll be your damn hero and kill this idiotic villain!”

It was then you saw it, multiple hands aiming directly for his chest and just like that, your body moved in its own.

“Not if I’m yours first.” You saw the blood before you felt the injury, a puncturing blow aiming directly at your heart - but at least it wasn’t his.

You were certain the ground would hit next, although part of you expected a sort of comfort from that. Instead, you were enveloped in a ferocious warmth as Shigarki faded into the distance with sparks blurring your vision.

The next thing you saw was Bakugō, furious and fretting once he’d gently laid you on the ground.

“The hell were you— dammit! I can’t—“

“It’s okay Bakugō.” You’d reached up, fingertips delicately touching his blood stained face whilst he snapped to you with a harsh blink. Was there tears— no, he needed to continue fighting.

“You need to stay down, the blood loss…”

“Be a hero Dynamight, go save the world.” With the last ounce of strength you had left, you weakly pushed his chest like encouraging him with a battered smile on your lips and a look in your eyes that spoke a thousand words.

Shiragarki wasn’t defeated yet, and if he stayed by your side any longer you’d be put at further risk, so he shot off in the blink of eye with renewed determination to kill the villain that who threatened to taken something precious from him.

Your vision faded in and out, blackening and blurred, but through it all there were flashes of light. Luminous sparkles glittering like gold. Your last wish was that of victory, Bakugō gleamed across the sky like a shooting star and if anyone would fulfill your final plea it’d be him. Your wish would be safe in his hands.

However, when all was said and done, when accounting the sacrifices, the funerals, and the devastation, even heroes wouldn’t call it victory - it was called surviving.

It was that thought that crossed Bakugōs’ mind when he laid carefully selected flowers upon your memorial.

“You told me to be a hero, but how can I call myself that when I couldn’t even save someone I care about?!”

It was spoken into the silence like you were there, listening, ready to bite back at any given moment. Instead, the silence only grew louder and Bakugō in turn placed a fist against your cold stone. Ironic considering you were always so warm.

“I ain’t giving up though, I’ll keep winning. That was your last wish right? I’ll become the best hero this worlds ever seen no matter how many villains I have to kill - so watch me idiot!”

And watch you did, watched as the golden glow of explosions illuminated the streets of Japan effervescent, and slowly brought them back to life.

<——————————<<<<

[ Masterlist ]

[thekitsandthekats]

i wonder if people understand that to hate haley is to really really misunderstand aaron.

like, im not trying to make this about him but i think stories are so intertwined because obviously they are.

haley and aaron were highshool sweethearts! he said he fell in love with her after watching her rehearse. haley must've felt something too for them to be together, then to be together that long! she's been with him through law school, through being a prosecutor, through being on S.W.A.T, through FBI training and all the years working up to being the Unit Chief of the BAU. she's been right there with him!

they have jack and there is her happy family, the peaceful idyllic life dreams are made of, but of course aaron keeps working, he's always traveling to situations where he could die at any moment. that's hard, guys. to know that your husband could go to work and not come back, every single day. haley is an incredibly strong and loyal person and determined to keep her family together. but all of that is difficult in the face of aarons job. she knows that he loves her and jack, she knows that he's a good father but she also knows he's bound to duty, to his job, to saving eveyone he can. when she leaves its not because the love wasn't there but because she couldn't do it anymore. and there's strength in that too.

to leave the love of your life, the father of your children, someone you've been with through so much, since you were a teenager. do yall understand how difficult that must've been.

and even after she leaves, she still sends aaron videos of jack and little updates on his life. i always think of the end scene in seven seconds when aaron asks to see jack even though he's sleeping. haley stares at him for a beat before she says yes and ive always thought that she must see something on his face. a kind of look that means he's just come back from a difficult case and needs the reassurance of his family. so, of course she says yes.

the reason i say to hate haley is to misunderstand aaron is because her death broke him in unimaginable ways. the guilt must eat at him, killing him everyday. do you understand how important family is to aaron. he tells rossi once that he did everything for his family, that before the divorce he tried his hardest in everything. and to have haley be murdered because of her connection to him, because foyet used her as a tool to get to him.

he loved her with everything in him, and haley loved him just the same. to not respect her position in his life, is you doing a disservice to yourself. theirq story is heartbreaking gold.

im honestly tired of all the criminal minds fans dismissing haleys death. like that woman is strong. she knew damn well in that moment she was going to die but her kid was right there so she held herself together until her last final moments, so idc if “she cheated” or whatever bullshit yall try and use to hate on her — she was such an understanding wife and an amazing mother and im tired of yall shitting on her when you wouldn’t be able to handle half the shit she went through.

and i can now breathe!

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Hey, there. Can you help me with this? I am stuck on creating with this motivation for my WIP.

Those who seek death shall live, and those who seek lives shall die How do you create a character with this type of character motivation? either is an important side character, villain, mentor, or even main character?

Hi! Some writers like to use character tropes as inspiration when they get stuck with a certain idea. Here are some examples I found for you that you can use as a guide. And alter as needed for your story:

"Death Seeker" Trope

At some point in the past, some characters have had a traumatic experience, found themselves dishonored, committed a crime they could not repay, lost everything worth living for, caught an incurable disease or just became bored with continued existence.

For whatever reason, rather than turning to suicide, they went off seeking battles to fight, hoping to find an enemy who would kill them, and achieve an honorable, heroic, awesome, or otherwise acceptable death, sometimes going as far as outright surrendering and offering their life to their enemies. 

Martyrdom Cultures may regard such a character as a role model, even if upon closer examination they might seem like a Martyr Without a Cause.

In cases of cruel Irony, the characters who snap out of it and find something to live for often end up dying or getting killed shortly afterwards anyway.

A real life example:

Jeffrey Dahmer frequently expressed his wish to die for his crimes while in prison. When he was attacked by another prisoner who attempted to slit his throat, he refused to press charges and requested to be returned to the general prison population. Only a few months later, he was beaten to death by another prisoner. His last words were, reportedly: "I don't care if I live or die — go ahead and kill me."

"I Cannot Self-Terminate" Trope

Perhaps they've just been wounded in a vital area and know they are going to die slowly and in agony, and just want to die with dignity/end the pain quickly. Perhaps they are prisoners and being tortured, and the hero cannot break them free but could shoot them.

In any case, while they're ready or even eager to die, they cannot do it on their own. This can also count as a Heroic Sacrifice, sometimes.

If the character is robotic, this may occur due to influence from Asimov's Laws. Specifically, the Third Law states that a robot may not harm itself, or through inaction allow itself to be harmed, unless doing so is required to uphold the First or Second Law. Even when not following the hierarchical laws of robotics, it could still occur if a robot is simply programmed for self-preservation.

The victim may plead for death even when it is possible for them to be saved, owing to the pain. The hero is likely to override that, often saying No One Gets Left Behind.

Accidental Murder: Occurs when a situation that wasn't intended to be lethal ends with the death of someone anyway.

Anyone Can Die: This is easily defined as definite Truth in Television, because all living organisms are mortal and are bound to, by statistics at least, eventually die for any number of reasons, with no fiction writers to determine how it happens. When used poorly or too frequently, this trope can cause Too Bleak, Stopped Caring, possibly with audiences uttering the Eight Deadly Words, as the audience won't see any point in getting attached to characters that they expect to die sooner or later. A good way to check if this trope applies is to see if who survives is an important plot point, rather than only how they survive.

Cheated Death, Died Anyway: When a character narrowly escapes death on occasion (and perhaps more than one occasion), only to die shortly thereafter anyway…in a completely different way. Exactly how close the two incidents have to be varies, so the important factor in this trope is the presence of irony. This can apply in a matter of minutes, months, or even (in rare cases) years; the deciding factor is the Bait-and-Switch element of the death.

Death Is the Only Option: The only way to achieve victory is to die.

Forgiveness Requires Death: In order to be forgiven of their crimes, the character must die.

Heroic Sacrifice: Sacrificing your own life for the greater good.

Jumping on a Grenade: Sacrificing oneself by using one's own body as a shield against a deadly threat in hopes of sparing others.

Metaphorical Suicide: A despondent character willingly resigns themself to a fate similar to death without actually dying.

The Problem with Fighting Death: …is that even if you win, you'll still eventually lose. Killing or imprisoning Death might not offer protection either, as his sister Entropy goes around making everyone grow old and wish to die while Death Takes a Holiday or cause a plague of ghosts as the souls of the dead get stuck on Earth. This is the problem with fighting Death, Hades, The Devil, Psychopomps, Anthropomorphic Personifications or even God; you just can't win. However, a draw may be possible with creativity. If all that matters is that there be a Death, then replacing him with someone friendlier or someone with whom deals can be struck and honored can be a way to go. This can be done by appealing to someone higher on the divinity ladder, getting someone else to kill and replace Death (or doing so yourself, if you're willing to accept the job for the rest of eternity), and flying out of Hell are all possibilities. In this way, one can say Living Forever Is Awesome.

Who Wants to Live Forever?: If an immortal being grows so sick of eternal life that they just want it to end already.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Hope this helps inspire your writing! You can look through the sources for more information on each trope.

[saintsonnet]

please expand on the lancelot x gawain i keep seeing on your blog 🙏

okay sorry i took so long i decided to shower after you sent me this because i knew that if i started then i would never end up showering today. and then it was an unfinished routine so i had to lotion and brush my teeth and floss and do hair stuff too.

so, obviously, it's lancelot du lac and gawaine of orkney. both knights of the round table, etc etc. you know who they are. i hope. they're not exactly similar to their bbc merlin counterparts---lancelot is of noble birth in classic arthuriana, gawaine is arthur's nephew (though bbc merlin doesn't exactly...keep the familial relations that canon does), things like that---but i'd honestly say that their character personalities are similar enough that it's verging on acceptable! just as a reference point for you, i suppose.

gawaine has lost a fair fight only to six knights in his time, launcelot being one of them (Le Morte d'Arthur, Sir Thomas Mallory. book IV, chapter XVIII) (the other five being sir tristram, sir bors, sir percevel, sir pelleas, and sir marhaus). he is mentioned to throw fights against lancelot because he loves losing to him (cannot remember the source for the life of me) and, of course, lancelot always notices when he does.

then there's this famous quote:

(vulgate II, p140) where launcelot tells galehaut (another man that he arguably has...something...going on with) that he would share with gawaine everything he loves, save guinevere, in order to have gawaine forever. gawaine then goes on to say that, essentially, he would wish to be the most beautiful woman so that lancelot would love him as a wife.

also, in Morte, which i don't have photos of because my copy is a physical book rather than a pdf like how i'm reading vulgate and i don't want to take photos with my laptop camera. there is this quote "and Launcelot with this sword shall slay the man that in the world he loves best, that shall be Sir Gawaine." which is engraved in the hilt of the red hilted sword, balin's sword that merlin encases in stone and which galahad, lancelot's son, eventually wields.

^this, also. from vulgate IV, p140. after launcelot accidentally kills gawaine's brother gareth (named here as gaheriet; all the orkneys have...many ways of spelling their names. look up a list of all of gawaine's names over history, i dare you) who was guarding guinevere's cell...he begs gawaine to forgive him and even promises to swear himself and all his men into subservience to gawaine if gawaine would only forgive him. "I want to be your companion just as I used to be." mhm...

and "I'll swear to you on 'relics that I didn't kill your brother Gaheriet intentionally" is a huge promise. swearing on a holy relic in such a deeply, fundamentally christian society was the vow that you could make. the reason why honour was so important in that time was because the grand majority of people were illiterate, so one's word was the most one could give, in the majority of situations! and here is lancelot, saying that he'll swear on a holy relic that he did not mean to kill gareth if it means gawaine will forgive him and love him again.

there is also, right before gawaine eventually dies (from a sword wound to the head from lancelot) he writes a letter to launcelot begging forgiveness for having been so horrible to lancelot before his death, and wishing he could see him before he dies, for he knows he won't live long.

And then when paper and ink was brought, then Gawaine was set up weakly by King Arthur, for he was shriven a little to-fore; and then he wrote thus, as the French book maketh mention: Unto Sir Launcelot, flower of all noble knights that ever I heard of or saw by my days, I, Sir Gawaine, King Lot's son of Orkney, sister's son unto the noble King Arthur, send thee greeting, and let thee have knowledge that the tenth day of May I was smitten upon the old wound that thou gavest me afore the city of Benwick, and through the same wound that thou gavest me I am come to my death-day. And I will that all the world wit, that I, Sir Gawaine, knight of the Table Round, sought my death, and not through thy deserving, but it was mine own seeking; wherefore I beseech thee, Sir Launcelot, to return again unto this realm, and see my tomb, and pray some prayer more or less for my soul. And this same day that I wrote this cedle, I was hurt to the death in the same wound, the which I had of thy hand, Sir Launcelot; for of a more nobler man might I not be slain. Also Sir Launcelot, for all the love that ever was betwixt us, make no tarrying, but come over the sea in all haste, that thou mayst with thy noble knights rescue that noble king that made thee knight, that is my lord Arthur; for he is full straitly bestead with a false traitor, that is my half-brother, Sir Mordred; and he hath let crown him king, and would have wedded my lady Queen Guenever, and so had he done had she not put herself in the Tower of London. And so the tenth day of May last past, my lord Arthur and we all landed upon them at Dover; and there we put that false traitor, Sir Mordred, to flight, and there it misfortuned me to be stricken upon thy stroke. And at the date of this letter was written, but two hours and a half afore my death, written with mine own hand, and so subscribed with part of my heart's blood. And I require thee, most famous knight of the world, that thou wilt see my tomb. And then Sir Gawaine wept, and King Arthur wept; and then they swooned both. And when they awaked both, the king made Sir Gawaine to receive his Saviour. And then Sir Gawaine prayed the king for to send for Sir Launcelot, and to cherish him above all other knights. (Le Morte D'Arthur, Sir Thomas Mallory. book XXI, chapter II)

(vulgate IV, p139). honestly? no comment here. it speaks for itself. this bit is where the ship name remarkable comes from.

of course, this is by no means a comprehensive post, just moments i can remember off the top of my head. and a lot of this can be attributed to today's view of male homosociality and how it's changed since the middle ages, skewing our view of what could have been, by all means, a platonic relationship. however it is my personal belief and interpretation that they were in love <3 muah the end i hope you enjoyed. i tried my best to explain both story and cultural context the best i could without going into irrelevant detail...i hope this is enough!

[youremychaos]

Harrow, my love…it’s been a while hasn’t it? Life has been crazy these last few months, and I completely missed your update. However, I am here now and ready to dig in!!

First of all I completely forgot that Jimin woke up in Yoongi’s pov (had to backtrack a little lol)…which threw me for a whole ass loop when I started reading this ‘cause what do you mean JIMIN?! The way my heart stopped and I wiggled in my seat. My baby has come the fuck home!!

How dare you throw Haegeum!Yoongi in my face like this…that man has me in a chokehold that I don’t wanna be let out of. The image of Taehyung wearing a balaclavas does something to my core…those eyes just peeking out…yeah, sir whatever you want, you can have it.

Okay the build up of Yoongi coming up to see MC is crazy, my vibrating in my seat! I want them to link up again already!!! Joon too, that man needs a good hug. 

The main character has arrived!!! Yoooooonnnngggiiiiii…what an entrance my guy! Stroll in with a pair of bloody chopsticks and a simple, “Darling”...what a charmer.

You would be amused by the visual of Yoongi leaping onto him like a kitten if the situation were not so infuriating.

This right here? Yummy and funny. I like your visual even though I’ve seen it with my own eyes from the mv.

Coming up to the end of the first half, I know Yoongi is feeling all types of kicked sideways. Bringing Jimin is a huge gamble and kind of manipulative all things considered. If anyone could bring MC back it would be Jimin but I don’t think he would push for her to join them again. I feel that Jimin more than anyone can understand where MC is coming from and her mixed emotions about everything that has taken place so far. It seems that Yoongi knew his gamble might not work and has something else up his sleeve. He isn’t the type to just leave so willingly. 

MC comparing Yoongi and Ryujin hurts. I can see what she means but damn does it hurt to admit it. After all is said and done, Yoongi is a shady ass dude with a shaky track record in love. The way he goes about things aren’t always clear and are often very infuriating. So, I can see why MC is reluctant to go back. The song lyric “How deep is your love?” comes to mind when I think of the trio together. Namjoon and Yoongi would kill for MC and if push comes to shove, I think she could do the same but she would feel bad about it whereas Namgi just keep it pushing like it didn’t happen. I have so many thoughts and feelings about this but I shall read more to see what’s going on.

Harrow, you play dirty! ATEEZ as bodyguards?! How am I going to survive this fic, huh?! You’ve pulled so many of my favorite idols into this universe that I don’t know who to drool over…it is unfair! But I will say, ATEEZ do fit the vibe, so good choice!

“Not so fast,” she says, causing you to chuckle despite yourself. “You always roll away. Snore in my face for once.”

Affronted, you attempt to wiggle out of her hold, surprised by how strong she is as she holds you in place. “I do not snore.”

Hwasa rolls her eyes, says, “Everyone snores a little,” and wiggles closer as her hold on you loosens—so close your noses nearly touch.

I love that you can include such innocent and cute scenes in between the death, sorrow and destruction. 

Jimin is alive and well, the way I was tearing up as they hugged. But started giggling right after seeing how Ryujin and Hwasa left MC to be stuck in between Yoongi and Namjoon. What good friends they are lol

The one on one talk went a lot better than I thought it would. MC needed to let those tears out with Yoongi and I’m more at ease that he is willing to wait for her mental health to get better. Healing takes time and having him/the guys not push for her to come home too soon means a lot. Goodbyes and hellos are hard, but the way you pulled apart each interaction was wonderful, the tension between Jungkook and MC is still there which I love. I tend to forget that they have their own thing going on at times because I get so wrapped up in Namgi/MC.

There is a subtle shift in the family dynamics or I could just be reading too much into it but with Seokjin’s bullshit out in the open, it seems to me that everyone is a little more relaxed. Not as on edge with being alive. 

Oh shit…things are bout to take a turn for the worst right? Now that I’m thinking about it, does Hwasa know what Christian looks like? Does Ryujin? And if so…would she give MC easily or put up a fight? Ryujin is asking waaaayyyy too many questions about MC's relationship with the family men and Hwasa is giving up too much information...I'm not sure how I feel about it.

I am starting to not trust Ryujin again. Her dinner speech had me on edge, like it was a backhanded request almost…kind of on the lines of “we’ll be cool once i’m back in my rightful place”. I could be wrong but idk, that’s the feeling I got. I’m not trusting Ryujin at all right now! What do you mean, it doesn’t matter? I swear if she was/is messing around with Christian, I’ll scream!

I mean it is possible she could have a relationship with Hwasa but I doubt that. I think it would be with someone that holds more power. Ryujin is starting to show her ass and I’m not a fan. If you were married/dating whatever with Yoongi in the past, keep that shit to yourself! Telling MC that nothing has changed or that you were the same as her…that’s just evil. Planting seeds of doubt when there really doesn’t need to be any….but if I want to play devil’s advocate, if Yoongi does truly feel something for MC he should treat her differently than how he treated Ryujin. On the other hand, he has an image to uphold, so certain styles are expected as the woman of the house.

I hope Yoongi puts a fucking bullet in Ryujin’s skull, right between her eyes! This slimy two-faced bitch! Harmless my ass! I want to reach through the screen and punch Ryujin myself! Damnit, I am so pissed off. You know MC’s history or at least a little with Christian. She knows MC wants nothing to do with him and once Yoongi finds out all bets are off. There is no respect or trust to be gained. Whatever good could have come with working together will be shot to shit cause it will be an all out war over MC.

I’m trying to think of what chapter it was but there was a part where either Yoongi or MC was trying to figure out how Christian got so much power. I know that Seokjin was a part of it but could Ryujin be too? Is there more to Seokjin that still hasn’t been uncovered yet? Once again this man is on my shit list. He knows more than he is willing to tell and Ryujin is on some kind of other shit that will backfire for sure.

Once again, I am left at the end of the chapter with so many theories and questions. I love that every character is so freaking two-faced. I never know what to expect. I'm excited to see what you whip up next and I'm prepared to scream about it. At some point I'll scream in your dms when I get the chance.

I love you and your mind!!!

Collateral 🗡️ 23: This life of death and destruction

Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You.

But was it simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or has he always had his sights on you?

🗡️ Yoongi x Female Reader x Namjoon

🗡️ word count: 13.6k

🗡️ mafia au, strangers to lovers, graphic violence, major character injury, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit 21+ 

🗡️warnings: violence (a man gets stabbed in the eye, weaponized chopsticks, blood); recreational drug use & getting drunk; vomit.

🗡️note: are we ready to continue this story??? the cast of characters has doubled in size, and i think the angst & drama has multiplied, as well. i wrote this opening scene on april 20, 2023 moments after watching the Haegeum mv. it feels good to have finally built the rest of the chapter around it over a year later. this chapter is like 80% dialogue, lol sorry. we are setting up for what is to come in the rest of the fic. enjoyyy!!!

🗡️ also note: in this chapter, mc is borrowing clothing. if you are comfortable with imagining the clothing belongs to the thin kpop idols, please do. if you are not, then please don't. i am not making assumptions or allusions to body size but instead trying to paint a picture of being at the mercy of others.

🗡️ if you have not read the Yoongi POV chapter, i strongly recommend you do so before reading this.

🗡️ beta read by @neoneunnajimin

🗡️ posted sept. 2024 | read on ao3

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

“He looks hesitant,” Ryujin drawls in a bored tone. She turns to face you and her lips upturn at the edges, eyes sparkling. “Like he’s scared of what he may find when he gets here.”

The air is stiflingly hot, creating a sticky film over your skin, and your body feels heavier than it should. In this humidity, you are dizzy and agitated. More than anything, you are not ready to come face to face with the man who has caused you so much confusion and mental duress.

“Good,” you say, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. Your fingers dig into your hip bones, and you do your best not to shuffle anxiously. You do not fully believe in your conviction, but you want your performance to be believable enough that the girls don't think you're weak. “He should be.”

“Looks like he brought all the family men,” she adds, turned back to watch their approach. 

Your heart flutters suddenly, wondering whether she means Jimin is there too, unable to hide the tremble in your voice as you ask, “A-all of them?”

This time, when Ryujin faces you, her expression appears contemplative, almost sad. 

“All of them,” she confirms, causing nausea and excitement to stir. 

All you can say in response is, “Oh.”

Before you can stop yourself, your feet are carrying you forward, toward the window. You do not fully approach, not wanting to be seen, so you stop as soon as you spot them walking in the street toward the noodle shop downstairs that doubles as your hideout. 

Seven figures approach in a V formation. Six of them wear ratty dark t-shirts and khaki pants, and they hold what look like juvenile weaponry—baseball bats and chains. Over their heads are balaclavas, reminding you of Christian's men. Is it meant to taunt him, you wonder. Do they think they will find him and his men here?

Yoongi is in the center, leading the charge, with no face covering and wearing a baby blue satin bomber jacket with thick white lines down the sleeves. On the breasts of the jacket are embroidered dragon heads, reminding you of Namjoon. 

Namjoon. The thought of seeing him again, like this, makes your insides stir. You feel the urge to vomit, but you hold your ground and watch as the men approach, wearing a frown on your lips. 

When the heads disappear from sight, you turn and listen for the silence that lingers in the air, save for the thrum of your pulse. A calm before a terrible storm.

Ryujin lets out a long, loud trill of a whistle—a signal, no doubt—and you listen as the 

hideout breaks out into chaos. Men scramble through the short hallway that leads out into the open space that Yoongi and his men will soon enter. 

"No guns!" Ryujin commands as she stomps through the space toward the hallway, clad in a white tank top tucked into a short black tennis skirt and tall leather equestrian boots. "You are on the defense only. Do not harm a single hair on any of these men's bodies. Do so and you die!"

As you stand near the window, you listen to the street commotion below. Vehicles drive along the narrow roads, vendors shout while ringing bells and chimes, and in the distance, a dog barks. 

You know that you will not hear the men's approaching footfalls, but you listen for them, anyway. Yoongi and the family men only need to walk through the small dining hall of the open-air restaurant below, then up a flight of stairs. You hear nothing that might give their positions away. 

"Wanna hide?" Hwasa—the nickname of your darling friend Hyejin—asks. She rests her chin on your shoulder and loosely wraps her arms around you, engulfing you in a perfume of roses and lilies.

You shake your head and mutter, "No," watching the doorway for any movement.

Finally, heavy footfalls echo through the space, giving you goosebumps, and when you hear the sounds of shouting followed by someone running into the room, you hold your breath. 

"Fuck, fuck!" a man yells as he rounds the corner and cowers, shaking like a leaf in the wind. He seems to be patting himself down for a weapon, then he sighs and squeezes his eyes closed as he presses his back to the wall. 

"Ya!" Hwasa yells, making the man gasp. "What is it?"

"B-big Duri," the man stammers, eyes wide. He shakes his head quickly as if attempting to clear away his thoughts. 

Duri is a hulk of a man who stands watch at the top of the stairs. He is as muscular as he is tall, with a bit of softness around his belly, and his towering status has earned him the title Big Duri from the other men. One snarl from him makes men cower away in fear.

"What about him?" Hwasa asks.

"He was s-stabbed," the man says, staring at the floor. "In the f-f-fucking eye."

Hwasa drops her arms from around you and stands up straight. You open your mouth to speak but find no sound can pass your lips. 

Footfalls approach, heavy and fast. You are not sure who you expect storming in from the hallway, but for some reason, it is not Yoongi. 

He walks in assuredly like he owns the place, dark hair framing his face in waves. Clenched in his right fist are two bright red chopsticks that look like the ones served at the restaurant downstairs, and you could swear the thinner ends of them are dripping with blood. 

"Darling, let's go," Yoongi says, wide eyes fixed on you. He looks like a madman with his hair somewhat disheveled and a sheen of sweat on his throat.  

You are surprised to see Yoongi dressed as he is. Under the pastel jacket is a white tee tucked into loose-fitting blue jeans. When was the last time you saw him in blue jeans? Your first trip to Hong Kong?

You heavy-blink, breaking from the thought process, and attempt to hold steady and keep cool. But you do not feel cool. Your pulse quickens, and you worry you might faint. 

"I'm staying here," you say, voice trembling. 

You half expect Yoongi to storm over and grab you by the arm. Part of you even feels saddened when he stays where he is. 

"Darling," Yoongi says, lifting his free hand to wave you over. "I'm not asking you twice."

"How many men did you kill out there?" you ask, eyes on the chopsticks that drip blood beside his dusty white sneaker. Yoongi's arm drops to his side and he heaves a weighty sigh, shoulders falling. 

Behind Yoongi, Ryujin saunters in. She grins and stands beside Yoongi, resting her head against his shoulder as she reaches for the bloodied chopsticks in his fist, saying, "You owe me a bodyguard."

Yoongi—whose eyes never leave you—throws the chopsticks to the floor, off to the side. They clatter against the uneven wood, and you wince at the thought of blood splattering. 

He mutters, "Fine." 

With that admission, you surmise that Yoongi has, indeed, stabbed Big Duri in the eye. How he managed to do so when he is so much smaller than the man is beyond you. You would be amused by the visual of Yoongi leaping onto him like a kitten if the situation were not so infuriating. 

Slowly, Ryujin lifts her head from Yoongi's shoulder. She turns her gaze to you as she says, "She doesn't want this life, Yoongi. She told you so, herself."

"Darling," Yoongi says, seemingly ignoring Ryujin, making her roll her eyes. "I will make some changes. We will figure it out. Just come home."

You shake your head. "I told you I wanted to leave."

"You are in danger," Yoongi insists, and you scoff. For the first time since you have arrived to this dingy place, there has been no hint of violence until he turned up. 

As Yoongi sighs, his nostrils flair. You can clearly see that he has something on his mind, but he remains still and silent. 

Anger rises, and you clench your fists at your sides. This is not the reunion you expected, but you cannot say you are shocked. "I told you I no longer want this life, and the first thing you do is stab a man—a good man!"

"Darling, I—" 

"Go home," you interrupt. 

Yoongi watches you, expression cold save for a flicker of sadness in his eyes. Every nerve in your body wants to propel you forward and into his arms, but you do not want to return to the home of a maniac who attacks men with chopsticks, beautiful as that maniac may be. 

"I have told you time and again that I cannot handle this life of death and destruction! And here you are, bringing it straight to my feet. Go home, Yoongi."

Yoongi tongues the inside of his cheek, raising his eyebrows. In the doorway, you see Namjoon appear, balaclava raised to his forehead. His dark grey tee is smeared with sweat and blood, and before he can open his mouth to speak, you turn around. There is absolutely no way you will be able to keep your strength if you are forced to face any more of them. 

"She wants you to leave," Hwasa says. You are grateful for her as you hear the heels of her boots against the rickety hardwood. "Now!"

"I want to speak to her," Namjoon says, and you are surprised to hear Yoongi say, "She does not wish to speak. Come on."

As their deep, low voices mutter, tears fill your eyes. You breathe in deeply, hoping to ward them off, but as you exhale, the air comes out shattered, and you know that you are only moments away from crying. 

"Tomorrow night, we can sit down and discuss matters," Ryujin says. 

You keep your eyes on the late afternoon sky, hanging on her every word. 

"Amicably," she continues. "No weapons. No hot tempers. And you have a man en route to Busan to take Duri's place when we arrive. Deal?"

"All of us?" Namjoon asks, and you fight the edges of your lips, which curl into a sad smile. 

Ryujin sighs. "Yes, all seven of you sordid little devils. Now get the fuck out of my hideout. You gave our darling a scare and I will not have her fainting because of it. I will send you a time and place, and you will show up dressed as respectable men. Seriously, what the fuck are you guys wearing? You look like trash."

Ryujin's voice fades as she continues to berate them, footsteps retreating, and it occurs to you once more that somewhere out in the chaos is Jimin. You turn, and the movement causes Yoongi's head to lift and eyes to open wide and expectantly, standing halfway in the hallway. You were not expecting him to still be here. To your disappointment, Namjoon has already left the room.

"Is Jimin here?" you ask. 

Relief floods Yoongi's face, and he cracks a smile, nodding as he says, "Yes. Come see him."

You shake your head, blinking back the tears that threaten to fall. 

"Glad he's awake," you say. "Perhaps I will see you all tomorrow." 

Yoongi's expression turns sad, and you watch as he mouths the word perhaps before you turn your attention back to the window. The sound of his shoes retreating makes you want to throw up, and you swallow it down as a single tear streaks your left cheek. 

* * *

Ryujin lies on a large fur rug that she has pulled near the window. Atop the rug is a mess of blankets and pillows, and her limbs tangle with those of Hwasa and the other three girls. 

You sit arrow straight on the wide window sill, staring at the street below. The sky slowly darkens, illuminating the buildings with an orange glow that is exaggerated by the neon lights on each restaurant and storefront. 

"Yes, Yoongi," Ryujin says into her phone, playful irritation in her tone. "I swear to you there is nobody by that name in our ranks. Seokjin-oppa has already warned me about his possible presence."

You listen, hoping to hear traces of Yoongi's voice coming through the phone, but you know that it is hopeless; his dulcet tones do not exactly travel far even while in the same room as him. Muffled and at a distance, the notion is hopeless.

"You know," Ryujin continues, "you would have less to worry about if you hadn't stabbed my most trusty security guard in the fucking eye with a chopstick."

Her words make you wince, and you turn away from the window, staring at the empty wall opposite where Ryujin and the girls rest. The floral wallpaper is peeled in places and tinted brown from water damage, but otherwise, the space is clean and empty, save for six suitcases and the items Ryujin has brought in and strewn about for comfort. 

Outside of this room is a hallway that connects to more rooms, though you have not bothered to look into any of them, save for the bathroom, which is the first room to the right as you exit this one. Whatever this hideout was originally built for, you do not know, and you do not care, although you imagine at least one of the rooms could serve as office space for the restaurant below. 

A shrill laugh barks through the air, making you jump. You gaze over your shoulder to find Ryujin's head tilted back, eyes closed as she full-body laughs. 

"Don't be a fucking idiot," she says, opening her eyes to meet your gaze. "No scrub in clown paint is going to buy our little darling from me. Now get some sleep; we'll talk about this tomorrow evening, as promised."

Something about Ryujin calling you our little darling sends a chill along your spine, and you turn back to staring at nothing. She ends the call abruptly, and you hear as her phone clatters against the wooden floor, undoubtedly tossed aside. 

"Darling," Ryujin calls, voice soft and pretty, causing your shoulders to rise to your ears as if protecting you—from what, you are unsure. 

You swallow hard. "Hmm?"

Ryujin giggles. "Come. You're so tense. Relax with us."

She is correct that you are tense. You have been tense for days. When you got into her car at the airport, she said you would be here for two or three days, but it is going on a week, and you are tired of sleeping on rugs in a pile of bodies. You want to return to a bed. Any bed. 

As you turn to face Ryujin and the others, you are struck by a sense of homesickness and longing that makes your stomach churn. Hwasa and three slender beauties called Solar, Wheein, and Moonbyul crowd Ryujin, who sits up on her elbows, gaze fixed on you.

Hwasa's head is against Ryujin's left shoulder, near her breast, and she watches you, as well, gaze soft but pleading. Moonbyul, with her long, straight hair lightened to a pale gold blonde, has her head on Hwasa's tummy, curled in on her. The other two are resting similarly, with Solar clinging to Ryujin and Wheein clinging to Solar, long dark hair draped over limbs which are draped over more limbs clad in white cotton and black spandex. 

You watch them in their near-stillness, questioning where you would fit. Clearly, the five of them are tight. They call her mother, and she proudly dotes on them as if they are her precious children.

Ordinarily, you wait for everyone to begin dozing off, then you curl up on one of the outside edges, back turned from whichever woman is beside you. But you know that Ryujin wants you to be physically close to her—you can tell by the way she watches you.

What would physical closeness to a woman like her entail, you wonder. 

"So shy," Ryujin pouts. "So moody."

Hwasa, as if mirroring her energy, juts out her bottom lip. 

Ryujin tilts her head, studying you. "What does the lady require to help take the edge off?"

Although she is not explicitly saying so, you know that she is offering pills. Every day that you do not give in and crawl to Ryujin and her pile of women, she assumes it is due to some defect in your ability to relax. In a way, you suppose, she is correct. 

"Going home would take the edge off," you respond, voice flat and lacking all mirth.

Ryujin sighs, and her pretty, impish smile falls into a dramatic frown. "I, too, would like to go home. And I promise that we will, soon. Yoongi is convinced there is some third party attempting to track you down, and he has been insistent on weeding the man out. He seems to think that you are safest while remaining in hiding. I, however, think we are sitting ducks."

You hum and nod.

She sits up ever so slightly, causing the clinging women to shift along with her movement. "What do you think?"

What do you think? Such a simple, innocent question, yet it stirs an anger in you that is so deep, festering in the dark pits of you that are fed by lack of proper comfort and sleep. 

There is a part of you that wants to snap at Ryujin and ask whether she really cares what you think. You want to storm up to her, take her by the straps of her white tank top, and shake some sense into her while demanding she returns you to Korea at once. 

Another part of you worries that Yoongi is being too paranoid to think clearly and that he is making an already strange situation worse. You find it hard to believe Christian has weaseled his way into Taiwan and is lying in wait to pounce, if that is what the phone call just now suggests.

But, then again, you never would have imagined Christian would show up with a briefcase of money, nor did you expect to see him turning up to the mansion in the middle of the night. Still, the notion feels ridiculous. You're not in Korea anymore. 

You shrug, purse your lips as if you are thinking it over, and say, "I don't really know."

Truth be told, you are exhausted, catapulting emotionally from one extreme to another, finding it impossible to truly relax. You are not sure whether Ryujin has done anything to deserve your vitriol; she has kept you safe and fed, even if you are slowly succumbing to exhaustion-induced hysteria. 

Her history with Yoongi notwithstanding, she appears reasonable and kind. It is hard to hate her for her past when it has opened up Yoongi's arms to you—for better or worse. It is not as if you regret the time you have spent with him.

And, if you are being honest, you wonder whether the transgression between them was as simple as the men put it, or if there is more to her side of the story. Surely, she did not wake up one day and decide to betray the man she loved.

Or, perhaps, she is charming you the way Yoongi did. What better way to tame a wild beast than to uproot it from the comfort and safety it has grown accustomed to and force it into close proximity, giving it no other choice than to be grateful and eventually feel some semblance of love toward its captor. Maybe she and Yoongi have more in common than you realize.

The thought makes you snicker, and you stand, taking notice of how Ryujin lifts her chin and watches you. Hwasa stirs and sits up, causing Moonbyul to roll off of her with a groan and clench onto the pillow below her.

"Going to the bathroom," you say.

Hwasa stands as Ryujin sing-songs, "Buddy system," causing you to smile and roll your eyes. 

You are not allowed to do anything outside of this room—including taking a shit—without the accompaniment of one of the girls. Lucky for you, Hwasa is always willing and eager to be close.  

Hwasa tiptoes over and snakes an arm around your elbow, momentarily resting her head on your shoulder as the two of you walk. You have come to enjoy her company quite a bit, and you are relieved to have her here. 

While it was shocking to lay eyes on Hwasa after your plane landed in Taiwan, she was very clear and open about her circumstances, and you found it easy to trust her. According to her, Seokjin and Jimin gave her the position at Paradise knowing she was one of Ryujin's women, reminding you of Hyunjin and how he and his family were safe, after all. 

Yoongi may not have been working directly with Ryujin this entire time, but it seems that his men have been. And, judging by how comfortable he seemed with letting Ryujin touch him and boss him around earlier, you do not suspect that he harbors the same ill thoughts that he seemed to when you first encountered her all those months ago. 

You wonder what has changed. Has it been your presence in his life, or something more? After all the destruction Ryujin's team has caused Yoongi's family over the last several months, ending with Jimin in a coma, some sort of truce had to have been made. You have heard whispers of conversations, but you are curious about the specifics. It seems the woman who was at the helm of the destruction, Hyungseo, is not here. 

In due time, you think. You have no doubt Ryujin will open up to you.

As you and Hwasa leave the room and venture quietly into the hall, two armed men look up from the game of Chinese checkers that they play on the floor, and smile. They are beautiful, and you smile back, yanking your gaze away from them before you are able to make any more of an impression on either of them.

Admittedly, you are lonely. Physically, emotionally, sexually…and there is something in the gleams of their eyes that stirs you deeply, but you know that it is not them who do it for you. 

It is their eyes. They share the same piercing, knowing gaze of hunger and brutality that glimmers in the eyes of the family men. Your family men. 

"I think Yunho likes you," Hwasa teases, voice loud enough for him to undoubtedly hear, though you do not turn back to look. 

Instead, you press your palm against the cold metal door leading into the small bathroom and sheepishly ask, "Which one is he, again?"

A snicker comes from the floor, undoubtedly from Yunho's companion Seonghwa, and you turn as you enter the dimly lit room, grinning widely at your friend. The bathroom door swings shut, and the scents of toilet cleaner and bleach sting your nose. 

There are three toilet stalls in this room with mint green painted metal doors. The walls are a similar shade of green, and the yellow and white tiles on the floor are chipped in places.

You make your way to the sinks straight ahead and turn on the water, which is always cold, and run your hands under the stream. On the counter, in the corner, is a large black makeup case containing travel-sized toiletries for yourself and the rest of the women, and you open its lid and rummage around for your toothbrush and toothpaste. 

"How are you holding up?" Hwasa asks as you unscrew the cap from the toothpaste and squeeze a small dollop of its contents onto your bristles, careful not to take too much. 

You shrug, and rather than respond, raise the brush to your mouth. The mint is cloyingly sweet as it hits your taste buds, and you close your eyes, worried that its minty sting may tangle with your emotions and cause tears to well.

"Will you be joining Ryujin to meet with them for dinner tomorrow?"

Without opening your eyes, you begin to shake your head, not sure whether you can handle sitting at the same table with all of them. But then Jimin's bright, gleaming smile crosses your mind, and you shrug and nod. You may as well. 

Hwasa chuckles, and her hands rest softly on your shoulders before giving a gentle squeeze. All at once, you relax, dropping your shoulders and tipping your head forward, instinctively giving her permission to do anything she would like. 

As you finish brushing your teeth and tongue, she squeezes your muscles and rolls her thumbs in circles. You hold the small plastic brush between your teeth, feeling a dribble of frothy, minty spit roll down your lip to your chin, and you rest your palms against the counter until Hwasa lifts her hands away. 

"I suppose I should brush my teeth, too," she says with a pout in her tone, and you open your eyes to see her squirting some paste onto a matching toothbrush that she has written AH on in large letters for Ahn Hyejin. 

You spit, rinse, and spit some more, then use the inside of your sweaty black tank top to dab the moisture from the edges of your mouth. When Hwasa is finished, the two of you link arms once more and make your way out of the bathroom, ignoring Yunho and Seonghwa as you walk by. 

The rest of the girls, led by Ryujin, walk by in a fit of soft giggles, and you make your way to the pile of blankets and pillows, feeling physically exhausted despite being uncertain of whether you may actually be able to sleep. 

Hwasa follows and lies down beside you, beaming as she scoots nice and close and wraps an arm around your waist before you have a chance to roll away and face the wall. 

"Not so fast," she says, causing you to chuckle despite yourself. "You always roll away. Snore in my face for once."

Affronted, you attempt to wiggle out of her hold, surprised by how strong she is as she holds you in place. "I do not snore."

Hwasa rolls her eyes, says, "Everyone snores a little," and wiggles closer as her hold on you loosens—so close your noses nearly touch.

You feel too warm, and the scent of Hwasa's perfume mingling with her body heat stirs something inside you, filling you with the urge to flee. You are lonely, and she is beautiful and soft, and suddenly it feels as if all the air has been sucked from the room.

At a loss, you close your eyes. Whether you roll your body away or continue to face her, she will not create more distance because she cannot. As soon as the other girls return, they will pile into the bed, and you will feel the weight of ankles and wrists drape over you. 

"Good night, pretty dove," Hwasa sing-songs. 

You crack a smile, unable to hold back despite how dangerous it feels to allow yourself to be anything but stoic and collected for the time being. The nickname reminds you of Paradise and of Jimin, and you are unable to hold back. 

"Good night, Hyejin," you mutter in response, forgetting her nickname for the familiar one as her warmth and comfort lulls you fast into a sleep you did not expect to come. 

You actually feel…good.

* * *

The rattle and clanking of dishes and silverware have all of your nerves on high alert, causing your pulse to spike and your palms to sweat. You are acutely aware of the fact that at any moment, several men you miss and adore are going to come walking into the private dining room to join you, Ryujin, and Hwasa, and you are going to have to face them.

Each time a member of the serving staff enters, your eyes dart up in panic, and each time they bow apologetically, confusion painted across their features. Under the table, from your right, Hwasa grips onto your hand and mutters kind words that are lost over the pounding of your heart. 

When your trio arrived first, you were grateful. You assumed that by the time you waited on the arrival of the men, your nerves would have calmed and you would have composed yourself. 

But you were wrong. Oh, how you were wrong. 

With each passing second, your heart riots behind your ribs, quick and dizzying. You feel the urge to excuse yourself to the bathroom, but you are terrified of what it may do to Yoongi if he arrives to find that you are not sitting at this table. 

Food and drink are brought in. Large dishes covered in steaming meat, vegetables, rice, and noodles. Carafe after carafe is set down, and as you sit forward to peer into one of them, Hwasa says, "That is kaoliang. Fermented liquor from China." Your mouth begins to water, but you are not sure you are ready just yet to start drinking. 

Shadows linger outside the door to the private room, tall and wide blobs obscured by the privacy glass. Ryujin glances at her watch, mutters, "Fucking finally," and stands, causing Hwasa to stand as well. 

You remain glued to your seat. Even if you wanted to stand, you are not sure you would be able to. 

As the door slides open, your heart pounds. Seokjin enters with a smirk and a bow of his head, followed by Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, Jeongguk, Namjoon, and finally, Yoongi. 

Jimin beams, eyes and mouth wide and happy, and he rounds the table in a rush, pushing past Ryujin, who attempts to pull him into a hug. Your eyes fill with tears, and as you finally get onto your feet, legs wobbling beneath you, the tears spill, streaking your cheeks. 

You stumble and crash into the papered wall from the force of Jimin's hug, elbow scraping and stinging, but you do not care. Jimin smells and feels so familiar, and you sob in his arms, burying your face into his black lapel and letting out a deep, shattered breath.

"Oh my god," you manage to mutter against his shoulder, and he tries to loosen the hug to hear you speak, but you shake your head like a petulant child and pull him closer, refusing to let go. "I was so scared, Jimin. I thought I might never— I've missed you so much."

Voices greet one another, and chairs scrape across the floor, signaling that the others have begun to find their seats. This time, when Jimin begins to release the hug, you allow him, dropping your hands from his shoulders but holding them loosely around his hips.

Jimin's eyes are glassy with tears, and hair is slightly longer, almost grown out into a mullet. For the first time since you have met him, it is brown, and you mutter, "Nice hair," while doing your best to smile widely despite still crying. 

He grimaces at you, lifting his hands to thumb away the moisture under your eyes. Then he leans in, kisses the tip of your nose, and says, "All better, dove."

"Thank you," you whisper, sound lodged in your throat, then you release Jimin for good and pivot to take your seat, taking a deep breath before allowing your eyes to fall on the rest of the men. 

To your surprise and dismay, you find Ryujin sitting across from you with her eyebrows raised and a sharp, devious smile playing on her lips. To her left is Hwasa, and to her right is Jeongguk. You do not need to look to see that Yoongi and Namjoon have taken the seats on either side of you because of course, they have. Where else would they be?

But you do look. You sweep the sprawling rectangular table, starting with Namjoon at your left, then Hoseok, with Seokjin at the far end, where you anticipated Yoongi might sit. Past Seokjin is Taehyung, then Jeongguk, then Ryujin, who is leaning to the side and whispering something to Hwasa, whose hand reaches to where Jimin sits on the other far end. 

Jimin inspects Hwasa's rings and nails, dainty fingers tracing delicate lines. When she turns back to look at him, there are tears in her eyes, and you realize belatedly that she has missed him, as well. Of course, she has.

You do not look at Yoongi, gaze ending with Jimin. Yoongi clears his throat, causing Ryujin to stand, and—feeling uncomfortable with also standing while she speaks—you quickly have a seat. 

Ryujin bows her head, hair pulled in a tight bun at the back of her head. She, matching Hwasa, wears a black suit with a white silk blouse, blending in with the black suits and black satin undershirts the men wear. You are the odd one out in a sleek black evening gown; Ryujin was insistent. At least it, too, is satin. 

"Gentlemen," Ryujin says, and all at once, the men stand, bow their heads, and sit, including Yoongi, who scoots in close beside you. "Thank you for joining us tonight. I trust you have found us a replacement bodyguard?"

Yoongi hums a gruff, low note, and you are acutely aware of his presence by your side. His scent—earthy and musky, ever so slightly tinged with citrus—sneaks past the savory blend of food smells and floods your senses. You swallow a lump of trepidation that has crept its way to your throat. 

"First of all, I would like to thank you for trusting me with taking care of our little darling," Ryujin says, turning to look at Seokjin. She remains standing. "As you are all aware, things between Yoongi and I have not always been easy. But, moving forward, I would like for all of us to remain amicable."

At this, Ryujin's eyes land on Yoongi. She appears fierce and ruthless in the way she looks down at him, lips upturned as if to show that she is enjoying this position of power. 

You glance from the corner of your eye to find that Yoongi peers back up at her, sitting tall on the edge of his seat. His expression is blank, as is to be expected. There is a long pause during which you wish someone would speak or move to eat or drink—anything to cut through the tension.

Finally, Yoongi folds his arms over his chest and sits back, shifting his weight in a more relaxed position. He clears his throat, and you turn your gaze to the piles of meats, vegetables, noodles, and rice. 

It sounds as if Yoongi attempts more than once to speak but struggles to find the words. At this, Namjoon sits forward, pulling your attention to the left, and he asks, "May I?"

Ryujin's face lights up. "Of course, Joonie-oppa. The floor is yours."

"Firstly, thank you for your hospitality. The hideout was certainly difficult to locate—"

Ryujin snickers. At this, Jeongguk stands, facing her, "Look, noona, if you would have answered your phone, we never would have shown up there with—"

"Sit down," Ryujin snaps, turning a playful but intense glare on Jeongguk, whose mouth snaps shut as he takes his seat. Beside him, Taehyung snickers. "I didn't answer my phone because I wanted to converse with her before making any choices, and you idiots acted irrationally."

At the word her, Ryujin lifts her hand and gestures to you, momentarily pulling your gaze. Although you do not glance around, you are certain that all heads turn to look your way, causing you to shift uncomfortably in your seat while you begin watching droplets of condensation streak your water glass.  

"Pardon us for being concerned," Yoongi responds, voice tense and pained. 

This seems to quell whatever emotion that has Ryujin acting defensive, and she slowly takes her seat and reaches for the bottle of kaoliang. All seem to be waiting for her response, and she takes her time lifting her glass to her lips and sitting back in her chair. 

"Nobody faults you for being concerned, oppa. But you need to be more considerate of the reason she has come to me in the first place."

Yoongi must open his mouth to speak once more because Ryujin lifts her hand to stop him before she continues. 

"Yes, I know that you are concerned for her safety, especially in the wake of some mysterious man from her past showing up out of nowhere. But she was already planning on leaving for mental health reasons. So maybe storming in with chopsticks blazing is not the wisest way to reunite with someone who is already shell-shocked from all the other bullshit she has had to witness."

"Some of the bullshit was at the hands of your people," Namjoon interjects. 

Ryujin levels her gaze on him. "The most heinous bullshit, I would imagine. And as you can see, Hyungseo is not present. I am dealing with her, and Seokjin, Yoongi, and I have already discussed ways I can help with harm reduction."

Your gaze moves to the right, to Jimin, and you are surprised to find he is already looking at you. You smile, unable to stop the tears that form from how relieved you are that he is alright. 

"I know that trust has been tarnished between our families, and that myself and my girls have taken things too far," Ryujin admits. "I sent my people out to scare you, and they did so much more than that. I will never stop feeling sorry for what has happened. Not a night has gone by that I have not been filled with regret over someone so precious to all of us becoming seriously injured."

Ryujin lifts an arm, reaches over Hwasa, and holds out her hand to Jimin. He takes it without hesitation. 

"He could have died," Jeongguk says, brows knit in a frown. 

Ryujin sighs. "I know this, Ggukie. And I am so, so sorry. I am determined to quash any bad blood and begin earning your respect. Tomorrow we leave for Busan. Once we are all back home, Serendipity will be opened for a night of drinking, drugs…whatever you heathens do."

To your surprise, many of the men snicker, amused. 

"Seokjin and Hoseok already have a security team on standby so that you are not only relying on my people to keep you safe," Ryujin continues. "The era of family feuding is over. I am happy with my little piece of the peninsula, and I want drug operations to continue in a way that is lucrative for both of us. We will remain your first line of defense in the harbor, and in return, all that I ask is that we get free reign in Seoul to come and go."

Yoongi clears his throat. "If Sunmi-noona will accept the offer, she can be your liaison in the city once more."

At this, a mischievous smirk tugs on Ryujin's lips. She gives Jimin's hand a squeeze before releasing it, then raises both elbows to the table to cradle her chin in her hands. "Tell me, oppa. Why does Sunmi-unnie spit at my feet whenever I mention your name?"

Yoongi says nothing. 

Rather than press him, she winks, then reaches for a large metal spoon and begins to fill her dish. Everyone hesitates, and it is Jeongguk who breaks the tension and follows suit, scooping food onto Taehyung's plate and causing the others to act in kind. You sit still, unsure whether you have an appetite. 

"Darling?" Yoongi asks at the same time two fingers gently caress the back of your arm. 

Your evening gown is a form-hugging halter top with a low back, leaving your skin open to soft, delicate assaults like the ones Yoongi likes to conduct in gentle motions. You flinch but try not to pull your arm away, worried about hurting his feelings.

Yoongi chuckles softly. "Are you not hungry?"

You shake your head but mutter, "I don't know."

"Should I have sat elsewhere?" he asks. He shifts as if he is looking over and around you, and you imagine he is speaking nonverbally to Namjoon. 

The room is too bright, the food and cologne smells are too numerous, and the sounds of voices and silverware and porcelain are too loud. You raise your shoulders to your ears, then turn toward Yoongi, still unable to meet his eye as you ask, "Can we talk somewhere else?"

Yoongi stands, says, "Excuse us for just a moment," and waits for you. 

As you stand, you catch Ryujin's eye. She appears concerned and places her palms on the table as if ready to stand and defend you. 

You nod and say, "We'll be right back," and watch as she relaxes. 

A warm palm presses against your lower back, and Yoongi guides you toward the door, out into a small hallway, and to the left. The restaurant's main dining hall is to the right, and you are thankful to walk in the opposite direction, not sure whether you can handle another person's eyes on you. 

Yoongi walks into an empty private dining room, switches on the light, and holds out his arm for you to enter. As you step inside, you hear him conversing softly with who you assume to be an employee, and then he joins you, closing the door behind him.

As you stand and face the large, empty dining room, you expect Yoongi to touch you or prod you into speaking. Perhaps you expect him to beg you to return home. Instead, he seems to be waiting.

After only a handful of seconds, you decide you cannot take it anymore. Every ounce of you yearns for Yoongi, and knowing he is so close and being so patient has you reeling. You turn and quickly step toward him, reaching for his lapels and burying your face against his chest. He smells like home, and as he wraps his arms around you, warmth fills your chest, and you begin to cry.

"I'm sorry," you say. "I'm sorry I had to leave. I miss you, Yoongi, but I can't stand being there. I can't do it."

"Shh," Yoongi whispers, lips pressing to your temple, causing you to cry harder. It has only been a week, and yet you feel as if you have been away from him for so long. 

"I'm sorry we keep creating distance. I don't know how to make it work out. I'm so scared, Yoongi." You are fumbling, mouth on autopilot, dredging up each time you and Yoongi were apart, feeling somehow responsible for everything despite knowing you have always only done your best. 

"Yesterday was a mistake," Yoongi says, peppering kisses from the crown of your hair to your cheek and back up. "I was terrified and not in my right mind. You left in a frenzy, and then there was that letter, and it all been very confusing—"

You sniffle loudly, letting out a sound that halfway sounds like a laugh. "Oh my god, the letter. I'm so sorry."

Yoongi chuckles, gently grabs your shoulders, and pries you away from his chest. You allow him to move you, and you stand straight but keep your eyes on his black satin shirt. You do not want to see his scar or the pretty way in which his eyes downturn when he is sad. 

His voice is soft and conspiratorial as he says, "I almost killed Seokjin after I found it."

With wide, surprised eyes, you look up, unable to hold back any longer. Yoongi's smile is loving and big, and his eyes sparkle with happiness, making your stomach roil with uncertainty. His scar is still so red against his soft skin, but it adds so much to his allure and beauty.

"I was under the impression you were running away with Barom, what with the timing of it all. You packed a bag, left behind all of our gifts, and disappeared into the night the moment he arrived."

Despite Yoongi's high spirits, you shake your head somewhat desperately. "I wrote it earlier that day, thinking I might run away a night or two later. I was scared that if I said goodbye, I wouldn't be able to leave." Tears build once more, and your body goes limp, hanging against the weight of Yoongi's hands. "Yoongi, I'm so—"

"Alright, no more sorries," Yoongi says, pressing against your shoulders enough to signal that he would like you to stand up and get your shit together. "Seokjin explained your conversations and motives to us already, and I have long since forgiven the both of you. I understand why you felt you had to sneak away. Remember when I went missing in Hong Kong? I was also in the midst of a mental health crisis, darling. I have no hard feelings."

You straighten out and search Yoongi's eyes for any hint of dishonesty, but all you find is a soft, loving gaze looking back at you. With a relieved sigh, you step forward and wrap your arms around him, pressing the side of your cheek against his chest and listening to the steady beat of his heart. 

"I love you," you say, feeling the words fill you with warmth. 

Yoongi drapes one arm over your shoulders and rests his other hand against the back of your head. "I love you, too," he says. "And if you need time and space, I will give it to you. Despite everything, I trust the girls to take good care of you."

"Is it weird?" you ask, pulling out of the hug and stepping back only far enough to see Yoongi's face. His only response is to raise one eyebrow. "Being around her again, I mean. Was she always so bossy?"

Yoongi chuckles and shakes his head. "I suppose it is a little weird, but we were friends first and foremost, and being friendly with her again feels easy. She has not always been that bossy, per se, but she has always been strong-willed enough to face all seven of us down the way she did tonight."

This makes you laugh, and you lean into Yoongi once more, tilting your head to press your lips to his throat, just under his chin. 

"Thank you," you say. Yoongi hums, and you add, "For giving me time and space. For being understanding. That night was a fucking mess, and I have been really scared for what the aftermath may look like."

"No hard feelings," Yoongi repeats. "As long as you are happy."

All at once, you are flooded with myriad thoughts. Are you happy? This last week, while being more or less calm on your nerves, has also been lonely and strange. Would you feel better if you cut your losses and went back home to your men, where everything felt familiar again? Could you cycle through medications until finding the magical cocktail that would allow you to be whole again?

No, you think. Probably not. 

"Are you sure?" you ask, voice soft and uncertain. "I don't know how long I might need. I can't promise—"

Yoongi kisses your forehead, pressing his lips slowly as he hums. He says, "I'm sure. We can figure it out one day at a time."

With everything out in the open, your stomach pangs with hunger. You smile and ask, "Can we go eat now?" and you are delighted when Yoongi smiles with relief and says, "Yes, of course."

With his thumbs, Yoongi rubs below your eyes. His hands linger on your cheeks, and you expect him to lean forward and kiss you, but he drops his hands a beat later, then grabs onto one of yours and asks, "Shall we?"

Yoongi leads the two of you back to the dining room, and as you enter, you are pleased to find the entire table has erupted into pleasant conversation. Jeongguk's arm is draped over Ryujin's chair while Hwasa emphatically tells them a story, and Jimin is leaning close, listening with his chin propped onto his hands. 

Taehyung is explaining something while glancing between Namjoon, Seokjin, and Hoseok, and as you and Yoongi round the table and return, nobody acknowledges the two of you until you take a seat and Namjoon—eyes still on Taehyung—gently places a hand on your knee. 

It is only when you begin to reach for half-empty bowls of food that Namjoon takes your plate in his hand that you realize how long it has been since the two of you have spoken. You are once again overwhelmed with emotion and fight the urge to say sorry a hundred more times. 

Instead, he points with a large metal spoon and says, "Both of these dishes have a tangy garlic sauce, but this one is a bit more spicy."

"I'd like to try both," you say, watching as Namjoon spoons a heap of chicken with vegetables onto your dish, followed by a heap of tofu and peanuts with vegetables in a slightly redder sauce full of chopped red peppers. 

As Namjoon sets your plate in front of you, you reach with your long metal chopsticks with the intent to gather some noodles from a dish that is across from Yoongi, out of Namjoon's reach. However, Yoongi takes the dish and begins to scoop some onto a smaller plate for you, and you sit back with a smile and wait for him to finish. 

"Still having those dreams?" Namjoon asks.

You know in an instant that he is referring to the dream that you wrote about in your letter, and you feel silly as you bite your bottom lip and nod. 

"That has to be really stressful," he says, reaching for a pitcher of water to fill his empty glass. 

You smile sadly, imagining his white shirt filling with blood. It is stressful, but— "On the plus side, I get to see you."

As you lift your gaze to meet Namjoon's, his furrowed brow and wilted frown gently lift, not quite into a smile, but at least something a bit more relaxed. 

"Hi," you say softly, taking in Namjoon's familiar, beautiful face.

His smile widens, creasing his cheeks with dimples. He mutters, "Hey, you," and the soft, dulcet tone of his voice fills your chest with warmth. 

You open your mouth to tell him that you love him. That you miss him. That you're sorry for leaving. So, so sorry. 

But Ryujin loudly asks, "Caviar?" pulling the attention of everyone at the table. 

Behind her, waitstaff hold new plates, and everyone nods in agreement before continuing their conversations. And although you could pour your heart out now, Hoseok steals Namjoon's attention away, and you decide the moment has passed.

Food and drink continue to appear in waves, and suddenly, you are tipsy and full and tired. Namjoon stands to walk around the table and have a quiet conversation with Ryujin, and Jimin seizes the opportunity to steal his seat. He and Jeongguk discuss business operations at Paradise while you rest your head against his shoulder and close your eyes listening to the sound of his voice. He is alive. He is awake. 

He speaks slower, and there is a rough quality to his voice that was not present before. It seems to take him more time to process what is said to him, and he reacts as if on a delay. But he is here and alive and awake. 

Only when more kaoliang is poured, and Ryujin raises a toast do you sit up and take your cup. You barely hear what she shouts, booze and excitement slurring her speech, but you make out the words together, family, and happy, and you tap your small glass against as many as you can reach before shooting the strong liquid down.

A large, warm hand rests on your right knee, and as you set down your empty glass, you turn to find Yoongi watching you, glassy-eyed with a smile on his lips. You attempt to smile back but instead, swallow thickly and search for something to say. Luckily, he speaks first.

“Do you have any idea how difficult it has been without you at home?” Yoongi’s gaze becomes pained but remains soft, tugging at your heart. 

And although the sentiment is sweet, you are unable to ignore the impossibility of his question. In fact, for some inexplicable reason—you suppose you must blame the alcohol—you become somewhat annoyed.

You ask, “How could I possibly know that? And anyway, don't you have your hands full as it is?”

Across the table, Jeongguk snickers. It takes Yoongi a second to react, and you are glad when the corners of his lips raise into another smile, even if just for a second. 

“Being around those girls has made you sassier than you were before, darling,” he mutters under his breath. 

You roll your eyes. “It has only been a week, darling.”

Leaning close, elbows on the table, Yoongi lowers his voice and says, “It only took me about a week to begin wearing you down.”

Arousal stirs from the tone of his voice, but so does your stomach. Being kidnapped and worn down is not exactly a topic that you delight in discussing. You must not show your dissatisfaction, however, because Yoongi leans in close and presses a soft, warm kiss against your cheek. 

As the raucous dinner comes to an end and you begin to wish everyone a safe trip home, Jeongguk finally approaches. You have been holding back the urge to kick him in the shin all night, feeling somewhat scorned by his lack of attention. 

"So you're going to stay with the girls?" he asks, standing close enough to wrap you in an embrace but keeping his arms to his sides.

You nod and find it hard to hold his eye contact, looking down at his satin-clad shoulder instead. Jeongguk lifts a hand and delicately places two fingers under your chin, tilting your head until you look him in the eyes. The contact of his skin against yours sends an electric current through you, and you shiver. 

"Call me if you need anything. I can be to Busan in a matter of hours."

Sheepishly, you glance down again and mutter, "I don't have anyone's number anymore."

Jeongguk drops his hand, turns to the left, and says, "Seokjin-hyung! What the fuck, man?"

Arguing ensues, but you are too distracted by Namjoon wrapping his arms around your side and pressing his lips to your neck. Suddenly, your bones are jelly, and you stumble to the right, leaning your weight against his embrace. Yoongi joins, taking your chin in his hand in a similar fashion to Jeongguk, and tilting your lips against his. 

"We'll be ready whenever you are," Namjoon insists, lips grazing over your skin. "Whatever you need…please don't shut us out."

Somewhere behind Namjoon, Seokjin shouts, "Yah! I'll upload everyone to her contact list. Quit fussing!"

"Okay," you mutter while smiling against Yoongi's retreating mouth, unable to find anything more substantial to say despite it all lying in wait at the tip of your tongue all night. 

"We miss you," Yoongi says, pressing another kiss against your temple. "But we can wait if that is what you need."

Tears well and you fight the urge to sob. Not here, you tell yourself. Not now. You have already cried so much.

You hug everyone, even Seokjin and Hoseok. Jeongguk attempts to play it cool, but he stares at your lips the entire time, and you practically beg him to kiss you before ultimately letting him walk away. Jimin litters your cheeks and temples with loud, wet smooches, causing you to giggle and shriek. 

Taehyung asks about your medication, making your heart ache from his kindness. You briefly inform him that you have been having no dizzy spells, and he promises to send you more medication as soon as you are in Busan. 

Finally, Namjoon and Yoongi pull you into another three-way hug and take turns kissing your lips, cheeks, and forehead. They mutter soft, sweet phrases that you only make out the tones of, feeling the whooshing of your pulse as you begin to question whether you are making a huge mistake and should just grab your shit and go home. 

And then, all waving and clambering out the door haphazardly, they are gone, and the room is quiet. 

You sigh and glance around at the dregs of food and alcohol, feeling simultaneously full and empty in more ways than one. Tears fill the edges of your eyes, and you do your best not to blink, worried that any movement will cause them to spill. 

Ryujin sighs loudly. "Alright, well, this was fun and all, but I want to get fucking laid. You girls down for a night on the town?"

You glance down at your outfit, ready to complain, only you look good enough to go to a nightclub and find you have nothing to say to the contrary. You even wear a pair of cozy black ballet slippers, which you slid on while feeling unsure whether you could handle so many tumultuous emotions while wearing heels, and for that, you are grateful. 

"Sure," you utter while turning to Hwasa, who has a drunk but devious grin tugging on her lips. Her smile widens and she claps excitedly.

The drive to the nightclub is long, and you are exhausted by the time you arrive, having been fading in and out of a stupor. You feel more drunk than you had earlier, and you are tempted to suggest taking a cab back to the hideout alone. Of course, that would never fly. You can already hear Ryujin singing buddy system in your head.

Hwasa eagerly pulls you from the back of the car and chuckles as she rubs her fingertips along the edge of your hairline and says, "Poor sleeping beauty. We'll get you something that will wake you up, okay?"

You respond with a halfhearted smile and nod, and she takes your hand in hers and yanks you to the door, not bothering to stop for the security guard who, to your surprise, makes no move to stop you either. Inside, loud bass-heavy club music plays, and you are led through a series of hallways until you enter a large room full of the rest of Ryujin's girls and a group of men. 

The room is dark and somewhat hazy, lit by strips of purple lights along the ceiling and floor. Short two or three-person sofas line the mirrored walls and are dispersed throughout the space, most of which are occupied. On tables set beside each sofa are bottles of champagne and piles of cocaine, with glasses large and small scattered throughout and topped with small lamps that emit very little light.

Ryujin approaches a man sitting amidst the chaos by himself, sitting hunched over with his elbows on his knees, thumbing through his cell phone. You are curious whether these men are people she knows, and you watch to see how familiar she is with the lone man, but Hwasa steps in your line of vision and takes your chin in both of her hands. 

"Coke?" she asks. 

You want to say no, proud of yourself for being off the shit for as long as you have been away from home. But you are certain that without it, you will not survive this night, so you nod and allow yourself to be tugged further into the room, to an unoccupied table. 

"Don't worry, this is from our stash," Hwasa says as she picks up a discarded rolled-up 100-dollar Taiwanese bill and tightens it between her finger and thumb. "Moon and Solar were in charge of overseeing the distribution process."

You mutter, "How generous," doing your best to smile, and watch as Hwasa snorts a small pile into one nostril and then the other. When she hands the bill to you, you take in a deep, slow breath, and let it out, then lean forward to snort from the edge of the pile first into your left nostril and then your right.

As you let the bill fall to the table and tip your head back, sniffing in again on each side, you ask, "Does Ryujin know these men?"

"Mmhmm," Hwasa hums as she fills two glasses with champagne and hands one to you. "A few of these guys worked at Paradise while I was there, and some of them are from Serendipity. Maybe you know them."

"Oh," you say, pulling the glass to your lips but stopping to ask, "How did they end up here?"

Hwasa purses her lips and tilts her head, making a show of how hard she is trying to conjure the answer to your question. Then her eyes widen and she says, "Oh! Some guy started to come around to Serendipity and just sort of gathered the rest of these guys up as, like, a posse. I don't really know what they do, to be honest, but they always dress up in matching suits and cover their faces, which is creepy as hell."

Your stomach tenses, and you feel too anxious to turn your head to the left and figure out who Ryujin is talking to. Although you know that there is absolutely no way in hell it is Christian, something about the description of the men reminds you of his men, and you begin to wonder whether there really was credence to Yoongi's worry surrounding the possibility of Christian being on this island.

"What's his name?" you ask, voice barely loud enough to be heard over the music. 

"Hmm?" Hwasa asks into her champagne glass as she leans closer. 

You begin to glance over to where Ryujin and the man are, but your heart pounds so hard, you worry you might be sick if you see him. 

"The man who gathered all the guys, from Serendipity, " you say, leaning closer. 

"What's his name?"

"Oh," Hwasa says, taking a slow slip of her champagne while her wide, dark eyes stare past you. She blinks owlishly, then pulls the glass from her lips and says, "He has a nickname…Insanity? Something like that."

Unable to stop yourself, your head flies to the left, searching the features of the man whose lap Ryujin has claimed with her legs. His nose is sharp and somewhat hooked, and it is not a familiar shape. Worried, you glance around the room, but there is no sign of Christian, as far as you can tell. 

"Something the matter?" Hwasa asks, touching fingertips to your arm and making you nearly drop your glass of champagne. 

You must look frantic when you turn back to her, based on the fear that pulls at her pretty features. You blink and wet your lips, shaking your head. Unconvincingly, judging by the way her brows knit and she continues to stare at you. 

"I just..." you swallow thickly and glance around the room once more, slowly scanning every face you can see. "I just thought he sounded familiar."

Hwasa makes a small sound, and you scan several more faces before returning your gaze to her and asking, "Huh?"

"It's just," she says, uncertain, "well, I heard he was previously working on Jeongguk's team, back when he was a drug runner. So…maybe he is familiar?"

Something is not adding up. Although Seokjin mentioned that he has kept Christian around to do whatever he pleases, it seems odd that he would be known to these women as someone who was once part of Jeongguk's team. As you recall from the day you were taken to the mansion, he did not seem to perform his drug-running duties to Yoongi's liking. Did Seokjin keep him on Jeongguk's team even after that day? Could he have had something to do with the group of men Jeongguk massacred with kunai knives for fucking him over?

You stare at your glass of champagne trying to make all the pieces fit, but it feels like you are missing a huge chunk of information. 

Hands touch your shoulders, causing you to jump. You mutter, "Shit," under your breath at the same time Ryujin's high, somewhat mocking laughter fills your left ear. 

"So sorry to scare you, pretty darling," she slurs, sounding quite inebriated. 

"Don't worry about it," you say, attempting to loosen your posture. Ryujin's hands remain on your shoulders and you do not want her to feel how tense you are. But then she squeezes your shoulders and you close your eyes, this time succeeding in relaxing. 

"How do you feel after such an emotional dinner?"

"Good," you respond while her thumbs circle over your muscles. You wonder whether she is the reason Hwasa always gives massages. Or perhaps it is the other way around. "And, I don't know. I guess also conflicted. Homesick."

Ryujin's hands fall away and she rests her chin on your left shoulder, loosely wrapping her arms around yours and pinning yours to your sides. Hwasa busies herself pouring a third glass of champagne. 

"You really like them, hmm?" Ryujin asks. 

"Yeah," you say, possibly too quiet for how loud the music in this room is. "Most of them, anyway."

The last part is a joke. You like Seokjin and Hoseok just fine, but you are certainly not as close to them as you are to the others. Taehyung, too, for that matter, although he has had the pleasure of watching his boyfriend rail you, which has formed its own kind of bond between the two of you. 

"What is your relationship with the guys?" she asks. 

Hwasa hands her a glass, and she releases her hold on you and takes it, muttering a soft, "Thank you." 

You turn to face Ryujin. Although you still hesitate to become too close to her, you do feel comfortable in her presence, all things considered. If Yoongi is willing to trust her again, then perhaps you should be, too. 

"Yoongi, Namjoon, and I are a thing." After a pause, you add, "And…sort of Jeongguk."

Ryujin's mouth falls open and she gasps. "I need to know more!"

You feel your cheeks become hot, and you pick up your glass of champagne, which Hwasa has filled. But rather than explain, you ask something that has been on your mind for a while.

"Before, when you and Yoongi were together, was Namjoon…" Unsure how to finish the sentence, you trail off. Luckily, Ryujin knows just what you mean. 

She nods. "Yes. Romantically, those two have always been the closest. Namjoon and I were never super physical. We were just very, very comfortable around one another because of Yoongi."

Interesting. You suppose this makes sense, remembering a conversation between you and Jimin a while back when he told you about how marrying Ryujin was a means to an end more than anything else. 

"Yoongi and I were meant to bring two families together. And, don't get me wrong, we were physically and emotionally attracted to one another. But we also had more fulfilling relationships on the side. For Yoongi, it was Namjoon."

"And for you?" you ask before you can stop yourself. 

Ryujin smiles wide, but then it falls to a frown. She shakes her head. "Doesn't matter. Nobody you know."

You nod and accept her answer. You suppose that perhaps the two of you are not that close, yet. In tandem, you and Ryujin raise your glasses to drink. But then she yells, "Oh!" and you startle enough to nearly spill your champagne onto yourself. "Jeongguk, though! What happened with him?"

You tip your head back and chug the rest of your bubbly. It is truly miserable to drink quickly, and you instantly regret your decision, feeling the carbonation sloshing around in your guts. 

"We, uh…" you begin, feeling shy. Why do you feel shy?

"You should see those two," Hwasa interjects, causing your face to heat even more. "They bicker like children but then circle one another like feral animals. I can only imagine their chemistry behind closed doors."

Affronted, your mouth falls wide. "We what? No we do not!"

Hwasa nods, grinning. "Yes, you do! I thought the two of you were fucking for sure when I first started working for Jimin. I was shocked to learn Jeongguk was with Taehyung and you were with Yoongi."

"And Namjoon," Ryujin supplies. 

Hwasa's grin widens. 

You raise your hands to your face as if to hide. This day has been exhausting, and these two are giggling at your expense like a couple of school girls. 

"Oh, stop," Hwasa says as one of your hands is tugged down from your face. You open just the one eye, keeping the other closed tight behind your palm. "Everyone wants a piece of your ass. Don't be shy about it! Embrace it."

With a sigh, you shake your head. "Not everyone," you groan, feeling defensive.

"Everyone with eyes," Ryujin says, waggling her eyebrows while Hwasa makes kissy noises. "I would shoot my shot if you weren't already so taken."

Hwasa nods and says, "Me too!"

Suddenly, it is too warm and too loud in here. "I need a stronger drink!" you declare, making both women laugh. 

You take a step back and turn, moving in autopilot toward the door before realizing you have no idea where you are nor where a bar in this building is. 

Ryujin takes your right hand and yanks you gently back, sing-songing, "Ah, ah, ah, not by yourself."

"Alright," you concede, interlocking your fingers with hers. As you begin to walk toward the exit, your left hand is engulfed and you glance to find Hwasa is coming along. 

You exit the mirrored room and turn right, taking a dark hallway about halfway and then turning right once more, through a thick black curtain that is guarded by two men on the other side. There is a bar directly to the right, and Ryujin tugs you to the counter and orders a bottle of whiskey that you do not catch the name of. 

With a nod, the bartender grabs an unopened bottle from a high shelf and then delicately stacks three medium-sized glasses. Hwasa takes the glasses, Ryujin takes the whiskey, and your hands remain held by both of theirs. 

Back in the mirrored room, you return to the table off to the right, toward the back. The girls release your hands to pour three drinks, and you fidget by pinching the satin of your skirt between your thumbs and knuckles, suddenly feeling antsy. 

"Cheers," Ryujin declares as she slides a drink in front of you. You take it, hold it up, and tap it against their glasses, then pull it to your lips and smell the strong, bittersweet liquid before taking a sip. 

The potent, boozy caramel flavor that you have come to expect is accented by a hint of something earthy, possibly wood. You take a bigger drink, hold it on your tongue, allowing your taste buds to open and fully experience the onslaught as they adjust, and then you swallow it down. 

"Tomorrow, we return to Busan," Ryujin says for the second time tonight as the whiskey flows down into your chest, filling you with warmth. You look forward to being at a proper home rather than on some random floor in a balmy, empty building. 

"I'm looking forward to seeing your home," you say, sounding far more meek than you intend to.

"I'm looking forward to hosting you."

Hwasa leans her elbows on the table and says, "You finally get to have your own room. That is, of course, unless you want to stay with me."

The playful smile on Hwasa's face, paired with her tired and intoxicated bloodshot eyes is almost enough to make you melt. Almost enough to make you follow her into any room she wants to lead you into. 

When you shrug and say, "Honestly, I may be too lonely to sleep alone," you are being brutally honest, and not all all flirtatious. 

"I can even decorate it like your room in the mansion," Ryujin says. "Is it still yellow?"

Her words halt your movement of lifting your glass back to your lips. "How did you know that?"

Ryujin rolls her eyes and says, "Please, nothing about that man has changed, down to the way he likes to outfit you. It's exactly as it was seven years ago."

Bile swirls around in your tummy, and you set the glass down on the mirrored table with a clank that is louder than you intend. Could that be true? Is Yoongi really outfitting you in the same fashion he was outfitting her all those years ago. 

Hwasa clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth and swats at Ryujin's arm, muttering, "Mother, don't say things like that to her," under her breath. 

You shake your head, determined to not show how strange the information makes you feel. But Ryujin turns, pouts dramatically, and wraps her arms around you. 

"Oh, sweetie, I don't mean to suggest he was trying to turn you into a second me. He just seems to have the same tastes and fashion sense, is all. Trust me, he loves you way more than he could ever love me. I can tell."

You have no idea whether Ryujin is being truthful or trying to make you feel better, but you decide that either way, you see no use in dwelling on it. You are going to be living under her roof for the foreseeable future, and becoming upset whenever she says something a little too blunt, snippy, or insensitive is not going to get you anywhere. 

With a nod, you say, "I know. Don't worry." But it only makes her squeeze you tighter. 

"Just look at his bullshit excuse for taking you home with him," she says. "Collateral, my ass."

What an odd statement. You ask, "What do you mean?" But what you really mean to say is what do you know?

"The man takes you as so-called payment from your ex but then spends millions of dollars on a wardrobe, an armored vehicle, the most lavish birthday party in all of Seoul. Make it fucking make sense!"

Ryujin releases the hug, and as soon as you are free, you slam back your whiskey and pick up the 100-dollar bill, squeezing it tighter into a tube. Ryujin whoops and claps as you lean close and snort from the edge of the cocaine pile into your left nostril and then your right. 

"Mommy needs some, too," she says as she takes the bill from your hand and leans forward. 

You tip your head back and raise a knuckle to each nostril, sniffing deeply to make sure none of the drug is stuck inside your nose cavity, then you stand up straight, stretching your back by pushing forward your chest, and reach for the bottle of whiskey. 

"Partying so hard without me?" a male voice asks from behind you, and you nearly drop the bottle. 

The tone, the accent, and the cadence all confirm your fears are true.

"Christian?" you mutter as you spin, and you almost do not believe your eyes. 

From the expression he wears and the way his gaze falls to the floor, eyes widening as they lift to your face, you wager he also cannot believe his. 

Christian steps forward and you take a step back, elbow hitting the table and causing you to grip tighter to the bottle of whiskey. 

"Barom-oppa!" Ryujin shouts as she pounces on Christian, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

"Hey there, dearie," he says, lifting his arms to return the hug, never taking his eyes off you. 

Christian looks somewhat normal compared to the last time you saw him, with a white and red floral button-up tucked into black slacks, and a black leather blazer. His hair has some product in it to give it a slightly messy style, falling in front of his eyes, and he wears minimal makeup. 

But there is a darkness to him. Smudges around the eyes rather than clean lines, tattoos on his throat and neck. On his left hand, he wears a black leather driving glove, and across his nose is a red scuff, as if he has been punched. Under the rich musk that fills the air around him, you sense the stale smell of cigarette smoke, and he has silver hoops in his ears and one in his left nostril. 

A lot has changed about Christian in the months since you have known him. 

Ryujin releases their hug and takes a step back, causing Christian to look down at himself and rub his hands down the front of his jacket as if her tiny body could have somehow managed to do anything to the leather. Then he stands up straight and shakes his head to the side just enough for his hair to move out from in front of his eyes, and you realize that his left eye is completely white. Is it…missing? 

"Oh my god, your eye!" you shout, lunging forward before you can stop yourself and raising your left hand toward his face while your right hand nearly drops the whiskey bottle once more. 

Christian takes your wrist in his gloved hand and holds firmly onto you, and your entire body flushes hot with nerves as you realize the mistake you have made. The way his gaze holds onto you, even with only one dark iris and pupil, is piercing and intense, and you attempt futility to pull your hand away. 

"Funny story how I lost that," he says, expression pulling into a strange, sad grin. He leans close, nicotine on his breath as he says, "I'll have to tell you some time."

You pull on your arm, desperate to release it, but his grip is far stronger than you remember. Should you be afraid of this man?

"Christian," you begin, glancing from your hand to his face. 

"Perhaps over drinks, some time," he continues. "Just the two of us."

You nod, willing to lie to him if it means letting you go. Panic rises as you continue to take stock of how different he is from the man you used to know. 

Ryujin takes the whiskey from your hand, sets it on the table, and then grabs his hand in both of hers as she says, "Alright, that is enough of that. I need you two to play nice."

The room returns to view, and you remember why you are here and who you are with. You realize belatedly that these two not only know each other but that they are friendly with one another. 

"Wait," you say, turning to Ryujin, "you told Yoongi—"

"Look, I lied to him," she says, cutting you off. 

Your mouth falls open and your pulse whooshes in your ears. "You…but…" Could she possibly know what she has done by bringing the two of you together? "Why?"

Ryujin chuckles and steps close to Christian, placing her dainty, manicured hands over his chest. "Oppa is harmless. You know that! And Yoongi…well, he's paranoid. Trust me, darling. Nothing bad will happen to you."

You are not so sure you are convinced, but you know that freaking out will do nobody any good. Especially when you are so far away from home. You are not eager to show any more weakness to any of these people. Especially the one they call Mister Insanity. 

Someone shouts for Christian, using the name Barom, and you turn quickly back to the table. Your glass contains more whiskey, courtesy of one of the women, you assume, and you pick up the glass with shaking hands and slam it down, then reach for the bottle again. 

Intoxication roils through you in hot waves, and you squeeze your eyes closed to take a deep breath in and out before shooting more whiskey. A small hand touches your lower back, and you wish you were curled up in a bed all by yourself, far away from these people and this music. You are tired of being touched.

"I know it's weird to see an ex," Ryujin says. "Sorry for surprising you like this. He told me he wouldn't be around tonight."

"How did he lose his eye?" you ask, focused on the wrong thing as you turn to face Ryujin. You tremble so hard that your teeth clatter. 

Her smile falls to a frown and she shakes her head. "That isn't my story to tell."

You nod, accepting her answer, and turn to Hwasa, who watches you with a concerned expression. You mouth the word, "Bathroom?" and she nods and rounds the table, taking you by the arm. 

"Down the hall to the left," Ryujin says. 

As you walk through the room, you squint, attempting to ignore all the movement in the mirrors in your periphery. It's too much. Everything is too much. 

The darkness of the hallway is a blessing and a curse, relieving you from the chaos of the private room while introducing challenges of its own; it is almost too dark and somewhat claustrophobic. 

You stumble and Hwasa's hold on you tightens. She picks up the pace and leads you straight into a single-stall bathroom, then turns on a light that is thankfully relatively dim. The moment she closes and locks the door, you stumble forward, fall to your knees on the rough tile before the toilet, and vomit the contents of your stomach. 

Your mind races with myriad thoughts, but one is the loudest of them all: What the fuck is Christian doing here?

*

Oh, oh, I broke down all my doors Oh, do you see it now? Nothing was fixed at all

I never asked to be like this

🎵 visit the playlist

hello, hello!!! we meet again!!! i hope you have all been having great middle of the year months! things have been ok for me but i have been reading a lot more than i have been writing. how did you feel about this one??? it is a little slower, as it is setting the stage for the final chapters. any guess how things are going to go? how do we feel about the new (and returned) characters??? it felt really nice to writing Jimin into the scene again. 💜 i'll be honest, describing Ryujin & the Mamamoo girls laying on the rugs and blankets made me think of Quanxi and her harem of fiends from Chainsaw Man.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!! REBLOGS ARE IMPORTANT BLAHBLAHBLAH LIKES ARE ALSO AMAZING AND SO ON. 💜 tags will be coming in reblogs. also, character asks are always active if you have some burning questions or comments (just don't expect me to outright spoil anything hehehe.)

i love you, stay hydrated!!! if you are somewhere with a heatwave, stay cool!!! 😘😘😘 until we meet again!!!

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Collateral is copyright 2022-2024 theharrowing, all rights reserved. no translations of reposts allowed.

[sonyaheaneyauthor]

Why is my life considered more important than a Ukrainian life? Why am I considered more important than the people I meet in Ukraine, who — even in the darkest times — still often extend such kindness and hospitality that you can't help but fall in love with this country? This isn’t just an opinion; it’s a fact beyond these borders, simply because I am not Ukrainian.

Nights ago, I met with a friend. As we sat in a cafe on Kyiv’s Khreshchatyk Street, the air raid sirens went off. It was hard not to think back to a conversation we had the week before: “If we were killed by the same missile, my death would be news, but yours would only be a statistic.”

“British man killed in Russian missile strike.”

“British man killed in Kyiv named.”

Under both headlines, those around me, killed alongside me, would be nothing but a number in a footnote, if mentioned at all.

In late-November, when the U.S. Embassy in Ukraine issued a warning about a possible major Russian aerial attack, it made sure to “encourage U.S. citizens to remain vigilant. No mention of the millions of Ukrainians who wouldn’t think twice about helping someone else, no matter the circumstances.

Indeed, last week when I was arriving in Zaporizhzhia — just as the country was being attacked by over 200 missiles and drones — it was a Ukrainian friend, hiding in a shelter in Kyiv, who told me to call them immediately if I needed help.

When I speak to people back in the U.K., they tell me they’ve seen the news over the past couple of weeks and urge me to leave. They seem shocked when I say that, no matter what happens, I won’t just run away but will stay by those I care about here.

Often, they can’t understand why I would care about the friends I have in Ukraine, or why I’d be friends with them at all. Or there’s a sense that they believe I should value my Ukrainian friends less than those from elsewhere. It becomes hard to explain that, in many cases, the opposite is true.

It would be easy to dismiss this perception as merely a result of war and death being part of everyday life in Ukraine — though that justification is morally wrong. But it’s more than that.

While the past three years have made a difference, it’s undeniable that many in the West still have an unconscious ignorance toward Ukraine, especially its history. Few know that Kyiv thrived long before Moscow was even a muddy village, and fewer still agree that the war began long before Feb. 24, 2022. Perhaps this is what has led to the current situation, where the safety of the West and the lives of those living there are seen as more important than those of Ukrainians.

As I write this, air alerts across Ukraine continue. Hours ago, I heard a loud explosion not far from where I am, and reports indicate further explosions in Kyiv and across the country. Millions are starting the day without power or heat in below-freezing temperatures. Major cities cannot operate their transport infrastructure, and houses, schools, hospitals, and more have been damaged, with countless lives torn apart. Children are traumatized once again.

Meanwhile, less than 80 kilometers (50 miles) over the border in Poland, NATO forces in Rzeszow stand ready to protect Polish skies if any missile crosses the border. They have all the military equipment and resources to prevent further strikes in a country where NATO leaders have pledged to stand by and support, no matter what. But rather than acting, we see cowardice and an ongoing fear of provoking the provokers, agitating the agitators, and escalating a conflict against an aggressor who considers no price too high to achieve its imperialistic and genocidal ambitions.

And why? Because in the West, Ukrainian lives are not as important as our own.

If they were, political anger would not be raging over the decision to allow Ukraine to strike back with Western missiles, and that decision wouldn’t have taken nearly 1,000 days to make.

If they were, there would be no question about future support, and the gains made by Ukrainian forces two years ago would not have been lost.

It’s easy to dismiss this as a war between Russia and Ukraine, rather than a war between Russia and freedom, even in the face of mounting evidence of Russian attacks and interference in the West. But it takes either arrogance or blind ignorance to deny that it is the Ukrainian people who are doing and sacrificing the most — not just for their own lives and freedoms, but also to protect those in the West who still live with the luxury of choosing to look the other way.

When I speak to people in the West about Ukraine and the people I know here, they often ask, “I support the Ukrainian people, but what should we actually do?” The answer is simple: everything we can, but let's start by giving their lives the same value as our own.

[tea-and-secrets]

my secret that would get me skinned alive is i think people on here throw around the words abuse and accuse people of being abusers way too fucking easily. sometimes ill follow someones story about it and it turns out all the "abusive toxic friend" did was not know they were upset when they refused to tell them, and they let it fester for years causing them stress and building up resentment for this person and blaming this person for everything bad in their life, and i just look at it like man. this is your own fault. you would have had 0 stress if you just talked to this person when you were upset. there would be no health complications from stress if you just fucking talked to this person when you were upset. you are wishing harm and death on this person for not being able to read your mind.

i think many people here are just insanely conflict avoidant with no conflict resolution skills or ability to communicate and they want to blame it on a big bad scary version of the person theyre accusing that they made up in their mind to be scared of for no reason so they feel justified when they ruin their life over it. in reality thats just another mentally ill person going through a lot who would help you if they could but you won't fucking let them.

ive seen a lot of people also turn on the accused bc if the accused can't remember doing anything wrong, or lashes out when scared by this, they have to be lying, right? when in most of these cases its again literally a situation where the person did not tell them a single thing was wrong, and to think someone is going to rationally handle suddenly being accused of so many terrible things is insane tbh

i think a lot of people just want a reason to hate someone and feel justified in bringing them harm, especially if someone wants a friendship on equal grounds but they dont want to put any effort in and feel threatened when asked to

.

[thr0wnawayy]

Useless Heroes and Hori's spinelessness with setup.

Salutations! I remembered my password.

(Jk, I've been busy)

It's no secret that Japan's heroes in MHA are extremely incompetent, I've pointed out their general disregard towards human life and surrounding infrastructure.

However what some of you might not know is that a majority of heroes in MHA are completely and utterly useless.

And I'm not just talking from a Doylist perspective either, Heroes in MHA are more of an obstacle than the villains they fight.

Take this panel for example:

Originally I was going to crop this to only include (ugh) Birdman, however on a second read I realized how asinine every single hero (not counting All Might) is.

First off the "clean up". I shouldn't need to explain what's wrong with this. The crowd posing a security risk, the minimal security. The fucking plastic bags!?

I mean really, what the hell can Backdraft achieve here, or Kanami or Mount Lady. The list goes on.

(That also ignores how these 4 imbeciles are getting paid for what a clean up crew or police force could do easily. Not to mention this whole incident veing their fault)

Anywho... We then see Death Arms and another "hero" yelling at Midoriya, who was also a victim of the Sludge Villain and actually bought All Might time. Whereas Bakugo failed like a panicked animal and worsened the situation.

It is here we see the first plot point: Heroes are hypocritical and biased towards those with flashy quirks.

They automatically downplay Midoriya while also neglecting to get him checked on by a paramedic.

Even Bakugo doesn't benefit as these so called Heroes swarm him like a vulture. Just so they can use him to boost their own popularity.

(and if I'm honestly speaking, if Birdman were somehow a high ranker. Bakugo would have fallen for it hook, line and sinker)

This subtly introduces a second idea: that Heroes are not as pure as they seem. Perhaps they can even be corrupt.

These two ideas, plotpoints, call them what you will. Do a good job at showing us the cracks in the mirage. Cracks that seemed to be widening come the Sports Festival.

So what happend?

I'm sure we're all familiar with the utter disappointment/disaster that was MHA's epilogue.

Regardless if you believe the initial final chapter to be canonical or the more recent 'improvement'. We can all agree that it bombed in regards to doing the above any justice.

The simple answer is that Hori (in my opinion) is a spineless hack, who can draw really good but for the love of god. Keep him out of the Writers room.

Hori seems to whine about how dissatisfied he is with MHA's direction towards darker themes or even complaining about characters he wrote into the story himself (see Tetsutesu x2.)

Hori lacks any guts when it comes to his own writing, preferring to laze-about in what's comfortable. The problem is he didn't write a comfortable story.

Corruption, Eugenics, Peer Abuse, Negligence and Human Trafficking. These are all things that MHA brings up but Hori refuses to touch on. Despite having wrote them into the world (and plot) himself.

Someone once commented under a post of mine that my W.I.P worked as a story because the events fit, rather than simply existing for shock value.

Now I cannot confirm whether or not the above were added to drive up stakes. However with how MHA ended up, I wouldn't be surprised if it was like the Big Three all over again. Hori adding something, nor knowing what to do with it and then desperately trying to smother it while introducing the "next big thing".

Ultimately, I find it humorous that someone so inspired by comic books and Star wars, is such a coward when it comes to pushing boundaries. Instead choosing to fall in line with what's trending, what the polls say, chasing after something that could never be obtained in the first place.

But hey look at the bright side, at least we have fan-works.

[k20spock]

The Slay the Princess Voices as Birds

I'm not much of a voices guy but I do love biology and assigning animals to characters, so I am assigning all of the voices a bird species and explaining why I picked it. enjoy

Voice of the Hero: House sparrow

[ID: A photo of a male house sparrow perching. End ID.]

Hero is the one I struggled with the most and this bird is actually crowdsourced! It does fit though I think. Sparrows are associated with commonness and familiarity, fitting for a voice who’s always by your side. Some more modern interpretations of sparrow symbolism paint them as hardworking and honest too. I think an everyday bird/voice doing his best is perfect for Hero.

Voice of the Cheated: Seagull (No specific species in mind, but definitely a more urban species like a European herring gull)

[ID: A photo of a European herring gull with its beak open. End ID.]

Seagulls are very cheated birds. They’re considered pests for doing what they have to do to survive with their habitat severely altered by human activity and just happened to adapt better than a lot of other animals. I will forever defend seagulls. They’re also very loud, shrill, persistent birds, qualities I associate with Cheated.

Voice of the Stubborn: Cassowary

[ID: A photo of a Southern cassowary. End ID.]

Cassowaries are widely considered the most dangerous bird and while technically that’s not true (there are more recorded ostrich attacks), the reputation is not undeserved. They’re big, powerful, and can be vicious fighters capable of disembowelment and throat-slitting with their massive claws. Their name in the Biak language literally just means bird strong. 

Voice of the Cold: Northern shrike

[ID: A northern shrike perching on a branch with a dead mouse. End ID.]

By now I’m pretty sure everyone knows about shrikes but if you don’t, let me explain why I picked them for Cold with an alternate name for Northern shrikes: winter butcherbirds. Yeah shrikes are little songbirds known for impaling their prey on sticks as a convenient storage system. I picked Northern shrikes specifically because of that very Cold name, winter butcherbird, and the fact that they breed in the cold reaches of Siberia, Canada, and Alaska.

Voice of the Smitten: Albatross (again, not necessarily a specific species but if I had to pick I’d go with one of the two royal albatrosses for the name)

[ID: A photo of a Northern royal albatross in the water. End ID.]

Ok there’s so so many birds associated with romance so there’s just a plethora of things you could go with for Smitten but I went with an albatross for a few reasons. They’re known for mating for life, having elaborate courtship dances, and being extremely dedicated to their partners. Very much romance birds. They’re also birds that inhabit isolated areas, and are very naive to potential threats because they don’t live in places with natural predators. This made them easy targets for hunters and their feathers were used in garments, which makes me think of Smitten’s line about making a shawl from his feathers. The thing that really sealed the deal though is there’s also some really interesting symbolism associated with them. In literature, they’ve been used as a metaphor for a burden difficult to escape from with the phrase ‘an albatross around your neck’. This just fits so well with Happily Ever After I had to pick albatrosses.

Voice of the Skeptic: Great gray owl

[ID: A photo of a great gray owl on a branch, looking down at the viewer. End ID.]

Owls are associated with wisdom and knowledge, Skeptic is the voice who is the most determined to reason and puzzle his way out of this situation, owls aren’t actually any more intelligent than the average bird, Skeptic’s rigid thinking often prevents him from understanding their situation in a way other voices can. Besides, owls are just a bit spooky and associated with death, something I think fits with Skeptic’s gruff noir detective vibe. I’m not too picky on the exact type of owl, I just picked a great gray because I think they just look like they have Skeptic vibes. I could also easily be convinced of a little owl though, the species associated with Athena that really kickstarted owls’ association with wisdom in Europe and is also associated with death through popular legend saying its calls heralded the death of Julius Caesar. I can also understand why people would go with a crow, but I wanted to go with something different and I feel like the Narrator’s taken it already.

Voice of the Paranoid: Cockatiel

[ID: A photo of an alert wild cockatiel with a raised crest. End ID.]

This pick is one I can see people disagreeing with so let me just explain myself: cockatiels are parrots, yes, birds that don’t really fit with Paranoid’s vibe (and I gave a different parrot to another character already and I’m trying to have some variety here). However, cockatiels in my personal experience are very nervous, neurotic birds with very distinct fear responses. Namely, hissing and raising their crest. I also think it’s fun having Paranoid be a bird often kept as a pet (like what Nightmare’s planning to do!) and having him be a bird capable of mimicking speech. Perfect for repeating a mantra over and over!

Voice of the Hunted: Common pheasant

[ID: A photo of a male common pheasant. End ID.]

Pheasants are simply the birds I associate most with being hunted. They’re one of the oldest and most popular game birds in the world and their anti-predation strategies just boil down to fleeing.

Voice of the Opportunist: Common cuckoo

[ID: A photo of a common cuckoo perching on a branch. End ID.]

I am firmly against ascribing human moral values onto animal behavior, and this includes cuckoos. But like… they’re opportunists. Common cuckoos are obligate brood parasites, which means they lay their eggs in the nest of another bird, often laying eggs designed to look similar to the eggs of the host species. Once they hatch, cuckoo chicks will attempt to eliminate other eggs or hatchlings from the nest to get all the food and attention of the parents to themself. Their deception even continues to adulthood, adult cuckoos mimic the predatory sparrow hawks to ensure they aren’t attacked. Like come on. What else could Opportunist possibly be.

Voice of the Broken: Chicken

[ID: A photo of a chicken. End ID.]

I’ve got a few things in mind with this one. Firstly is that many chickens are raised for meat (which is not an inherently bad thing provided they’re treated ethically), and I think it suits Broken to be a bit of a “doomed” bird. But secondly is that chickens play a religious role in many cultures. In particular, they were a big part of Ancient Roman beliefs and practices. There was an entire chicken-based form of divination. The only other bird I can think of with as much association with religion are doves and they’re much more widely associated with peace and love which, respectfully, isn’t really Broken’s vibe, so chicken it is.

Voice of the Contrarian: Kea

[ID: A photo of a kea walking. End ID.]

The other parrot I mentioned earlier. Kea are parrots native to New Zealand known for their intelligence and love of fucking with people. They’re nicknamed “clown of the mountains” and will investigate and tear up anything which includes cars. They’ll tear up cars. For funsies. If you gave a kea a knife, I’m 100% sure it would throw it out a window.

And that's all of em! Maybe someday I'll draw designs based on these.

[meanderfall]

Been watching the 2003 tmnt show, and obviously I went in with some knowledge of who the turtles are and their roles and personalities, but it's been kind of fascinating to notice how Leonardo is actually pretty restrained in acting as a leader, at least in the more traditional sense (and from what i've seen so far in the first 2 seasons).

The moments where he actually directly takes charge of a situation and tells his brothers what to do, or puts his foot down on what he thinks is best, are actually few and far between. It usually only really crops up in life-or-death situations, or if his brothers are arguing over a course of action and he has to intervene.

To be honest, I think his more common leadership moments are understated to the point of barely being noticeable, and it's whenever they have a problem or situation to deal with and he turns to his brothers for suggestions on what to do. And the reason i consider this to be leadership moments are threefold:

First, by doing so, he's actually helping direct their focus on possible solutions or weak points, because his questions to them are never "what do we do" but more like "how can we distract the guards" or "is it possible to take down this machine", and like, listen. Listen. As someone who works with the general public and is one of the "leaders" of my department and has to guide my co-workers, the ability to assess a situation and even just know what kind of questions to ask to reach a solution is genuinely an underrated skill that far too many grown ass adults have not cultivated.

Second, he's actually keeping the line of communication open between him and his brothers. Sure, Don is usually the turtle who provides an answer, but Raph and Mikey are always welcome to speak up too and sometime they go with their ideas! I also think this makes them comfortable enough to speak up during more high pressure situations that aren't going great when they have a plan, bc they have full confidence that Leo and the others will back them up bc Leo really is always encouraging them to think and help him figure out what to do,

Which brings me to my third reason. By asking them for their thoughts and advice, it shows that Leonardo is willing to admit that he doesn't know something and he isn't afraid to look for them for help (at least in this regard lmao). And idk about yall but I'm much more willing to follow someone who won't pretend he has all the answers and is willing to seek advice, over someone whose ego is so big they can never admit to being wrong or humble themselves to ask for help.

And, like, I don't really know what came first, if, growing up, they were so close and good at working together that it never occurred to Leonardo to be more authoritative with his brothers now that they're a team, or if because Leonardo spent so much of their childhood more concerned with running after them and bailing them out of whatever scraps they get into and low-key knew telling them what to do wouldn't work that he just naturally fell into a more communicative and "we're all in this together, let's figure out what to do together" style.

But it does give off the impression of the brothers being a tight-knit team that pretty much work as one unit. Any friction between them is minimal at best (with most of it actually being between Mikey and Raph who take any opportunity to mess with the other). They don't really need to outline plans bc they're usually on the same page in the first place, and they have complete trust and faith in one another in getting the job done. No one is really in charge until it's necessary.

And, finally, all of the above combined is why I think his brothers usually listen and respect Leo on the rare occasions he does put his foot down on something. They know he wouldn't do it unless he was serious about what he's saying. Pretty much the only times they don't are when all 3 of them are united on wanting to do something and Leo was already kind of wavering on what to do, so they know they can rush ahead and big brother will rush after them to make sure they're okay. Or if they are also absolutely serious and fully believe in their own opinion on an issue (see the City at War arc where Leo and Raph are on complete opposite sides of the issue at hand).

but i still got 2 and half seasons to get through so maybe that changes!

[deerspherestudios]

⛔If you ignore this, you are condemning me and my family to death. My previous GoFundMe account has been deleted and I collected 20% of my campaign on it. All donations were returned to the people who donated, so I hope you will donate to me again 😭

Hello, I am Fadl, I was injured in the Gaza war and I cannot bear the pain

Please donate to save my life, I need the costs of the surgery urgently

I apologize for what I am going to ask, I am in severe pain, sadness and exhaustion. Unfortunately, the situation has become difficult after my injury and the deterioration of my health

Just donate $20 from each person, $20 will save my life and my family from death in Gaza

I lost part of my family and my home and now I will lose myself and everything

I do not know if I will survive or die in this war, but I know that your help will contribute to saving me and my family from death.

My campaign was funded by @90-ghost and @gazavetters

https://gofund.me/4dbe692a

Link to donate is HERE ! 🍉 Listed at #197 on the GazaVetters list. 🇵🇸 At the time I'm writing they're currently at €155!!! / €10,000.

Help the numbers keep going if you can afford it! Share if you can't!

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[gracieheartspedro]

I know it’s been said before but I want to format this in a way where everyone can understand.

tw/ mentions of dark themes.

mostly everyone has seen a horror movie. whether you’ve enjoyed said film or not is one thing. but nonetheless, you watched it, reveled in the content of it, and moved on with your day. you may have been disgusted, horrified, intimidated, whatever, but you still indulged and watched.

because it’s a work of fiction, you know that the actors in that film didn’t actually die gruesome awful deaths or experience traumatizing events for our eyes to watch. they were just acting. none of it was real. most filmmakers didn’t actually torture their employees and mostly all the actors were paid and compensated for the work they agreed to make. (this is not always true, especially in older horror movies.)

but alls that to say that this is how to frame works of written fan(fiction) and dark themes.

like a movie, these characters are not real. the situations are not real events that have happened. these situations can range anywhere from incest, rape, murder, etc.

you can rest assured that what happened to the fictional character did not happen to an actual person. it may have happened in real life to someone, maybe even you, but your beloved fictional character didn’t experience it. because they are not real.

luckily with fanfiction, more than 90% of writers are vigilant on tagging warnings onto their content and never force others to read their work. because dark content is not meant for everyone. if you cannot stomach such things, you should do what you do when you’re not enjoying that horror movie and just walk away. switch the page. lock your phone. delete the app.

there comes a time in every person’s life when you realize the world does not revolve around you. some people get a thrill/enjoy reading and writing dark content. their reasons could be as simple as they enjoy the heart racing anticipation of reading such things. or they could be more complex like using the content to work through trauma. whatever the reason, their motivations are valid and reasonable.

everything in the world is not meant for you. and that’s okay. it’s okay to let others enjoy what they want to enjoy. we don’t sit outside of movie theaters when the newest horror movie comes out and yell at the moviegoers that they are “sick in the head” or “psychopaths”.

fanfiction is an outlet. write and read what you want.

[bladespark]

Troodontid Gods part one!

So the core of this story is the gods, and specifically Death.

In this setting there are two kinds of gods, the elder, primal gods, and the younger, civilized gods. The elder gods have existed as long as their domains have, so gods like Light and Darkness are as old as the universe, and Death has existed since life began.

In fact my story opens in the early Cambrian. Death can take many forms, but is mostly shaped by how living beings see it. It was entirely unformed in the days before living things were capable of any concept of death, but once creatures began to have a nervous system and the thought, however primitive, of fleeing something that will kill them, Death tended to take the form of the most fearsome predators of any given era.

If you know the Cambrian, you know what you're about to see. :D

.

.

.

(Everyone's favorite Cambrian apex predator, Anomalocaris! Drawn by @sombertide-0 from the concept of a "ghostly anomalocaris made from starlight and shadows." He absolutely nailed it.)

At other points in the story Death is a shark, a Musasuar (That one was a fun little bit. Not so much about predation and fear as about herd behavior.) and of course a Troodontid person, because sapient omnivores are definitely going to be feared predators. :D And because people see their gods in their own image.

(Death in troodontid form, also drawn by @sombertide-0 who is amazing.)

Death is a female troodontid, since those are the hunters in their society, where the males are the gatherers. I could have leaned the other way, to "gathering" souls of course, a Grim Reaper sort of situation, but I think they'd see a lot of violent ends in their world, and Death as a hunter fits pretty well.

Also her being female informs her dynamic with the other major character in this story, the Younger God Dance, the prettiest of pretty boys, but I'll talk more about him and the other gods next time.

Thanks for reading this far, I'm having fun info-dumping about this world. <3

Troodontid Worldbuilding Time, GO!

SO, I am working on a story that involves a made-up species of troodontids with human-level intelligence. They have villages, culture, and most importantly for the story, religion. Except it's not "faith-based" because their gods are real and walk among them on a daily basis. The story itself, in fact, follows Death, imagined as the Greek Thanatos, but having an origin far, far older than "ancient" Greece.

But before I get into gods, weaving, dancing and everything else that went into this setting, we have to go back to the start and ask "What is a troodontid?"

This is. Sort of. It's complicated. "Troodon" is a weird thing because the species name was based on the find of a single tooth, which...that doesn't work terribly well, does it? Troodontid teeth are distinct enough to make knowing the group that tooth belongs to pretty easy, but we don't know anything else about the original, except it must have been related to the rest.

That said, some creatures in the broader group that are lumped together as "troodintids" are VERY well described, with lots of extremely complete fossils. Some of the most complete anywhere, in fact, because some of them have feathers so well preserved that we know what color they were!

Overall Troodontids are smallish, feathery dinosaurs in the larger manoraptoran group. Some were absolutely tiny and probably flighted, including some that were four-winged like microraptor, though it's not a troodontid. Some others were pretty big and definitely couldn't fly. The largest known is Lativenatrix, which was similar in size to Utahraptor.

They had a "killing claw" like velociraptors, but were more slender, and built for speed more than strength. They were potentially omnivorious, too!

Also they have a better brain to body ratio than the supposedly "intelligent" raptors.

Yup. If we're going just by brain percentage, troodontids were the geniuses of the dinosaur world.

Which isn't saying much, they have a brain to body ratio that's hovering around the low end of modern birds. If you know birds, you know many of them are not so bright.

But birds are interesting, because their intelligence isn't as closely linked to brain size as it is with us mammals. In fact there's not a huge difference between something as smart as say a raven and something as dumb as say an eagle. (Oh man, guys, eagles are so dumb. I've worked a little bit with birds of prey, and none of them are taking home any prizes for intellect, they are the epitome of bird-brained.)

That opens up some interesting possibilities, though. If troodontids had an intelligence similar to ravens, then it wouldn't take much of a brain boost to get them up to something closer to human.

And thus we have my Troodontid People, illustration above by @sombertide-0. A "what if a theropod dinosaur really was as smart as Jurassic Park raptors seem to be, and what would their culture and society be like?" thought experiment centered especially around their relationship with their gods.

I'll stop here for today, but there's SO MUCH MORE.