#and I don't /really/ want to use the old one

[burningcheese-merchant]

Hey so if everyone that follows me or otherwise sees this reblog can you PLEASE reblog it as well? Because this news needs to be delivered to everyone. I am freaking out so fucking bad right now you have no idea

AO3 has been scraped, once again.

As of the time of this post, AO3 has been scraped by yet another shady individual looking to make a quick buck off the backs of hardworking hobby writers. This Reddit post here has all the details and the most current information. In short, if your fic URL ends in a number between 1 and 63,200,000 (inclusive), AND is not archive locked, your fic has been scraped and added to this database.

I have been trying to hold off on archive locking my fics for as long as possible, and I've managed to get by unscathed up to now. Unfortunately, my luck has run out and I am archive locking all of my current and future stories. I'm sorry to my lovelies who read and comment without an account; I love you all. But I have to do what is best for me and my work. Thank you for your understanding.

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Pt3 of forever teen Danny adopting JJ Tim AND Red Hood Jason.

[Pt2: Here] [Pt 4: here]

Jason had absolutely no idea what he was looking at. Talia's information was apparently out of date when she sent him back here. There's a tiny vigilante version of Joker talking to the air on a rooftop in Crime Alley that wasn't in any of her reports. The whispers on the street call the kid Poltergeist, and he's apparently a chaotic good character and used to be Robin #3 before a run-in with the Joker turned him into the loony he sees before him. Jason is pissed Bruce let a second kid fall into that monster's hands.

And despite Jason searching, he hasn't found anything on the guy that supposedly saved the kid from Joker. Harley is still fucked up from seeing this Phantom guy kill her "Puddin'", but considering she helped fuck this kid up, Jason has no sympathy.

"Shit!" Jason ducks for cover when the kid suddenly snaps his head over to him. When Jason looks back, the kid isn't there anymore. "Double shit."

"Why have you been watching me?" Is asked from behind him. Jason will deny the yelp and jolt if anyone asks, but he totally did as he whips around, finding the kid perched on the building's roof access. There should be no way he got there that fast (is the kid a meta?). He has his head tilted like a curious puppy, the dark purple lipstick smeared over his lips and facial scars not hiding his little little frown. "Who are you, anyways, Mr. Tank?"

"I just wanted to check out the new player." Jason is glad his helmet disguises his voice, it masks some of his awkwardness.

The kid pouts, "I've been around 3 years if you count my year as Robin, that's not very new. If anything, you're the new player, Mr. Hood."

So the kid does know who he is? "Yeah, well, I've been outside of Gotham for those 3 years. You're new to me."

"Hmm, you couldn't have been Red Hood before you left." A second teenager's voice says from just to the left of Poltergeist, startling Jason. An unearthly looking 14(?) year old fades into view. The kid(?) is floating, answering the question of how Poltergeist got to where he is without Jason noticing. "Your ectoplasum is funky, my guy. How long have you been an Revenant?"

"A what?" The helmet can't mask how baffled he is.

"Yeah! Yeah! What's a Revenant, Dad!?" Poltergeist excitedly asks the other kid(?). The (not)kid's obviously not human, so Jason is obviously an idiot for assuming. Guy looks like a kid, but doesn't have the vibe of a kid. And he gets the vibe Poltergeist is call this guy "Dad" in a 100% "this is my father" way and not the weird "I call my sexual partner Daddy" thing that cropped up while Jason was without internet access.

"A Revenant is an undead that had a violent death and had a need to avenge themselves so desperate they rebound their soul to their body." The unknown explains, then seems to stare into Jason's soul. "Something is off about your ectoplasm, though. You should really get that looked at."

"Looked at by who?" Jason asks warily, "Who even are you?"

"Ah, I'm Phantom. Friendly neighborhood dead guy." Phantom fucking finger guns, what even is Jason's life? "And if you're asking that, I can only assume you've never been to the Infinite Realms."

"The where??"

"A dimension that runs parallel to this one. It's the dimension of the dead, undead, and neverbornes. It's very green." Phantom explains. "They'd have more knowledge on how to fix you the best, but I currently don't have easy access to it and don't know where you could. Good news! I'm pretty sure if I give you my own ectoplasm while slowly removing the fucked up bits of yours, it'd straight itself out. The unfortunately side effect is you'd be considered my kid in the eyes of the Realms and I'd want to know who the fuck you are before either of us commit to that."

"It'd fix the pit rage?" Jason asks in a daze. He's killed more people than he ever wanted because of the blackout rage he gets sent into.

""Pit rage"?" Phantom is staring into his soul again.

"I get so angry I blackout and can't truly tell you what I did during the, usually, hours I'm lost to it." Jason explains, "It's how I got on B's radar before I meant to."

Poltergeist is now creepily staring at him. Kid really is mimicking his dad.

"Yeah, no, that's not normal." Phantom scrunches his face in thought. "Rage is normal for a Revenant, it comes with the territory, but blackout rage isn't..."

Phantom looks over to Poltergeist, "How do you feel about a sibling?"

Poltergeist hasn't stopped his staring. It's freaking Jason out. Even more so when the kid starts cackling in delight. It sounds Joker-like. Which is fair given what Jason heard about how the kid became this way.

"I know who You Are Revenant ~!" Poltergeist sings. Making Jason freeze, because seriously??? The Bats haven't figured it out, but this kid in one meeting did???

"Oh?" Phantom asks fondly.

"He's the second Robin!" Poltergeist crows. "You definitely have my permission! How could I refuse the best Robin being my brother??"

"Wha-how-what the fuck, kid?" Jason sputters.

"You thought I wouldn't recognize you?" Poltergeist grins manically. "I stalked you and the B-man every chance I got before you died! I know you! Batsy was a fool to let you go!"

"You what now?" Jason doesn't know how many existential crisises he can handle in one conversation.

"I had a baby stalker phase!" Poltergeist admits happily before turning to Phantom, "Does being a vigilante mean I'm still a stalker?"

Phantom seems to genuinely think about it before answering, "I think you have to be to be a Gotham vigilante. Just try not to let it branch out to other areas in life. Normal people, and probably normal heroes and vigilantes, would probably get scared off."

"Jazz already told me." Poltergeist whines and flops over. Jason can now only see his feet. "Normal people are boring anyways."

Phantom just shakes his head fondly before looking back at Jason. "I'll let you think on it. We'll be around."

And with that, Phantom scoops up Poltergeist and turns them both invisible. Poltergeist's shriek of "Ta Ta!" and happy cackles echo in a way that means Phantom is flying them away.

Jason doesn't need to think on it, but he appreciates the thought.

He heads to his nearest safe house and starts researching up a storm on the supernatural to at least have a baseline on what he (and Phantom possibly) are. He takes a lot of the info with a grain of salt, though. He'll have lots to ask when he meets up with his potential new family. Who needs the Bats anyways? B told him he wasn't his father before he died, why should that change now that he died and came back? Nah, B will just be mad he's a crimelord. Phantom and Poltergeist don't seem to mind at all.

Yeah, he's joining their weirdass family. Maybe he should add a symbol or something green to his vigilante get up to declare it? He'll decide after he talks to them. Phantom might have a family crest or something.

[bluestriips]

. . . ﹫Ꮺ comfort in the sun ٠࣪⭑ M.S

୭ synopsis : your favorite time of day , and your favorite person , symbolized by the sun … in one way or another.

୭ content : fluff , smut , dry humping , unlabeled relationship , matt x fem!reader , mentions of marijuana and smoking , usage of petnames [baby] , proofread

୭ word count : 1.8k

୭ a/n : button divider made by me cause i couldn’t find one with this aesthetic for shit. free to use, just tag me pls!

everything just feels so... warm.

the rays of afternoon sun pouring through your window, bathing both of you in it's ethereal light, the closeness of matt - his body pressed against yours, chest heaving with slow, heavy breaths, your movements creating a pleasurable kind of heat deep within your core, spreading and seeping between your guts.

warm like your senses heightened from the shared joint that now hangs lazily between his fingers, forgotten, save for the smoke that curls up into the air, defined and highlighted by the sunlight.

it's like the sun makes everything it touches into something magical.

the smoke in the air, your room - a perfect kind of messy, with all kinds of colors and lights and paints, books, clothes, sketches. the two of you, sat on your bed, carried away in some sort of warm, pleasurable moment. just two kids, lost in eachother.

it's not just the sun that makes him magical, though. it's not that simple. he's beautiful - he's always been beautiful. when you first met, when he started ditching his friends for you. sharing joints and stories, old or new on the weekends, making your way to the hall you know he'll be when the lunch bell rings, you had found a friend.

not someone fake, not someone who would walk with you for the hell of it and spare half-assed comments and pay half a mind to respond to you with an ounce of detail so you'd think they cared. not someone who stayed with you long enough to make you feel liked and then destroy it with whispers and unkind words the second they escape you.

matt didn't escape you. he didn't make you feel like you needed to be escaped. he spent time with you, he complimented you. and you wouldn't have told him if things hadn't changed - sometimes you still have trouble saying it - but those compliments meant something more. more than just... friendly.

you stayed quiet about it. you didn't want to risk your only friend, your sweet, kind, beautiful, funny, caring friend, for your stupid feelings.

but you didn't have to risk anything for things to change. slowly but surely, time after school and shared joints and friendly glances and platonic touches bloomed into something more. something warm.

it turned into tangled limbs, nights spent with a connection between souls deeper than words from your messy mouth and your jumbled brain could ever mean. and matt didn't mind. he was just... matt.

he's perfect. labels never came up, and you don't mind. you don't care if he's your friend, or your boyfriend, or anything inbetween. he's all you have, and in a way, you're all he has too. you're the only one who really, really gets him.

the way he looks, the way he feels, touches, just... is.

there's music playing through your cd player, you get me so high by the neighborhood, blending into the room as his hands are planted on your waist, guiding you over him. his lips are parted, pants and breathless moans leaving his mouth as he looks up at you with those eyes. you roll your hips once again, a soft whine forcing it's way out of your throat as the perfect friction sparks between you and his clothed cock.

he can't help the way he feels around you.

"fuck, that's good- just like that.." he forces out, his voice a quiet rasp. he can't seem to take his eyes off of you, darting between your own, and the way the sun hits your pretty face.

you nod, swallowing thickly before another moan leaves your throat as he bucks his hips up. "sorry- fuck, i'm sorry, you feel too good.." he moans, his grip on your waist tightening.

your eyes drop down to where your bodies connect, your lips curling upward at the tent in his jeans. "do i-fuck-do i turn you on that much?" your eyes flutter shut as he pulls you down a little harder, unable to stop the small laugh escaping your mouth.

"shit, you have no idea.." he murmurs, pressing his face to the side of your neck, planting hot, open-mouth kisses across your skin. he moves your hips over his with every kiss, as you plant your hands on his shoulders - sliding down to his biceps.

you've always had a thing for his arms, and he's definitely noticed. your nails dig into them through the fabric of his shirt, eliciting a soft groan from him as he stays buried in your neck. the pleasure continues to shock through you, twisting your gut and building up into an intricate knot that represents everything you have. not lust, not meaningless touches, but that connection between souls that means so much to both of you.

"damn, what were we supposed to be doing again?" you ask, one of his hands sliding down to your hips, kneading and massaging the skin while the other moves up to your hair, pulling your head to the side and revealing more of your neck for his desperate mouth to claim.

he hums, nipping the base of your neck before mumbling a response. "chemistry revision." and he goes right back to kissing, like the response is inconveniencing him. which it kinda is.

"anndddd... how did we end up here?" you smile, a particular roll of your hips over his eliciting a closed-mouth moan from you. he sighs, his hand tightening on your hip. "you insisted on the joint, if i'm not mistaken. then y'started lookin' too good."

his words, so simple, send something straight to that knot in your gut. everything feels so, so good. your eyes flutter shut once again, a shaky breath leaving your mouth. "mhhhm, i guess this counts as chemistry."

he pulls away from your neck as you begin to define your movements, grinding harder, longer. he looks up at you, brows furrowed in pleasure, cock twitching at the fucking sight of you. "you close?" he tilts his head, tongue swiping over his bottom lip as his hand in your hair drops down to the other side of your hip, helping your needy movements.

his eyes are hazy, red, thick with arousal, and fuck, he's sexy. you nod hastily, like the movement is too distracting from the tightening in your gut, a shaky whine leaving your lips. his head tips back, nose scrunching as his chest heaves against yours. "yeahhhh, shit, me too, baby. s'okay, i'll get y'there." he rasps, hips bucking up once more.

his hands move back up to your waist, wrapping around your body and pulling you closer as he begins grinding his hips up in time with yours. you've always loved how vocal he is, satisfied moans and groans leaving his throat. his eyes peel back open, before shutting immediately as if he'll cum at just the sight of you.

you laugh, breathless, and it's the best thing he's ever heard. he wants to record it, bottle it up and smoke it until he's high on you forever. his cock twitches under you, and you feel it this time. you'd make some lazy comment about it that really spurs you both on further while you pretend to be jokingly annoyed at the teasing, but you're too focused on feeling good.

your nails dig further into his arms, and oh, he likes that. it's like he can no longer control himself, the way his mouth drops open, and the noise that leaves him is filthy. "shit-fuuuuck-i need y'to cum." he moans, his eyes opening to look at you. in that moment, he literally has to hold himself back from soaking his boxers.

and you notice, you notice everything. that desperation from him spurs you on, his face and his voice. it's not just a plea, it's a demand. he needs you to, for yourself and for his pleasure too. your face drops to his neck, crying out in pleasure as your hips stutter. his eyes roll back, arms tightening around your waist as he groans. "come on- please, baby, fuck, you can cum.."

you don't know how. he's been desperate, looking like that, begging you to cum for the past minute. you've never been easily dominated like that, not really, but there's a drawn out moan from your mouth to his shoulder, a stutter of your hips, the knot in your gut unraveling quicker than you can comprehend and turning into a smoky kind of unimaginable pleasure that crawls through your veins the second he gives you permission to.

he barely has a millisecond to form a single thought before his head is thrown back, breathless moans leaving his mouth, his own orgasm hitting him hard. spurts of warm, sticky cum leave his tip, twitching, soaking through his boxers and soon through the thick denim of his baggy jeans, leaving a wet patch through the fabric. he feels just as good as you, possibly better, probably not.

steadily, you come down from the high, collapsing onto his warm, breathless body. his hand travels up to your hair, slowly, like the route is familiar, like you've done this a hundred times before, because you have, while the other stays wrapped around your waist, holding you close.

you wait until his breathing evens out, until his thumb starts rubbing small circles on the other side of your waist. you're still both high, messy, sprawled out over your disheveled sheets, digging and sifting through that beautiful connection you share that comes to light and shines like the sun.

"...i kinda want poptarts." you speak up after a beat, voice muffled by his neck. the movement of his thumb pauses before he laughs, a low rumble from his chest. "really? you just made me cum in my pants, n'you want poptarts?"

you smile into the skin of his neck, nose scrunched in a way he's always found adorable, a breathy laugh coming out through your nose. "yeah... what's wrong with that?"

"nothing, nothing... just- nothing." he laughs. it's a sound you can never get enough of, because it's so him. sweet, genuine, lights up an entire room.

because it's true, he does. he cares about you more than you could comprehend, and vice versa.

the sun is still shining on the both of you, bright and warm, bathing you in it's familiarity. a clear symbol of your connection. you've always loved the sun, the sky, the clouds, the stars, space in general. matt says it suits you. it's something he loves about you.

you've always viewed the sun as a sort of comforting figure. like a standard, in some odd way. and then matt traipsed into your life with his smile and his laugh and his hands, his gentleness, his care, his love. and then things became clear.

matt is your sun.

© bluestriips 2025

i do not condone stealing or plagiarism of any of my works or specific ideas of my works unless permission is given.

୭ taglist : @marrykisskilled , @courta13

[eraserbread]

God forbid a girl asks for some ex-husband kento (pls 🥺)

kento really should leave. it's obvious -- this is not his home anymore.

no, it's his daughters and ex-wife's. he handed it over like stone once the divorce went final, wanting his girl to grow up in spacious security. he'll sign on a lackluster one-bedroom in the city just so all of his money can flow into keeping you afloat.

though you're perpetually trapped by him, using a bank account he monitors and living in a home you don't pay for, he still gives you grace. it's because he's guilty. kento knows he fucked you over, it's why he's pacing your bedroom door where he knows you're asleep.

he's a good dad, carving out time between missions to run and take his daughter to school. it's the one constant his little girl has, and in first grade, she's old enough to understand that he's never really around.

it's why he has her hello kitty lunch box tight in his grip that she left in his car today. he knows you need to pack it for tomorrow and would likely freak out if you lost it, so he needed to hand it to you personally.

or, that's what he tells himself to justify the anxious pacing. he needs to swallow that familiar need for you that brews in his bones and leaves him tossing and turning through his sleepless nights. It's only been a year without you; surely he can handle a lifetime, right?

all he was going to do was drop the box on your nightstand, send a quick text, and be on his way. but, you had other ideas.

it was his stupid pacing; it woke you up, and now you were staring at the windowless wall, scowling into nothingness. blankets are bunched neatly at your lace-covered waist, wrapped in a honeymoon artifact you used to show off for your husband, now your insecure ex who doesn't speak more than two sentences at a time.

unless, it's to tell you to be obedient, or stop talking.

this time, it's you who initiates the talking. "what are you doing?"

you can't see the tense in his shoulders when he realizes you're awake. he thought he could get lucky, sneaking around like a criminal. you wouldn't give him luck -- he doesn't deserve peace.

"just dropping off rin's bento box." the hard plastic hits your side table, and you shudder. his voice is deep like he's tired. "she ran out of my car like she was mad this evening... all to see you. she's a mother's girl, not like I can blame her much."

"she has like eight bentos, you could've left it."

kento sighs, letting your words overtake and shove his efforts right back in his face. "it's her favorite."

"she has eight favorites."

"okay." he deadpans. "anything else i'm doing wrong? or that I don't know?"

"nanami, we'd be here all night if I told you the truth." with every sentence, it's becoming increasingly obvious that you won't be getting much sleep. you sit up, pulling your blankets around your half-decent body. "say it. whatever it is that brought you here with the excuse of a bento."

you know better than to expect kento to listen, but you don't expect him to round the expanse of the bed, dropping to his knees right next to you. he attempts to reach for your tangled hand, but you swat him away, gaze full of indignant fires.

"forgive me... please." he's muttering, head dipped in embarrassment. since he gave you up, he's realized it as his biggest mistake. he can't calm the burning within him at night, he can't stand going back to his old ways - convenience store dinners and storefront sandwiches. but, he also can't let you be dragged into his work again. He could see the effect it pulled you into, the worry that ate you alive every time you saw him. but, there must be an answer, some alternative to cold-turkey. you are an addiction.

"forgive you? forgive you for what? breaking apart our family? giving up? giving in to your cowardice? i don't think you understand -- you leaving me doesn't just affect you and I, it affects rin in ways we won't see until it's eating us alive. that's on you. it's your fault." always level-headed, always the voice of reason even if it's painful. kento nods, but can't look at you.

"forgive... me..." he pleads, emotionless and unblinking at the rugged floor. "...please."

you scoff, pushing away from him on the bed. you crawl to the other side, the side nanami left the bento, and take it as an excuse to run from this situation.

"you're just going to walk away?"

"yes! because i'm not dealing with your bullshit." he follows you out into the hallway, past your sleeping daughters room and into the kitchen. you can feel his shadowed eyes staring at the jutting expose of your ass through the nightgown, but for some reason it doesn't bother you. emotionally, you're as disconnected as possible, but your body still likes him. i mean, it's undeniable, kento will always be the most attractive man you've ever, ever seen.

it was not you who cut those ties. never you.

and he's crowding you as you turn on the faucet, opening rin's box and putting it under. kento is on you the entire time, but he actually corners you against the sink, huge body caging you in, hands planted at your either side. his breathing is nasally and pathetic. you're scowling.

"...ignore that."

you're squinting, trying to gauge what you're ignoring. then, you can feel it. anger rises your body temperature. an erection, pressing right between the swells of your loosely covered ass. "you're genuinely so unbelievable."

you've begun washing the dish, spinning soapy water in the painted pink plastic as he breathes on your neck. you wish you can push him away and lessen him to a lifetime of sexual pining and angst, but you're stoic.

the dish is washed, you're turning around, breathless. and just as you go to close your hand over his cheek and give in, a tiny voice from the hallway catches you.

"mama?" your little girl whines, one eye cracked open in the harshness of the lights. she's all messy-haired, red-faced and sleepy. in her left hand hangs a tattered kuromi doll. "I heard... dad..."

you've never pushed kento away like this, but he's being pushed, taking it like it's nothing, too. he understands that whatever rin needs comes first - he's okay not being at your attention.

and he loves seeing you two interact as you sweep her up in your safe arms. rin settles on your hip, long legs kicking into the air as she rests on your shoulder. "sleepy."

"i know, my baby." you coo, running a hand through her hair. "want me to put you back to sleep?"

staring at her twin, her dad, rin nods her sleepy head, using a fist to tug at her right eye. "dad... bye, daddy."

"bye, my princess." kento stands from his lean on the counter, closing in to kiss rin on the cheek. he lingers for a moment, peeking up to your unreadable gaze. you make him feel so little, now. like he hardly exists as a human, let alone the father of your child and the man you loved for over a decade. "sleep well. be nice to your mama, too. I'll be here to take you to school tomorrow."

as you tuck your girl back into bed, she's peaceful. "mama? are you and dad happy again? will he live here again?"

kneeling at her bedside, you smooth the blankets over her figure, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "probably not."

she whines close-eyed, turning her face away from you. "I didn't do anything to make you mad, so why is it my fault?"

"what? rin, dad and i not being together is entirely our fault." you're mindful to the core when speaking to her, deciding it better not to pin blame on you or kento, just for the respect of her mentality.

she whines again, shoving away from your touch defiantly. she's holding kuromi like she's stressed, and it kills you.

"please, mama. please fix it."

[snazzymolasses]

The problem with the old way is that it's always slowly disappearing.

New way: Uber. Old way: Cab. While there are still cab companies, they are fewer than they used to be, and not everywhere has them anymore.

New way: DoorDash. Old way: Order a pizza or chinese food. The problem there is that a lot of those places now also rely on DoorDash, it's harder to find one that you can just call on the phone (but they are still around!)

New way: AI. Old way: Google. The problem there is, Google is garbage now. Thankfully, there are still libraries. So if you're really desperate, you can research something in books. But it has to be really important to bother.

New way: Google maps. Old way: paper map. The problem there is, good luck finding one.

New way: streaming. Old way: VHS/DVD. The problem there is, lots of media doesn't get released on DVDs anymore. Yeah, you can find old stuff, or if you're rich enough, you can even pirate and burn your own, but this is less and less accessible as time goes on.

So yeah, while it is important to be able to do things the old way, the choice is also taken from us when the old technology disappears.

Most people don't know how to ride horses anymore. Some people do still know how, and that's important, but if my car breaks down that just isn't an option like it was in 1907.

The problem here isn't really solvable on an individual level, because the problem isn't changing technologies.

The problem is lack of regulation.

If there were regulations to prevent the enshittification of new technologies, we would be in a much better position as a society to actually enjoy and rely on those technologies.

I want to be able to go online and buy whatever I need, and to be able to trust that it isn't poisoned with lead or will set my house on fire if I plug it in- and I should be able to do that! Amazon should be held to account the same way Walmart is- their products should meet certain safety standards that our government should be required to hold them to. The solution isn't that I, an individual, should shop in a brick-and-mortar store. The question is why that is safer for me than shopping online is, when shopping online could be just as safe! Walmart would happily sell toys with lead paint if they thought they could get away with it. They know they would get caught if they tried, so they don't (usually). This is also how online shopping should be.

...of course, in the current environment, we have much much much worse problems to deal with, so I doubt this will get addressed anytime soon.

Hey, look at me. Look at me. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: you need to condition yourself to being okay with being inconvenienced by things. The first time I spoke about this I meant it in a mental health way- it is good to go out to the store and see people versus just ordering alone at home- but there is another more pressing societal issue you should be more concerned about as well.

Any service you rely on for convenience can be weaponized against you the moment you begin to rely on it. Streaming used to be a cheap and convenient way to see movies at home. It is now exorbitantly expensive, you need multiple accounts just to get what you want, and any of those movies can be taken from you at any time. And unless you have gotten used to going through the “inconvenience” of owning physical media, you can do nothing about it. Same goes for buying things on Amazon. Same goes for any service like DoorDash etc. These companies WANT you to be reliant on them for convenience so they can do whatever they want to you because, well, what else are you gonna do?

Same thing goes for the uptick in AI. If you train yourself to become reliant on AI for doing basic things, you will be taken advantage of. It is only a matter of a couple years before there are no free AI services. Not only that, but in the usage of AI’s case, it is robbing you of valuable skills that you need to curate that you will be helpless without the moment the AI companies drive in the knife the way they have done with streaming. Delivery. Cable. Internet. Etc. It will happen to AI too. And if you are not practicing skills such as. Writing. You are not only going to be at the mercy of AI companies in the digital world, but you are going to be extremely easy to take advantage of in real life too.

I am begging you to let go of learned helplessness. I am begging you to stop letting these companies TEACH you helplessness. Do something like learn to pirate. It is way more inconvenient at the beginning, but once you know how, it is one less way companies can take advantage of you. Garden. Go to the thrift store (older clothes hold up better anyway). These things take more time and effort, yes, but using time and effort are muscles you need to stretch to keep yourself from being flattened under the weight of our capitalist hellscape.

Inconvenience yourself. Please. Start with only the ways you are able. Do a little bit at a time. But do something.

[himasgod]

Some twisted wonderland character comforts us when we broke down because we want to go back to our home ( separated) but it was no way back home

( if so can you make one with Jamil? )

ACE AND DEUCE AND JAMIL X READER

Where they comfort you when you miss home

How would the boys act when they find you crying because you know there's probably no way home?

The stars in Twisted Wonderland weren’t the same.

They were too blue. Too distant. Too still.

Back home, you remembered lying on your roof during summer nights, watching airplanes blink past, hearing distant traffic and dogs barking in backyards.

Here… all you could hear was wind. A different wind. One that felt like it didn’t belong to your lungs, like it didn’t know you.

You were used to pretending, smiling like things were okay. You had magic to study, housewarden rules to follow, ghosts to wrangle. But tonight… it cracked.

You sat on the crumbling steps of Ramshackle, hoodie sleeves pulled over your fists, knees drawn up to your chest. The sky blurred above you because of the tears you’d been holding back for months, now spilling down with no resistance.

You missed everything.

The feel of your own bed. Your mom’s voice. The dumb jingles from your favorite shows. The smell of your old laundry detergent. Even the mundane fights with classmates.

There was no way home.

Crowley said it over and over, he was trying to find it.

But now it felt real. You were trapped.

Like the story had been closed, and you were the only character left behind in the wrong book.

You didn’t notice when someone walked up the path to Ramshackle.

You didn’t hear the footsteps on the gravel.

“…Yo,” came a voice—too casual for the quiet night. “Did you forget what time it is? You’re gonna catch a cold out here like that.”

You blinked hard and looked up.

Ace stood a few steps away, jacket slung over one shoulder, a paper bag in his other hand.

Behind him was Deuce, fidgeting with something behind his back, expression hesitant but worried.

“…We brought you dinner. Er… late dinner,” Deuce said softly. “You weren’t in the cafeteria today.”

You tried to wipe your face quickly, but it was obvious.

“…Oh. I—I wasn’t really hungry,” you whispered, your voice cracking halfway through.

Ace dropped his bag next to you and sighed, crouching down to your level. He didn’t immediately say anything, just stared at your blotchy teary face

“Okay. Out with it. You’re too crap at hiding stuff.”

Deuce sat on the other side, carefully putting down a warm container of food next to you. It smelled like miso soup—maybe something Sam sold them.

You shook your head. “It’s dumb. I’m just… being stupid. Sorry.”

“Don't do that,” Deuce said, his tone suddenly firmer.

“You don’t have to say sorry. Not to us.”

Ace leaned his elbows on his knees, lips twitching.

“You seriously think we haven’t noticed you spacing out lately? Every time someone says something about ‘home’ or ‘parents’ you get that far-off look like someone hit you with a sad spell.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Kinda,” Ace said.

“But we didn’t wanna push. Thought maybe you’d talk when you were ready.”

You swallowed hard.

“I just… I want to go back. To where I belong. I don’t want to stay here forever. I want to be home, and there's no mirror, no spell, no nothing that can fix that. Crowley keeps pretending he’s looking but we all know he’s not really doing anything. It feels like I’m slowly being erased from my own world…”

Your throat clenched as your voice wavered.

“And I’m scared I’ll forget what my mom’s laugh sounds like.”

That was when the silence fell heavy.

Deuce looked down, fists clenched. He finally said, quietly.

“I’d be scared too.”

Ace was still. His normal sarcasm was gone.

“…That sucks,” he muttered, honest for once. “That really, really sucks.”

You let out a sob you didn’t know you were holding.

Without a word, Ace scooted closer and dropped his head against your shoulder.

“I’m not gonna tell you everything’s gonna be okay, ‘cause that’d be a load of bull. But…”

He reached over and flicked your forehead—light, just enough to be annoying.

“If you cry without telling us, I’m gonna be mad. Seriously.”

“Same,” Deuce added, resting his head in your other shoulder, more gently.

“You’re not alone, okay? You’ve got us.”

You looked between them, sniffing.

“Why… why do you two care so much?”

“Because we’re friends, dummy,” Ace said immediately, almost insulted.

“You’re our weird, stubborn, always-in-danger-because-you-have-zero-self-preservation-and-you-need-to-help-every-fucking-body friend. What kind of guys would we be if we didn’t have your back?”

Deuce smiled a little.

“And because you’ve helped us a lot too. You were there when we messed up. It’s our turn now.”

You covered your eyes with your sleeves again.

“…Thanks. Both of you.”

They didn’t push more.

Ace leaned back, arms crossed behind his head, and started complaining about how cold the steps were and how he should have brought a chair.

Deuce stayed beside you, occasionally handing you tissues from his uniform pocket.

At some point, you ate the soup.

It wasn’t your mom’s cooking, but it was warm, and it tasted like comfort.

And when you finally stood up, heart heavy but a little less cracked, Ace grinned and nudged your shoulder.

“Still stuck here with us losers, huh? Guess that means we better keep you around.”

Deuce laughed.

“And maybe… someday, there’ll be a way back. But until then… we’ll make this place feel a little more like home.”

And for the first time in a long while, you believed them.

You weren't supposed to be here.

The lounge of Scarabia in night wasn't exactly forbidden, but it was hardly a place students went after hours.

It was quiet. Isolated. Uncomfortable, even, with the cold stone beneath you and the wind tugging at your sleeves. But maybe that discomfort was comforting in its own way. Tangible. Something you could feel while everything else felt so...

Detached.

The sky above was foreign—unfamiliar stars scattered in constellations you didn't recognize, a moon that looked the same but felt completely different.

You wrapped your arms tighter around yourself, pulling your knees to your chest, and stared into the distance.

"I want to go home," you murmured. The words felt like a betrayal.

Saying them out loud made them heavier.

You hadn’t heard the voice behind you.

"Then why are you here, instead of asking Crowley for the thousandth time to send you back?"

The voice was dry, even. Unmistakable.

You turned slowly. Jamil, arms crossed. His gaze was sharp as always, but there was no mockery in his expression.

Only... observation. Careful, measured.

"I didn't think anyone would notice I was gone," you said, managing a weak smile. "Let alone come looking."

Jamil stepped into. He didn't respond right away. Instead, he glanced up at the sky.

"Grim noticed. You left your bag behind, and he was tearing apart the hallway like you'd disappeared into thin air."

You huffed a bitter laugh. "Well, that would be on-brand for this world, wouldn't it?"

He didn’t laugh.

He just moved to stand beside you, the silence stretching long. The wind tugged at his braids.

"You want to go home," he said again, quieter this time.

You didn't answer.

"You're not the first person who wanted to leave this place," he continued. "And you won't be the last."

"You sound like you know what it feels like," you said.

Jamil sat down beside you, back straight even as he lowered himself. He rested his arms loosely on his knees, his fingers laced together. Always in control. Always composed.

"I used to think I could escape too. That one day, I'd walk away from Scarabia. From Kalim. From... all of it."

You glanced sideways. "What stopped you?"

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

"Reality."

That one word hit harder than anything else had.

He continued, gaze fixed on the sky.

"No one ever asked me if I wanted to serve the Al-Asim family. No one ever asked me what I wanted. They just assumed. And when you're trained your whole life to be useful, your desires become irrelevant."

His words should have sounded bitter. But they didn’t. They were too matter-of-fact for that.

"And now?" you asked.

"Now? I play the part. Because if I don’t, someone else will write the ending for me."

Your throat tightened.

"I'm sorry."

Jamil looked at you finally, and for a moment, his eyes softened.

"You don’t need to be. You’re not the reason things are the way they are."

The silence returned. But this time, it was gentler. Less suffocating.

"I miss them," you whispered.

"My family. My friends. I miss the smell of my house. The taste of my grandma's food. I miss sunsets I recognize. I miss waking up and knowing where I am."

Jamil didn’t interrupt. He didn’t offer empty reassurances. He let you speak.

"And sometimes I feel like... if I let myself forget even one thing, it means I'm giving up. That I'm letting this place win."

Your voice cracked.

"I forgot the password on my old phone. I forgot the tune my sister always sang when she came home from school. I briefly forgot my dog's birthday."

"I'm tired, Jamil. I'm so tired."

He didn’t reach for you. That wasn’t his way

He leaned a little closer. Close enough that his shoulder brushed yours. Just barely.

"Then rest. Just for tonight."

You looked at him, eyes stinging. "I don’t know how."

His expression didn’t change. But he said, softly:

"Then let me keep watch while you figure it out."

A lump formed in your throat. You turned your head away, but not before he saw it.

"You don’t have to be strong every second of every day," he continued. "I know what it’s like to keep everything inside until it eats you alive. I won’t let that happen to you."

He said it like a promise. Quiet. Fierce.

You wiped your eyes with your sleeve and leaned into him a little more. He didn’t move away.

"We’re both trapped, aren’t we?"

"Maybe," he murmured. "But under the same sky. Under the same stars."

You sat there together, under constellations neither of you recognized, listening to the wind.

And when your head gradually rested against his shoulder, and his warmth settled around you like a shield, you felt him shift just enough to let it happen.

He didn’t speak again, but you felt the faintest brush of his fingers as they hovered near yours doing constellation figures—hesitating, uncertain.

And then, softly, he intertwined them with yours.

The night didn't feel quite so cold.

[arandomao3user]

Spreading the Absolute Batman should have Stephbin propaganda, but I got to excited about the idea and haven't read Absolute Batman yet, so have son fandon Absolute Batman and Stephbin for now—

Bruce: I don't want a side kick.

Stephanie, in her homemade Robin uniform and little bat eared headband, all of eight years old: To bad, boss!

Bruce: I am not your boss.

Stephanie: Cool beans.

Bruce:

Stephanie:

Bruce: Go home.

Stephanie: No thanks!

Bruce: . . .

Bruce, picking her up and chucking her:

Bruce: That should solve that.

Stephanie, catching herself with a grapple gun she picked up at a radio shack: BET!

Bruce: If I see you out here one more time I will personally perform a lobotomy on you...

Stephanie: Y'know my Dad hates your guts?

Bruce: I'm sure I feel the same.

Stephanie: Yeah, so, I'm here to help ya out!

Bruce: Does it look like I need help from a little girl?

—

Stephanie, applying pressure to one of Bruce's stab wounds on his arm: Am... Am I doing it right?

Bruce, digging through his utility belt: Yeah, just like that. You know how to do stitches?

Stephanie: Oh, uh, yeah, my Mom's a nurse. And I made this suit on my own. So...

Bruce: Good, good...

Stephanie, hopefully: . . . Guess it was a good thing I was here then?

Bruce: I . . . One mess up and you're fired, you understand me, young lady?

Stephanie: Yes! Yes, yes, yes! A thousand yes-es!

Bruce: Hrn... Don't make me regret this.

—

Bruce: You didn't eat today?

Stephanie: My Dad's home...

Bruce: That doesn't explain why you didn't eat.

Stephanie: I don't like eating when he's home.

Bruce: . . . I'll hand you twenty bucks, go get something from around the corner.

Stephanie: Really?

Bruce, handing her money: Go. I don't need your stomach making us known.

—

Stephanie, sitting on Bruce's shoulder as he walks: You're really big.

Bruce: Eat your vegetables.

—

Bruce: You messed up.

Stephanie: But!—

Bruce: You're done. Go. Home.

(The next day)

Stephanie, showing up again: . . .

Bruce: . . . Come on.

Stephanie: yes!

—

Bruce: You're uninjured?

Stephanie, hiding injury fairly obviously: Yup!

Bruce: . . . You hit your head. Take off your mask so I can see your eyes, I need to check for concussion.

Stephanie: I'm fine..!

Bruce: Now!

Stephanie: . . . fine.

Bruce, pulling out a pen light: How'd this happen?

Stephanie: Guy grabbed my hair...

Bruce: That was idiotic on your part, Brown. Not an excuse for recklessness.

(later)

Bruce, slowly, carefully brushing Stephanie's hair and putting it in a tight bun: There. Come here early, before patrol, so I can sort out that mess of yours every day.

Stephanie, beaming: Yes, sir!

—

Bruce: You're late.

Stephanie: Sorry, I had a gym meet!

Bruce: You're in gymnastics?

Stephanie: Duh. I go everyday after school!

Bruce: Hrn... Your Father go?

Stephanie: Oh, uh, nobody goes...

Bruce: Hm.

—

Stephanie, in the middle of a meet:

Bruce, in the back row: . . .

Stephanie, smiling brightly and waving enthusiastically at him before continuing her routine:

—

[thewritingfairy]

I keep thinking about 'Jason crime' and the fact that they made a replica of reader's room is so... disturbing? Scary? (I don't find the word in English. It's not my first language)

Imagine you got beaten helf to death and your room got completely destroyed and when you woke up you found yourself in a copy of your room. Like nothing. Ever. Happened.

The only events you have are your family hamilton and your physical condition.

It gives me questions.

1. Do the girls know that Jason came to the reader room and destroyed it? Because you said that they were just told he fallen to Pit madness and reader got hurt in the cross fire. Is that all they know?

2. (This one is dark) What would happen if the Batfamily was late and the reader ended up dead by Jason's hands? I mean the only normal one in their family died by the hand of one of them.

Will guilt come crashing on them or will it be a slow process?

Will They make a funeral and try to make some excuse?

What will happen to Jason?

Will they try to bring the reader back?

_🪷

Fic mentioned: 04.1 Jason's crime

I think the words you used were correct, English isn't my first language either and I switch a lot between dialects (which might be noticable tbh).

But it is disturbing, yes. Especially if you factor in that the batfamily are supposed to be heroes. They are supposed to be the 'good ones'.

But to your questions;

No, they don't know anything. They only know that your heirlooms have been destroyed, they didn't even remember were your old room was, so they think it was just a small pit incident. And that you were hurt so badly because you threw yourself on your heirlooms without thinking. (they don't factor in that you have never recieved training and don't know about Jason's pit madness or anything really)

Now reader dying, that sounds like a good ass side story tbh.

BUT, if Reader died that means that Jason has to confront something else. The fact that he did the same thing the Joker did, just - the prolonged torture and the crowbar. But does that make it any better? Of course not, so that's why it's enough to make him spiral even more.

It breaks everyone's heart that the normal one passed away, and this is before Damian gets pissed at you. So he demands that you have a big funeral, that you are remembered properly and that you are grieved properly by your mother's traditions.

There will be guilt crashing down, there will be a funeral but there will also be excuses. They'll say that a petty villain broke in and killed you, they already lost you so you won't blame them for not wanting to lose Jason right?

I don't really like the idea of bringing the Reader's back with the pit, especially a disabled reader. (Because if they were to die and then brought back their illness would absolutely flare up) I believe personally, that Reader's chronic pain would get worse after going through the pit.

[fatalfaeri]

What song makes you feel better? Kickstart My Heart by Motley Crue

What is your go to comfort show? Buffy or Angel, usually

Reading or writing? Why? Both... because I like both. Though reading usually requires less effort.

Whats your favorite feeling? Peace

How do you like to take care of yourself? I'm not even sure how to answer this... you mean self-care? I guess I just listen to music or watch a movie.

What’s your favorite candle scent? Something with cinnamon or jasmine.

Who do you feel most like yourself around? My bestie

Whats a fabric/texture that’s nostalgic for you? Crushed velvet

Best childhood moment? RPing in the old AOL chats

When was the last time you laughed so hard you cried? (or just felt really good afterwards) Reading a fic last night

Do you have a comfort item? Tell us about it! My Joan Jett long-sleeved tee

What calms you down? Zoning out

Bath or shower to relax? Bath, but I usually just shower

What's something upcoming that you’re excited for? Spangelthon reveals

Comfort food? Not sure I have one... pizza, I guess?

What’s something you want to create soon? More fic

How do you feel best loved? Being held

What age in life do you think you’ll feel most yourself at? Ha.

Have you ever written or received a love letter? Yes.

Tell us about a memory you hold close to your heart. Kissing my ex for the first time.

Tea, Coffee, or hot cocoa? All of the above

Name of your favorite playlist? Hair Metal

Have you ever received flowers? Yes

Who is your bestfriend? Eb

If your soul was a color, what would it be? Dark purple or dusky pink/purple

If you could live anywhere with anyone you want, where would it be and who would you bring? Not sure

Do you like to garden? Have you ever grown something? No and I've tried, but I don't have a green thumb

What are you proudest of? Not sure

Are you a kind person? Most of the time, I think

What do your hobbies look like? Fandom-related; reading or writing fic, Photoshopping fan art, making/listening to playlists for ships, owning/interacting in the Buffyverse Discord server No pressure tags: @reallyreal-madeingold @juli-2004 @kishinuma-yoshiki @aufredpratt @mycatismyfriend @mamabewear @somekindofadeviant

✨soft asks✨

What song makes you feel better?

What is your go to comfort show?

Reading or writing? Why?

Whats your favorite feeling?

How do you like to take care of yourself?

What’s your favorite candle scent?

Who do you feel most like yourself around?

Whats a fabric/texture that’s nostalgic for you?

Best childhood moment?

When was the last time you laughed so hard you cried? (or just felt really good afterwards)

Do you have a comfort item? Tell us about it!

What calms you down?

Bath or shower to relax?

Whats something upcoming that you’re excited for?

Comfort food?

What’s something you want to create soon?

How do you feel best loved?

What age in life do you think you’ll feel most yourself at?

Have you ever written or received a love letter?

Tell us about a memory you hold close to your heart.

Tea, Coffee, or hot cocoa?

Name of your favorite playlist?

Have you ever received flowers?

Who is your bestfriend?

If your soul was a color, what would it be?

If you could live anywhere with anyone you want, where would it be and who would you bring?

Do you like to garden? Have you ever grown something?

What are you proudest of?

Are you a kind person?

What do your hobbies look like?

[owls0ma]

dark cacao is one of the most mischaracterized characters in cookie run and I don't see anybody talking about it

not a lot of you know this but dark cacao is my favourite character. he shares a spot with burning spice (begrudgingly, he HATES his insane ass)

and I look at people's different interpretations of him and I think they're cool! sometimes I'll see things they do and I'll use it as inspiration for my interpretation of him

but one headcanon of his that I despise with all my being is dark cacao having anger issues because it's so painfully out of character for him

he’s a serious character. he takes things seriously because he's a warrior, and he has to always have his guard up because he's constantly fighting the licorice sea. he’s also stubborn and strict, and he doesn't take bullshit from anyone. he's honestly probably one of the more patient characters in the game from what he's had to put up with in his life.

not a single one of those things makes him angry. he's just serious

sure, you could use the council scene and his fight with dark choco against me but here’s something i’ve noticed; the only time I’ve ever actually seen dark cacao get incredibly angry like that is when someone hits him in a sore spot. I'll start with the council scene

iirc it was just revealed that white lily cookie, one of his closest friends and allies, who was presumed dead at that point to everyone (except for pure vanilla) was revealed to be dark enchantress cookie, the cookie that started the dark flour war, killed his subjects, completely destroyed the golden cheese kingdom and the vanilla kingdom, and almost killed him, the other ancients, actually killed pure vanilla and several other cookies in the process. and he learned ALL OF THIS from a complete stranger and not from pure vanilla, who knew but chose not to say anything.

mind you, when he arrived in the vanilla kingdom, this had been the first time he had actually seen the place, as well as hollyberry and pure vanilla, since the dark flour war. I’m pretty sure anybody would get emotional after reuniting with old friends who you haven’t seen in a while (especially ones you thought were DEAD). Keeping in mind the fact that he was probably still processing the fact that pure Vanilla and hollyberry were both alive, and then after that getting hit with the fact that one of your other closest friends was revealed to be the cookie that almost killed you and your friends, is a lot of emotions, both positive and negative, to process in only a few days. all of this combined with immediately afterwards being compared to said cookie after everything she had done, COMPLETELY unprovoked, is what set dark cacao off

let's also not forget he had just gotten done dealing with affogato, one of his closest and most trusted denizens trying to kill him and steal his kingdom as well as the cookies of darkness trying to steal his soul jam

clotted cream compares dark cacao to dark enchantress because he's unwilling to share his soul jam. to the person who just dealt with someone attempting to steal his soul jam, on top of everything I mentioned before, it's no wonder he snapped

even pure vanilla, who agreed with clotted cream in that the ancients should share their soul jam told him afterwards he went too far 😭😭

now onto his fight with dark choco in episode 14

I’m pretty sure at this point it’s been established what happened between dark cacao and dark choco, so we can all assume that the topic of dark Choco is a sore spot for dark cacao. which, fair enough, his own son tried to KILL HIM

seeing dark choco again after so long, especially under the circumstances that he appeared in the dark cacao kingdom, would result in a mixed bag of emotions. When dark cacao first saw dark choco again, he seemed pretty surprised to see him. he wasn’t immediately angry, and that was most likely because deep down he really missed dark choco, and he wanted him to come back, but he wanted him to do it on his own, hence why he didn’t go looking for him directly (which has been directly stated by dark cacao to hollyberry in their kingdom interaction). and after that, dark cacao learns of affogato's betrayal, and then gets pushed off the great wall.

now, this is the second time dark choco has tried to kill dark cacao. the first time was all those years ago when dark choco was much younger, and he hadn't seen him since that point

so no wonder his reaction is to get angry because. I dunno, if I was a father and my son tried to kill me twice, I'd be pretty pissed too.

their later interaction when they fight after dark cacao had gotten his sword out of the tomb of blades is where dark cacao says "It is my life's greatest regret to have called you my son" to dark choco. he says it out of a place of hurt and anger because iirc dark choco had just threatened to lay waste to the citadel with dark enchantress' armies (whom he mentions by name, and we all know by now that she's a sore subject for him)

we know he didn't truly mean this when he says his big speech to dark choco after their fight concludes, in which he apologises to dark choco for how he was raised

he got mad and said things he didn't mean because of his complicated relationship with his son, not because he has anger issues

it genuinely upsets me to see people take this amazingly written character and just dumb him down to "grumpy peepaw with anger issues" because he isn't that, he's so much more than the fandom portrays him as and it upsets me that nobody sees that

anyways sorry for the yapping this subject means a lot to me lol

[isaysexualthingsaboutrobinavitch]

Dark is The Way, Light is a Place | Session 2

Synopsis: As a board-certified clinical psychologist working at PTMC, you were expecting to see patients of the hospital. But by some twist of fate, you end up seeing several ER doctors for individual therapy. Pairing: Michael "Robby" Robinavitch / Jack Abbot/ Frank Langdon x Psychologist!Reader Genre: Angsty, existential, dark, and sometimes fluffy therapy sessions. Word count: 1.8K Warnings: some references to suicide, existential dread, jokes about Tibetan sky rituals, PTSD A/N: Overwhelmed by the support on part one, and I hope to keep the momentum alive. If there’s one thing that you take away from this, I hope it’s that you move away from the idea that you need to be “happy” or you need to experience an “absence of suffering.” The goal of existing is to be able to put down that suffering so you can live your life. Tag list: @snowflames-world

Previous I Next

Session 2: The Lion's at Your Door, The Wolf is in Your Bed

Contrary to popular belief, Jack Abbot does not use humor as a defense mechanism, he uses it to get his foot in the door. If he says something that elicits a laugh, or at least a smile, you might be able to ignore the taste of blood between your teeth when hits you with something dark and fucked up. He relishes in the reaction, wants to see if it hurts you the same way it hurts him.

You let him talk about the things that have happened to him. Initially, it was all about nice-ities. Don't jump off the roof, Jack, crying is okay and not a sign of weakness, Jack, the world is an unfair place, but you're doing a great job, Jack. It must be really hard to not be able to save everyone, Jack. And he would nod in affirmation, accept the validating statements, cry maybe once or twice when talking about a patient he lost, despite trying to hide it. The first time he talked about his military experience and what it was like growing up, it was like his soul had shattered into a million, bright, sharp, memories, each one more painful than the last, interwoven with small victories of the things he had to overcome, the successes he's had. 

And then he couldn't stop talking about the pain, of existing, of not wearing the same rose colored glasses at everyone else that fools you into thinking the world is fair, of recognizing that there is no room for God in medicine, of not being able to get close to anyone without being reminded that death comes for us all. It almost felt like he was obsessed with it, until you realized that he considered death to be an old friend, someone he plans to visit some day. 

The sessions have been a lot, lately, and you both have familiarized yourselves with the sound of silences between heavy answers to unspoken questions, your redirection back to the things that are hard to talk about, his voice cracked, and caught in his throat. 

Today, he starts with a joke.

"Well it finally happened. I'm not saying i'm a hero, but i did get doordash to deliver to the roof," He boasts as he enters the room, holding up a plastic bag with a happy face printed on the side, tied neatly in a bow, "And I didn't even have to threaten to jump."

"Glad to see you're alive and well, Jack" you shut the door behind him, "and that you're eating." 

"Do you mind?" he pulls the prosthetic off of his leg, and motions to the couch, hoping you'll allow him to get comfortable. 

"No shoes on the couch," you quip, and he dramatically rolls his eyes and unties his shoe before letting the prosthesis lay horizontally on the couch, "How's the pain?"

"Oh you mean the fake pain from the leg I don't have?" he rolls his eyes, "it's the gift that just keeps giving."  

"Phantom, but yes" you correct him, "Still a real thing." 

"You know anything about sky burials?" He avoids the question, patting the prosthetic leg lying next to him. 

"Jack" you fold your arms across your chest, narrowing your eyes at him.

"I'm serious, when my foot got blown off, I just really wished I could have given her the funeral she deserved. You know? I'm never going to be able to take feet pics again." He chuckles at his own joke and looks to you for a similar response.

"You really want to talk about feet pics and tibetan sky rituals for the whole session?"

"This isn't fun if you won't entertain me, at least for five fucking minutes." His tone changes. How dare you ruin his last hope for distraction.A man who is not used to being told no. 

"Not supposed to be fun, but you sound irritated"

"My god, y/n, not every therapy session has to be about something horrible, you know." He scoffs, shaking his head in what looks like disbelief. Like you're ruining his good time.

"Is that what you think therapy should be?" 

"No, but can't you just give me a minute to decompress and celebrate a small victory."

"I'm sorry, you're right." You can admit when you're wrong, and he eats it up, a smirk spreading across his face,  "Sky burials, huh? Think we could start offering those here?"

"Maybe, I know a guy who can fly a helicopter, but I don't know the city's guidelines on human pollution," he shrugs.

"What's the phrase? ashes to ashes, dust to dust, human compostable material to the Allegheny river?"

He laughs, genuinely, for the first time in weeks during session. Happiness, however fleeting, looks good on this man. If only you could bottle it up and serve it back to him on days where he feels like he's nothing. you capture the memory, for your own 'small victory.'

"Alright, alright" he settles into the chair, trying to regain composure "now what do you want to talk about"

"Your use of humor is a segway," You reflect, "You do it any time something really bad happens. Let's both remember how a minute ago I was laughing at your jokes so I don't recoil at the sight of you crying."

He contemplates saying something, but bites his tongue. He could push the boundary, tell you to fuck off for ruining a good thing, end the session upbruptly when you get too close to the part that hurts. It's an easy out, but he doesn't take it.

"You ever burn yourself as a kid?" He asks, "on an iron maybe? or the stove?"

"I'll bite, yes." The trick to therapy is revealing just enough while maintaining a boundary. 

"Remember that feeling? The pain receptors light up your brain so quickly that you pull your hand away before you even register that it's hot. You make a mental note not to do it again. Always check that the iron is off before touching it, never grip a door knob before checking to see if there's flames under the door." He repeats the last part like it's an inner monologue that he tells himself when assessing the scene of an emergency.

"A learned response to pain" You nod, "pain has a way of making us cautious, and reminding us that we are in fact, both alive, and not invincible."

"Now imagine standing over your stove, the coil bright red. You can feel the heat radiating, warming the skin on your face. Give it a few minutes, let it get hot. And then slam your hand down on it and hold it there for 10 seconds. Full mississippi seconds,  Hold it there until your flesh melts and adheres to the burner, until you can smell your flesh burning" He holds eye contact, but his facial expression softens when he says it "That white-hot blistering heat, I've been trying to carry that pain for years."

"Jesus, that's a lot to carry around," You take a deep breath. He's got a way with words, and for a moment, you're glad that he started with a joke. 

"It's exhausting. Sure, there's the physical pain of the prosthetic that never quite fits right, the overcompensating I do with my other leg, and the emotional pain of what we've been talking about for months." He leans his head back against the couch, brow furrowed, and runs a hand over his face, like he's trying to wipe himself clean. 

"But there are good parts too, yeah?" You learn forward, elbows resting on your knees, and he sits up, matching your body language.

"Fuck yeah" he exhales sharply, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, "I love saving lives. I see every person I've ever lost in every person I've ever saved. I love being alive, contrary to our conversations, I love the people I work with, the work that we do. fuck, even this is good too."

"But?" 

"But I'd be lying if that voice wasn't loud, sitting at the base of my spine, like a fucking snake," he shakes his head, frustrated with his own inner monologue. 

"What does it say, Jack?" 

"It'll never be enough," his voice is soft when he says it, defeated.

"And you believe it?" you raise an eyebrow.

"You've given me several reasons not to."

"The goal of therapy is not the absence of suffering, Jack." You remind him, "the goal is to be able to put that suffering down, to not let it cloud everything you do so you can live your life." 

You give him the rundown of homework, the things you want him to complete for the next session, and he thanks you for the hour. Therapy is often slow and progress is never linear. 

----

By the time Jack leaves, Robby is already standing in the hallway, leaning against the far wall. This time he's brought his cell phone, to give off the impression that he does have a life outside of these walls. You'd bet money he's just writing a note of things he needs to buy at the grocery store. 

He enters your office, still hesitant to cross the threshold without contemplating making a run for it, but before you can close the door, a familiar voice calls to you from the opposite hallway

"Y/N! Wait!" Frank Landgon practically sprints down the hallway towards your office. 

You step outside the office, and shut the door behind you, face-to-face with the man who should not be here

"Do you not understand what the words 'go home' mean?"  You shake your head, raising your hands up in front of you "You don't have an appointment, I am not your fucking friend, and you are not supposed to be here." 

"I know, i know, but please let me explain," His speech is pressured, eyes wide with worry, hoping for a chance to tell his side of the story. 

"I'm not going to tell you again. You have been referred to me for a court ordered evaluation. Until that appointment, I have made it abundantly clear that you need to go home" Your arms are folded across your chest, a clear directive

"You know me" he pleads, ignoring what you've said. You interrupt him before you can continue.

"Frank," This time your voice is loud, stern, unwavering, "you're being investigated for stealing benzodiazepines. I am ordered to evaluate you next week. If you have any self-respect you will stop talking and you will not give me a reason to put in a report that you can't even follow basic directives to go the fuck home."

You don't wait for a reply, and instead enter your office, slamming the door behind you.

"Sorry about that," You apologize to Robby.

"Don't be, you're not the only one who has told him to go the fuck home."

-----------------

Get your bodies ready for the psychological evaluation of Dr. Langdon in part 3 :)

[so-i-did-this-thing]

Hi, so I'm not really sure how to ask this idk, it feels very personal and maybe tmi, and I guess it depends on one's level of bottom dysphoria, but basically, do you (or anyone else who wants to share) have any advice or anything with how to cope with having to go through a physical exam for bottom stuff/ a pap smear for the first time?

I'm asking this as someone who has and always has had severe bottom dysphoria to the point that I've never done anything with those parts and literally never even touched myself. I've just lived painfully aware that I have that stuff but simultaneously pretending as much as possible that I don't. So just the thought of "having to" get that done, being touched there by someone etc, makes me sick and gives me anxiety and I just full on do not want to do that. Ever. But apparently I have to if I'm ever gonna get a hysto, which I really really want.

So now I just feel like it's lose/lose. Either I have to let someone touch me in a way that just thinking about me makes me sick, or I can never get a part of transition that I've been wanting forever since I was kid and learned about my anatomy.

And I just.. mentally, emotionally, physically in every way just really don't know how to deal with that.

I guess it's not that big of a deal for people who don't have bottom dysphoria or not that much of it, and honestly sometimes I feel kinda alone (and almost guilty? Like it's wrong somehow?) in how extremely uncomfortable I am with bottom stuff compared to how I've seen other people be chill with it, but yeah.. idk what to do or how to cope with this.

Don't feel bad about feeling bad -- I may like my dick, but that hole gives me panic attacks and I'm not looking forward to my own exam coming up soon. I worry every time that I am going to kick someone in the face by accident. :/

A pelvic exam/pap is not required to begin HRT, but you will need one for most hystos. Plus, it's just good preventative care. Also, if you are young enough, get your HPV vaccine (a 2 shot series, iirc) to help prevent cervical cancer.

Things that have helped me during gyn exams:

Take the entire day off, if you can. Have a treat set up for after your appointment.

Go with a friend, if possible. They may not be able to be with you in the exam room, but they can at least drive you and wait for you.

Be firm that this is hard for you and anything they can do to make it easier will be helpful.

Put your shirt back on after the breast exam. I don't take "no" for an answer here. Having an extra bit of clothing on makes me feel better.

Ask for the "pediatric" speculum -- it's smaller and won't hurt as bad. Insist on it.

Have something you can grip to take your focus off below.

If they want to do a sonogram, refuse the transvaginal one. Do it the old fashioned way, which will require drinking a lot of water. They can deal.

Don't be embarrassed if your self-care afterwards requires crying, or similar. This is an exhausting thing to do, no matter how brave a face you put on in the exam room. I usually just crawl back into bed to sleep it off.

Above all, never take comments like "just man up" or whatever from the medical team. If that happens, be mean back, or simply get up, get dressed, and leave. Find someone else if you have to.

Scripts I have used. Workshop your own and practice them:

"This is my first time. I'm worried this will be a very uncomfortable exam physically and emotionally for me and I would appreciate anything you can do to make it easier. It helps me if you explain everything as we go."

"I do not have penetrative sex, so would like to try the smallest speculum lubed up best you can."

"I am going to put my shirt back on. It will help me be calmer for the rest of the exam."

If they are rude: "You are being unkind and I will walk out of here and find another provider if this attitude continues."

If they insist on a transvag sonogram: "I will only do an external sonogram. We can schedule it another day for me to prep, or give me time to drink the necessary water." (This is hard, btw -- it is enough water to make you vomit.)

Do whatever mental larping you need to do to get through it all. It's important to psych yourself up so you can control as much as possible. Remember, you can stop things whenever you want. If they are mean, all bets are off.

If you're like me, it will suck, but please try not to put it off. But getting through it means you can tackle anything else related to transition, should you go that route. Seriously, if you can do this, you are fucking golden. Take care. <3

(Additional stories/advice are welcome from folks, being trans masc not required!)

[stilllivinginthesewers]

Let's go with my second most important OC (should I do it with all of them?)

Name : Riley (i asked ChatGPT until i was satisfied with the name 💀)

Age : 17 years old

Love interests : Some guy named Louie, a really good cook scared of any type of firearms (though he becomes the most dangerous man ever if you spoil his food/bother him while he's cooking)

Favourite food : Red Guacamole (red avocadoes exist in this universe as well as blue and green ones, and red ones are sweet and spicy. Still, spices and ingredients are as important in the recipe)

Job : None, they used to study psychology but then stopped and now they just... Hang out with his group of friends (and a literal god also)

Hobbies : Surfing and paintball, mostly

Best at : helping people, whether it's emotionally or physically. He'd do anything to help anyone, even if he has to get hurt, to skip two whole nights of sleep or clean the blood of your worst enemy. He tries to tank almost everything and often forgets that people sometimes didn't ask for help, and that he's not invincible himself.

Loves/Hate : They love seeing people smile, and they hate seeing people suffer, or simply cry. But nothing really bothers him, as long as he knows everyone is going well, he's happy.

Best memory : One day, before his parents divorced, his dad took him to the city for a whole day when his mom wasn't here. It's the first time he really felt happy, and this day he knew how much he meant for his dad.

Worst memory :

(⚠️TW SUIC_DE, skip this part if you don't wanna read this⚠️)

During his studies in college, he met a girl, Sina. She came from another country (which is common knowing his country had the best universities in the world) and since she didn't know anyone, Riley became friends with her. Both of them had the best times together, in spite of Sina's depression. But one night, he received a goodbye message from Sina, and rushed to her apartment to try something. He couldn't find her at home, and decided to look for her on the rooftop. At the very moment he arrived, he could see her fall from the roof.

✨ End of the TW ✨

Design? : Basically, yes. Long dark hair, tanned skin, always wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a long bermuda short, carrying a white and red surfing board. I didn't really draw him yet so it never really changed.

Inspiration : I don't remember, I think it's because I love helping and I thought about a character who would be like this, but pushing this trait a bit further.

Genre : I'm not sure I understand, but he's one of the protagonists (plz someone tell me if I'm mistaken)

Gender/Sexuality : Riley is a man, and is biromantical/allosexual

Siblings : He has a step brother, 10 years older (his name is Alessandro, and is the most important political figure of another country (although he's just a huge troll and is so laid back he shouldn't have his current post)

Relationship with his parents : Riley visits his dad really often and both love seeing each other, whereas he never talked to his mom since she left, but he's okay with it, it's not like he missed her.

Favourite trait of the OC : HIS HAIRRR I WANT THEM OMGGG

Drawing/writing frequency : I write about them quite often compared to the other OCs

Killing the OC? : We're both aged the same, about the same physical strength, but he's really fast and I have asthma so I guess not.

Phobias : None, he's not really scared of anything

Rival : He has no true rival actually

Duration : It's been about a year, something like that i think

Age of creation : 15 or 16, something like that x)

Ask Game for someone’s OC(s)

✨- How did you come up with the OC’s name?

🌼 - How old are they? (Or approximate age range)

🌺- Do they have any love interest(s)?

🍕 - What is their favorite food?

💼 - What do they do for a living?

🎹 - Do they have any hobbies?

🎯 -What do they do best?

🥊 -What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories?

✂️ - What is one of your OC’s worst memories?

🧊 - Is their current design the first one?

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

🌂 - What genre do they belong in?

💚 - What is your OC’s gender identity and sexuality?

🙌 - How many sibling does your OC have?

🍎 - What is the OC’s relationship w/their parents like?

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

✏️ - How often do you draw/write about the OC?

💎 - Do you ever see yourself killing off the OC?

💀 - Does your OC have any phobias?

🍩 -Who is your OC’s arch-nemesis or rival?

🎓 - How long have you had the OC?

🍥 - What age were you when you created the OC?

[vargaslovinghours]

Say it like you mean it

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Curse Your Name

𖤐❝Halazia❞𖤐

❥Vampire Ateez x fem reader

❝What is destined cannot be avoided.❞

Masterlist + Visualizers

✫彡wordcount: 10k

(✯◡✯)genre: yandere, fantasy, smut, angst

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: see general warnings in the masterlist: talk of virginity and sex, kissing, drinking wine, manipulative hwa and joong take advantage of drunk reader (ONLY by drinking from her), a few mentions of death of a family member

➯a/n: wwwah im scared to let you guys down, i hope you enjoy !!

✫bleeding hearts✫@spenceatiny18 @gigglensnort @londonbridges01 @soobieboobiebaby @kllerwaifu @stayatinykatsy @onyxmango @purple-bell @peachyscenes @emilysecresy @ninjakitty15 @imeverycliche

❝Drink from me and live... forever.❞

MDNI.

𖤐❝I promise.❞𖤐

     𖤐 It was late fall. You were twelve years old.

    The water was cold between your fingers. The grass was soft as you laid on your stomach.

    You were all alone.

    The rest of the village was gathered together, celebrating the life of your recently departed mother.

    But you did not feel like celebrating. You only felt like dunking your head in the water and screaming until you ran out of air.

     When you sat up to do so, a familiar presence had stopped you before you could.

     "Go away, Mingi..." You already knew it was the invisible man. You didn't have to look or ask.

    The grass beside you sunk as his unperceivable form took a seat next to you.

"You're in pain. Has someone harmed you-"

"I said go aw-"

"I will do no such thing." You were shocked at his sudden stern tone. In the years that he's haunted both your dreams and your waking hours, he's always been soft spoken towards you. "I will do no such thing," he repeated a bit softer when he sensed your unease, "I will not leave your side when you are in such pain. Pray tell me, what has hurt you?"

You looked towards the water. The river where he had first came to you, that day you were learning how to fish from your mother. "I cannot speak it aloud... it's too horrible."

You felt his cold hand on your back, you felt him looking at you. You pulled your knees up and hugged them to your chest.

"Your mother?" He asked gently, getting his answer when you began to sob immediately. "Oh, sweet child," his ghostly embrace was more comforting than you felt it should have been; but you took what you could get. "I wish I was here with you. One day I will hug you and make all of your pain go away. I promise." 𖤐

"Did you hear me?" Wooyoung reaches across the gap between his horse and your and Hongjoong's, flicking your arm.

"Owwww," you draw on dramatically, "what was that for?"

You had been journeying with the Vampires for twelve days. Despite your initial efforts to distance yourself, to build a metaphorical wall between you and the trio, you started opening up to them around the eight day mark.

You no longer flinched from every touch, but you certainly didn't search them out. You didn't keep your answers to their questions to one or two words anymore, but you didn't offer them anything unprompted.

"I said we have about another three hours before we reach the castle," he repeats what you missed while you were stuck in your own memories, "do you need to stop for a little bit?"

"Oh," you shake your head, "no, I'm okay. Thank you, My Lord."

Hongjoong hums from behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Your hips must be aching by now, you are still not used to being on horseback."

"I can bare it," you sigh, fidgeting with the bandage on your hand. "My Lords, might I ask a question?"

"Didn't you just?" Yunho, from his own horse in front of you, smiles over his shoulder, "of course, speak freely amongst us."

"Well," you take a breath. You don't know if you really want the answer. Because you're afraid. But going in blind is worse. "What will happen when we arrive to the castle?"

"No need to be frightened." Yunho speaks softly — and you don't have to ask how he knows you're scared. After almost two weeks with the councilmen and their subordinates, you know they can hear your heartbeat quickening no matter how steady you try to keep it with deep breaths. "We will call upon the rest of our soulmates, if they don't greet us when we arrive."

"That's very well but..."

"But...?" Wooyoung mimics you, tilting his head.

"Will... uhm, forgive me for being so crass, My Lords, but will they drink from me like you did?" You really don't want them to. Even though you were beginning to form a sort of trust with the trio, the times they fed from you over the past days always left you feeling queasy.

It was nowhere near as bad as the first time, when you had nearly passed out from the blood loss, but it still leaves you feeling dizzy and oddly warm.

You don't want that feeling from anyone, really. It feels sinful. The warmth in your body feels like it taints your soul. At least with the three of them, you have some sort of idea what to expect. Again, you have the beginnings of trust with them. They always ask for permission after the first day in the church. And you always grant it because something deep inside of you feels... sad at the thought of denying them.

Yunho is the gentlest, but he has the biggest thirst. Perhaps he's careful with you on purpose because he knows that you'll be losing a lot of blood. After you offer up your wrist to him, he kisses your forehead before taking as little as possible — which for him is still... a fair amount.

Hongjoong falls somewhere in the middle. He prefers your neck, which you had found always makes you dizzy the fastest, and left you feeling the warmest. He likes to feed at night; he climbs on top of you when everyone besides the designated guard is asleep and the only thing you see when awakening at the feeling of his lips on your throat is his glowing eyes.

Wooyoung... well, for a lack of better words; Wooyoung is feral. He's only fed from you twice since the day in the church because he knows that he can't handle it — he knows he can't stop himself. Maybe going hand in hand with that, feeding into it, is the fact that he waits until his hands are shaking and his throat is bone dry to feed from you because he's so afraid to harm you. When he finally does ask, and you remove your cloak; he doesn't have any preference or favorite. He tackles you and holds you tightly as he feeds from you, moaning and growling all the while.

If Yunho's soft kiss of gratitude leaves you warm, if Hongjoong's preference for your neck makes you hot — Wooyoung's begging eyes and bestial noises throw a match into your very being and set you ablaze.

But it's been two days since any of them last sunk their fangs into you, and you've connected the reasoning as to why. Wooyoung said the High King has a "large appetite" and Manon was making sure you were very hydrated.

You aren't an idiot.

They're preparing you to be sucked dry.

"Not all at once, no," Hongjoong reassures you with a soft squeeze to your hip. "Since we're already more used to your scent, we will make sure they stay in line. Though..." You can tell he doesn't want to tell you this next part, but he does anyway, "I will tell you that I have never known the High King to wait for anything he wants, and he will want you immediately."

He can hear you gulp. Your heartbeat rattling your rib cage. "I will make sure he's gentle, little one. No harm will come to you. I promise."

𖤐❝It is you.❞𖤐

To say that the castle is imposing would be an understatement. You can almost feel all of the darkness wafting off of the expansive building as you grow ever closer.

When you came up the large hill it was situated upon, a bell had started ringing. You didn't have to be told that the sound was to tell others of the return of the councilmen. Others that include the High King and the rest of his council.

   Hongjoong squeezes your hip gently as he hears your heartbeat speeding up.

There's a parade of servants that are lined up by the main doors, all bowing as your entourage finally arrives right in front of the castle.

"Rise." Is all that Hongjoong says, and they all snap into action; running to help the others in tending to the horses or carrying bags.

He jumps down and points to one of them, beckoning him forward. The servant bows, "thank Th-"

    "No time for formalities. Yes, 'thank The Goddess, My Lords have returned safely', blah blah blah. Listen closely. Gather the others. Gather the King. Tell them we have found her."

    Hongjoong watches the boys eyes widen, and follows his gaze. Wooyoung is helping you down, holding you upright as you stumble.

     The Lieutenant looks back to the boy, "did I say stare at her?"

    "Apologies, Lord Kim-"

    "No. I didn't. Hurry now, they have waited long enough."

    The boy disappears before his eyes, nothing but a blur as he hurries to inform the rest of the royals.

    "I told you we should have stopped," he hears Yunho chastise you as he approaches, grabbing the bag of your possessions. They made it painfully clear when someone else tried to carry your things at an early stop in a city — don't do that.

    "I'm fine, really, Lord Jeong," your rebuttal is dulled by the way you cling to Wooyoung for support.

   "Mhm," Hongjoong manages to make his hum the most sarcastic noise on the face of the planet, and smirks as you throw a measly glare his way.

    "You should have a warm bath to soothe your hips-"

     "They're ready for you, My Lords," the boy Hongjoong had sent was already back, panting as he bows.

    "You're fast," Hongjoong smiles, patting his shoulder as he passes, "good job, kid."

    As Wooyoung helps you towards the open doors, the now smiling boy bows once again. When you bow back weakly; the healer yanks you back up. Before you have the chance to question him, the sounds of the castle overwhelm you. 

    It's bustling with life, or rather with undeath, at the return of the councilmen and the quick spreading information that they have come back with their soulmate.

    People are running around, bowing and reuniting and talking amongst themselves. While you feel a lot of eyes on you, wherever you look the person is always quickly looking down and bending at their waist as you pass with Wooyoung on one side of you and Yunho on the other.

    You try to take in everything going on around you, you glance at all of the grandeur with awe in your eyes that makes the Vampires smile. They know you've never left your village before they arrived and effectively stole you away; and they've taken great pleasure in showing you all kinds of things at every opportunity, every city that you passed through.

    "-had better be important." Someone's sleepy grumble breaks your inspection of the walls and their decorations as Hongjoong throws open a door.

    "Family!" He smiles brightly, earning another groan.

    "How can you possibly be so energetic after such a journey?"

    Wooyoung helps you up the small step into the room, and the idle chatter stops. When Yunho closes the door to the room behind you, it cuts off the lively noise of the castle.

    The room must be a meeting area. Almost all of the space is taken up by an enormous table, nine chairs around it.

    "Dear Goddess..." Your eyes flick to the man who spoke. He has hair that matches Yunho, a light blue. He feels... familiar. He's looking at you like he's looking past your skin, into your soul.

    Because he is.

   He barely even registers that you've grown up, that you look almost entirely different. Because your soul looks exactly the same even as the years have worn down the edges of it. "(Y/n)?"

    The others look between you.

  You hold onto Wooyoung's sleeve as your gut fills with unease, not enjoying their eyes on you one bit.

    "This is her." Hongjoong pulls back a chair and sits back with a wide smirk. "This is our soulmate."

    The room explodes with action.

    You're yanked from Wooyoung's side, into the arms of a buff man. "I knew it! I knew we would find you! Oh, you're so soft," he's nearly purring in your ear, holding you tightly as your feet hover above the ground.

    Two of them are asking a million questions at once, directed towards you and towards the trio that is responsible for finding you.

    The familiar man slaps his hands together and starts praying, thanking The Goddess in jumbled and hurried words.

    At the head of the table, the Vampire with pink hair lets his jaw drop. "...What?"

    The chaos continues, questions flying and making your head hurt even though you don't even try to answer them.

    "Quiet!" The pink haired man bellows, and everyone stills effectively immediately. The man with his arms around you tightens his grip.

    You've already made a guess, and it's proven right. This is the High King. You don't dare look at him after all of the rumors you've heard. It was frightening enough when some of the ones you've heard about the Lieutenant were proven right.

    Those about Lord Kim were almost harmless. Those about High King Park Seonghwa are anything but.

   "Let the girl down," he orders, and the man does so carefully. Yunho is there to steady you, leading your cowering form to the only empty seat beside his own.

    Across the table from Seonghwa, at the other end of the giant table. The distance doesn't provide much comfort when you know just how fast they can move.

    As you sit, Wooyoung speaks with a grin, "isn't she precious?" Hongjoong swears that there's stars in the younger man's eyes, and he can't blame him at all. 

    "Your name is (Y/n)?" Seonghwa ignores his words, looking at you closely and listening to your racing heartbeat.

     "Yes, My King." You whisper, digging your nails into the wooden armrests. You had imagined a thousand different ways this would go if the High King didn't approve of having you as a soulmate. It didn't matter how attached his loyal councilmen were to you if he didn't want you around.

    "It's her. It's her, I have no doubt-" Mingi's voice is cut off by the rushing wind as Seonghwa all but teleports to the other side of the table.

    You yelp as his face is suddenly in the crook of your neck. He sniffs deeply, and grabs onto the armrests next to your hands. You slam your eyes shut, forcing yourself to tilt your head back in submission. He lets out a pleased groan, inching closer.

   The rest watch on, the trio who's already experienced it sharing a smirk as they watch the eldest Vampires skin come in contact with yours.

    The tip of his nose touches your neck and his lips widen in a cheshire grin. A million sparks travel through your body from the contact point. "It is you."

   He leans back, licking his lips. They can all tell he wants to have a taste. The glint in his eyes is undeniable.

   But, much to their surprise, he doesn't. He's holding back. He never holds back.

   He's back in his seat, breathing deeply and swallowing before he speaks. "Might you explain what happened, Hongjoong?"

    As he does, you take a sneaking glance at each of the council. Every time, you're caught — but it doesn't stop you. Especially because they meet your gaze with bright smiles. The only one you don't look at is Seonghwa.

    "You've already been feeding on her?" Yeosang, you've learned, has a small pout as Wooyoung lets slip a comment about how good you taste; and the other two agree with breakneck speed.

     "Have you no self control?" San, ironically the one who grabbed you, slaps Wooyoung's arm.

    "No, no," Hongjoong shakes his hands, "the myths are true. A soulmates blood is... it's a drug. She's a drug. None of you would be able to resist either."

 

     Seonghwa tuts his tongue, "I find that hard to believe." No, he doesn't. Even just smelling your blood through your skin had his fingers itching to grab you and never let go.

    He looks to you. You don't meet his gaze even though he knows you can feel it. "Did they hurt you in their haste?"

    "No, My King."

    Yunho holds back a chuckle at your formality with the man. You were like that with him not too long ago.

   "I don't believe it, either. No body can make a Vampire lose control by their smell alone. Especially not any of us," Jongho takes a deep inhalation, trying to get a whiff.

    Mingi hasn't taken his eyes off of you the entire time. He's afraid that if he even blinks that he will wake up from this dream.

   "She can." Wooyoung stands quickly, turning and rummaging in a drawer. "Here." He's next to you, a needle in between his fingers.

You take it slowly, looking up at him with your brows pinched together in confusion. Then, it dawns on you. "Lord Jung, no-"

"Yes. Prove to them that The Goddess has crafted you just for us. Even the blood that pumps from your heart is created with our souls in mind."

You look to Hongjoong. He promised no harm would come to you, and this seemed like a surefire way to get yourself bitten. But he nods.

You feel like you've never been so exposed in your life.

   There's eight pairs of eyes on you, each of which belonging to a Vampire more frightening than the last one you look at.

    As you scan the royals slowly, your hand starts trembling. "Do- do I have to, My Lords?"

    "Yes," Yunho meets your gaze as you come back to him quickly after taking a peek at the High King. "It's okay ba." He's taken up your dialect in your two weeks together. It makes you slightly less nervous. "We won't let them get out of control."

You take a deep breath and look down at your hands. You pinch the needle tighter and bite your tongue as you prick your finger.

You know realistically that this is a horrid idea. But you seem to trust the three men enough to purposely make yourself bleed in a room full of bloodthirsty strangers.

The reaction is instant and intense, just as it was in the church. San is held back from literally climbing over the table by his belt. Yeosang is sucking in shaking breaths through his mouth, forcing himself to look away. Jongho, the youngest, is slammed back into his chair as he growls and fights against the Lieutenant. Mingi slaps a hand over his mouth, but his eyes still never leave you even as they morph into a crimson color that shows his desires. Wooyoung is smirking as he holds back Seonghwa by his shoulders.

"Please, please," Jongho pleads, meeting your shock widened eyes.

Is he... pleading with you?

"Just a lick," he pants, his red eyes filled with hunger and primal want, "just one?"

"We told you," Hongjoong giggles at the youngests pout, "she's nearly irresistible. Yunho," he nods to the taller man; and he gets the message.

"No!" San whines, a legitimate sorrow in his voice as Yunho leans over and licks the blood from the tip of your finger. He groans as he falls back into his chair defeated, Seonghwa and Jongho following suit.

The lot of them are breathing heavily, purposely to get the remaining scent of your blood or unintentionally from the ton of bloodlust they were just smacked with that was unlike anything they've ever experienced.

You cower in the chair, gulping past the lump in your throat. You were certain that something would go horribly wrong, but the trio held true to their promises to keep you fairly safe.

"I-" The King stutters, gripping the edge of the table with a vengeance. "I should... we should..."

"Take your time, Hwa," Hongjoong chuckles, reaching over and rubbing your arm gently —

"Welcome home, little one."

𖤐❝She is delicate compared to us.❞𖤐

       Seonghwa sits back on his throne slowly, grabbing the sides with trembling hands. He's deeply regretting not sinking his teeth into you, but he knows that this is a... delicate situation.

    When he had found the rest of his soulmates, they were already turned. And while their blood tasted good, it wasn't nearly as tempting as whatever divine curse you are.

    He's been waiting since the day he was born to finally be complete. Now he has all eight of his soulmates under the same roof and he let you be lead away to rest — to rest! He should be worshipping you right now! 

     "Ymanya!" He yells loudly, leaning forward with his head in his hands.

    "Yes, My King?" The elderly looking woman bows as she quickly runs to the throne.

    "I have a new job for you."

    "A job, King?"

    "Yes, a promotion. You are no longer the manager of the staff," he leans back and crosses his legs as he looks down at her. "This job is much more important, so I need you to listen closely, yes?"

     "Of course."

    "You will be the keeper of the Lady of Halazia."

   "The Lady?! You finally found her?" She clasps her hands together, tilting her head back in a short prayer.

     "Indeed, and she is a human," he thinks back to you, your image is haunting him, "she... she is delicate compared to us. I am placing her under your care. If harm is to befall her in any way when we are not present — any manner at all, I will hold you personally responsible. If she trips and falls, I will push you down the stairs. If she gets a cold, I will make you sleep outside. Should she go hungry, you will not even see a drop of blood for weeks. Do you understand where I am going with this?"

    "Yes, My King," she nods, "you needn't worry. I will take the utmost care of the Lady."

     "Good. You are my most capable servant, have I told you that before?" He half-smiles, watching her return the favor.

   "Many times, King."

    "Make sure that it keeps true. We have waited a long time for her, make her feel welcome. Have Gele accompany you, as well. She is good with humans."

   When she bows and turns to leave, he calls out before she can —

    "One more thing, Ymanya."

    "Yes, My King?"

    "Report back to me with what you learn about her. I want to know everything about our Lady."

𖤐❝Why else would The Goddess give you such a fate?❞𖤐

    Clang!

   "Gele, be careful."

You stir at the sound of footsteps around you; groaning as you nuzzle deeper into the pillow.

"Shh, don't wake the Lady." The soft voice whispers, "Lord Jeong will have our heads."

You sit up quickly as you realize where you are.

The chambers they provided you with are bigger than your entire home back in Caethnor.

After being led to them by a servant, who was (very threateningly) told to treat you with the utmost respect, you were left alone for a while.

You did not mind one single bit. It was the first time you had been alone for more than fifteen minutes in days.

You had sat down on edge the large bed and hummed. It was... very comfortable. Just to feel it, you thought as you laid back — and then you were promptly asleep.

By the look of the sun casting the startled strangers in the golden hour light, that had to have been a few hours ago.

The two women jump back, one of them clutching an empty bucket to her chest tightly, "ah!"

"What are you doing?" You scramble to your knife, gripping the handle when the older looking woman speaks.

"Oh, My Lady please! Please, don't fret! Lord Jeong sent us to fill you a bath," she explains quickly, raising her hands to show you that she means no harm.

You eye them frantically, the bucket and the fact that they seem dressed like the other servants you had seen corroborate with her words. You let go of the dagger on your boot and bow to them, "sorry, you startled me."

    When you come back up, they look completely in shock. "...Is something the matter?"

    "My Lady, you needn't bow to us," the younger girl with red hair shakes her head, "you are our superior."

    You rub your eye as you slide to the edge of the bed, "what?" You must still be foggy with sleep. 

    "Oh, Gele," the older woman turns to the redhead, "she was a common villager, she does not know these things! My apologies," she turns back to you, smiling sweetly, "this all must be very drastically different for you."

    "Uhm," you clear your throat. It's the first time someone has acknowledged that. "I suppose it is."

    "Here, come with me, child," she approaches slowly and waits for you to grasp her hand. "My name is Ymanya, this here is Gele." She explains softly as you take her wrinkled hand, standing to follow her. "We will be your maids."

    "I do not think I will need any maids..."

    "Then our jobs should be easy," Gele giggles lightly as she sets the bucket down, testing the temperature of the water in the tub that they had managed to fill without waking you.

    It was only separated from the rest of the chamber by a folding screen, and you almost wonder how they managed such a task before you remember how little sleep you had gotten on the journey.

    "Forgive my bluntness," Ymanya hums before going on, "but the Lords have hand picked us to care for you, and we must do our very best to please them. They have told us they will have nothing but perfection when it comes to your wellbeing." She can sense your hesitation about having someone doing things for you, and she places a hand on your shoulder, "you can think of us as your assistants. We are here to make your life easier, My Lady."

    You can't think of anything that you can't do on your own — but you know that it's probably a useless task to argue with the council. "Must you call me that if we will be so close?"

     "What else would we call you?" Gele asks as she settles on the stool in the area.

    "My name, I would think," you laugh a bit, watching Ymanya reach into a cabinet and retrieve a towel.

    "The Lords have told us to only refer-"

    "Well, what they don't know won't kill them." You sigh, "please, when it is just us; don't use that ridiculous title. I'm not a Lady." 

    It's their turn to be hesitant, thinking over whether or not this is a test. "You are," Ymanya nods, "you are The Lady of Halazia now. You're fated to the most powerful men in the realm, we should address you with respect."

    You shake your head, having a hard time grasping the concept. You are no Lady, you're just a nun from Caethnor. "Respect should be earned-"

    "My Lady (Y/n)," Gele perks up, gesturing towards you, "that might please both you and our Lords. Is that okay?"

    "I... well, I suppose that's better." You give her a smile, "I am okay with that. Should the Lords have a problem with it, I will try to tell them such."

    You jump when Ymanya's hand comes in contact with the back of your dress. "Actually!" You turn around quickly, "this is one task I would much rather do on my own." You ramble out quickly, shaking your head.

    "Of course, Lady (Y/n)," the grey haired woman smiles apologetically, bowing as she ushers the younger girl out, "but I bid you not tell the Lords. We promised Lord Jeong that we would help you. But, I know that it would probably be most uncomfortable for you."

    "It would," you gulp, making the woman chuckle. You're so tremendously different from her Lords. You were born a commoner but you were fated for royalty... it might be nice to have someone like you in the castle. "I will not tell if you don't."

   "A deal, then." She steps forward again and takes your hands, looking at you sincerely, "I hope to help you adjust to life here, Lady (Y/n). I know it is all a lot of change... but you seem like a strong girl. Why else would The Goddess give you such a fate?"

      "Thank you, Ymanya," you squeeze her hands gently. She has an aura of nurture around her, you don't even care that her hands are freezing cold. She's a warm person.

     "We have all waited a long time for you," she looks down, squeezing your hands back, "I am glad to have you join us, My Lady (Y/n)."

𖤐❝I should educate you quickly.❞𖤐

     "Lady (Y/n)?" Gele knocks on the wall next to the screen divider, hovering just outside of it.

    "Yes?" You hum from the water. You should thank them for working so fast to get the hot water in the tub, it feels wonderful on your sore muscles. It's a pleasant feeling to truly wash yourself, not just clean up in whatever body of water you could find. 

    "The Lords Choi have requested your presence in the dining hall after you are finished, should I tell them you accept?" 

    "Uhm..." You sit up in the water, pushing back your hair, "which ones is that, Gele?"

    "The Lords? The Choi brothers, San and Jongho."

     They were both having to be held back, if you recall correctly — and you do. You aren't entirely sure if you want to be alone with them-

    "My Lady, if I may..."

    "Yes, what it is?"

     "Lord Kim will also be in attendance, if that eases your anxieties. I know you traveled with him."

   

       It peeves you that it does, in fact, ease some of your worries. With a sigh of trepidation, you go against your want to just crawl back into the bed and tell her, "yes, tell them I will join them, please."

     "Right away, Lady (Y/n)." 

You hear the click-clack of her shoes and the soft closing of the door, waiting for it to clunk into place before you stand and carefully pull yourself out of the tub.

This place compared to everything you've ever known is like comparing night and day.

You've never known anything besides your little home, and here you are in chambers big enough to put your house inside of; with people calling you 'Lady' and luxuries that you didn't even think of when you thought of how royals might live.

As you dry yourself with the ridiculously soft fabric, you hear the door open again. Ymanya's voice follows, "yes, place them just over there on the bed. The Lady will go through them."

"Shall I take her measureme-"

"Not tonight, she has had rough travels. We will-"

"Ymanya?" You call softly, wrapping the fabric around you tightly at the sound of an unfamiliar man's voice.

"Yes, My Lady?" She responds quickly, shooing the man out of the room and closing the door behind him.

"Who was that?"

"The royal tailor, he has brought some gowns for you. Might I help you get dressed?" She stops just outside of the divider, remembering that you aren't just any Lady or Lord she's served. You aren't used to having people wait on you.

"Gowns? What about my clothes, where are they?" You peek your head out the side of the screen, jumping back when you come face to face with the elderly woman.

"Apologies," she bows a bit as she backs up, "they are being cleaned. And the Lords have had these dresses prepared for a long time, it would greatly please them if you wore one." She looks at you in a way that tells you it's probably a smart idea to start pleasing them; eyes flicking between you and the pile of clothing. "Would you like me to help you pick one?"

Begrudgingly, you step out from behind the privacy barrier and hold the fabric around you tightly. "I suppose so."

She goes through them as she hangs them up in the large wooden closet in the room. They all look like they'll fit you, maybe a few adjustments needed to be perfect — but that isn't what makes you hesitate to pick.

What gives you pause, is the fact that they are all so clearly made for a proper Lady. Supported bodices and flared sleeves and frills and lace corsets in the backs of most of them. Even the basic white shift and stockings you now had on were made of what feels like heaven against your skin.

"Please, My Lady," she sighs, "I know that you probably have never worn such gowns, but I fear the Lords will grow impatient."

You trill your lips as you look over them again. You certainly don't want to make them wait even longer, so you force yourself to choose. "This one."

You can't lie and say it isn't beautiful, because it is. The deep purple fabric has swirling flowers embroidered on the skirt, and the black bodice is meant to be tightened with the matching ribbon that weaves in the back of the torso. But it's meant to be worn by royalty, and you feel far from worthy.

She helps you slip the fabric over your head and smoothes out the skirt with a small smile, "have you ever had your hair done, Lady (Y/n)?" She asks as she comes behind you and begins tightening the built in corset.

   "Not since I was a child, no..."

    "Allow me to do it, come," she leads you quickly to the short chair by the vanity and sits you down. "A Lady should always have her hair done, that is one thing I must insist on." She jokes lightly, carefully combing through your hair.

    "Only because you insist." And only because it reminds you of a simpler time, when your mother would sit you in her lap and put intricate traditional braids in your hair. "May I ask you a question, Ymanya?"

    "Of course, My Lady. I will answer any questions you have."

    "Is there any traditions in Halazia that I should be aware of? I didn't have the best education on those kinds of things."

    "Oh, there is many. Too many to tell you them all now, I'm afraid. Perhaps you can ask the Lords to provide you a tutor — if you want, of course."

    You hum in response, fingers tracing the frill of lace on your sleeve. "Well, any that I should know tonight?"

    She thinks for a moment, her hands pausing as something comes to mind. "Well... perhaps one that I should warn you of."

    "Warn?" You look up to her, eyebrows raised.

   "It's not so much of a tradition as it is... as it is just something that happens. Just something the K-" The smell of your fear is growing as she speaks, and she figures she should stop lest the King have her head if he smells it as well. But you look so pure and... you remind her of someone. She wants you to have a fighting chance; not be smacked in the face with what the night has in store for you. "I'm sorry, My Lady, might I ask you somewhat of an improper question?"

    "Improper how...?"

   "Lady, forgive me, but are you a virgin?"

   "What?!" You squeal, eyes widened at such a sudden and personal question. "I- What kind-"

    "Lady (Y/n), please answer the question."

    You turn back around in the chair quickly. "I... I am."

    That changes just about everything. She needs to tell them, and fast. "Do you know... do you know how those things happen?"

    "Ymanya, please! This is much too scandalous to speak so freely of..."

    She sighs, going back to fixing your hair as she speaks, "in your village, perhaps. But in Halazia, we speak rather plainly about sex. The Lords are often seen kissing and," she clears her throat, "kissing among other things around the castle. It is not taboo here."

    "Why are you telling me this?" You ask shortly. You want this conversation to be over. Because you had just imagined Wooyoung and Yunho kissing each other, and it gave you the same heat in your body that you felt after they drank from you. You need to pray after conjuring such a sinful scene.

    "I would like to warn you, because I can tell you are pure of soul and of body... the Lords do not only have a strong craving for blood."

    You hesitate to ask, but you feel you must.

    "Meaning what exactly?"

    "Meaning; perhaps if you do not know what to expect, I should educate you quickly."

𖤐❝What else am I to do when your heart smells so fearful?❞𖤐

Your heart is pounding wildly, despite the fact that you have now been sitting down for a few minutes.

The large dining hall was empty, and that somehow made the situation worse. Now you had to sit in silence as you thought over everything that Ymanya told you as she finished your hair and led you to the room.

Wooyoung conveniently left out the fact that the Kings large appetite was not limited to blood when you spoke all those nights ago. Ymanya filled in that missing information with the fact that he had ravaged each of his soulmates the night he found them, and their sounds traveled through the whole castle.

And she was regretful to tell you that she expected no different in his treatment of you. She did, however, tell you that she would try to speak with the King and get him to be gentle. She had been serving the castle since before he was crowned, you had learned along with the barrage of information. He trusted her word and took her advice on things to do with staff and care of the estate.

"Your heart is about to beat out of your chest." Hongjoong's voice spooks you into jumping up from the chair. He's entered along with San and Jongho... and Seonghwa. If the King is here, Ymanya hasn't gotten to speak to him.

If it wasn't before, it certainly is now.

"Hey, what's the matter with you, little one?" He asks softly as he joins your side, carefully lowering you back into the seat. "Has something happened?"

"Uh," you shake your head, trembling, "no. No, My Lord, my apologies. I don't mean to worry you."

"What else am I to do when your heart smells so fearful?"

"Are you frightened of us?" San asks quietly as he takes a seat across from you. "Because you needn't be."

"I'm sorry, My Lords, I am just anxious..."

   "Hmm," Hongjoong pouts as he eyes you, "what for? Didn't I say I would take care of you?"

     "Yes, Lord, but-"

     "Then don't fret." He leans and pulls you forward gently, kissing your forehead. "You have no reason to be anxious. Let's enjoy a meal with our soulmates."

𖤐❝I promise myself to you.❞𖤐

     You had blissfully forgotten all of your worries as you spoke with the men, as you ate together.

    You had forgotten most of your fear of the man with pink hair who sat at the head of the table. He's still undeniably intimidating, even as he watches you and the brothers exchange stories with a small smile.

You had, that is, until the sound of hurried footsteps and a voice rang out. "High King!"

Ymanya is bowing repeatedly as she hurries into the room, and seeing her suddenly reminds you why you were freaking out when you sat down.

He doesn't even look away from you as he addresses her. "Is this important, Ymanya?"

"Yes, My King. It is most urgent. I deeply apologize for disturbing you, but I have-"

He looks towards her with a glare, and she stops her rambling. "Then, what is so important that you must barge in here?"

"I'm sorry, My King. Might I speak with you in the-"

"Speak here."

All of your eyes are on her now, and she meets your gaze. Yours isn't annoyed or curious like theirs. Yours is wide and nervous. You shake your head quickly.

Having your maid tell one man that you were a virgin so that he didn't hurt you was one thing. Having her speak it in front of four of them would make you want to disappear from embarrassment.

"Out with it, Ymanya."

"Don't," you manage to squeak as she opens your mouth. "Ymanya, don't."

She looks between the two of you. His gaze demanding and dark, yours scared and embarrassed.

San tilts his head as he leans forward, "Ymanya, you know better than to keep secrets from us."

"O-of course, my Lord, I-"

"Ymanya, please!" You grab Hongjoong's arm as you stand, gripping his sleeve as you look to him, "tell her to stop, Lord Kim. I beg."

"Enough of this!" Seonghwa shouts; slamming his hands on the table, sending you flying into Hongjoongs lap to cower. "Enough. There will be no more of this. If Ymanya knows something important enough to interrupt us, I will know what."

Hongjoong wraps his arms around your trembling figure, "Seonghwa, you are frightening her." He whispers in the tense silence.

"Perhaps you should just speak, Ymanya," Jongho says slowly, placing a hand on Seonghwa's shoulder to ground him.

"I-" She bows deeply, "I'm very sorry My Lady (Y/n). I must tell him. I do not wish for you to be harmed. Your embarrassment will pass."

"Why would I harm her?" He snarls, approaching her slowly. He towers over her, glaring down.

"My King," she looks away from you and towards the floor. "The Lady is a virgin. I bid you, please do be gentle with her... I know how you are with your soulmates, My King. I only wish for her soul to remain unharmed — for you not to taint your relationship. This is why I tell you."

It's silence for a long moment. Sill. Everyone unmoving. Your ears are ringing and hot as you feel the brothers looking at you.

"You may leave." Seonghwa says, his voice tense as he makes his way back to his seat. "Thank you, Ymanya."

"Of course, My King. Apologies for interrupting you, My Lords." She pauses at you, you look like you want to bolt; but Hongjoongs arms around you stop you from doing so. "Forgive me, My Lady."

"Leave now," Hongjoong nods to the doorway, pulling you closer to his chest.

Her footsteps hurry away just as fast as they came.

Silence. Stillness. The air charged with tension.

"Is this true?" Seonghwa speaks up, eyes back on you and unmoving once more. "You are a virgin?"

You nod, just barely.

"Speak, girl."

"Seonghwa, she's embarrassed, leave her be-" Jongho is cut off your yelp as you're suddenly pulled from Hongjoong's lap.

The King has you pressed to the wall by your shoulders, holding you against it as he looks into your very soul; his eyes red. "Speak."

"Yes." You whimper, looking away quickly.

"How is that possible?"

"Because she hasn't had sex yet, dumbass," Hongjoong joins his side, looking down at you with a small smirk.

"But you're so beautiful." He whispers, his eyebrows pushed together as he inspects you. "How did nobody take you yet?"

"It... it is not done in my village, My King. We wait for our soulmates..."

He bites his lip, taking a few deep breaths.

"Not at all?" San asks as he and Jongho join the elder Vampires in crowding you.

"Not even hand stuff?" Jongho looks, arguably, a little too eager — his previous ideal of letting you have space is gone.

"H-hand stuff?" You gulp, flinching when Seonghwa all but falls onto you. His head on your shoulder and his body pressed against you as he lets out a groan.

"You've never..." Hongjoong trails off, moving his head side to side as he thinks of the words, "touched anyone? A cock? A pussy, maybe?"

"Lord Kim!" You gasp, scandalized, "don't say such things! Of course I haven't touched-" You clear your throat, fidgeting against Seonghwa's weight. "No, I haven't. What is the great big deal? I'm already embarrassed, you needn't tease me."

"Oh, this isn't even close to teasing," San smirks, leaning against the wall next to you. "Wait until Wooyoung finds out, that will be teasing."

"You're going to tell everyone?" You pout, already knowing that, if they're making a big deal of this, the others certainly will as well.

"We have to, little one. Otherwise they might jump your bones before we can do the ceremony."

"Ceremony? What ceremony? I don't want to-"

"You must," Seonghwa growls from your neck, startling you, "we must. When a Vampire takes a virgin, it is different. It is not just simply sex. Because the veil of our souls is thinner, our souls will touch when I... when..." He pants, his hands grabbing your hips. "Oh, Goddess, give me strength..."

"We will wait until you are ready," Jongho quickly soothes any fear of being forced into a literal soul shaking ceremony, "otherwise, the bond between your souls will be tainted. And — we don't want you to do anything you're uncomfortable with."

   That's a little bit of hypocrisy when you're still pinned to the wall.

"It's that powerful?" You ask with wide eyes, fiddling with your sleeves. Talk about pressure. You had a friend who told you losing your virginity was scary, and your fear has been multiplied.

"Indeed, it is," Hongjoong reaches and strokes the back of Seonghwa's head from where it's still buried in your neck. "It's the greatest honor for a Vampire to take someone's virginity. That's why people always sacrifice virgins to us, but really we never care. We don't touch them, it's too intimate."

     "Please," Seonghwa whispers mumbled, his lips electrifying your skin, "promise yourself to me. I can make you feel so good when the day comes. I can show you pleasure that you never even dreamt of."

    Hongjoong and San share a smirk as they hear your heartbeat thudding faster and faster and faster.

    None of them were able to resist Seonghwa when they first came to the castle. Wooyoung was the fastest to cave; he let the older Vampire take him on the stairs, he was so fired up. Yeosang held out the longest, he was the shyest, but still he only held out a measly month and a half.

   Nobody can resist Seonghwa.

    Not even you. It's a mix of anticipation and fear which makes you speak —

   "I promise myself to you."

𖤐❝It aches in my bones.❞𖤐

     "This place truly never ends, does it?"

   You follow Gele the next morning, taking in every little detail as she slowly shows you around.

    "It is... expansive," she giggles, opening up yet another door that leads to yet another never ending hall. "This is the- oh, Lord Song." She bows quickly, drawing your attention towards the man.

   "My Lord." You bow as well, greeting the blue haired man.

    "Ah, what good timing! I was on my way to your chambers," he smiles at you as you rise, his eyes bright in the morning sun that filters through the large windows.

   "Really? What for, Lord?"

   "I feel as if we have much to discuss. Gele, if you'll leave us." The woman pauses, taking a look towards you. When he clears his throat, she's quick to disappear.

    "Come," he takes your hand and leads you back the way you came. The tingles make your fingers twitch, but you don't let go. "How are you finding your way so far, (Y/n)?"

    "Good, I suppose. Thank you, My Lor-"

   "You needn't be so formal with me. We know each other!" He throws another smile your way. "Wooyoung told me that you remember me. I'm glad."

    "Oh, yes," you nod lightly, "I remember... some. Mostly from my early teenage years."

    "I have always been there," he admits quickly as you enter the hall in which your chambers reside, "I tried to check on you at least once a day, even if I didn't show myself."

    "Seriously?" You ask jaw-dropped as he opens the door.

    "Indeed. How do you find your chambers?"

    His quick change of subject catches you off guard, "uhm... good! Very good, My Lor-"

   "Mingi." He corrects you quickly, hesitating to let go of your hand.

He looks around the room as if to inspect it. "I haven't been here in some years... not since I lost contact with you. I couldn't bare it."

     "Has this-" You hesitate, watching him closely as he takes a seat on the vanity stool.

   "Oh, go ahead! I'm sure you have many questions, and I will give you many answers."

   You lower yourself onto the end of the bed, looking around the large chambers. "Has this room always been for me?"

    "For a very long time." He nods, somewhat of a nostalgic look overcoming him. "After the first time you heard me, we had it renovated. We were sure that you could be joining us any day. We had no idea we would have to wait so long."

   "Oh..." You nod, not knowing exactly what to say to him. You feel a bit guilty for whatever reason.

    "I used to come here everyday and pray that The Goddess would keep you safe. But, after I could no longer find you, I must admit... I lost my faith for a while."

   "Might I ask," you start softly, "how did you manage to lose me? Lord Jung told me that you were veil walking, and I'm afraid I don't know much about that, but... it seems odd for it to just stop."

    "Oh, well, I am no walker. I'm just a seer, The Goddess blesses me with visions. After you were born, I felt it — well, we all felt it but I felt it. I felt your soul come into creation. And I begged The Goddess to show you to me, but... all I ever got was blurry images. I learned how to veil walk so that I could find you. Yunho tried, but his soul isn't strong enough for such powers."

    You listen to him closely as he continues. "Veil walking is always easier when you are presenting to a child. Their souls are more- more uhm... susceptible. I thought it would be different for us, because we're soulmates. But I think I lost you when you reached womanhood."

    You think back to the time. It was around your first blood that he no longer appeared to you. "Oh, yes. That must have been it. I was no longer a child..."

    "Must have been." He hums, tilting his head, "why do you ask? Seems an odd thing to be curious about with so much more going on."

    Why did you ask? You wonder to yourself for a moment before it suddenly dawns on you. "I do believe I missed you."

    His eyes widen ever so slightly, his heart starts beating a little faster. "You did?"

   "It's odd but-" you swallow, looking away, "you came to be a sort of comfort to me. Especially after my mother passed. I felt terribly alone... but you were always there. I could feel you even when you didn't speak. I started to think you were my guardian angel."

    There's a pause between you, and you look up to see tears forming in his eyes. "Did I say some-"

    "Might I give you that hug now?" His eyes are begging. His entire being wants to embrace you. To hold your body and not just hover over your soul like he was forced to do as he watched you grow up.

    "Yes." You say before you can think.

    "I have missed you, too." He tackles you onto the bed, his arms wrapped around you tightly and your arms quickly giving him the same treatment; albeit weaker.

"My soul craves you in a way that aches. It aches in my bones. When I could no longer see you, I was a mess — I could not sleep, I would not eat, I-" You lean your head onto his shoulder and he sighs softly, holding you closer.

     It feels so... right. Like you were made to embrace one another.

    "I am happy to see you again, Mingi."

𖤐❝You can handle one more glass, can't you?❞𖤐

    "Are you not eating, My King?" You ask as you note his lack of a plate. The others are all eating along side you.

    "Not yet," he grins lightly, standing to pour you some more wine. You've already had three glasses.

    "Oh, My King, I don't usually drink so much-"

    "Well, this is a celebration, isn't it?" He hums while filling your cup, "our first meal together as a completed soul. It's an occasion to drink." He sits back down, holding his cup to yours, "cheers."

    You take a breath as you clink your glass to his, "cheers." If they keep up this pace of refilling your wine every time you take a sip, you'll have to be carried back to your chambers. You would already have to be shown the way, no chance you could find your way back through all the twists and turns while your head was so light. 

     So light, in fact, that you fail to notice that the King doesn't even drink from his glass. You fail to notice his ever present gaze on you.

    He said he would wait for you to be ready for intimacy — he said no such thing about waiting to feed on you. He's a patient man, yes. But also one with an insatiable hunger.

    He has to have at least a sip of blood a day. Usually he doesn't care from who. But since he had smelled your blood, everything else tasted... off.

    He doesn't indulge much in food like the others, only things he liked when he was living. But even his favorite food made him sick. His body only wants you.

    "You'll have to teach me sometime," you bow to Yeosang with a slight slur in your voice, "archery is one thing I never did pick up."

    "But she can fish like nobodies business!" Wooyoung chuckles, leaning his head on your shoulder; similarly inebriated. For every glass you had drunk, he drunk about three. Vampires have fast metabolism, you suppose. "She spears them with a stick! How badass is that?"

    You laugh as you lean your head on his, and the sound of your joy has hearts beating all around the table. "I can teach you someday, if you like. I know something that My Lord doesn't," you giggle drunkenly.

    "I would like to learn," San pipes up with a smile, "I can teach you something in return! Woodworking, forgery, armory, sewing, you name it."

    "You do all of those?" You ask in awe, usually a worker might know one or two; but then, he has been around a long time. He has had time to master multiple skills.

    "Oh, yeah," Hongjoong throws his arm around the man, "Sannie is our jack of all trades." He smiles brightly, kissing his cheek.

    You've quickly gotten used to their public displays of affection, it was clear that they had no qualms in showing their love for one another.

    And it didn't bother you. You had thought that it might, being that even married couples didn't show much affection where you are from.

   "Yunho mi," you call to the man, "I have a question."

    "Ask away, (Y/n) mi," he smiles, leaning his head onto his hand.

    "How do you make the fire?"

   "The fire?" He smirks as he conjures a small flame at his finger tip.

    The look of your shock earns you a few laughs. "Yes! How?"

    "Magic," he shrugs nonchalantly, "I can do all sorts of things. I can show you, but I'm afraid it can't be taught. You'll have to stick to San and Yeosang for learning new things."

    "Oh, I would love to see," you smile, a sparkle in your eyes that has the man just about ready to show you every trick he knows right here and now.

    You lean back in your chair as a servant reaches for your plate, giving her the room to gather it. "Thank you." She pauses at your words, looking to the closest Lord; who happens to be Wooyoung because he's attached to your hip. He nods, giving her a stern look.

    "Of course, My Lady. You needn't thank me, 'tis my job." She says just above a whisper as she gathers the nearby plates.

"You're so cute," Wooyoung grins as he pulls you over to him and kisses your cheek.

Seonghwa stops the girl when she goes to collect your glass, "let her finish it."

"Of course, My King," she nods, gathering what else she can before leaving with one more glance spared towards you.

     Hongjoong leans forward, topping of your drink even as you gesture for him not to, "you don't need to bow to anyone besides us, you're the Lady of the castle."

    You hold back a groan as you look at the glass. You don't want to be rude. "Lord Kim, I'm should not drink anymore, perhaps someone else-"

"Drink, little one," he's next to you in a second, picking up your cup. "You can handle one more glass, can't you? For me~?"

Oh. Oh, that pesky heat in your skin is back.

"O-okay," you blink up at him, suddenly very still in your seat as he lifts the cup to your lips.

"Chug," he smirks as you take the glass to your lips, never leaving his gaze as you begin to drink.

"Chug, chug, chug," San and Wooyoung chant as you do just that. The others smile as they watch, Mingi whistling in an impressed manner as you keep up with the way Hongjoong tilts the glass.

A drop leaves the corner of your mouth and travels down your neck. Yeosang watches with wide eyes. "Excuse me." Is all he says before he disappears, a suspicious blush on his face.

You swallow the sweet wine quickly as he all but pours it down your throat, keeping your dazed eyes on his; taking in the way the corner of his lips curl up and expose his fangs.

As he moves the empty glass, you go to take a breath — only to be met with his lips on yours.

You squeal in surprise, your hands hesitating before finding purchase on his wrists as he cups your cheeks.

"Oh, he's going to eat her alive," Wooyoung's joke from beside you never reaches your ears.

Hongjoong rests his forehead on yours, taking in your heavy breaths. When you open your eyes, you find that his have turned red. "Let the King and I drink from you." He hums, cradling your heated cheek, "won't you, little one?"

"Yes..." You slur softly, holding his wrists tightly. "Please."

The others are beyond jealous now, but they let it go. Their time will come. They should have pieced together that they were making you drink so much so that you wouldn't feel as much effects of the blood loss that's to come. Sneaky bastards, taking advantage of your naive nature— why didn't they think of that?

   "Come, then," he giggles as he helps up your stumbling figure.

     His plan worked like a charm. After hearing how Seonghwa hadn't fed, he came up with it. He's very observant of you, he knows that even the littlest praise or affection leaves you dazed. That, paired with the ever flowing wine that would also help you start pumping more blood, made you putty in his hands.

    He felt a little bad, but what was he to do?

   You were afraid of Seonghwa, but he had to drink lest he wither away.

    And it's been days since he tasted you, he was starting to get restless.

    It's not their fault your blood is a drug to them.

𖤐❝HALAZIA❞𖤐

𖤐❝NEXT TIME❞𖤐

"I want you to teach me." You whisper as you look up to him. His eyes are still on the pages, but he isn't registering a single word — and you know it. "Please, My Lord. You said that you would teach me anything I wanted to know."

His nails are digging into the hard cover of the book, leaving crescent indentations. "And that-" He gulps, "that is something you want to learn?"

"Yes." You lean forward, tilting your head, "I trust you to teach me well."

Oh, you probably shouldn't. He's only one bat of your eyelashes away from ripping your dress off and saying 'fuck the ceremony.'

𖤐❝CURSE YOUR NAME❞𖤐

[dannydoesthisthing27]

Sam's hands are still rough even after being turned (for my sanity stuff like that stays the same)

Sam has dozens of scars across his whole body from when he was human. Some of them are small, others are big, most of them were accidents

Sam doesn't collect cars personally, but he does enjoy classic cars. He and Vincent regularly have long conversations about Vincent's collection and just classics in general

Sam collects music of every kind. He has records, cassettes, dvds, he and Darlin have Playlists on music streaming services (only use them sometimes, like when they don't have the physical version of what they're listening to on hand)

Sam has a few old Polaroids from when he was human. He doesnt look at them often, but when he's really missing his grandma, or just needs a moment to himself, he will go to the roof and sit with her. Sometimes he talks, sometimes he cries, sometimes he just puts on a song she used to listen to and watches the forest

Sam lives for the quiet moments with Darlin. When they're asleep on his chest, when he's resting on their lap, when they're cooking dinner together, when Darlin is out in the garden working and he can sit on the porch enjoying the warm day in the shade (the man loves a good warm day he's going outside sun be damned) (he stays in the shade)(though he has run out in the sun kissed darlin and run back before just to see the shock on their face)

Sam has so many pictures of Darlin. He loves taking pictures of them and the pack. His favorites are the ones he has of Darlin, David, Asher, and Angel wrestling together (Darlin and David are shifted)

He also has one in particular that he and Angel both hold very dear. It's of David and Darlin during one of the pack vacations. The two of them are hanging off of each other, grinning and laughing. It's the most genuine smiles anyone's ever gotten a picture of from the two of them

Sam and Milo have a bet going on which pack member ( including mates+vincent and lovely) can get Darlin' the most riled up (David's at the top of the leaderboard which means Milo is winning)

Sam spent a solid 3 days leveling up in smash because he was sore about the first tournament (he wasn't actually sore he just genuinely wanted to play smash more and that was his excuse he came up with)

Sam keeps his grandma's wedding ring on a chain around his neck and will mess with it when he's thinking

Sam had about shoulder-length auburn hair (in a wolfcut style) that he wears in a half up/half down bun (it's hot)

Sam learned how to cook Darlins favorite meals so that when they have bad days they can come home to more than one familiar scent. He's also started leaving one of his long sleeve flannels by the front door for them (they say they hate flannel but still happily steal Sam's)

Sam is close with a few of the pack teenagers. Especially one of them who's practically Darlins younger sibling. They bonded over a love of music, and Sam's helping them learn to drive since he understands how terrifying cars can be

Sam has freckles all over his body (he has a few birthmarks too)

@sunsickcrab I hope you like it! Thank you for requesting Sam. I don't talk about him alone enough