#I may..... be a little bit of a whump enjoyer

[silverspleen]

Watched Midnight Meat Train! I liked it overall.

SPOILER THOUGHTS

Liked the practical gore (BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD!), ambivalent towards the super cheesy CGI splatter nonsense, it was bad but also.... it was a little fun. It was a little fun to see those eyeballs go everywhere.

Like the alteration to make the protagonist a photographer and give him a girlfriend, it helped pad out the short story in a way that had me pleasantly engaged, this may be entirely because I like when disheveled scruffy white men go crazy in movies. Need a girlfriend to be there like "babe what's wrong you're being consumed by your weird obsession with this guy, babe pls :(" I'm down with the way that Mahogany had a sixth sense and especially liked how it tied him to Leon. They were vibing in nemeses together.

Deeply disappointed to have no giant lovecraftian horror at the end. I don't think I liked the ending all that much? The conductor was ok, but it's more enjoyable to have whatever the fuck was in the short story. And that little film fight setpiece area was so cool! All nasty and bone covered, you should have just slapped a shadowed horror in there to deliver your expository dialogue about

I feel like you lose something having movie!Leon completely consumed by the Butcher role, it's more fun in the short story where like, the City Fathers are this huge revelation about him understanding the city and finding super fucked up meaning in his life. They set this up at the beginning of the film! It's all about movie!Leon's desire to understand the city and see it and he does by the end! But it cost him everything! But like, idk it's a little goofy to see him wear the suit and do the thing with his hair, especially when you know he's not like, all gone personality wise because of the photo. Idk too much emphasis on him losing his girlfriend (even though I liked her, sorry Maya) by the end, not enough mind-being-blown-by-the-ramifications, especially since the film sort of sets it up like he's being like, supernaturally chosen by the city to do this duty. The little speech went on for a tiny bit too long and the heart thing made me LAUGH and we didn't even get to see him eat it or anything, should have been like a minute longer to lose himself and he should have eaten that heart. ....This isn't weird I'm not being weird about it. <^< I think he should have killed her. It's about being consumed by the thing, you know, becoming a part of the system. He should have been pushed to do that himself would have been more gut wrenching. This is why I like the short story. ANYWAY.

Was very pleased to see so much Clive Barker art in that gallery though. VERY fun little treat for me specifically.

also bless Vinnie Jones he was an absolute gem in this, definitely the star, you will watch it for this man butchering people with a meat cleaver and sitting in his little subway seat like >:I

I think.... I think I've seen all the "core" Clive Barker movies now? I keep forgetting I've seen Rawhead Rex, but I'm pretty sure I've seen Rawhead Rex.

[unforth]

i don't know if you are still into 2ha? but what would you say if someone asked you what makes 2ha stand out? It's full of tropes that have been done before and there is nothing new. it's full of cliches according to some people. So, what makes it stand out?

I am still into 2ha, I'd consider it one of my top fandoms right now.

I'll own I find this whole ask rather odd? It implies that novelty is a. possible and b. what I'm looking for in a book.

For a... Name me a book that isn't full or tropes, name me a book that isn't full of "nothing new," name me a book that isn't full of cliches. Enjoyable books aren't ~original~, and imo original is a myth. It's about how the ideas are strung together, not about them being fresh and different and new.

For b... look. I'm almost 42 years old. I've been reading a ton since I was 8. I've read a l.o.t. over the years. And I've come to learn the things I love in characters and books.

Give me a main character (or, in 2ha, BOTH main characters) who thinks they're worthless and will give everything they have to save an innocent stranger. Give me archetypes of self-sacrifice and martyrdom and low self-esteem and adoration and obsession cooked so deep into their bones that it extends over multiple life times. Give me that adoration reciprocated but the pining, oh, it is mutual for these idiots who should be and will be lovers. I'll eat that up every time. Give me someone who thinks they're unlovable but loves the world anyway, and give me someone who loves them so much they'll tolerate the claws.

Give me epic length I can sink my teeth into. Make the plot sprawling, the side characters lush, the world developed. It's okay if some parts drag a little, it's hard to keep momentum over an epic, and one person's "that dragged" is another's "that rocked." Anyway, the slow bits makes the more exciting parts that much more thrilling.

Give me whump, and hurt/comfort, and pain that burns the soul. Make the characters deep and compelling and then confront them with nothing but bad choices, force them to pick... and then see them pick each other, everytime, even in the midst of the darkest night imaginable. Give me unreliable narrators and angst and characters with nobility that shines like the sun even when they're covered in shit.

I adored this kind of story when I was 12 and I started the Wheel of Time and fell in love with Rand al'Thor, and I adore this kind of story now, in Tian Guan Ci Fu and The Husky and His White Cat Shizun and Modu. The patterns in the kinds of books I enjoy most, the ones that make me feral and obsessed, are very consistent, and being Old means I know what those patterns are and I can seek out books that have them, and recognize them when I find them again. It's happening with the book I'm reading now, in fact, and I can feel the feral obsession growling in delight in my brain, lmao.

Ya know how some people go into fanfiction because they love a character and want to see iterations of them over and over a little to the left? Well, that's why I started fanfic, and through fic I found a genre of original fiction that does that for me. I want similar character archetypes in endless iterations of stories, and danmei gives that to me, and that's why I'm up to my nose in danmei fandoms, and why the specific ones I like best are my favorites.

What stands out about 2ha, for me, is that it fits my taste in character archetypes and plot type. If someone out there shares that taste, they'll probably also love it. If they don't share that taste, they may not, but they may, because it's a complex enough book to cater to more than just one specific type of taste. Someone who likes OP control fantasies will also probably like it, for example. I wouldn't recommend it to everyone, and that's not a bad thing. Stories that appeal to everyone tend to be shallow and not attract deep obsession, having sacrificed the depth to draw a wider audience.

Anyway, anon...you phrased this like an anti. 80% of your ask is trashing the book on false premises about tropes and cliches. I genuinely can't tell if this is meant as a troll or if it's sincere, but I've answered as if it's sincere. But regardless, you'll be a lot happier as a reader if you forget originality. Books aren't original. Find an author, genre, series, whatever, that fits your taste, and frolic there. That's the route to happy reading.

I've found mine. I hope you find yours.

[pixelatedraindrops]

RAINCODE 4KOMA COMIC PROJECT

Next page

This is another project that I'm currently working on with @kazinsblog! We adore makoyuma and they're our number one faves.

So we decided to make a little 4koma style side special of Kazin's mini series "The Kanai Ward Case Files"

This intro is the only normal comic in this story.

Prologue: Flu season hits worldwide, and Makoto calls Yuma one day and gives him the warning. Yuma notices his congested voice so he wants to head to to Kanai Ward to check on him. But meanwhile, Yuma is trying his best to hold his cough as he talks on the line. Only to suffer the fit after Makoto hangs up. He isn't well either.

When Yuma arrives in Kanai Tower finding Makoto completely disheveled and passed out at his work desk, he ushers the stuffy CEO to bed. The two were shown pushing themselves while being sick alone. But now that they're together, these stubborn workaholics will finally rest and break from their duties in order to take care of each other. (for the most part anyway)

further information below

Of course since I'm involved in this project, they're obviously not going to be doing well... XD But this story is going to be a lot more fun and lighthearted than others I have written. (It's essentially written in a silly sick filler episode of a cartoon kind of vibe) meaning less whump, and more sick comfort and hilarity. There may be a few somewhat whumpy ones here and there (I can't resist) but it won't be as common.

Full Story Summary:

This RainCode fan side story revolves around slice of life comedy 4koma style strips with scenes of Yuma and Makoto being sick together and spending time with each other in Kanai Tower for about a week or two. They both have different halves of cold symptoms, Yuma with throat based, and Makoto with nasal based. (hence the title) Various cute and wacky stuff happen between the two and their bond grows stronger spending this time off together away from their duties as detective and CEO. They may be sick and miserable, but at least they're in it together! What could possibly go wrong?

The comic strips will be drawn by Kazin, but there will be some bonus art that the two of us will work on together (similar to the title which was a collab by us both)

Also, both of us agreed that these strips should be posted on my blog rather than Kazin's. Reason being is that this story is based on illness and my blog is half an illness blog so it makes more sense to share it to mine. You all likely expect this sort of thing from me at this point anyway… XD (I’m also the director so I write the descriptions of them.)

And this series will continue to be ongoing so long as Kazin and I have ideas. (we currently have almost 100 strips planned)

I will update this in separate posts whenever more strips get fully digitally drawn by Kazin whenever she can work on them. With the tag #kanaiwardcasefiles h&h. Some strips will be random, some will be two parters, and some will have a timeline or are connected to others.

We both hope you look forward to this project! There will be a lot of funny and cute moments between these two, so we hope you makoyuma enjoyers are excited!

Also bit of a fun fact: This was inspired by when my mother and I had covid late April 2024. Something similar happened to us, and we each had one cold-like symptom more than the other. (her with coughing and me with congestion) So I thought of this idea for these two!

[staycalmandhugaclone]

If you're new, this all starts with Touch Starved - Echo! You can read this little chunk as a standalone, or head back to the beginning for the full experience!

Febuwhump Day 7

Made to Watch – OC Medic & TBB

Warnings: Get yuh whump here! Fresh, violent whump! Explicit details of torture and physical injuries, blood and minor gore, broken bones, near death, language.

WC: 2795

“I’m beginning to think… going on missions a-alone with you… is a bad i… idea… think-think we’re c… cursed.” The strangled words broke on stuttered gasps, wincing as my diaphragm jerked in a desperate attempt for breath, sending daggers burring through my ribs. Hunter kneeled a mere handful of meters beside me, chained to the floor in clear view of where I hung, metal shackles bound so high above my head, I had to stretch onto my toes to offer some relief to already bleeding wrists.

“I’ll get you out of here, Doc.” He promised, and my heart ached at the guilt and sorrow in his voice.

“Hmm…” I grumbled, eyes sliding shut beneath a listless frown, “…nose itches.” When he didn’t respond, I cracked an eye to just peak down at him, brow raising expectantly. The shock on his face was worth the fresh hurt that shot through my side from the huffed chuckle, and he offered an exasperated sigh, lips just twitching into a weary smile.

The base was supposed to be abandoned. We’d only been sent in to preform a final sweep for abandoned tech or data, maybe take out the occasional forgotten droid. The unexpected subterranean weapons cache and full garrison of mechanical and biological soldiers guarding it had taken us all by surprise. By the time we realized what we’d stumbled into, however, we’d already split into three groups, and the number of guns aimed at the two of us forced us to submit, relieved only in the knowledge that the other four were still free.

The chagrian in charge of our interrogation assumed I’d be the weak link and spent the following hour trying to manipulate Hunter into revealing our squadmate’s location by sicking a B2 battle droid on me. The sound of ribs cracking beneath that metal fist kept echoing in my mind, but I held my tongue, and so did he, needing only a shared look to ensure I hadn’t reached my breaking point until they finally left.

“Think they’ll… opt f-for strealth?” I mumbled absently, eyes sliding shut once more, “Or… just sho-shoot their way i-in?”

“I think you need to stop trying to talk.” He replied bluntly, but the concern in his words was clear. I mockingly mouthed his words in silence, lips twisted in a slight scowl, earning a quiet growl from the man beside me. “Might be a bit of both.” He finally sighed, entertaining my wonderings, “Try for stealth until that doesn’t work, then we’ll be lucky if there’s enough leftover of the base to still get any intel from.” Without bothering to look at him again, I merely gave a small grin. Even without their leader, those four were a terrifying force to be faced with. If not for the knowledge that they were already working towards our rescue, I may have broken long ago, but I knew it was only a matter of time before they reached us.

-

The violent clang of metal slamming against metal ripped me back to full, agonizing awareness, eyes opening as wide as the swollen flesh would allow as my mind struggled to make sense of the hurt and darkness and cold, body trembling as abused muscles quivered and failed, sending the shackles digging deeper into the ruined skin around my wrists. The hatred burning through Hunter’s eyes was the first thing I saw before following his gaze to the smug, sooty-blue face of the chagrian. Flaking smears of blood still stained the fists of the droid following obediently at his heels. Scowling against the pulsing torture bursting up my side with each shallow breath, I forced myself to stand upright before him.

“I do hope you’ve found your stay enjoyable thus far, for I fear what comforts we’ve allotted you have, unfortunately, expired.” He nearly cooed, overly pleased with himself. “You see: my immediate supervisor has decided that giving up whatever comprises the remainder of your… squad… will no longer be sufficient given your lack of cooperation. Now, I must insist you share with us the access code to Republican military communication frequencies.” A scoff barked from what mockery of a smile I managed to pull split, swollen lips into.

“Very well.” The Separatist sneered and turned his attention to Hunter as the towering machine stalked toward me. “And you? Just a couple words, and you could save your friend here from any additional… unpleasantries.” The Sergeant didn’t move beyond the ebb and flow of heavy breaths, knuckles gleaming from where his hands pulled uselessly at his restraints.

There was no preceding warning before the droid rammed its fist directly into the epicenter of agony bursting through my side with each shallow breath. The air fled me in a barked cry, stomach churning at the crunch of bone. My feet scraped vainly atop the stone floor, body panicked between the sharp hurt tearing through my wrists, the terrible wrongness of ribs grinding at each trembled shutter of muscle, and the fire of lungs screaming for air.

Twice more the droid struck me, the first wrapping around to hit my kidney before it swung its leg up to crack against the side of my thigh. I couldn’t even try to relieve the weight from my hands, torso seizing amidst panicking nerves, abs convulsing in some desperate fight to guard the too exposed flesh, head hanging limp to my chest as my mind raced to make sense of the wrongwrongwrong.

“Shall we try this again?” I barely heard the haughty words, belatedly managing to lift my gaze just enough to find Hunter. The entirely of his attention was locked on me, and I could see fear in those eyes. I wasn’t a clone. I wasn’t trained for this. He couldn’t anticipate my limits, and I saw the dread of that unknown, but I also knew he wouldn’t cave. I knew how it would kill him to put me through the coming torture, but still, he wouldn’t cave. So, I took that choice away from him.

“…don’t… d-don’t you dare….” The shattered words only just escaped on fluttering gasps, almost too quiet even for my own ears to catch, but he heard me. I was certain he heard me. “I can… I…” My diaphragm seized, body wilting beneath each desperate attempt to force air into my lungs. Unfazed, the droid drove its fist into my stomach once more, slamming my back against the durasteel bricks behind me. Chest convulsing in a futile plea for breath, I struggled to exist beyond the burning suffocation, the relentless sensation of warmth slipping down my arms and chin, the sharp taste of iron… Even as darkness threatened the edges of my vision, loathing the way the room spun and stretched out before me, I sought those umber eyes, intent on willing the words I hadn’t managed to say into the look shared between us.

When that metal fist stuck my jaw, I couldn’t bring myself to do more than just keep my eyes open, blindly staring into the swirling shadows. I think Hunter was shouting - vaguely recognized curses that would have made Crosshair smirk. Wait… Hunter shouldn’t be saying anything at all… I vaguely remembered that little tidbit – it’s easier to keep from giving in during an interrogation if you keep perfectly silent. Even shouting insults opens the potential to accidentally yield. Hunter wouldn’t be that sloppy… He was shouting for a reason. My lips twisted into a grin, the faintest wheeze just managing to grind down my throat. His brothers were close.

My vision went white, mind replaying the deafening, wet thud over and over before finally registering the pain swelling into a dense ball near my left eye. Ringing. Spinning.

“Tell me the codes.” Pressure… my thigh… locking around where that damn droid kicked me. I vaguely felt my body jerk, but that hold only tightened. A choked whimper caught in my throat. Tighter. “The codes.” My other leg dragged against the floor. Tighter.

“You kriffing coward! I’m the one with the karking codes! Let them go!” Panic drew me back from the fringes of unconsciousness. Run. Run. Run. Couldn’t see, wide eyes blinded by the hurt and fear as my body strained against that relentless grip. Tighter. Already broken gasps grew frantic, escaping in fleeting grunts of pain. Every cell screamed at me to do something, limbs lashing out for anything that might grant me some hope of escape, writhing violently.

I didn’t hear the raw cry tear from my throat. I barely even felt the molten heat shooting up the limb in rhythmic bursts. It was the sound that consumed me. That deafening crunch. It reverberated through my body on repeat. Again. And again. And again. Marking a lapse in time, some terrible disconnect between my mind and reality.

Muted. From across some great distance, I felt the concussion of an explosive, saw the door blow inward several feet as the pale blue chagrian spun around with terror in his eyes; heard the whir of gears as the B2 crumbled beneath a volley of blasterfire just as it began to turn.

“I’m fine, dammit! Help Doc!” The fury in Hunter’s shouted words drew my gaze lazily toward him, body falling, sinking, fading…

“…-ake. Come on, Doc; need you to stay with us.” Something cool… my cheek… I think someone was touching me. I tried to find them; vaguely certain I was able to make out the deep concern in Echo’s pale face seconds before a pressure send sharp pain pouring through my side. I was barely able to flinch, some choked huff of a whimper fleeing me in staggered gasps.

“-ribs, and I presume that femur as well.” That meticulous, calculating tone was a strange comfort despite my inability to gather enough strength to search for the brilliant pilot amidst the distorted shadows. “I’ll need to split the leg before we can retreat.”

“Where’s Wrecker?” Hunter… I felt myself fading, existing only in the echo of their rushed voices.

“Clearing a path to the surface for us.” The arc answered. I think he moved away from me, vaguely aware that I couldn’t feel the ever-present chill of his hand against my cheek anymore. A moan caught in my throat as something shifted ever so gently against my thigh, but, when that touch suddenly constricted, locking the limb straight with a merciless swiftness, I could make no sound beyond the faintest wheeze, muscles seizing throughout my body before finally collapsing into weak, shallow sobs.

“Okay, we can open these restraints, now.” Tech stated, voice stiff. I didn’t see who retrieved the key from the chagrian’s corpse, couldn’t remember even seeing how the man had died, but, when that sharp metal pulled away from the broken flesh, it rekindled a hurt nearly forgotten amidst the overwhelming agony of my leg, my ribs, the throbbing heat of my face…

Sporadic fits left my arms twitching as someone carefully guided them down to my sides, and my back arched against the hurt grinding through my shoulders. I couldn’t keep track of each touch, barely aware of several hands supporting me until I lay trembling on the stone floor.

“There is little we can do for their ribs without the proper equipment.” Tech warned, words floating meaninglessly overhead.

“If we move them like this…” Hunter started to argue.

“Better than staying here.” Cross… I hadn’t realized he was with them until hearing the reluctance in his voice.

“Alright… Echo, keep that leg stable.” Something shuffled beside me.

“Doc? Hey-hey; come on back.” Something brushed gently through my hair, dragging my attention reluctantly into some tattered facsimile of focus. “Gotta get you out of here.” Hunter… I was certain the blurred figure looming over me was Hunter. “I know it hurts, but I need you to try to stay awake, okay?” Words… what was he saying? The tender movement against my scalp was a blissful comfort when everything else hurt so much. That touch slipped down the back of my head, my neck until his arm eased itself beneath my shoulders, wrenching a small gasp of pain from me as the movement shifted my side.

“I know… I know, but we have to move.” He murmured, easing me further up against his chest. My hand darted out, fingers clawing weakly at the sleek fabric of his blacks, unable to gather enough strength to do more than tremble against him, broken whimpers catching on faltering breaths. His other hand slipped beneath my knees, and I turned into him, face hiding against his neck at the realization of what was happening.

My throat closed around the beginnings of a scream as he stood, Echo’s hand carefully steadying my leg with a firm grip just above my knee. In the same motion, Hunter leaned back, letting my weight rest atop his chest more so that in his arms. What sliver of relief it granted from easing the pressure away from that ruined thigh barely registered, body revolting against still panicking nerves and the agony that position sowed through my ribs.

He didn’t wait for me to settle, gait smooth despite the speed of his movements. Through some distorted mockery of consciousness, I saw Crosshair running beside us, rifle strangely mute even as bloom of fire shot from the long barrel. Couldn’t breathe. Tech fell in behind us, while Echo moved to take point. Some whisper of logic told me I should be afraid. The massive silhouette of Wrecker loomed ahead of us, arms swinging to direct us through the maze of hallways. I felt my chest try to move but couldn’t draw even a whisper of air into lungs crushed beneath uncooperative ribs, and I knew I should be afraid. Hunter’s gait faltered, and I thought for a moment I heard my name.

Something warm whispered over my face. Sunlight. He was screaming. I could feel the vibrations in his chest. My side didn’t hurt as badly anymore; my leg barely a distant annoyance as I eased into the comfort of his strength, the subtle earthiness of his scent. If I focused, I could just feel the thudding of his heart. It was quick, but it was familiar. I just had to focus on that… Not the chorus of panicked shouting, nor that lingering sense that something was terribly wrong… just listen to that gentle th-thud…th-thud…

-

“Doc?” I didn’t want to answer him, didn’t want to fight the terrible heaviness of my eyelids, but I couldn’t stand the depth of worry in that voice. I couldn’t convince my left eye to move, but I just managed to crack the right, frowning weakly at the blurred colors and gleaming lights. Almost instantly, that light dimmed, and a tiny sigh of relief fluttered over swollen lips. Slowly, I noted the short-kept mess of silver curls… couldn’t make out anything more, but I didn’t need to.

“C… Cr”

“Shh.” Hearing that gentle hush in his raspy voice was nearly enough to ease me back into a blessed sleep. I didn’t want to sleep yet. I wanted to rid him of that worry, but it took every fleeting whisper of strength I had to keep that eye from slipping closed once more. “You took a pretty bad beating. Do you remember what happened?” I thought over his words for a long while, chasing flitting thoughts in some futile hunt to answer him. My head just shifted in a nod. I remembered the hidden base, being captured with Hunter… the droid. Brows pulling together in a weak cringe at the very memory of it, I had to fight not to let my attention wander to those injuries, vainly straining against the urge to tense even a single muscle to test the validity of that fear.

“Yeah.” He sighed. Something moved between us, paused in a moment of hesitation before finally reaching forward. The tenderness of his touch, fingertips only just whispering atop my hair nearly ruined me, shuttered breath escaping me as my eye closed in contentment. Encouraged, he carefully let his palm rest against me, thumb sweeping slowly against the balmy skin of my forehead.

“We’ll be back at Kamino soon.” He murmured before letting some of that familiar venom return to his voice. “You’re supposed to be our medic. Not much good to us if you keep trying to get yourself killed.” I could feel myself beginning to fade, but managed to look for him once more, just finding that brilliant flush of amber, and he stilled beneath my gaze. I wanted to tell him that I’d suffer through this and so much more if it meant keeping them safe, but the thought barely whispered through my mind before falling back into the emptiness of sleep.

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[whumppmuhw]

Whumptober Day 31: Crying, truth serum*

tw: restraints, choking, magical whump, noncon drugging (sort of? forcing someone to drink a potion), interrogation, betrayal, torture mention

*alternate prompt

Halloween whump!

...

Whumper sat down at the small table with a bag of candy. He dropped it on the table with a thump, catching Whumpee's attention.

Whumpee's eyes went wide, and he started salivating. The food Whumper had given him was so bland, and he bet the candy tasted like heaven.

"Oh, this caught your eye?" He chuckled, and grabbed a piece. "I love Halloween. Trick or treat, Whumpee?"

"Treat...?" he answered hesitantly, knowing full well that none of Whumper's games ever ended well. He was extremely aware of the ropes digging into his skin, keeping him from grabbing the bag of candy and feasting on it.

"Good choice." Whumper was unwrapping the candy painfully slowly, making it known to Whumpee every second of his enjoyment. He popped the small chocolate in his mouth, with an "Mmmmm" and a "Ohh, that's good." Chewing it slowly and thoroughly, watching as Whumpee's mouth gaped.

He couldn't take watching it anymore, thought he knew he probably shouldn't. "May I-may I have a piece?"

He looked at Whumpee thoughtfully.

"...please?"

"Sure, why not. Open wide." He walked over to Whumpee, wrapper in hand, and shoved it down Whumpee's throat.

He started choking and sputtering, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. His throat started to burn, and he tried desperately to get the wrapper out.

Whumper grabbed another candy to unwrap, dropping the confections in one hand and shoving the wrapper into Whumpee's throat, pushing the first down again with it.

He coughed up the wrappers and pushed them out with his tongue, tears flowing down his face. "Y-you can stop now," he sobbed when the worst of the choking stopped. "I don't want any more candy-" His voice hitched on a cough, and Whumper backed away.

"Okay, then." He popped the candies in his mouth and picked another piece from the bag. Whumpee was relieved to watch him place the wrapper on the table. "You said you wanted a treat, so how about something to wash it down?" He pulled out a small glass vial from inside his jacket. The vial itself was beautiful, with its faceted sides and smooth curves, but the liquid it carried was a gorgeous bright green.

He didn't trust Whumper, but he couldn't struggle as Whumper unplugged the vial and poured its contents into his mouth. He swallowed, not wanting to anger Whumper by spitting it out and wasting it.

He sat down again, picking up a clipboard and pen he kept in the room. "Halloween is a great time, for things like witches and spells and potions. That lovely little drink was a gift from my friend, and her work is quite magical."

He had heard rumors of witches in his area, but no one had ever dared to interfere with one; they were too powerful, too unpredictable.

"Let's see how well she did. How did your colleagues infiltrate this place?"

"They briefly stole a key so they could copy it, and entered on a night when nobody, including the janitor, was working there. Our hacker took down the cameras from our base so they could move freely." It was a question he would have never answered. Yet it slipped so easily off of his tongue, and he couldn't stop it. He immediately felt deep pangs of guilt and regret and bit the inside of his lip.

"Wonderful," he stated, jotting down notes. "The truth serum seems to be working great."

Truth serum? Oh no, oh no no no. Fuck, I don't wanna betray everyone!

"Let's continue-"

"No, I don't want to continue, I'd be betraying my friends- well, I think of them as friends, I really don't know how they feel about me. Oh, and I really don't want to let down the guy I like, he doesn't know I'm bi, but I really like him and hope he'll go out with me. Plus, they're all I have, if they kicked me out I'd have nowhere to go, they've been helping me pay my rent." What am I saying?

"Ha! This is much better than I thought it would be. Look on the bright side, Whumpee, you keep this up and maybe I won't have to torture you anymore for answers."

"Honestly, part of me would be okay with that, I hate torture, and I'm so scared of you. But I want to stay loyal to my friends, and I don't want answers to just roll off my tongue, like the way-"

"Whumpee, that's enough," he said sharply, cutting Whumpee off. "Let's get back on track. I want to squeeze as much out of you as I can while this dose lasts. Why, exactly, did your team want to break in?"

Here we go.

[measuringbliss]

Spider-Man Read-Through 006: Spider-Man No More (The Kingpin is Here!)

MASTERPOST

Issues 50 to 52!

Peter makes me sad, man. But I think we reached the whump minimal quota!

Once again, MJ is great. She's a great character!

I feel like it's often overlooked, but Peter Parker is a stud. He's a stud! It's a part of the character. He's not just cute, he's not just handsome, he's hot. I think it's part of his appeal. Everybody wants to be Peter's friend/lover (among the readers!), or they aim to be like him. He's a model.

It's the second time in two issues that May and Anna go to the movies, they're just like me (gay and fond of movies)!

Gorgeous panels.

This issue is interesting in that we get to really see what impact Peter has on New Yorkers' lives, and we get some nice material. Having seen Spider-Man 2, there's moments where I thought "huh, that's neat". However, I really couldn't care less about the mafia B-plot. And as it happens...

Issue 51 is just about that. And it's only now that I'm noticing it's the first appearance of the Kingpin! His design is the best part of the character - although his version in Into the Spider-Verse is enjoyable.

Foswell is a very intriguing character, with his notable design. I had to check to see if he'd actually appeared as the Big Man and yes! I think I didn't read issue 10, I must have started skipping around 8. I wanted him to appear more, because I wanted to see what he'd do. However, my check also spoiled me on what happens next issue...

Foswell's involvement in the mob plot gives a bit of screentime to Ned Leeds, who's also a favorite of mine at least partly to his pretty little face. No wonder Betty married him in no time, I would have done the same!

In other news, MJ and Gwen are just as savage to each other as usual. "Gwendolyne"? Mary Jane is *not* kidding.

Aside from Foswell himself, the plot isn't exactly entertaining... at least, until the mob gets to Jameson. Now THIS is fun!

This is a great final panel.

And to open the last chapter, two great pages!

And amazing colors!

And outstanding advertisement!

And moving friendships!

I love the first panel.

So Foswell dies, sacrificing himself to protect Jameson because he was grateful for him. This is a very compelling character arc.

So what could have been a dud ended up being very fun! It's been fascinating to observe Foswell in the last two issues - he's what made the mob plot interesting! Of the three issues, my favorite was definitely the last one. It's colorful, it's emotional, it's funny, it's amazing!

Next time: Dr Octopus?!

Hey guys, remember when he tried to marry Aunt May? Hmm, it's in a few years, isn't it? Oh well, let's hope it's just as goofy!

[whumpzone]

Oooh what are your thoughts on another sick fic drabble except Col is sick this time and trying to hide it to not get in trouble?

-whumpingwithaquestionableauthor

Anon asked: Could we see a drabble of Col coming down with an illness with Linden? Maybe panicking for not being at his best? Or just completely dazed and having fever induced flashbacks/hallucinations?

CW: illness, pet whump, dehumanisation, references to past nonc0n. I'm writing this with minimal medical knowledge lol. also Col doesn't do much hiding here but it's deffo still a sick fic!

-

It was half nine. Col never slept in. Most days Linden would practically trip over the kneeling boy outside his bedroom, wishing him a good morning. He rapped his knuckles on Col's bedroom door three times.

"You alright, love?"

He hoped that the door would swing open, and he'd see a scared, newly-woken Colton. But already, dread was starting to fill his stomach, drip by drip. After a few seconds and with still no answer, he tried again.

"It's alright, I'm not angry. Just- just missing you a bit, downstairs."

Was that the right thing to say? Was that adding extra pressure? Fuck's sake, was essentially he telling Col he wasn't allowed a shred of time to himself? The self-doubt that haunted him day in day out was something he hadn't prepared for when he first decided to take Col in.

"I'm just going to open the door, I have to check on you, okay?"

He pushed it open, slowly. Giving Colton lots of time to react.

Oh, no. Col was huddled under his duvet, folded so tightly that for a few seconds Linden thought the bed was empty. He could hear shallow, rasping breaths, punctuated by keening whimpers.

"Col?" Linden said, quietly. "What's wrong, love?"

To his relief, Col shifted just a tiny bit, and croaked out a reply. "I'm... I'm sorry, Sir, I'm-"

A coughing fit put a stop to his words. "-I'm f-fine, I'm really sorry for, for my laziness, uhn-"

"Whoa, you sound sick as a dog. Can I come in?"

In the dim light, he saw Col nod. Linden laid his palm over Col's forehead, making him flinch away with a gasp.

"It's okay, I'm just feeling your temperature. You need to rest up. I'll get you some water. I'll be right back."

"N-no, please, I c-can get up I promise, I'm sorry I'm really sor-ry..." Col whimpered. It was clearly paining him to speak so much, but fear was pushing him on. His eyes were dizzy and unfocused.

"I'm not angry," Linden murmured, but he was starting to doubt if Col could even hear him.

"Why... why am I o-on a bed?"

Linden frowned in surprise. "Well, it's your bed. You can stay here until you feel better."

This was the wrong answer. Something seemed to snap inside Col, sending out the last bit of energy he had, as he clumsily tried to sit up and press his hands together. His face was a picture of crushing despair.

"Then... then please Master, please don't... don't invite your friends, I can't... please may it just be you?"

It still made Linden recoil, being called Master, but that was nothing compared to the disgust that came with Col's words. His old owner had had friends over? How many? The thought of a group of sick perverts, all there to have their enjoyment with Col's body, thundered through his mind and made him want to scream. He couldn't believe the things Colton had been through. And there was so much still to discover, he was sure. As Linden tried to figure out what the fuck to say in reply, Col's eyes wandered around the room.

"I've not been here before. I don't... see any restraints, Master?"

Col's head was in another place. He wasn't seeing Linden, he wasn't present at all. For some reason, Linden blurted out, "I trust you, that's why."

The fear on his face receded, just a little bit. His body finally gave up on trying to hold his sitting position and he sank back down, his knees tucked against his stomach.

"You always said you'd train the- the defiance out of me."

Linden's heart could have burst. Col was right, even from within his strange hallucinatory world. He didn't have an ounce of defiance left.

[titconao3]

13, 19, 40 - for the writer/fanfic ask :)

For this set of questions ^_^

13. What is your planning process? Eeeerrrr. i'm more of a... plantser, i think is the technical term ;-) i know the general idea and end point, but little details that turn into bigger plot points happen as i write, so i can't really plan much - it's the writing itself that will give me the meat. When i start off, i only have the general stick figure of the story, as seen from afar in the dark without wearing glasses ;-)

This is also why i write linearly: one little thing, a little detail (idk, the colour of char A's socks) will come up again and become #meaningfulTM later, and i can't foresee that early on in the process. Planning stuff would be pointless, because the story grows organically and will ignore what i plan anyway (it's a big reason why i dislike detailed scenario prompts: i think my brain chugs in the background and suddenly pops an idea at me on the page all by itself, but i'm not conscious of it until the words are Right There in front of my eyes; if i have to follow something another brain plotted, then mine just freezes and sulks and whines "what's the poinnnnnnt" ;-) Okay, yeah, sure, i do go back and add sock colour later on to tighten a plot point/foreshadow etc, but the idea is that a tiny word-butterfly will create big word-storms later on :D This is also why i don't post WIPs: something that comes up may need me to edit previous bits.

If i have extra notes, ideas, scene outlines, mid-way beats to hit, or bits of dialogue for a later part, i just jot it all down at the bottom of my document (i write in a word processor that's synced with an online drive, no fancy Writing Software For Fancy Writers for me. i'm basic ;-). i don't write out the entire scene / dialogue in advance, because it would be futile; by the time i get there i'd need to rewrite most of it anyway. And i might get bored and not feel like connecting the prewritten bits ;-) especially if it means rewriting everything as i go because it doesn't fit as well as it would if it had flown more organically from one part to another. (i've tried it, and it's not for me; it works for others!)

19. Dead or overused tropes? Oh my, there is no such thing as a dead or overused trope :D it's all about what you do with it! Play it straight, have a coffee shop AU but IN SPACE, take a common fanon characterization and twist it just so... i'll even sometimes take tropes i don't really like just to see how i can do them in a way i can stomach (one day, one day, i'll do a Soulmates AU. i find the premise a bit creepy when it's played twu wuv 4realz, but one day i'll play with that). (no shade on Soulmates AU lovers; kink tomato and all that!)

It's not like storytelling hasn't been using and reusing Coming Of Age, Revenge, Hero vs Fate, Fuck You God(s), etc patterns since, uh, forever. It's not the fact they're used that makes something enjoyable or not. *slaps Star Wars' hood* this baby can fit so many tropes in there! (This example is Just For You, Beguile, because i'm not much into SW ;-)

And, look. You'll have to pry hurt/comfort and whump from my cold dead hands ;-)

The only times i find something (trope, pattern... call it what you will) overused are when i see the themes, rhythms, expressions, words, obsessions that come up again and again in my own work. i see them only too well, and i fight them, and they always win in the end. They probably say too much about me, too! And then i angst about being predictable (@vulnerasanenturmyprince KEN FOLLET), boring, etc. (And then i go read fics that hit the buttons i want hit again and again)

40. Do you have any rituals before uploading a fic? Uh, rituals... it's usually fretting around the title, tags, and summary ;-) i rarely have the title early on, and i think for the summary it's happened... once? (out of, as of the time of answering this, over 160 published fics). No special underwear or whatnot for me. And fretting about how it's The Worst Fic Ever and how i Can't Write Anymore and Should Just Stop but i just need to chuck it on the good ole AO3 so i stop tinkering and quite possibly making it worse.

i try not to worry about feedback because it's pointless, which means i worry about feedback - by which i don't mean Comment Or Else, but that i write and publish (and organize events) to be part of the fandom community and squee with my fellow fen: as my AO3 profile says, to me, fandom is connection!

Thank you, @beguilewritesstuff :-)

[kim-ruzek]

Something's gone terribly wrong

Summary: Adam's gone missing, and looking at his phone records makes intelligence discover something very interesting. An alternative way for Kim and Adam's relationship could've been found out.

Or; Kim and Adam learn the true meaning of family.

Warnings: alludes to (canon-typical) violence, alludes to sex/talks about sex, Bob Ruzek's A+ parenting, blood mentions, Adam whump.

Word Count: 17.2k words

Read on AO3

Notes: SO. This all started because I got drunk and made drunken notes on fic ideas, and then when I was sober, Cíara convinced me that I Needed to write it. Originally, this was only meant to be a silly, short little thing but it's become so much more. This is basically a love letter to Adam and Kim, and how much they're respected and loved by intelligence.

I hope y'all like it!!! I'm so, so proud of this so I really hope you get some enjoyment out of it! I've only put the first 4k words on here, the rest you'll have to read on AO3. I've linked it here and at the bottom of this post!!!

Alvin Olinsky had known Hank Voight for all of their respective careers, most of their peers knowing that they often come as a package deal. Even IAB, if the fact that when Voight got out of prison with his shiny new promotion he was put in charge of intelligence, a unit that Al had been involved in for two years previous after leaving the gang unit, is anything to go by.

And yet, like so many of their co-workers, Al’s uncanny ability to blend into the walls and make everyone forget about his presence still affects Voight. It shouldn’t, not when they’ve known each other for years, but at least it explains why Al is known as one of the best undercover operatives, if his nature can even trick one of his oldest friends.

“Once Al gets here--,” Voight’s dolling out the day’s instructions, which is no doubt just to keep on working on their long term drug investigation.

“I’m here,” Al interrupts, rolling his chair out to show. Voight looks at him and the two nod at each other, and then Voight goes to continue.

“But,” Al interrupts again. “My partner isn’t.”

Al indicates at the empty chair opposite to him, as if to show evidence. He had noticed that Adam hadn’t arrived yet. It’s unusual, the young, enthusiastic puppy-like man often making his presence known as soon as he gets through the doors. It’s both an insufferable and endearing quality, and makes it painfully obvious when Adam isn’t here.

Before Voight had came out his office, when the unit was just doing their early morning paperwork, Al had double checked the schedule, to make sure that it isn’t Adam’s day off. It isn’t, and so Al shot off a text to the man. Adam doesn’t have the best time management, although he’s never late, but he can drag his feet a bit. Especially since he got with his new girl he thinks Al doesn’t know about—like Al doesn’t notice the boy’s constant texting, his ever-present good mood and, of course, the clear markings of a lover’s meeting when he’s getting changed.

But Adam had neither replied to his message, nor came barrelling into the bullpen with some quick excuse about traffic, as if he thinks Al can’t see the slight stain of lip-gloss on his lips.

Voight frowns at the empty seat, clearly off put by it as well.

“Has he given a reason?” After Al shakes his head in reply, Voight looks to the others in the unit, specifically at Kevin. If someone is going to know, it would be him.

But Kevin didn’t know, and Adam didn’t respond to his texts either.

It’s been a few hours now, and Adam hasn’t stumbled in with any reason or excuse. They started off only a little concerned, with Jay, Erin and Antonio dismissing that there’s any worry, to the unit being in alert mode, deeply concerned. In their jobs, you don’t just go missing, with no word.

They had checked his desk for his UC phone, to see if he had an impromptu meeting or information, but it still sat in his desk draw. They had then pinged his phone, to see his location, but it was either off or destroyed.

They had done everything. They had checked everything, gone to his apartment to see if he’s home, gone to the last location his phone noted and... nothing. Al was getting increasingly worried by the second, as was the unit.

There is a tenseness in the bullpen, a palatable worry between them all. They’re all thinking the same thing, even if no one’s saying it. That they’ve been investigating some dangerous people, that Adam may be an overgrown child sometimes but he’d always call, that the longer it takes to work this out, the more chance of something bad happening.

“We’re looking at this all wrong.” Erin suddenly says. Everyone turns to face her. “We should approach this like we do a criminal. Get his phone records, try to make a timeline of his movements, talk to whoever he’s been in contact with.”

There’s an instant agreement in the room, and they immediately get on that. It feels wrong getting the records of one of their own, to even consider to look at who Adam’s been calling, texting. But it’s necessary, necessary to invade his privacy if they’re to work out where he’s gone.

Unfortunately, the calls don’t reveal much. Apart from the standard calls and messages to the unit, a couple to his dad, most of his calls and texts were to one Kayla, the girl who from context of the texts is the girl he’s seeing.

“This is useless, it tells us nothing,” Al grumbles, not even bothering to keep the frustration out of his voice. Adam is missing, potentially hurt, in danger, and they’re wasting time looking at Adam’s lovey-dovey sickening messages to this girl. It does nothing but make him even more frustrated (and maybe a little hurt that this girl and Adam seem serious, and yet Adam hasn’t mentioned her to him and maybe they’re not as tight as Al thought and if they don’t find him quick, he’ll never get to ask).

“Except that Ruzek’s got a girl he’s been keeping from us.” Jay jokes, and Al fixes him a glare. This is not the time for jokes, even if Al knows Jay is just as worried. The rest of the team seem to appreciate Jay’s attempt at easing the tenseness in the room, Al notes, as he looks around at everyone—even Voight, because the fact that the team still feels like cracking a joke to ease tension means they have hope and in situations like this, hope is good.

All except Kevin, that is. The officer is too engrossed in looking at the messages to hear. He’s frowning, some confusion or questioning look upon his face. Al wonders what’s got his focus, if there’s something about the messages that he’s noticed that every one else has missed. Kevin and Adam are good friends, Al supposes if anyone is going to notice something off, it’s him.

But Kevin doesn’t say anything, merely shaking his head and looking away from the messages and back at the team, awaiting someone to suggest their next move. They’re not waiting long, as almost right after, Antonio speaks.

“Let’s call this Kayla. If something is up with the boyfriend, the girlfriend usually knows.” Antonio suggests. It’s a good idea, and Al kicks himself, thinking that he really should’ve thought of it first. Maybe because the thought of talking to this girl hurts something inside him, because she’s someone Adam didn’t want Al to meet. But he needs to stop thinking like that, stop getting caught up in respect and care, because that’s wasting potentially precious moments of Adam’s life.

“Good idea. We’ll put it on loudspeaker, but Atwater, you talk to this girl. We don’t want to alarm her too much,” Voight commands.

The few seconds it takes to ring feels like the longest seconds of Al’s life. This could be a lead, something that tells them where in the world Adam is, confirming that he hasn’t just dropped off the face of the earth. Al’s feeling some hope, some optimism that maybe they’ll know where Adam is before lunch but then the phone goes to voicemail.

“Please leave a message, I’ll call you back when I can!”

Al feels defeated, as does everyone else by the looks of his unit’s face. It’s just the girl’s voicemail, they can try again, it’s not the end of the world. But it feels like it. Voight’s rubbing his forehead, seeming as frustrated as Al is. It’s silent in the bullpen—but only for a second because then someone, Kevin, is talking.

“There’s our lead, that’s Burgess.”

Kim can’t count how many times she’s seen Platt and immediately wanted to hide, to run, to let the floor swallow her whole. Her Sargent rides you hard, and it’s worth it, but by gods is she terrifying. And if you’ve crossed her, hell would be a safer place. But as Roman and her enter the 21st and Kim sees the formidable desk Sargent, all she feels is relief—because finally, finally, she can get some reprieve from Roman bitching about intelligence.

It has been non-stop since they got the call over the radio to come back to the district, that they’re needed by intelligence. Roman has very clearly made his feelings known about being at the call to the unit, many, many times. Kim’s not sure what’s his problem, if it’s because he has an inferiority complex or superiority complex, or that he has no aim to get into an elite unit such as that but can’t help but resent those who do. But what she is sure of is that if she has to hear his repetitive grumbling thoughts about it again, she might just shoot him. It’s beginning to get to the point that Kim dreads Intelligence deciding to use them, no matter how fun, because it means she’ll have to endure the rant.

Although having to suffer through it might just be worth it if it means her name is being mentioned up there, and to get to see Adam before their evening plans. To get to exchange a subtle look at him, telling him silently just how much she misses him, wants to be with him. To get to have him give her a look, a look of comfort that her being there means she’s had to endure the rant.

Of course, that’s not a reason she’s in any hurry to tell Voight as a reason she likes when he uses them. After all, the reason she’s not up there is because of his archaic rule about in-house dating.

“We’re needed?” Kim gets to Platt’s desk in record time. She thinks she sees a slight smile appear on the desk Sargent’s face at Kim practically rushing to the desk, leaving Roman behind so he had to catch up quickly, but it’s gone before it’s there, and Kim dismisses it, thinking she must be imagining it.

“Yeah. Well you are, but you can take up your partner. You might need it, moral support or whatever.” Platt tells her. Kim opens her mouth, about to protest against the assumption that she’s weak and needs support—especially from an ass like Roman—but Platt silences her before she can, her expression softening ever so slightly as she does so.

“Zip it, Burgess, it’s not a comment on you as a cop. They need you because...Ruzek didn’t sign into work today and they think you might be able to shine some light on the situation.” Platt says, but Kim barely hears the words. How did Adam not sign in, when this morning they were very much headed into work together? He was talking about his paperwork, for god’s sake!

“What more can she tell them that one of them doesn’t know?” Roman chimes in then, complaining. Kim near punches him, having even less patience for him now her mind is reeling with concern for Adam. Platt fixes him a look before looking back at Kim. She leans forward slightly, looking at Kim with concern.

“I believe they looked at his texts. And came to the conclusion that you will know.” Platt softly tells her, before fixing her a very pointed look. It takes Kim a second to realise what she’s on about, but once she does, realising that oh god Voight knows they’re dating, Kim turns a shade of red. Then frowns, because Platt doesn’t seem at all phased. And then she’s blushing even darker because oh god has Platt known all this time?

“Now, go.” Kim has barely any time to process this before Platt is shooing them away, reminding them that upstairs needs them.

Kim walks up the stairs in a daze, barely hearing Roman’s complaining and questions, and the door buzzing as Platt buzzes them in. So much has been put on her, she’s unsure what she should be more shocked at. That Adam’s missing, possibly in danger, or that apparently they haven’t been as careful as she thought, or that Voight knows, everyone knows. And that they know that they’ve been texting under false names.

There’s always a feeling of awkwardness Kim gets when she walks up the stairs and arrives at the bullpen. The unit is elite, and so close and tight, their cases usually having a need to know status, and coming up to that, interrupting that, it can feel very much like you’ve stumbled into a forbidden place, somewhere you don’t belong. And it’s only amplified by Kim really, really wanting to belong.

But nothing has ever felt as awkward as this.

Everyone turns to look at her as soon as she gets up the stairs. The slight mumblings between them falling silent and it feels like one of those dreams where you’re naked, feeling as if everyone can see right through her. Because they all know now, they all know that Adam are her are seeing each other, that they’re being secretive about it, and they’ve read their messages and Kim doesn’t know how much but she knows one of their last messages was their thinly veiled sexting and oh god, what if they’ve read her messages about what she wanted to do to Adam last night—the thing she did do.

Voight’s expression is unreadable, as usual, but Kim doesn’t need to be able to read it to know what he’s thinking. Probably right now there’s just concern for his MIA officer, but after they locate Adam, it’s going to be thoughts about how now Kim will never make it into intelligence. That he might be feeling disappointed in her, because instead of proving she’s serious, she’s just gone and dated Adam on the down low. Never mind that his rule shouldn’t exist or have any impact on his decisions about his officers, but it’s his right to make whatever rule and now Kim’s proven she’s not intelligence material according to those rules.

Halstead is giving her an almost pitying look, with some interest, like he’s wondering how and why it started. Lindsay’s also giving her a sympathetic look, likewise Antonio and not for the first time, Kim feels glad for their presences, it making her feel more at ease.

Kim doesn’t even want to dissect the look that Olinsky’s giving her. And Kevin, oh Kevin. Kim knows exactly what Kevin is thinking just with one glance at his expression. They were partners and they’re best friends; Kim can read him like an open book.

There’s the same worry for Adam as the rest, and he’s also looking at her differently with this new piece of information. But not like the others, because Kevin isn’t just another member of intelligence, he’s he best friend, Adam’s best friend, and they kept this from him. There’s curiosity, questions, a look that tells Kim with no uncertainty that after this is done, after Adam is found, they’re going to have a talk.

“Platt briefed you?” Voight asks. He’s a man of little words, but Kim can’t help but feel like he’s choosing as little words as possible because he, too, is feeling awkward. After all, how do you tell your teammate’s girlfriend her boyfriend is missing, when she’s your colleague and you didn’t know they were together.

Kim manages to nod in answer, wishing so desperately that Adam was here, so she could catch his eye, so she could have him give her a slight, reassuring nod that would immediately put her ease and fill her with confidence. If course, if Adam was here, then this wouldn’t be happening.

“Did Ruzek say anything to you? Tell you where he’d be going?” Voight then asks, and Kim has to take a deep breathe to calm herself before answering. Because the answer isn’t an optimistic one, because the answer makes her worried, because Adam should be here.

“All he was talking about was work. He was going here, we were headed to work together.” Kim tells him, trying to not let her mind spiral with what could’ve happened. From beside her, Roman looks at her, as if piecing together exactly why Kim might know more.

“So you saw him this morning?” Al interjects and Kim blushes as she realises the implications of her words. There’s nothing wrong about it, but Kim isn’t prepared to have to talk about the domesticities of Adam and her lives yet. Kim has barely nodded before Al is speaking again.

“You said you were headed in to work together? So he was here, at the district.” At Al’s question, Kim cringes slightly, that she has to explain their routine.

“I don’t know. We take our own cars most of the time. But... Uh, sometimes we park before getting here to, uh, just say goodbye one more time, and he usually gets here first, but he wasn’t there today. So I just assumed that you got a case so he couldn’t hang around.” If the floor could just open up, that would be great, Kim thinks as she speaks. Never did she think that she’d be having to tell them about Adam and her’s sneaky secret kisses.

Kim thinks Al is about to ask her something else, but Voight steps forward, interrupting him before he can.

“Come on, let’s take this to the interrogation room, for privacy. This is a conversation to be done sat down.” Voight tells her, indicating for her to go down the hall. It’s a nice gesture, and Kim appreciates it, but there’s a part of her that feels like because he’s treating her with care that definitely means this is the final nail in the coffin, that this means she’ll never make intelligence.

Although if that’s the price to pay for Adam to be okay, Kim thinks that’d make it easier to swallow. Adam is the man she loves, a word they told each other a couple months ago, and she couldn’t bare it if he’s not okay.

“If you can, take us through the morning. It’ll be helpful, to establish Ruzek’s mind-set.” Voight asks once they’re sat in the interrogation room. Kim would rather do literally anything else, but she understands that she needs to.

“It was pretty normal. We woke up, got ready for work, had breakfast. We talked about our plans over breakfast—that’s when he was talking about doing his paperwork—and then we were leaving. Nothing was off or wrong, it was just normal.” She wishes something was wrong, so that she could be more help. So they could find him.

“There must be something. Look deeper, go through the morning stage by stage. Break it down. What was his mood like? Was he distracted?” Al asks—or demanded might be a better description. Kim can see the worry, plain and unconcealed on his face. Adam is like a son to him, and she knows how much Adam looks up to him like a father as well, and Kim thinks that he might just be the only other person who gets the spine-chilling fear of Adam being AWOL. The others are worried, of course, but the thought of even a hair of Adam’s being messed in some way is a stomach churning thought.

“His mood was fine. Normal. He wasn’t distracted or anything. If he was, I would’ve asked but he was fine. We were making evening plans and everything!” Kim feels almost as if the room is closing in on her, feeling useless. What kind of girlfriend is she?

“I’m sorry I’m no help,” Kim apologizes, feeling bad. And feeling worse when Voight gives her one of his rare sympathetic and soft looks.

“There’s got to be something. Break down the morning into the times. What time did you get up, leave. Burgess, think.” Al persists. Kim would feel annoyed that he’s doubting her, but she can hear how worried he is, see it. Al has taken off his beanie, looking so drawn and concerned.

“Our alarm went off at six. At around seven, maybe quarter to, we were getting ready. Breakfast was at like, half past. And we were leaving before eight. He was fine throughout the morning, happy. His normal self?” Kim explains. To say Adam was happy would be an understatement, he was full of energy, barely unable to keep his hands off her all morning. Not that she’s going to say that to them.

“How could it go from that to him not turning up to work?” Al vents, and Voight rests a hand on his shoulder. Al turns back to look at her.

“It took you nearly an hour to get out of bed. Why?” He asks, and Kim blushes instinctively, as she remembers the passionate love-making Adam and her had this morning. Subconsciously, her hand goes to rest on her collarbone where, under the fabric of her uniform, is the deep mark Adam left on her.

“We were, uh, having a lazy morning.” Kim answers, wishing ever so much that Adam would just turn up so that this conversation could end. She doesn’t blame Al for not realising why two young lovers might take so long to get out of bed, he’s stressed, but she wishes she didn’t have to expand on it. She watches his face, waiting for the awkward realisation of why occurring to him, but it doesn’t come.

“Lazy? That boy has never been immobile a day in his life. Was he okay? You said he was fine, but why was he being lazy. Was he tired, distracted, upset? Could he have been lethargic, maybe he was drugged?” Al demands and Kim thinks that she must be the colour of a tomato because oh god she’s going to have to spell this out.

“He wasn’t drugged, I’m sure of that.” She says, emphasising her words, hoping to get through Al’s stress. Please, please don’t let her have to tell Adam’s surrogate father that they were having sex.

“How do you know? Burgess, if there’s any chance—” Apparently, this is happening.

“Al, I know because we were having sex, and trust me, he could not do what he did if he was drugged.” Kim’s voice is firm, as she spells it out explicitly, and she’s amazed that it is, that she sounds so strong and sure instead of like a nervous teenager being caught in the act, like she was so certain age would be.

“Oh.” She watches him process her words, everything she was getting at finally dawning onto him. If she’s not mistaken, Al looks as if he’s turning slightly red himself, and he shifts awkwardly. Kim can’t help but feel slight satisfaction in making him feel as awkward as she does—even if, preferably, none of them would’ve had to endure this.

“I think.. I’m going.” Al uncharacteristically stumbles over his words, not wasting any time getting out of the room. Kim wonders if he’ll be ever able to look at her ever again.

“Thank you, I know that wasn’t easy. But now we know something must’ve happened on Ruzek’s way to work.” Voight stands up himself, signalling that this conversation is over. Kim feels relief, briefly, as it’s then quickly overtaken by her worry for Adam.

And before she knows it, she’s blurting out words. “I want to help you. Find him. Please, he’s... I need to help.”

She has no right asking this. But she couldn’t stop herself, knowing that she can’t just go back to patrol and act as if everything is okay. Because it’s not okay, because Adam’s not okay, which means her world isn’t okay. Voight looks thoughtfully at her.

“Okay.” He says simply, and Kim blinks, shocked.

“Really?” She can barely believe it.

“I was going to offer. You should be involved—and I think you might add a needed and different perspective. You know how he thinks.” Voight says, before he exits the room, leaving her kind reeling. What does that mean exactly, and does this mean...does this mean she’s still got a chance?

Kim leaves the room shortly after Voight. The rest of the unit was walking out the observation room and Kim realises that they all followed them, and listened on to the conversation. It makes sense, because what if Kim had said something of use, but she cringes at the thought of them all hearing what she said.

She catches Roman’s eye first, seeing how his expression is stony, that he clearly has some strong opinions on this, like he does with everything. He looks almost disappointed in her, like he respects her less, and it infuriates her because how dare he judge her, when he didn’t want a woman partner? But she’s too worried to focus on her petty anger, so she looks away from him, not having the energy or mental capacity to give him any time of day right now.

As Kim shifts her eyes away from Roman, she locks onto Kevin. There’s a feeling of comfort for a second. Kevin is one of the only people in the world that she trusts with her whole heart, and he makes her feel safe and she feels so unsure right now. But then her mind catches up, and age realises that he’s exiting the observation room which means he was listening in which means that oh god he heard her talk about having sex with Adam.

And from the look of the way he seems very uncomfortable, he most definitely did hear that. Their eye contact only lasts for a second until they’re both very quickly looking away, unable to look at each other straight. Kevin is like her brother, and she his sister, and no one wants to hear about their siblings’ sex life—especially with their best friend.

continue on ao3

[tomorrowsdrama]

So I'm a little new here and still swimming in the shallow end of the Asian drama Fandom. (baby steps) and I noticed the word "seasoned" on your blog. I must ask, help a sister out with the nomenclature? What is whump? What other stuff I gotta know? Why do Y'all hate subs?

Welcome to the fandom anon!

Whump is where a character (usually male but doesn’t have to be) gets repeatedly physically and mentally tormented. If you want to see some examples, just check out any Lee Jun Ki drama. The man can teach a masterclass in how to whump and make it look good. If kdramas aren’t your thing, recent whump fests include Love and Redemption starring Cheng Yi in the whumpee role, who is arguably China’s king of aesthetic suffering. Although, Qin Junjie in Listening Snow Tower may give him a run for his money. Both dramas happen to also star Crystal Yuan so maybe she brings the pretty whump boys to the yard. Zhu Yilong has also displayed some skill for aesthetic suffering in Prodigal Border Town. Perhaps we should have a battle of the whumpees to see who comes out on top as the person with the most whippable shoulders.

If you like your tormented men a bit less delicate and fair skinned, I recommend Ji Ye from Novoland Eagle Flag and Wolf Boy in The Wolf.

Re subtitles - I think we mostly hate Netflix subtitles because they remove all cultural nuances in the subtitles, omit important details, and generally feel a bit watered down/gentrified.

As a fandom old, I can only share with you the tidbits I’ve picked up over the years that will make your fandom life much more enjoyable

Don’t get into shipping wars. Everyone comes out a loser.

Don’t idolize actors or get emotionally invested. You don’t know these people, they’re just doing a job. Enjoy the eye candy and acting talent but don’t expect anything else from them.

Don’t piss off the idols’ fans.

If you don’t like someone’s opinions, you can scroll past, ignore it, or block it. Your mental health will thank you for this. Plus, everything is subjective and this is all for fun. They don’t have to agree with you and you don’t have to put up with their wrong opinions 😆

Thank your fansubbers and don’t be a brat about release times. I joke about the agony of waiting for subs from official sources like viki, Netflix, etc. but I would never complain about a fansubber moving too slowly. They’re literally using their own time to sub something for you for free. Don’t be an ungrateful dick.

Don’t dig too deep into fan art or fanfics or else you might run into something really disturbing. Or if that’s your thing, go for it!

Don’t take things too seriously!

Hope that helps!

EDITED TO ADD

8. For your own sanity, don’t read the comments sections of YouTube, mydramalist (MDL), or soemtimes even viki.

[jordanstrophe]

This One is Mine, Part 1

Hi, this is part one of hopefully a very enjoyable series MOSTLY filled with fluff.  I prioritizes the comfort in the hurt/comfort, but there’s still going to be some hurt <3 katastrophe may strike

  Next

CW: Pet whump, Blood, abuse, minor wounds, threatening, implied beating

“Why this of all the places...” Charles sighed.

“Short run, It’ll be as quick as all the others, sir.” Miles said.

“This place gives me the chills more than all the other businesses I’ve toured. That says something in our line of work.” He crossed his arms

Charles was at the top of the top when it comes to power. One of the 7 so called “rulers” of the business that ran things like the black-market, assassinations, high-end blackmail, anything illegal, ran like a business away from prying eyes. Unfortunately, some of those prying eyes are in the wrong place at the wrong time. Anyone who stumbles upon the operations from FBI to a random pedestrian, is immediately caught and hauled off to Malcolm Morfran, a powerful man who uses them as slaves, or “Pets” and sells them to other people in the business. Charles Mendrix ran the blackmail business, clawed his way to the top with a large loyal family that could get dirt on anything.

“Lets get this over with.” Charles sighed, pulling down a pair of sunglasses as Miles shut the car door for him behind him.  

The building looked like a factory, tall, dim, muted grey and white colors. They entered and was immediately greeted by a way too happy well dressed older man.

“Sir Mendrix! We’ve been anxiously expecting you! We’re ever so honored to have you here, please allow me to make you comfortable.” The man was practically bowing as he slipped behind Charles and slid his long coat off his shoulders. The air in the building had a twisted chilled feeling to it. It was clear this man was trying a bit too hard.

“I’m only here for the tour, no need to be all formal.. Please.” Charles sighed, as the man held his coat in his arms with precious delicacy, as if it were a fragile object.

“No no sir, I insist! It’s not often the Founders all tour each other's sections, we strive to impress in hopes you find favor in our little business. In fact, our Founder is in the house today! You can meet him face to face.”

“Oh marvelous...” Charles mutters under his breath.

“Now, as courtesy of our business, we would like to offer you one free product of your choice, no question asked, anyone that catches your eye, no matter the qualit-”Charles hand shot up to silence the man.

“I’m not interested in slaves. I’m just here for the mandatory tour. I hardly care about your business as much as you do mine. Just take me to Malcolm” Charles huffed. The man shut his mouth and took a moment too long to put his thoughts together.

“Err.. Mister Morfran is in his office... Sir. Please allow me to accompany you to him.” He muttered with a toned voice, opening a door for him.

They entered a long dim hallway, the man shuffled his feet as he slowly made his way down the hall while Charles and Miles trailing behind. There were dozens of metal bars of cages filling the walls down the hallway, inside some was muffled scratching or crying.

“Sure you’re not interested? Any one of these pretties for free.” He hummed in a musical tone, his head back to him with a creepy smile.

“No, I’m quite sane, thank you.” Charles sighed. He turned his head towards the cages, and was horrified. Uncountable numbers of people locked in the cages, huddled in the deepest furthest corner, practically cowering.  

“Sir, are you sure we shouldn’t have brought more security? I really don’t trust Sir Morfran after last time..” Miles muttered.  “More security will rub him the wrong way, I have to still stay in the good graces with the other Founders, besides, I have you, don’t I?” He smirked, playfully nudging Miles shoulder, who couldn’t help but let out a smirk himself.

The man held open a door for them, as they entered a well lit, beautifully decorated office. All the furniture was golden trimmed, with red material with buttons, marble floors, and massive glass chandeliers. Red curtains draped from the ceiling to the floor framing the tall slim windows down the room. At the end was a large wooden desk, sat at it was a heavy set man dressed in a purple suit and greased back hair.

“Charles!’ Malcolm praised, raising arms in the air. His chair was almost fully reclined, as he struggled to worm his way out of it, before dashing over to him. Miles pushed his shoulder forward so he was in front of him in a protective stance, only backing down when Charles placed a hand on his shoulder beckoning him back.

“Gah! There you are, it’s been too long, friend! Really, we should set up a dinner, I don’t get to talk to you much.” He smiled with a chipped toothy grin, then quickly turned to admire his own reflection in a giant mirror on the wall.

“Business aside, I don’t have all the time in the world, unlike you do, it seems.” Charles laughed, motioning towards a huge table with scattered puzzle pieces half way done.

“Pssshh! Nonsense! I work just as hard as all you lugs do, I just enjoy a good long project. Speaking of which, did you get the tour done? See anything you like? Eh? Eehh?” He playfully nudged him with his elbow. Charles face went stern.

“As interesting as your “gift” was, I’m not interesting.” Charles said

“Really? Still have that mood? Come ooon buddy, they are so nice to have! You have something pretty to show off, they can do things, they make noises when you beat them, they can even smart sometimes!” Malcolm laughed. “Take this baby for instance.” He joyfully frolicked back to his desk and bent over, trying to grab something. Charles sighed and dragged a hand down his face.

“Listen, I’m here to drop off some papers I need you to sign, just the usual signature saying we’re not at war and al-”

He was cut off by a high pitch yelp. Malcolm dragged a young man out from under the desk by his hair, and threw him to the ground. He had his arms tied behind him with heavy restraints, a blindfold on his face and bruises down his arm. He was thin, and wore a pair of ripped bloodied jeans and huddled low on the floor on his knees, Charles could just make out the slashes covering the man's back as he was bent on the floor.

“Caught this beauty a while ago, he was hiding in the back of his cell for far too long before I noticed him. Dragged him out and now he’s my favorite.” Malcolm said, ripping the blindfold off and forcibly holding his face up to show him off. He had dark hair, and bright ice cold eyes that stared at him fearfully. He whimpered as he glanced up at the bright chandelier stinging his eyes. Malcom held his head up and gently stroked a hand down his face, then rested his fingers firmly in his hair.

“Malcolm, this is messed up! Just look at him! That kid looks mangled!” He hissed.

“Messed up, hmm? Says the blackmail owner. I heard you sold information to sabotage a court and got an innocent man imprisoned this weekend.” Malcolm smirked.

He wrenched the man’s face higher, forcing him to look at him.

“He says this is messed up, when he’s running around bending everything to his will, and selling dirt like hotcakes!” He laughed, the man only whimpered in response. Charles ripped a file out from a bag Miles was carrying.

“Just sign the papers so I can leave. I can hardly look at this.” He growled.

“Naha! No so fast mister! You haven’t done a formal tour yet.” He said, letting the man go, and gleefully clapping his hands together. The man at his feet jumped at the sudden noise. Malcolm waved the papers away that were being outstretched to him. The door slammed open, and the old man staggered in.

“There’s a-an outbreak! R-Rebellion!” He gurgled, throwing his hands in the air.

“The new ones that came in yesterday! They teamed up and broke the latch on the cell!” He yelled, trying to catch his breath, his hair dripping with sweat.

“Those rodents!” He hissed, fastening the blindfold back on his Pet before running down the hallway calling out for security, and something about a rod.

Charles couldn’t decide if he should be concerned or amused at the situation. He looked behind him at the young man shackled at his feet, breathing heavy with his head down with a messy blindfold.

“Hey.” He said, gently.

The man jolted, and scampered back, hitting his head on the desk. He fell still, holding his breath, all the could do was endure whatever happened. Hopeless. Charles knelt down in front of him as the man cringed lower to the ground, feeling his presence looming. 

“Hey, It’s okay.” He soothed. Gently with his fingertips, he touched the young man’s face below the blindfold. He felt a sting of relief when the man huffed and started breathing again, even if it was heavy. He slid his fingers underneath the blindfold and off his face. Large fearful blue eyes squinted up at him.

“Who are you, little one?” Charles whispered, not entirely expecting an answer.

“..... P.. le-” He stuttered. Before any other noise could escape, the door slammed open, then entered the fuming Malcolm.

“Those rats! After all I’ve done for them!” He hissed, furiously throwing a bodied metal rod to the side.

“YOU!” He shrieked, charging through and grabbing the young man by his hair.

“Did you speak to him!? I swear if you spoke a single word!” He screamed at the man, who cowered and cringed while being pulled up off his knees.

“He didn’t say anything, calm down Malcolm!” Charles raised his voice angerly.

Malcolm fell deadly silent, not even his breathing could be heard. He slowly turned around towards him, face as red as blood, expressions twisted into rage that could make anyone's blood run cold.

“I.  did not.  ask you.” He growled, quietly. He turned his attention back to the young man, who had a single tear streaking down his face, huffing for air. He let go of his hair, as he collapsed back onto the ground with a thud. He scampered as he tried to get his knees back under him.

Malcolm walked over to his desk, and pulled out a long whip from his drawer. The man let out a panicked cry as he pressed his chest to the floor.

“Come on Malcolm! I said he didn’t speak!” Charles yelled. “Sir I think this is going too far!” Miles chipped in.

“You know Charles, there’s a good reason all the furniture in this house is red. This is MY house, and this here, is MY favorite. He has strict rules regarding what he does, that includes not speaking to ANYONE but me.” He said. Walking over to the man. He was sobbing on the floor, muttering “please... please... please.. not again” over and over again.

“When I’m done with you, you won’t even think to look at another soul who isn’t me, you hear?! I own you! You have an obligation to have eyes only for me!” He hollered, grabbing he man's thin arm, and half dragging him over to a chair. He threw him over the chair face first, so his back was too him. Charles could make out just how badly conditioned the man was from there. Malcolm ripped the shackles off his wrists as he cried out.

“Don’t you move an inch. This will put you in your place!” He hissed, pressing the man's head by the back of his neck into the chair. The man remained as obedient as he could, as Malcolm drew back the whip as far as his arm could go. Just before his arm picked up speed, someone snatched his wrist in mid air.

It was Miles.

“I’ll take him!” Charles exclaimed.

“W.. W-what!?” He yelled. “Shut up! And tell your stupid body guard to get his hands off me! I could have him killed for that!!” He shrieked, wrenching his arm out of miles grasp.

“I said, I’ll take him.” He repeated, keeping a cold stare fixated on him.

“I.. How.. Y-You! Who do you think you are? He’s mine! MINE!” Malcolm stomped.

“I have a free pass to any “product” I like of my choosing, no questions asked, correct?” He asked  

“Well.. Y-yes. Bu-”  “Then I’ll take that one.” Charles pointed at the man, sobbing hysterically, half clinging to the red chair like his life depended on it, hardly even listening to what was happening.

“You can’t have him! He’s my personal property! He’s my favorite!” He stuttered.

“So that means you have paperwork with your name?”

The color drained from Malcolm's face when he came to the realization. Since he runs a factory filled with Pets, he didn’t assume if he picked one for himself, he would still have to file proper paperwork. The paperwork he himself put in as a law to anyone owning one.

“I’ll take that as a no, old friend.” Charles smiled, Miles however, wasn’t even hiding the evil look on his face.  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Miles whispered. “Nope.” He whispered back.

He grabbed the file, and slapped it on his desk. “Can’t go back on your own word now, can you?” He asked, walking past Malcolm. He placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder, who gripped the chair tighter and cried out as if he had already been struck.

”Because this one is mine.” Charles whispered. The young man jerked up and looked at him. If anything, the first spark of life in his eyes was at least noticeable. As carefully as he could, he coaxed the man off the chair into his feet. He gently put his arm around the young man’s shoulders, with another hand gripping his upper arm, and steered him out of the room, keeping himself in between him and Malcolm who held out both hands towards the young man’s neck in a longing fashion. Either to strangle him, or hug him. Who knows?

“But... He was my favorite.”

[readbeneaththelines]

The Bough That Broke Pt. 12

Synopsis: Jin is injured from an avoidable accident, leaving him partially paralyzed from the waist down. Reader is the nurse that is hired to take care of him once he gets back to the dorms and begins the physically and emotionally painful road to recovery. Will she have what it takes to spark determination in him to get back on the stage?

Characters: Idol!Jin x Nurse!Reader

Genre: Whump, Angst, Itty Bittyamount of crack, itty bitty amount of fluff, maybeeeeeee some smut

Warnings: fluff, almost smut

Word Count: 1404

It was still dark outside when you woke up to the feeling of two strong arms wrapped around you. You could feel his warm breath fanning across your face as you were nestled securely against his chest. When you attempted to maneuver yourself from his hold, he tightened his arms, hugging you closer against him.

“Jin. I have to pee” you whispered, only to feel his arms only slightly relax their death grip hold on you. You wiggled out, scooting over him as you climbed out of the bed. You ran to the bathroom, peed, then took a quick look at yourself in the mirror. Your hair was a tangled mess, your cheeks flushed and eyes puffy. How could you ever let Jin see you looking like this?

You grabbed your brush from your bag by the couch, running it through your hair. You took a quick glance at the clock. Two a.m. You rolled your eyes, stretching your arms over your head as you tried to work out the kinks in your muscles. It had been so long since you had shared a bed with anyone, and you had forgotten how good it felt. Sure, you were a little achy, but to wake up to someone, that made it worthwhile. You quietly made your way back to Jin’s room, crawling in from the foot of the bed.

“What took you so long?” A scratchy voice croaked in the darkness. You nearly jumped out of fear. You then felt his hand reaching for you, and you allowed him to pull you down to him once again. His arm immediately draped over your waist, his other arm stretched out under your head. 

“I told you I had to go to the bathroom.” you replied.

“And primp yourself too.” he smirked. 

“What? How did you know?” you lifted your head to look at him.

“I heard you moving around. THen  heard you say ‘ow’ when you must have caught a tangle.” you felt his chest vibrate from his laugh. You lightly smacked his bared chest, leaving your hand splayed open over the space where his heart was. You could feel it beating rapidly beneath his ribs. 

“You okay? Your heart, its racing a mile a minute.” you tried to sit up, concerned he wasn’t feeling well.

“It’s racing because I have a half naked, sexy as fuck woman in my bed. So trust me, I feel fine.” he rolled himself to his back, tugging you halfway on top of him. His fingers twisted in your hair, pushing your head down to meet his. Those plump soft lips touched yours and he lazily kissed you. In your still sleepy state of mind, you thought of nothing else but how his body melded with yours. The comfort of him, the way he made you feel equal to him.

 In five months, he brought you into his world, showed you the broken, darkest side of his pain, and you stayed. He knew your past, and he still saw you a perfect, unflawed. You both shared the same scars, same fears, same uncertainty. If you believed in soul mates, you were sure he was yours, no matter where the future took you, you knew your worlds and lives would be forever intertwined. 

The kiss drifted off to sleepy pecks to your cheeks and the tip of your nose. His thumb grazed over kiss bruised lips, your eyes finally able to focus on his face. He was studying your features through half closed eyelids. The cupid’s bow of your mouth, the way your eyes squinted when your were thinking. How your face blushed when you were flustered by his actions. He was memorizing you, mapping you out in his mind. He wanted to burn your image in his brain, forever. Even after all these years with the other members, he never felt so… connected. 

“I decided, Jin. I am going to take a few days off. Rest, enjoy life for a fleeting moment. I want to ge to see you outside of what I see when we are working together. I’ll talk to Jack and work later.” You sighed deeply when he simply nodded to your statement. His next words put you at ease, though.

“I plan on not letting you out of my sight. I am going to tell you everything you want to know, and I want to know the real you, the freer you.” His hand ran down your back, tracing the scar that was in the same place as his. The frown that etched its way across his features saddened you. 

Cupping his face in your hands, you made him look you in the eyes. 

“I look forward to it. Now, lets sleep, the morning comes early.” you kissed him tenderly, caringly and let yourself drift off to dreamland in his embrace. 

Jin was the one to awaken you in the morning. A tiny nibble to your neck, a kiss on your forehead, fingers lightly tickling your sides as you tried to squirm away, though only half-heartedly.  You let him pester you a bit more, enjoying the care he took not to be too rough. Finally, your eyes open to see the most handsome face you have ever seen staring down at you. 

“Good morning. You’re way too much of a morning person for me.” You chuckled at the mock frown he gave you.

“I am a night owl too, depending on the reason.” with a wiggle of the eyebrows, he was pushing himself up in bed. You followed suit, sitting against the headboard next to him. Jin reached across his body, grabbing your arms and pulling you onto his lap. His fingers gathered the hem of your, well actually his, shirt and drew it up just below your breasts. The chill from cool fingers had chillbumps scattering over your exposed flesh. The only thing separating your bodies were his boxershorts and your panties. Lifting the shirt up and over your head, he planted open mouthed kisses to the swell of your breasts. His hands gripped the flesh of your hips firmly, stilling the movements your hips were making of their own free will.

“If you keep that up, princess, I may not be able to stop.” The low growl in his tone had you dripping. Without hesitation or thinking, you reached your hand between your legs, palming his now hard cock. His body shuddered at the contact, fingers digging in harshly at your hips.

“I’m warning you, Y/N. It’s been a very long time, and I am very needy right now. So if you aren’t ready, please stop now before i regret doing something you don’t want to do.” The pleading sound of his voice had your head spinning, and your body craving him. To hell with taking things slow. You were both needy, and honestly, did not want to stop what either of you were about to do. You took both of his hands in yours, then placed them on either breast, letting him cup them gently. His eyes glazed with awe as he tenderly massaged them, rolling an erect nipple between his thumb and finger. Your head fell back at the pleasure you felt.  You lifted your head to look back at him. 

“Jin, I don’t want to stop. If you are ready, so am I. But-”  Shame flooded you. How do you tell him that you’ve only been with one other person, and that experience was a  complete fail. You were so worried that you wouldn’t be able to, that when you got to that point, you were so tense it wasn’t enjoyable.

“But? What?” he dipped his lead low to look you in the eyes, which were quickly filling up with large tears. 

“We can take our time. Go as slow a you want. Go as far as you want, stop at any time if you want. Just say the word.” he softened his voice, and his touch. 

“I really want to. I just. I just don’t want to disappoint you.” 

“Baby, you could never disappoint me. I’m worried that I will disappoint you. I mean, think about it. I can’t do too much moving, you may have to do all the work.” 

That statement, though honest, made you both smile. You kissed his lips quickly, returning his hands to your chest. 

“So, worldwide handsome, let’s get a little exercise.”  

@beautifulseoulliar  @astronomyturtle @aspaceformyself @dreamyoongi @holy-yoongi @trashkazuya @maxinaptak @micky1518 @rosiemilas @karri570​ @jeontaes-world​ @mtgforall​

@seoulsunshineandstories @kwonnansi @xjamlessparkx @berryjam17

@flora-jimin

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

1, 4, 6, 11, 19, 21, 22, 31, 36, 41, 44. Sorry that's a lot!

It’s fine! I enjoy answering them!

1.     Do you listen to music when you write?

Rarely! When I write, I play a YouTube video (usually a let’s play) or a movie in the background. If I use music for writing, it’s mainly when I have a lot trouble writing a scene that I really want to finish.

4.     Have you ever been published, or do you want to be published?

I have never been published, but I do want to be one day.

6.     Single or multiple POV?

Both! I love doing both.

11.  Books and/or authors who influenced you the most

I honestly can’t say? I honestly don’t read as much as I used to.

19.  How do you keep yourself motivated?

I don’t really know?

Although, I do reread comments when I feel like I am losing motivation. Or I revisit the things that have given me my inspiration in the first place. When I wrote my fic ‘Bite’, for example, I wrote it while playing a let’s play of Telltale’s/Skybound’s The Walking Dead in the background.

So I guess that’s how I stay motivated.

21.  Who is/are your favourite character(s) to write?

Hiccup and Toothless without a doubt. (*coughs* And Tiny *coughs*) Hiccup is such a fun character to write and Toothless actually presents a bit of a challenge for a writer because he’s a dragon. So you need to let the reader know in some way what he’s saying when he doesn’t verbally speak in the canon of the movie-verse.

Toothless talks a lot without ever saying a word. The way he speaks with Hiccup is very interesting.

The times he does “speak” are like those little moments in Httyd 1 when Hiccup says something and Toothless responds with an audible grunt. It’s not that he speaks a word of Norse, but he knows that humans talk a lot with their voice and thus knows that Hiccup may need a verbal confirmation that Toothless understands him.

Anyway, I can talk about Toothless and how he communicates (and chooses to communicate) for hours and I should probably stop now before this entire answer is just 90% Toothless.

Hiccup is a fun character to explore, Toothless is an interesting challenge. That’s the gist of it.

22.  Who is/are your favourite pairing(s) to write?

Hicctooth(Toothcup)! Without a single doubt in my mind!

I find Hiccstrid fun, too. They are great to write fluff for and whumping either one of them, knowing how much they love each other, is so great, honestly. They would literally die for each other. So would Hicctooth!

And Snotcup! Though in a more platonic sense. Hiccup and Snotlout have a very interesting dynamic that has had so much growth throughout the years. I have written a lot of H/C scenes with them, too.

31.  Least favourite part of writing

Revising it all and posting it. Like, why do I have to post it? Can’t the fic just post itself?

This is mostly because I post fics when it’s already past midnight. So when I post a fic, I am really tired and I just want to go to bed.

36.  Last sentence you wrote

Aha! It’s a whump!

"I'm really sorry you got hurt. I was being an idiot and I didn't listen. It's because of me that you got hurt and I'm sorry. I really am." Snotlout rambled

41.  Any advice for new/beginning/young writers?

Try and hold onto the joy that writing brings.

For a long time, I was so focussed on whether a fic was good that I forgot to enjoy the process of writing itself and I feel like my fics may have suffered from that. Now that I am more focussed on the enjoyment of writing, I write a lot more.

I’m even writing a multichapter fic and plan on doing more in the future! (One multichapter fic at a time) For a long time, I thought I had lost the ability to write those, but I’m writing one again! All because I decided to prioritize joy over quality.

That said, I don’t think quality has lessened either. If anything, I feel like I have improved.

And if you have a fic idea that you think is stupid, write it. Write it, post it, find the people who enjoy the same niche things that you do. Joy

44.  How much research do you do?

Probably not enough. I try to do as much research as I can, but sometimes, particularly with tougher topics, I have a hard time understanding what I’m reading. Which is probably why I tend not to stick too closely to realism.

[justsomewhump]

Dirty Little Sessions turns 2 today!

Today it’s two years since I finished my one and only complete multi-chapter story! And granted, it may not be your typical multi-chapter with plot and structure, but I’m honestly so proud of my little, dark, twisted and complete story!

I remember how I sat down one day and was like, you know, I could try writing this one chapter and just posting it for people to see. Who knows if I’ll continue with it...

And then the responses came. And out of nowhere, in the span of a month I spat out nearly 44k words of all manner of juicy, disturbing things happening to our beloved pirate.

And the responses kept coming, and @cocohook38 made art for my story and I was so overwhelmed by the love for this little thing, that started so simply and without any planning, by so many people. So I continued on with it, even feeling the need to write the extra 11k words of comfort and aftercare, out of the commitment I had to the story.

Thanks to all of you.

And I was honestly amazed to see that people still, to this day, like it and recommend it to other bloggers. Like, it means so, so much to me that something I wrote two years ago, something that literally started on a whim, is something people still enjoy now.

I’ve done some thinking since then, and the positive response I got to this fic inspired me to keep up with this kind of writing - which seems to have evolved into my main writing genre - but still this story, being my first foray into this genre, holds a special place in my heart.

And I’m truly convinced that it’s because with this story I found a means to vent out so many of my repressed fantasies. I’d been “secretly” - secretly even to myself - enjoying this kind of whump for some years before starting DLS, but as with whump in general, I was even more scared going... there. Until I did and, quite effectively, found my place. I went all out, didn’t hold anything back and had the time of my life. I wrote with vigor, posted as quickly as I could, then anticipated the response... and I never thought it would progress so much. Like, guys, I’m so happy to see you still like this baby :’)

Thank you so much!

So this week I sat down and “polished” it a bit, corrected some errors, all for your continuous (and better! I hope!) enjoyment!

And for those souls, depraved like me, who’re all like “But where are the links dude? I want in on that dark twisted non-con”... link to the story on AO3, link to the tumblr posts, and link to some very slightly nsfw but very very amazing art by cocohook38 / @sancocnutclub!!

[everbecomesreal]

Spider-Man: Far From Home thoughts if you haven’t filtered out Spoiler tags and haven’t seen the film stop reading now!!!

Things I liked:

- Peter and Happy’s interactions. Every single one was wonderful and I felt like Happy really stepped up to look after Peter the way Tony had asked him to in the previous film. He was supportive without being patronising.

- the was they gave Flash a bit more character than an immature bully, the moment where his Mum didn’t turn up to the airport at the end.

- May working to help people displaced by the blip

-Happy and May’s relationship and the newness of it. The way they both saw it differently but there was still real chemistry there. It felt really organic.

- Similarly Peter and MJ’s relationship. I thought the awkwardness of it played really well and the way their first kiss following the battle wasn’t passionate or grown up but brief and sweet. I think a real issue with films about teenagers is the way they take adult romantic experiences and try and apply them to teenagers when in fact the way kids approach relationships and again it felt very organic.

- The beautiful shots of Europe. I am a European and have spent time in Venice, London and Prague and it was fun to recognise that on screen.

- The scene where Peter is designing his suit on the plane. This from when the plane landed on the Tulips to when the suit was finished was possibly my favourite moment of the film.

- When MJ wracked the drone with a Medieval Mace.

- When Peter dodged the gunshot at the end.

- Sending Nick Fury to voicemail- repeatedly

- the Peter Tingle

- EDITH- Even Dead I’m The Hero

- Nick Fury’s one liners

- Maria Hill being awesome and understated

- Nick Fury’s vacation as revealed in post credits

- ‘I love Led Zepplin’- the entire cinema started laughing

- the Dutch football fans

- MJ’s necklace.

- Peter’s superhero being as much about his brain as his spider powers

- When Peter was hit by a train (I love some whump me)

Things I didn’t like:

- the relationship between Betty and Ned. I got the comedy they were going for, but I thought it was a little overplayed in the dialogue. It would have been just as ludicrous and just as funny if they had dialled it back a bit and it would fit in better with the tone of the film.

- When Peter gave EDITH to Mysterio. I thought the villain monologue scene after this was fabulous but the scene itself seemed to come too early. I thought they set up Peter’s panic, reluctance and anxiety about becoming a more major global superhero really well, but while his scenes with Mysterio gave a good beginning to a trusting relationship, I’m not sure that there was enough of a relationship and trust there for it to quite make sense.

- I don’t think that the elementals being illusions quite made sense with some of the damage the fire monster did in Prague, so continuity there.

- the drone strike on the bus. It was tense but it didn’t feel in character for Peter.

Overall I really liked the film, it is very enjoyable and more of a comedy than most MCU films except perhaps Thor Ragnorok. It isn’t as good as Endgame but it is still very enjoyable and helps move the MCU forward in a funny and exciting way that doesn’t overlook the sacrifice Tony made. After the post credits scene I have to say I am both excited and terrified to see what will happen next and I will be writing several fics inspired by this film so stay tuned for that

[ihni]

Top Five Ships Tag Game

I was generously tagged by @dobetterbillyhargrove and @aphroditestummyrolls

The rules are that I’m supposed to post 5 gifs to show of my five top ships ... but here’s the thing. I’m not gonna do that. Because a) I have more ships than that, 2. I ship for different reasons and I want to Talk about it, and lastly, the rules are more like guidelines anyway.

So.

There are some ships that I ship because FANDOM MADE ME (mainly fanfics, but also fanart, fanvids, meta, general discussions and people in fandom in general). Examples of these ships are: * Harringrove (Billy & Steve from Stranger Things - also my main ship right now) * Stucky (Steve & Bucky from Marvel Cinematic Universe) * Sterek (Stiles & Derek from Teen Wolf) * Spideypool (Spider-Man - an adult version, though, thankyouverymuch!! - & Deadpool from Marvel Comics) * Bagginshield (Bilbo & Thorin from The Hobbit movies) * Symbrock (Eddie & Venom from Venom) * The Musketeers (BBC’s version of them) - basically any and all combinations, there, I’ve read it all. All four of them works, too, honestly. * Coldflash (Captain Cold & The Flash from Legends of Tomorrow / The Flash) * Merthur (Merlin & Arthur from Merlin) * Steve & Nancy & Jonathan from Stranger Things (this was before Billiam showed up and stole Steve away from this equation ...) And I realize that this is a very very male and very very white list, but there are just so many fanfics about these guys, and I’m in it mainly for the fanfics, and these ships have a lot of fanfics about them, so ... I’m not apologizing for my need to read.

Also worth mentioning, perhaps, is that which I ship because of one very specific fanfic: * Starscream & Barricade from Transformers (shut up!)

And then there are the ones that I ship because when I see them together, my minds goes “Ah yes, this is good, this is good, these two - or three - belong together, I’m not gonna argue”, OR, just ships that don’t annoy me (it happens more often than you may think, with me being aro and all). Examples of these are: * Joyce & Bob from Stranger Things * Joyce & Hopper from Stranger Things (I know. Both works though!) * Zoë & Wash from Serenity / Firefly * Illya and Gaby (or Illya & Gaby & Solo) from Man From U.N.C.L.E. * Sally & Don from 3rd Rock From The Sun * Tony & Pepper from Marvel Cinematic Universe (although to be honest I’ve basically read Tony with half the characters in the MCU by now ...) * Elizabeth & Mr Darcy from Pride and Predjudice * Patrick & Kat from 10 Things I Hate About You * Molly & Joey from That Old Feeling * Jake & Amy from Brooklyn 99 * Michael & Ash from Star Trek: Discovery

And just. In media, I approve of people who are on an equal footing with each other and have a loving and healthy relationship with each other. Preferably sprinkled with adventure and/or humor. Laughing is important, so is love and respect and maaaaybe a little bit of a competitive streak.

In fanfic, that works, too. But it also helps with a healthy dose of angst potential, if there are whump fics to read, and if people write them in an enjoyable way.

So. *shrugs* What does this prove? Nothing, nothing at all. I just. Was too lazy to pick only five, and didn’t want to look for gifs.

Also I’m supposed to tag people, but since I fucked this game up by not following the rules, I’m not going to. But feel free to talk about your ships! :)