#KFKDKDDK

[dtaegis]

both want seungyoon carnally. also seongho and jongsu are probably bitter exes and seungyoon is just happy to be included

getting funny with each other (hakkun/myungdae - eli/leo)......

NOW. FOR RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS

are kinda in love with their manager and don't know what to do about it or if is even right (bc this is my ver of the game and i can)

are in a "secret" relationship and think they're very good at hiding but it's just plain obvious to everyone

[susmabana]

abinin biri agzında sigarasıyla uzaya gidisinin yayını yapıyot kfkdkddk cıldırıcam simdi

[wmarximoff]

Sulista, do Paraná… só falta dizer q é de Curitiba 👀

Não pera não é tão ruim assim kfkdkddk 🤪🤪

[lavellane]

"i hate you" from that prompt list for whoever you want uwu...

"i hate you" | fallout 3 | nova x charon | 1007 words | cw: minor descriptions of gore

This story has played out a few times lately. Nova isn't half surprised, waking to an empty camp with Charon and his gear long gone. She is surprised, each and every time, when Charon inexplicably returns come nightfall.

"How was your day at work, honey?"

Charon doesn't answer, tossing the dead molerat at her feet without so much as a glare to tide her over. The opposite of love isn't hate, her late father used to say. It's indifference.

He'd been right, she's come to realize. It's a foreign, metastasizing sort of truth, rotting away at her on the inside. Nova's never known how to be indifferent about anything, least of all with him.

What she wouldn't give for Charon to hate her, if he truly doesn't know how to stomach giving her anything else.

His molerat catch is better eating than they've had in weeks, crossing the blackened forests of the northwest. She stokes the dying embers of their campfire with the tip of her old spanto knife, before putting it to work on the carcass. Its skin is tough, but she can slice through most anything with ease, these days.

From a distance Charon pretends to be busy, staring aimlessly at his rifle as opposed to actually cleaning it. Only once the subway tunnel is sufficiently smelling of blood and burning tyres does Nova resign herself to grovelling again.

"Just you wait, big guy," she says. "This week it's molerat. Next week it's yao guai with some fancy-ass tarberry marinade. And, fuck it, next month? Deathclaws, baby. You're on your own with that, though. Total faith in you, but . . . y'know . . ."

Like talking to a brick wall isn't strong enough, as far as similes go. At least most walls don't daydream about her killing her in her sleep. Charon only deigns to look up at her as she trails off, the whites of his eyes icy even lit up by the flame. His gaze lingers on her hands - bloodsoaked, half submerged in guts - before quickly glancing away. He doesn't look at her again.

Idiot or no, she can make a wild guess as to what he's thinking. Those dull, dead eyes. Cold eyes. She'd felt something warm in them once, a lifetime ago. Now they only make her feel like some Old World Arctic explorer from her Vault textbooks, freezing to death in the snow.

She throws up her hands. "So you're just — what?" she sneers. "You're just never talking to me again? Solid plan. That'll show me."

"I have nothing to say to you," Charon says.

Nova laughs. "Yeah, no shit. Not sure why I'm talking to you, either. Every time I do it just blows up in my face."

"That does tend to happen around you."

Entrails squelch between her fingers as her fists instinctively clench. Her face, hot from proximity to the flames, feels abruptly cold and clammy. The air thick, the space around her dark. Throat tightening. Nova smiles at him amicably, all teeth, and points to him with the tip of her glinting, bloody knife.

"They're not naughty word, big guy. You can say them. We could say them together if you want — Tenpenny. Megaton. BOOM."  Charon's exposed jaw tenses. The molerat, haphazardly separated from its skin, sizzles as she sets it in place above the fire. "You obviously want a share-time about it, so talk."

"I told you," Charon says evenly, "I have nothing to say to you."

"Liar. Fucking liar."

"Your father would be disgusted in you." He laughs. It sounds more like a bark, or maybe a grunt of pain. "Satisfied?"

Nova turns her face from the flame's light and shrugs. "The man's long dead," she says idly. "Don't think he gives a shit."

"Then his death was a blessing," says Charon.

A low and effective blow. Will Charon one day think of her death as blessing? she wonders. Will she? The clear answers makes her turn back towards the fire, frowning into its open flame. Charon — uncharacteristically guilty? — shifts in his makeshift seat. He's right of course, and it's not like she can blame him for stating the obvious. She can, quite reliably, blame a lot of people for a lot of stupid things. But when it comes to all things Charon, she can't be indifferent, and she can't hate him, and she certainly can't blame him, either.

But she can concede, just for him, on rare occasions. "Yeah, maybe," she says. "Probably, I guess. But, if you really think I'm so disgusting, then why don't you leave? You're your own person, Charon — we ripped up Ahzrukhal's contract way too long ago to justify this —" frustrated, she waves her blade in his broad direction — "this lost little mutt routine of yours. Stay or go. I don't own you. I never have."

She can barely hear his whisper over the spit and crackle of their impending dinner, but Charon doesn't miss a beat. "There's more than one way to own someone," he says bitterly.

"I . . . Huh?"

Charon scoffs. His features are ragged and tired. His hands, idled on his gun until now, clench against the bolt and barrel. He's silent for long enough to make her think that's That, until he huffs.

"I hate you," he rasps. When he looks up at her, she can tell he really and truly means it.  "Christ, Nova. . . I hate you."

The subway is as silent as it's been all evening — no more animal fat sizzling, no more arguing, no more talk. Nova plates the crispy former-rodent carefully, smiling in earnest for the first time in weeks. The space where her heart should be feels leaden with hope. The opposite of love isn't hate, her late father used to say. And, as she's come to realize, he was right.

No doubt her smile only serves to piss Charon off more. She truly hopes so. "Makes me feel all warm inside to hear you say that, y'know," Nova hums. "Pull up a chair, big guy. Dinner's up."

[globrights]

hi guess whose ch 5 of whose cometh fic broke 7k 👀

[glannniglaepur]

dumb question but is ithro okay/proper somewhat?

kfkdkddk u mean like the character?? or the spelling?? i’m sorry i’m dumb–

[glannniglaepur]

hey friend can u please comfirm that "eins og kýla í þörmum" translates to "like a punch in the gut"? i always come to you with odd translation requests (i think this is my second time?) and i'm so sorry

i’m…. i’m sorry but that actually translates to something more like “like punch in the intestine” kfkdkddk u’d say it more like ‘eins og hann/hún hefði verið kýld/ur í magann" depending on the gender of the person ahah

[thesethingswillchange]

Got to the city now headed downtown and can’t wait to see amazing people and see Taylor tonight I’m kfkdkddk

I’ve been beyond blessed enough to see Taylor at shows in Texas and Jingle Bash since, but the feeling of walking into a stadium for her full tour is like no other and I’m SO excited to see it tomorrow night at Chicago night 2. Last tour I was at my worst, nearing the end of a toxic relationship that I didn’t realize was such until much later. Now, I can hear “if a man talks shit then I owe him nothing” and scream the lyrics and sob as I continue to work at being my best self.