#and i might like actually write it up because i think it would be really really reallyf ucking funny

[bunni-v1]

relating to your last ask that included arguments between shadow milk and his lover, i cannot get the following picture out of my head:

his doll, while a bit (a bit more) off-put by the whole truthless recluse situation, is very much "whatever, their soul jam, their business" about it

however-

what grinds their gears is the fact that kids (aka the gingerbrave gang) are involved

i can just imagine them going off on shadow milk like "listen, i get it, your plans but they are kids. literal children?? keep them out of this-" "no, doll, listen, they're scheming kids-"

ik this isn't really an ask, but i just wanted to share it :)) love your writing, you're amazing, and your shadow milk headcanons live rent free in my brain (actually i am paying them-)

Lolololol (Feel like a mysmes character typing ts... okay), I guess we can say this is ur rent. I'm happy for your payment though, it's good food for thought my love! Have a little midnight snack as a treat!

Just imagine you're someone who's more compassionate. It's something that Shadow Milk Cookie cherishes about you... when it's directed at him. You're always worrying over him and his little henchmen, Candy Apple especially since she's so young. It's annoying, but it's sweet how much you dote on them, and he can't say he dislikes the idea of you in a more parental role...

It becomes an issue when those little pests come around. You've never nosed your way into his business at all, leaving things between him and Pure Vanilla to be what they are. He prefers it like that, keeping you out of trouble was always a positive on his mind. Oh, but then those cute little annoying snotty nosed brats come along and ruin everything.

It wouldn't have been an issue if you hadn't overheard him threaten to drown them. It not like he was actually going to, he was just poking at Truthless Recluse, that's all. You didn't take it though, you were all kinds of pissed off at him.

He thinks it's a silly thing to be upset about, you know he didn't care enough about those kids to do much of anything to them. Yet, you remain upset, even after things are done and Compassionate Pure Vanilla has TEMPORARILY taken him and his plans down. It stumps him, he can't possibly wrap his mind around what's gotten into you. Such a small insignificant act is nothing compared to half of what you've seen him do.

When you refuse to say more than a few words to him, he starts to worry. What did he do wrong? Well, you told him, but why was it so bad this time? The best answers come from the source, of course, but getting it out of you might be a little harder than he likes.

"Doll? Dolly? Little star? Won't you talk to me?" He pouts, trailing behind you like a lost puppy.

You might've teased him if you weren't so upset now. You keep your nose upturned, doing your best not to crack under his relentless pressure. He could be so persistent about these things, and normally you would give, but he'd crossed a line this time. You didn't mess around with children, and he should've known better.

A drawn-out sigh comes from behind you, "Are you still upset about the drowning thing? It was all in good fun I promise! Nothing to worry your pretty little head over!"

He didn't know better, though. For the former fount of knowledge -- and someone who could literally read minds if he wanted to -- he was terribly unaware sometimes. It made you so angry, and you felt bad for being angry because he really didn't get it.

"They're just insignificant little kids, it's a silly thing to be angry about." He continues, and oh that gets a reaction out of you.

You turn around to face him, the boredom in his expression only making that anger bubble up more and more. You really can't hold it in anymore.

"Exactly, they're kids! Just kids, they don't have any stake in this. Why couldn't you let well enough alone for once!" You shout, and it feels so good to get out. Pettiness aside, you'd wanted to get it through his head since this all started.

You watch his face shift through surprise and annoyance and then flatten into an unreadable expression. It was unsettling to see, especially pointed in your direction. Still, you tried to stand your ground, though you'd never felt so small next to him. He lets the silence linger in a purposeful move, you're not sure why. It keeps you on edge the whole time, unable to tell what his next move might be.

"Dolly, they were in my way, I had no choice-" He starts, but you've had enough of the manipulation and sitting quietly.

"What threat are children to you?" Your voice breaks halfway through the sentence, tears you didn't realize were building pouring over your cheeks, "You are so frustrating sometimes. In what universe would I ever be alright with hurting children? Sometimes it's like you don't even know me!"

You don't realize he's in front of you until he's lifting your face in his hand with uncharacteristic gentleness. His face is still flat, but you see the worry shining behind his eyes.

"Y'know you shouldn't lie to the literal embodiment of deceit," He says quietly as he brushes your tears away.

You know you shouldn't, but you laugh a little at that, "I'm sorry. I'm just upset."

"No, really?"

"You don't get to joke around right now," you scoff with a halfhearted shove at his shoulder.

He hums, leaning into your vision so you have to look at him, "It's making you smile, though."

"Shadow Milk Cookie."

"Okay, okay. I get the message," He backs off, "Just don't cry anymore, please?"

You smile, "Maybe if you promise not to involve those kids more than you have to, please?"

He seems to think it over like it was a hard decision. He doesn't think much longer when you flatten a glare on him, "Alright, it's a promise! You can look at my fingers, they're not crossed either! I'll keep my word!"

You scoff at him, "What do I see in you?"

"My charm and wit, of course!" He puffs up like a proud cat, the usual grin back on his face.

"Just kiss it better you dummy!"

"Whatever you ask for, you shall receive, my little star!"

And kiss it better he does, until you can hardly remember why you were so mad at him to begin with.

[jamneuromain]

Stalker Lady pt. 3

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader (You)

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warning: Mean!Simon Riley, Voice (PORN) actor!Simon Riley, patron!reader, neighbor!AU, description of audio porn. NON-CON/DUB-CON, pussy spanking, PIV, creampie.

Summary: You meet Simon unexpectedly. Unfortunately, he thinks you are a stalker.

A/N: This fic is my rehab-going-back-into-writing fic. And it's the first time I'm writing for "Ghost" I've honestly never played COD. But here's my idea of the scary (not really lol) simon ghost riley :3

You haven’t spoke for twenty-three days, sixteen hours, and approximately twenty minutes so far.

You avoid looking in his direction or saying anything to him. Anything, really, even when he forces himself in your way – a dick move, he knows, and he’s probably using up all the quota of being a dick and then some when he was around you – bumps into you deliberately, and not a word, not a noise would come from you. You just … carry on with your life.

You have decided to treat him like someone invisible. Or air. Air is probably more similar to the reactions (more like no actions) he’s getting out of you.

“Have ye tried apologizing? Actual apologizin’?” Soap slaps his large palm over Simon’s shoulder when they are having a drink together, all of them in 141, slurring in alcohol as Simon rolls his eyes because of the pain that booms over his bones, “Coz yer being a massive dick. Dickest-dick, I’ll give yer ‘at.”

“I’ve tried.” Simon groans in half misery and half reluctance.

John Price, otherwise known as “Captain”, clears his throat in amusement, “Riley, chasing after her back and shouting out your apology doesn’t count. Apology, as in, say it in her face and she’d accept it. With flowers. It’s probably for the best.”

Simon Riley has known his team, his brother-like porn-producing family for a little over five years now. And every now and then something they say still gets under his skin because they are right. They are often right and never wrong in life and war.

Still, Simon kept that bit where his newfound love interest is his patron from the rest of his founded family. Something is best hidden, he supposes, not quite sure why he did so.

“Wha’ ‘bout your porn career, eh? Did lil’ missy find out?” Soap laughs loudly. It is clear that now seventy-five percent of his body runs on rum and tequila shots – whatever the brand they were just drinking – instead of water.

“Jesus Christ, Johnny boy.” Simon punches Soap on the shoulder, “Jus’ shut up ‘bout it.”

“Nooope. Not a chance.” Soap grins from ear to ear, “Yer in love, matey. Yer in luuuuv-”

“Yeah, and yer out of love, you doofus.” Simon growls like a bear woken up during hibernation, all pissed and agitated, “Your ex dumped your sorry arse -”

Price stops their childish mocking and punching with a glance before this could very well turn into a bar fight. He is well aware of what would happen when he puts two grown men with a pile of drinks together; he knows them like the back of his hand.

Price decides to change the topic for now: “On a happier note, our team’s Pornhub account has reached ten thousand subscribers, and our website patron number is heading steadily towards five thousand. I think the stats look promising.”

He might be wrong, but Simon seems gloomier on the changed topic. More sullen. And Simon’s mood doesn’t get better even when Price announces the next round is on him.

Twenty-three days, sixteen hours, and approximately fifty-five minutes.

That’s how long before the bloody silence between you finally crumbles into dust.

Thirty minutes after the get-together with his pals, Simon makes up his mind to take up the suggestions his friends kindly offered - an actual apology.

But his stupid brain hesitates. It’s almost the middle of the night. He is drunk. Hazy. They don’t have some flower shops around here because many people tend to grow the flowers in their front yards. And what would he even say to you? That he’s sorry? That sounds pathetic and weak.

“Sorry I think you were a stalker. Just my friend Johnny had this experience and I have to be cautious.”

“Sorry I’m mean towards you. I didn’t mean it. I want us to fuck … to be friends.”

“Sorry I kissed you. But then you slapped me so I’d call it even.”

No. No. And no.

How on earth are the apologies he comes up with filled with layers of phony and pretentiousness?

He walks up to your door, while knowing perfectly that his house is a few feet away.

Right. Apology.

“Sorry, I think you look like someone. My future girlfriend, I mean.”

The hand he lifts to knock freezes in mid-air.

Certainly not this bloody apology.

Maybe another day then? Another day when he’s more sober.

Simon pulls a few steps back from your porch. On another thought, he advances, and lifts his hand again to pound – he means, knock on your door.

He knocks, twice.

The streets shiver under the crispy autumn wind. It’s approaching midnight, driving Simon’s thought back to the comfort of his residence, with some warm tea and nice buttery biscuits.

Faint rustling of leaves rings everywhere. The cackling of someone’s fence someplace alerts him for a brief second, but that is what it is, iron bars clatter. There is not a living soul on the street in this godforsaken hour.

Right. Another day.

He makes up his mind to leave when the door opens. Your door opens. You drape a thick bathrobe over your shoulders, frowning, “Simon? What are you … What is it?”

The part of his mind that has slightly less alcohol invasion takes you in carefully. Your watery eyes, the lower lip you unconsciously chew on, and the leg bouncing border lining on impatient.

Simon sighs heavily, "Hey, listen … I'm sorry, okay? I was an idiot. I shouldn't have said ’ose things about you being a stalk’r. I’m a dick – That’s … not an excuse, but I didn't think … I'm very sorry …"

You let out an exhausted exhale. Honestly? It’s almost relieving to hear the apology coming out of his lips. But he couldn’t have found a worse time to deliver this speech. You thought his house was on fire or something.

A strange, but not unpleasant smell hits the tip of his nose. He sniffs. Then sniffs again. Simon narrows his eyes. He hasn’t deciphered what the smell is, to be exact, but it is certainly unusual, and his mouth waters simply on cue.

“Look, I appreciate we can work this misunderstanding out. But can we discuss this another time, please?” You rub your temple to ease the tension thumping in your brain. Your mind is just as tired as the rest of your body. Even though your body, your traitorous body gets turned on the minute you see this big hunk of a man at your door; frankly, the last thing you want to do right now is to deal with him.

Somehow, Simon’s eyes travel down. Below your thick white bathrobe, a small trail of creamy substance slowly makes its way down your left calf. Despite the dwindling of the clogs of his mind falling in place, he is able to put two and two together: your arousal is leaking down your thighs.

You can’t help but hug your bathrobe tighter under his scrutinizing gaze, “Well? If there’s nothing else, I’d -”

He interrupts you mid-sentence by swiping his fingers between your thighs, gathering some of the creamy arousal at the tip of his fingers.

“Christ.” He murmurs. “Leaking.”

You let out a shriek. Your instinct is to jump back into your house and slam the door right in his face, but the truth is, you raise your hand to smack him, and he captures your wrist in the air before it swoops down on his cheekbone, and brings it to his nose.

Sniff. Sniff.

Fucking bloodhound.

“You dirty little thing.” He muses, takes his massive body as an advantage, forces himself into your house, and pins you onto the wall, invading your personal space like he owns this place, “Playing with yourself for one second and coming to answer the door at the next? Tell me, do you use toys? Or your fingers alone could do the trick?”

You can smell alcohol in his breath, which makes you glare at him: “You’re drunk. Get out of my place before I scream for help.”

Simon nudges the door open with a kick of his boot. His eyes dart to the opened door before focusing on you, “By all means, scream.”

Your scream thrives for only two seconds, barely making its way out of your throat before his other hand circles your throat. A shallow hold. A forceless grip. Your mind somehow drifts to the toy upstairs. Stained with your juices. Lying cold on your towel.

These fingers are much bigger than your toy. Your mind helpfully supplies.

“I’m gonna take that up as an offer, sweet’art.” Simon runs the tip of his nose over your jawline, murmuring as if you were lovers instead of enemies over the past month, “Either you tell me to back off, or-” darkened desires swirl beneath his chocolate-brown eyes, “or you are goin’ to let me do every-fuckin’-thing I want to do to you. You’re not leaving your bed until I’m done with you and I’m gonn’ stuff you so good that ’ose pathetic audios will never be enough. All you gotta do is to say ‘Thank you, Simon’. ’at sound like a deal to you?”

Your brain has already gone mush at this point, the voice coming out of his hoarse throat seems to have pulled the bones out of your knees and below, rendering them weak, soft, unable to support your body.

“Say ‘Yes, Simon’.” His lips hover above yours, whispering like a man in love.

“Yes, Simon.”

Honestly, you have no idea what you have signed up for, but the fire itching in your core would do whatever he wanted to relieve you of this misery.

He sinks his fingers into your plush thighs, hoisting your thigh up to circle his waist on hearing the confirmation, lips crashing into yours, while carrying you like a bag of feathers to your bedroom.

Your toy swept to the floor with a throaty snigger. Your phone falls out of your pocket when you are put – more like pressed into your own bed.

Must have touched your skin or his, because the next thing you know, the goddamn Bluetooth speaker by the bed starts playing one of his audios.

He spares a glance, disabling the poor thing in seconds. And by disabling it, you actually mean slamming his fist on it.

“Jus’ a pathetic cock slut f’r me, hmm?” He smirks.

That cools your skin, dissolves the thirst you had.

You knit your brows into a tight knot, “Why’d you always do that?”

“Wot?” Stripping, he is soon down to his boxers.

“Be mean.”

He snorts. “Bollocks.”

“There’s a big difference between sounding mean and being mean.” You shove his shoulders out of your way, attempting to sit up, “I like you better when you are behind that screen.”

Simon does not waiver.

Warm skin blooms under your palm, soft muscles and hard plain. Some hard as rocks, some incredibly soft.

“Let me go, Simon.” You push his shoulder, but he doesn’t speak, nor does he react. Dark brown eyes bore into yours, like you spoke Klingon instead of English.

He flips the Bluetooth on again.

“Wha – Si -”

Ghost’s voice booms by your ear almost painfully and heart-strikingly.

Careful, sweetheart, sharp knife.

His hand brushes at the side of your breasts, down your abdomen, circling near your navel.

It is different from your own hands, your own arms, your own fingers.

Foreign. Alien. Wet.

Sweat from the heel of his hand.

Shivers buzzing your exposed skin.

You know everything, every word, every second by heart. The content of the audio. The dozens if not hundreds of times you’ve listened to it.

What scares you and excites you at the same time, is that he’s following every word of it.

The Mr. and Mrs. Ghost script. Two spies making hate more than love when they confront each other after trying to wring the life out of each other.

Trouble thinking? Answer me, sweetheart. Ghost laughs almost coldly.

“What are you doing, Simon – Simon!” Your nails bite into the back of his neck as he descends and licks a stripe between the valley of your breasts.

He gives you a wordless look. But you think you read his silent reply.

They just look so … perfect.

Simon pinches your nipple mercilessly, slapping on it simultaneously as the voice of a crisp slapping echoes in the speaker.

So perfect that I want to make it. Ghost whispers. Hurt.

You scream. Or you think you did. Your pussy clenches on its own.

Traitor.

A gleam flickers behind his eyes.

But that’s not a problem, though, is it? Ghost chuckles. Pain slut. Dripping. Leaking. Already.

Two fingers plunge inside your folds. Filthy squelch rings in your ears and your body. One more authentic than the other.

Oh no, oh fuck –

You widen your eyes, not out of horror, but out of your knowledge of what comes next.

A gentle rub on your long-ignored clit.

The fuck? Did you just slap me?

“Simon!” You cry out, “Simon don’t you dare-”

Two more crisp, swift slaps from the speaker.

Ghost curses.

Oh, sweetheart. You have no idea what you’ve landed. Ghost chuckles darkly after being slapped, three times. It’s only fair if I return the flavor.

A slap.

White hot pain and pleasure shoot through your core. Sprawling over your stomach. Paralyzing your spine. His palm comes in contact with your clit. Hard. Fast. Takes all the breath out of your lungs.

Your slick runs down your thighs, running over the dried-up trails, running into his palm.

A slap for a slap. Fair, no? No? You fuckin’ don’t think so?

“Simon!” You scream, “Fuck you, Si-”

He smears your cream around your poor abused clit, before striking down again.

Your hips buck up violently.

Come on, sweetheart. Just one more. Won’t hurt. Ghost announces, which sounds like your death sentence.

Much.

You think you just died. Squirt on your thigh. His thigh. Tears down the corner of your eyes. Your cheek. You have never cummed so hard so fast.

Sorry? Ghost pauses. Sensitive?

You whimper.

Huh? Didn’t quite hear you, sweetheart. Ghost mocks condescendingly.

“It’s sensitive.” You sob as Simon traces his fingers on your pussy lips.

Ghost huffs out a laugh.

Afraid you have to be louder, sweetheart. My ears are still half deaf from that bullet you shot at me half an hour ago. But I can see this pretty pussy begging me to fill ‘er up. That what you want, sweetheart? To be my personal little whore?

“Fuck me”? That’s part of the ‘slut’ job description, if you insist.

Simon’s lips curl into an amused smile.

You feel his smile on your lips as he kisses you deeply. Licks over the roof of your mouth. Nips your lower lip. Unlike Ghost. Unlike what’s in the audio. Unlike his sharp teeth and tongue.

The sound of the zipper being pulled down.

Uh-huh. This is me fucking you like I mean it.

One deep plunge.

Not so snarky now, are you?

Reaches your cervix.

He moans unabashedly. Grunts. Breathes.

You owe me so much than you can count, sweetheart. I’m tryna’ make up for our lost time.

Slapping. Skin on skin. Panting. Kissing.

Bottoms to the end. Draws out.

That. Ghost grunts. Was for the time you tried to poison my drink in Moscow.

Simon follows every instruction. Every pause. Every comma. Every time the breath becomes heavy in the speaker, he bullies your pussy just as hard.

That. For the time - when you bought out the corrupt police – Christ, stop squirming, sweetheart - and locked me up in a Guatemalan jail.

How. Pants.

Could. Breathes.

I. Fuckin’. Forget. A low groan.

That. Time. You. Nearly. Put. A. Bloody. Bullet. Through. My. Skull. Loud and rushed and wet slapping noise.

Reaches the depth you didn’t know of. Rearrange your organs that felt out of place more than anything. Hitting all the spots you weren’t aware of until now.

I’m being petty? Ghost retorts. Guess I am, then. Huffs. Oh, you want to cum? You can cum as many times, as you bloody please, sweet’art. His Manchester accent slips out in all the anger. Go on, make a mess on my cock. Ah fuckin’ ‘ell, missed this tight lil’ pussy.

Pause. A scream from your lips fills the void.

Stop? You can’t cum anymore? He bullies his cock into your clenching hole again. And again. And again.

Let me make one thing clear- Ghost purrs by your ear. I’ll stop when I cum, sweet’art. ‘Til then, not gonn’ stop shaggin’ you. Coz ‘at wot slut is for, bein’ my personal fuck doll an’ all …

Thick, long fingers find your clit again.

C’mon, sweet’art. Know you’ve got one more in you.

Your nails dig into his wrist. Having just cummed twice, the pressure he puts on your clit felt like scorching flames. Stung and overstimulated.

Jus’ one more. Ghost coos. One more. Jus’ one more.

He rubs with precision. Slow yet undeniable. Even though your legs kicking. Your nails leaving bruises on his skin. Your breath ragged, shallow, broken.

“Can’t … I can’t, Simon … ”

Gonn’ be a good girl f’r me and cum, won’t you?

“Si-”

Right ‘ere, sweet’art. Good fuckin’ girl. Empty yer pretty lil’ head for me.

‘s bett’r when all you could think ‘bout is my name.

His voice becomes strained, tensed. Almost rambling.

Fuckin’ hell, I’mma fill you with my seed. Gonna put a plug in you so it’ll take root. My personal cumdump. Take it, baby, take it. Fuck, fuck –

Stripes of cum coat your insides. Making your whimper and your eyes water in sensitivity.

He collapses on top of your trembling body, covering you up like a thick warm blanket. Soft, delicate kisses bloom over your forehead. Rough pads of his fingers run up and down the side of your arm. It is a harsh fall, after your pleasure skyrocketed, but you find yourself caught by the web he weaved. A dark web with a white skull mask knitted in the middle.

You lift your arms to hug his broad shoulders so that his heart might beat right next to you above the thin layer of skin and flesh. He has yet to pull out, and somehow … you are not in a hurry to remind him of it.

“Hope this is as good as an apology.” He – Simon – says.

A small fit of laughter bursts out of you, some giggles, then he joins as well, rumbling chuckles that vibrate on your chest. It is silly and comes out of nowhere, but this laugh turns out to be just the trick in resolving the tension you have had for days.

“I’ll give it an eight out of ten.” You bite your lower lip from smiling too hard.

“Eight?!” He pushes himself up, staring at you in disbelief, as if deeply offended, “That was at least nine for effort.”

“If you say so…”

Noticing your twitching cheek and the corner of your lips, he exhales out of relief, burying his head in the crook of your neck, grumbling, “You cheeky little … eight?!”

You giggle, “The sound effects of Ghost are a little over the top, don’t you think?”

He muffles your words with a deep, searing kiss, when you feel his cock throb in the confines of your walls. The sight of his sweating forehead and thin lips pushes your heart beat faster.

“Brought this on yourself, swee’art.” A lop-sided grin makes its way over his face, as he surges forward all of a sudden and adds pressure to your already-sensitive clit, forcing a moan out of your throat and his cum gushing out of your abused hole. “Let’s see if we can have a nine, should we try hard … enough.”

Taglist (also tagging the ones who may be interested): @vnknowcrow @splaterparty0-0 @prettygirleli @ksa01 @laciaheavenm

@mrs-marc-spector @msilwrites @kawaiisugarinjectionattack @eccentricallygothic @mothex

@aishidunno @gluttonybiscuits @bittyslxt @cersei-phoenix-thorn @girl-of-multi-fandoms

@reader-1290 @ohdrey89 @brittney-121

Part 1 Part 2

[honeyhotteoks]

no but listen... as a breeding kink enjoyer myself, im so on board for the whole yunho and breeding agenda .

we all know he's a passionate lover and that man lives for knowing his partner is into it as well and the intimacy of it all makes his heart skip a beat bc what do you mean you love him SO much to let him breed you?

and that post about tall lovers that you shared goes hand in hand with my train for thoughts as well💀 bc yunho might look a bit freaky and that might translate to bed, but he's deep at heart, a missionary lover (don't @ me im a sucker for soft lover yunho). knowing that his partner is caged between his body and the bed, not going anywhere and their hands stuck on his body, passionate kisses coming and going as he whispers into your ear about how much he wants to make you his, to knock you up full of him🫠

ANYWAYS

i leave the stage to your own brainrot my friend (yes, we're friends now lmao jk, im not imposing it)

yours truly,

✨anon

the way i started reading this ask and was like oh i know this is ✨ anon cooking and i was right

OKAY SO as you can probably imagine i have about a million thoughts about this that are faaaaaaaar too nsfw so everything i think about yunho and his breeding kink is under the cut

now that we’re all safely here in nsfw world…………… nobody judge me this is my favorite kink of all time to read, to write, to uhhhh whatever else and you’ve been warned, this is bringing out unhinged chai. it’s fairly self indulgent to imagine yunho with a wild breeding kink, but i actually do think it tracks for his personality AND i dont care if it’s self indulgent this is fiction lol

OKAY

so the thing about breeding kink that i think when written well, the part that just scratches my feral brain so right isn’t necessarily about the ‘breeding’ of it all it’s about the intimacy, the trust, and the lowkey ownership of it all. now i don’t at all mean that in a toxic misogyny way….. but i do mean it in kind of a ‘sometimes traditional stuff is hot’ way, and giving a piece of yourself like that / allowing your partner to take that piece to me is super hot. it’s like the ultimate culmination of that love and passion - so exactly what you said, you love him so much to let him breed you and his brain goes mushy.

i’ll talk a little bit about breeding kink specifics in a sec but as far as yunho having one….. i truly will die on this hill. he may or may not irl actually have one, who knows, but i think he’s the perfect type of guy to have one. i’ve talked about this before, but he really gives ultimate soft dom vibes, the kind of man who would want to be a guiding hand to his partner. he’s traditional in a lot of ways, and i think that would also lean him towards liking those traditional aspects of gender - i don’t mean this to limit him i’m just saying those things would probably make his guy brain light up. i.e. a parter in a skirt, heels, doing things that feel traditional like cooking etc. I don’t think he consciously thinks about the fact that those traditional elements are hot to him, but i also think he’s the kind of guy who gets hard watching their girlfriend make dinner. i think breeding kink is such a natural next step there because it is another very domestic, romantic, traditional thing. even if yunho wasn’t into women or if he didn’t actually want children, i still think those things would be true, because i just kind of read him as that type of dude and i think that would translate into any more specific kinks he has.

if he does want children / is with a partner who can get pregnant…. then i think the kink could become even more intense and go a step further into him really being into his partner while they’re pregnant / wanting to have even more kids etc.

so when it comes to yunho and breeding in particular…………… here’s a feral headcanon

he keeps it to himself for a long time, but there are certain things he does that tip you off earlier in the relationship that this is something he’s into

for one…. he’s literally obsessed with cumming inside you to the point that once you stop using condoms you never start again, and where other guys are fond of cumming other places…. your mouth, your tits, your face…… he’s the type of guy to stop you blowing him just so he can get off inside

the type to press his cock right up against your pussy when he’s jerking it he’s so obsessed with it

to say nothing of the time he came all over your stomach and he got deeply embarrassed, ears running red, and trying to brush over it…. but you saw the way he looked at you.

so you coax him into it - begging him to cum inside, telling him how much you need it…… slipping and calling him ‘daddy’ just to see him break

and it’s not in a dom/sub way, not like that…. it makes him crazy because that’s what he wants with his partner, with you, he wants to actually have kids and be a dad and make you a mom and have a happy family the way that he was raised, he wants to give you and his future kids the world

so when he finally admits it, it is soft. it’s a while into you being together, after talking about the fact that you want to be married to each other one day, after you know you’re both it for each other

and he’s worshipping you as he always does, buried inside you in missionary and just kissing the breath out of you, when he says it between soft moans, “Want to make you mine, forever, baby, want to get you pregnant,”

and he freezes, realizing he said it out loud but then you moan, absolutely losing it at finally hearing him admit it

and you both know in that moment……… the stars are aligning all too well. both of you want that. bad.

and that just lets the floodgates open completely.

“Is that what you want? Want everyone to know I got you pregnant?”

“Want me to give you a baby, sweetheart?”

“Beg me, jagi, beg me to cum inside you,”

“Tell me how much you want me to knock you up,”

And for a while, you stay on birth control and the dirty talk gets feral. Knowing you both love it, but also knowing that for now it’s feral and risk free? You can’t even keep your hands off each other.

Spread open in bed, legs back in a press, “Can you feel me here, baby?” His hand always pressed over your stomach, teasing and tender and driving you up to orgasm faster than anything else.

“You’ll be such a pretty mommy, won’t you? So round and full of daddy’s baby,”

“Want me to knock you up with my big cock, sweetheart? Is that what you need?”

But……………..things get tender again when you’re actually trying. When it’s not just dirty talk and getting off…. when you’re actually ovulating and tracking and planning and when you both want it for real this time.

And the first time, he really takes his time with you. Soft and gentle in a way that shows every ounce of his love. What it means for you both to do this, what you’re giving to him and to each other.

And he’s whispering it, already emotional at how much he loves you, and how you’re looking up at him in this moment - “Sweetheart, I’m gonna take such good care of you,”

You know he will, he always does.

Slow strokes, foreheads pressed together, easy, rolling orgasms.

“That’s it baby, let me in, cum and open up for me,”

“Gonna make you mine,”

“Take my baby, beautiful,”

“Gonna put it right here,” With his hand on your stomach, “such a good mommy for me,”

And all bets are really off once you’re pregnant. If you thought he could keep his hands off you before? Oh no, Yunho’s the type of guy who isn’t just in it for the breeding, he’s in it for the LOVE, for the baby, for the partnership….. so of course he’s excited to watch your body change.

He’s the type of guy who gets excited over every little thing, ear pressed to your belly too early just to see if he can hear something, feel a kick, anything.

And the knowledge that he did that? That your body is powerful and beautiful and strong but he planted the seed and you both made this beautiful wonderful amazing decision together? Well…. that gets him riled up too.

So it’s worshipping time when you’re pregnant.

Back rubs, foot rubs, belly rubs, you name it he’s there with a bottle of warming oil and a whole lot of words of affirmation.

“So gorgeous like this,”

“You’re doing so well, baby, you’re growing a whole person, you’re incredible,”

“Can’t believe I got you pregnant,”

And more often than not those touches and massages lead to a lot more. He just can’t help it - you deserve to be taken care of in every possible way.

And the more pregnant you get, the more dizzy it makes him. Your belly swollen, tits full, your body softening and filling out deliciously in ways he didn’t even know he wanted.

Until all he’s thinking about is the next time he can get you knocked up again.

Until he’s dirty talking again like he just can’t stop.

“You like being full of me, babygirl?”

“Beg me to get you pregnant again,”

“That’s my girl, that’s it, cum for me mama,”

he’s the type of guy to get addicted to you, and that combined with how much he wants a family with you? there’s no escaping the feral breeding kink of it all in that case.

anyways this ask killed me, i died. i’m off to scream into the void about him yet again.

[fromchaostocosmos]

Also it is not so much split in the way you might be thinking @samiholloway as in like Greek Orthodox and Roman Catholic split or Catholic and Protestants split like schism wise.

It was if Jesus existed, which I personally ascribe to the belief that he did not, he claimed he was the Messiah and there to bring about the Messianic Age.

The thing is withing Judaism there are certain things that have to happen and certain requirements that have to be fulfilled. None of which he met. He also was not as some Christian like to claim was a Rabbi.

He was in fact a pretty terrible person as according to the ethics and morals of Judaism.

One of the things he did was piss of the Romans and they kill him specifically they kill him in a way that is used for those who try and fuck with Roman Empire and their status of being in charge. It was also a method of execution that was used on Jews a fuck ton.

Okay so you a very small cult that stick with him and 300 years after he died they write the gospels and in their they claim that he was son of god and all that.

Now Judaism was the religion of the tribe of Yisrael and so the kingdoms religion was Judaism, but it didn't go outside of the borders. There is no forced conversions in fact there was no asking people to convert at because that is forbidden.

So we get to the Roman Emperor Constantine and he has got a big battle coming up and right before it he sees a cross in the sky. That influences him to convert to be a Christian and to force all the Roman Empire to become Christians.

He makes the cross the symbol of Christianity and now this Jesus cult is no longer a small fringe cult made up a few Jews it is instead the entire Roman Empire and pretty much no Jews.

This is where Christianity becomes Christianity. This is were is actually becomes a religion. That is why is a western religion because it is established in the west.

It is a state religion, it about conversion and that is forced conversion. And those who are creating what this new religion is are Romans who use various aspects of their pagan beliefs and other pagan beliefs because the vastness of the Roman Empire and what they had been exposed to, to help form this new religion.

The other important factor is that new religion that it is key to emphasize how much it is not like Judaism it is and how different from the Jews they are.

So Old Testament god is mean and cruel and Jews are barbaric and backwards, but Jesus is kind and good and Christians are civilized and modern. And the Romans can't have the killing Jesus thing on them anymore so who killed Jesus ah the Jews.

And this contrast with Jews and Judaism and this key point of Christianity being the opposite of all things Juden goes on for all of history until after the Holocaust.

You really see a lot of this kind of rhetoric very heavily in Medieval religious texts.

So what changed and why. Well religious antisemitism played a massive massive role in the Holocaust. Martin Luther, of the 95 thesis, was a huge antisemite.

In fact his church still has something called a Judensau on their church still. There was an attempt to try and get them to remove, but the court ruled in favor of the Church keeping it up.

In fact if you travel in Germany you will Judensau riddled through out it.

There was also the fact the Catholic Church helped Nazis escape after WW2 so they would not have to face justice and that the Church kidnapped Jewish children during the Holocaust.

See the Church told Jewish families that if they gave them their children they would hide them and when it was safe they would return them.

Well when the families came for the children the Church said we have no idea what you are talking about.

There was also the close diplomatic ties the Pope had with Hitler and the lack of pressure or really lack of doing anything.

So the Church got real worried about being held accountable for not just their crimes during the Holocaust, but that if they got held accountable for those crimes that the Jews might just want hold them to account for the various crimes committed through out history.

So they came up with a plan and that was to make it seem like the Church and Jews were friends and loved each other.

And they starting pushing a term called "Judeo-Christian values" which is a bullshit term and holds Jews hostage.

And because Jews all over were both trying to just not fall a part and/or like find what family was still alive etc they didn't really have time to push back on it. And there was also the whole very long history for Ashkenazi Jews of what happens if you step out line and upset the Christians. It doesn't end well.

Which is why it is only until very recently you hear us Jews calling out that term and saying that it is bullshit.

But yeah that is real quick and dirty summary of the facts.

So it is not really a split in the way I think you might be thinking of a split.

Because what I described is not a split or schism. Which is why I am not a fan of calling it either of those words because that is not accurate.

To me Christianity has about a much to do with Judaism as like new age appropriators have to do with the stuff they appropriate from. Which is pretty much nothing.

It still does harm and is full of misinformation, but has almost nothing to do with what they stole and no understanding of what they are doing.

Which is why I can and have had Christians smugly quote passages of text at me thinking that it is so amazing that they know by heart and I am like right but what does it mean.

And they are always confused. To which I have to ask them again and again what is that text you are quoting talking about. What it is about.

And they are doubly smug if they do it in Hebrew.

But what they are never able to do is have a conversation about the text they quoted be in English or Hebrew.

Because they don't actually understand it. They don't fully know it.

The thing is we Jew we do study our texts and we do it over and over and over and over. But we don't really do it alone. And we do it as conversation, as debate, as question with a thousand and one answers that are each right. We do it because we love it and that is how we express that love. We do with commentary that is thousands of years old and commentary that modern.

We do it for fun. We do it for pleasure. We do it just because.

And that is something that you can not get, can not understand, unless you are Jewish.

Since posting that "how many mass graves and extinct cultures" post last month, I've had multiple Christians in the notes whining that there isn't a "specific instruction of belief that Christianity needs to wipe out every other religion in the world" in Christianity's teachings, and that it's all just The Church/King James/etc.

And every time, I point to the literal text of the passages of The Great Commission.

And nearly every time, that shuts them up; the only time it didn't, it was to engage in some disgusting semantical goalpost moving.

But it's like...

Why do Christians not know the content of their own texts? Is your faith really so tribalistic and totemic around the concept of "Jesus" that you all don't bother to actually read the religious texts?

It feels like it must be--I've heard of too many instances of Christians walking out of readings of The Sermon On The Mount because they think it's "liberal nonsense" and the like, but I just find it baffling and more than a little sad that I, a Jew, apparently knows the New Testament's text better than the people who swear by it and ostensibly believe and follow it.

[catinasockinsideabox]

In Dickbabs defense:

I can try explaining most of the pictures here in really short, I hope:

First picture, Barbara is kinda right being mad. Second, Dick was being a bit arrogant and all in that comic. Third picture, I might be mistaken but wasn't her father in danger? Sure, she's not completely excused for kicking him of course, still, try to understand her. Fourth picture... What is wrong with that? That's basically training? Those aren't even real spikes. She's yelling because in A REAL situation like that he needs to be fast. Fifth picture, did you guys even read the AFTER of that one?

Like every relationship, especially at the start, it has their problems. Barbara is holding back because of her legs, because she's in a wheelchair. However, she asked him for some time, he said he's gonna give it to her.

Next picture:

Again, have you read the after?

She's not being serious, she IS mocking but not with actually mean intentions.

"Barbara is jealous and shows her disdain for Koriand'r" um, okay? As if Kory was never jealous of a girl and Dick?

"Barbara dated Bruce!" Another universe.

"Barbara married Tim!" Another universe.

"But Barbara and Jason!" But Jason and Kory?

"Barbara also slut shamed him!" I can't 100% defend her, but she didn't know what actually happened on the rooftop, did she? I think no one knows what happened to Dick that night, Barbara only knows that he and Tarantula kissed. Of course she wasn't happy.

As said, I can't completely defend her over that, however, you can't completely hate on her. Also, that's probably bad writing by Devin Grayson. Helena once kissed Dick in front of Barbara, she wasn't really happy about it but didn't lash out. Plus, if I'm not wrong... Kory slept with both Jason and Roy in the new 52. Yes, that's bad writing and people don't count that, so why do we count this? Please be coherent.

Barbara to Kate Kane: "War? Pfft. I've dated Dick Grayson. You dated Dick Grayson?" How...is that sentence a reason to hate on the ship? I think it is pretty complicated to date our boy. Always missing dates or running off in the middle of them, for good reasons, but you can't blame the girls for feeling bitter about it. And before someone says it never happened with Kory or stuff like that, I'd like to remind you that he and Kory dates when they're in the Teen Titans. A team. Where there's always someone to help out and you're not alone. In Blüdhaven, Dick was alone, he used to mention it quite a lot too.

"Barbara blamed him for getting shot and forgetting about her" Okay, again, can't 100% blame her, but I feel like that was the stress talking. She was worried about him, she tried to get him back, now that everything is over, the whole situation hit her HARD, aka, she's stressing. Which is something I believe they both do a lot. You know... Being vigilantes and all, can you blame them?

You can't base their relationship as a normal one, how it would work for us, because it's not that simple. They both have a stressing and complicated life.

Last note, a little plus.

I've seen people hating on Barbara for this:

Now, I'd like to ask you, have you ever met someone who can't read? I'm adding this bonus because I did know someone like that. And let me tell you: It wasn't easy. If you add the importance and stress of the situation the characters are in, it's even more understandable why Barbara got stressed and lashed out like that.

Overall, you can't tell me she doesn't care about Cass, because she does. Like she does with Dick.

Dick and Barbara have a complicated relationship, but a good built up. It has its flaws, but they care about each other. And I feel like Tom Taylor isn't "trying to brainwash us into believing their relationship is all good and rainbows", obviously I can't say he wrote them all that good. Still, their relationship developed. You know, it happens.

It is built on retcons? Yeah. Is DC built on retcons? Absolutely. Their relationship is NOT the only thing that gets affected by retcons. I do believe that DC trying to erase Dickkory is a bit shitty though.

But in the end, why are you guys so unhinged about a fictional relationship? And a fictional character (Barbara). Some people act like she's a real person who committed war crimes, what in the world did a fictional character do to you? People take this stuff too seriously.

I've seen Dickkory fans acting surprised if someone agrees about Dickkory being better than Dickbabs, as if when you open the comment on YouTube, TikTok, Twitter, Pinterest, Tumblr under a Dickbabs post you won't see the typical comments:

"Kory >>>> Barbara"

"Dickkory >>>> Dickbabs"

"I prefer Dickkory"

"I hate this ship"

"I hate Barbara"

"I prefer Dickkory but..."

To be honest, I always see more posts and comments against the Dickbabs or Barbara instead of ones against Dick and Kory.

[hurtmemoreplease]

Pokemon Types Rated by Fuckability

Normal: Most normal types are pretty fuckable, but like... c'mon, how many of them are gonna blow your mind? Snorlax? Arceus? Melotta? There's plenty of good lovers, but not many great ones. 7/10.

Fire: A collection of the most fuckable pokemon, arranged for your pleasure. From Cinderace to Arcanine to Volcarona to Magcargo, there's something for everyone. One point deducted because you will get burned somewhere sensitive. 9/10.

Water: There's just not that much to say about water. There's a few very good options, a few very bad ones, but mostly just a lot of boring ones. Honestly I'm taking two points off for the vaporeon memes. 3/10.

Electric: Some fantastic options for you in Zebstrika and Luxray, with added points if you're into electrostim play. If you liked getting trained with a shock collar, you should become an electric type's pet. I'm not sure how you're going to fuck an Electrode or a Magneton, though. 7/10.

Grass: Tsareena! Grovyle! Ogerpon! Tangrowth! Surely, Grass must be the most fuckable type of all, right? Yeah, actually. With vine whip, a plethora of status moves, and a variety of diverse body types (looking at you, Victreebel!), Grass tops the charts, whether you're looking for a vanilla, humanoid type, or a mind-bending experience by a creature that drugs you out of your mind and oh my god i'm just talking about HDG god damn it. 10/10. Sadly.

Ice: Already a small group of pokemon, ice types rate pretty low on the fuckability scale in general, even before accounting for the sheer unpleasantness of the cold. Saved by Froslass being willing and able to freeze you in ice, and, presumably, do things to your unmoving body. 1/10.

Fighting: Okay here's your next task; go to the nearest gym that offers a kickboxing class and start giving your number to everyone who walks out of it. Functionally the same experience as hooking up with a fighting-type. A good lay, but nothing special. 4/10

Poison: With pokemon like Salazzle, Tentacruel, and the Nidoran line, you might think that poison deserves a pretty high rating. Wrong! All of the most fuckable pokemon in the typing are dual-typed with another, more interesting type. They get a little credit for having Poison Fang and Poison Jab for people who are into intox play. 3/10.

Ground: Great Tusk, Mudsdale, Hippowdon... A great type if you like being overpowered and enveloped, but not too much else going for it, and not much variety. 5/10. Middle of the road.

Flying: Well. It's not BAD. But you're dealing with a lot of dual-typed pokemon. At least you've got the Forces of Nature, they're literally therians. 2/10.

Psychic: You do not fuck the psychic type pokemon. The psychic type pokemon fuck you. Every single one of them up to and including Wobbufett is capable of ruining sex with anyone else for you. 10/10. 15/10. I'm not being mind-controlled to write this, I promise. But, hypothetically, if I was, it would be a 20/10

Bug: Honestly, the main downside to the bug type is that they don't have ovipositors, as far as we know. We can still hope, though... There are plenty of misses in the bug type, but if you're into it then you'll find plenty to be happy with. Even if you're not into it, there's plenty that will give you a good time. 8/10.

Rock: Lycanrocs have been known to bite and convert unwitting trainers. Nihilego can take over minds. Geodude is a rock. Plenty of decent options in Rampardos, Terrakion, and Tyrantrum, but plenty of ??? options like Corsola. 8/10, surprisingly, but there are some real standouts carrying the typing. (Call me, Diancie!)

Ghost: A lot of overlap with the appeal of psychic-types, just worse at it. Some really strong standouts with Hisuian Typhlosion, Cofagrigus, and Spectrier, but also- wait, shit, Hisuian Zoroark is there. 9/10.

Dragon: I'm not entertaining this discussion. It's 10/10 or higher. Shut up. 30/10. Leave me alone. I'm strapping you to the belly of a Salamance. I'm calling a Goodra with a dinner bell. They're the most fuckable category and it's not even close. Latios, Latias, and Necrozma are the only Dragon/Psychic types, which is a relief, since if there was a non-legendary one then humanity would be their pets.

Dark: Honestly a lot more consistently fuckable than you'd think. Mightyena, Houndoom, Thievul, Liepard, Hoopa, Urshifu, Sableye, and so on and so on and so on. Can't justify anything less than a 10/10.

Steel: Steel type is mostly useful for making other types more attractive; it's a surefire way to make a dragon, or a fairy, or a psychic-type even more attractive. That said, there are a few good options within the metal typing; Melmetal, Skarmory, Corviknight, to name a few. Lots of points lost for being best as added spice, but points granted for having a few really strong contenders. 4/10

Fairy: I mean. Come on. It's like Dark, but you actually expected it this time. Fairy is filled with some of the most fuckable pokemon around. 10/10, it's just hotties all the way down.

[prettyboykatsuki]

caleb is quite literally not mcs brother and it's not in any way reductive to his character to say so. they use brotherly terms bc it's just common in some cultures to do that— including chinese, japanese and korean, where those words that might be literally translated as "brother" are just as commonly, if not more, used as regular terms of endearment that don't exist in english. mcs weird feelings about it also makes sense if she just SEES him as a really close figure, stop tryna twist ur weird ass incest agenda as if you understand the source material better when ur literally just a slow ass westerner who doesn't understand the cultures ur tryna write within 💀 you guys just need to be euthanised i think

okay so. when the game, in canon text, has caleb's companion viper in all three languages except english localization, call him a siscon what do you think that means? what kind of relationship does someone having a sister complex indicate to you?

on another note and i do mean this genuinely: you don't have to interpret the story as incest if you don't want to. just like you don't need to read my fic or be annoying in my inbox about it 💀 telling me you think i need to be euthanized because you're uncomfortable with a very overt narrative theme that i expand on is insane bc you're doing that over pixels but well.

i didn't feel like this was worth answering but you 1. accusing me of being a westerner like im not literally asian disapora is insulting to me and 2. caleb and mc quite literally are adopted by the same person, and are canonically raised under the same roof. they refer to the same woman as grandma. if this does not read to you like a familial relationship ... 💀💀. all of my characterization is based on cn since its the original language the game is written in.

i don't think there is like. any reason to argue over the logistic use of honorifics. i come from a culture that uses honorfics. i know the way older brother can be used affectionately between people. but this is still SO questionable given the actual specifics of how caleb calls mc

it is additionally questionable because caleb also uses 家人 "jia ren" during bigger scenes which explicitly means family member (thank you mao for the translations). this kind of explicitly familial dialogue is also found again the original cn version of chapter 9. the localization butchers the original meaning and completely gets rid of the tragedy aspect. caleb essentially implies in that dialogue that their entire family was a lie, that the memories they had as a family were a farce and caleb did not feel the bond at all. this is the source of her devastation. go watch the cn translation done by a native speaker if u dont want to believe me 💀💀💀

your main argument seems to be that there is some great distinctive line between older brother figure and straight up older brother. and potentially if caleb was a neighbor or someone from a different family with a different guardian then this maybe would hold water.

but they are canonically raised in the same house, by the same person, adopted together. so either - you don't view adoptive siblings as a legitimate form of incest because it's not blood-related incest and you think that's somehow less taboo.

or you're genuinely implying that a person that you view as a sibling, who is raised with you, is on paper canonically adopted together with you from the same orphanage to the same person is, who you call your older brother and all of your friends view your sibling as affirmed in several cards in the original cn... is not actually your sibling but your childhood friend?

incest between people who are step-siblings or adoptive siblings is still incest. its taboo because the nature of the relationship is familial. the story literally uses forbidden fruit? do you think someone whose merely a vaguely older brother like figure warrants that level of intensity? like im crying.

no offense but i do understand the source material better than you also. like. sdkjfjfsdkldmfnksdfksjan

[kwondotcom]

hana— in our first ever conversation, i divulged to you that i've thought of elevatory at least once a week since i first read it. the reason why it took me a bit of time to do a proper rb is because i had annotated it on my second read, needed to take a min to breathe, and ended up only revisiting it now while clearing drafts/my tbr. so, here it is now on read #3!!! THIS WILL NOT BE THE LAST READ (THREAT)

tl;dr one of my favorite pieces of soonyoung writing. the premise in itself is probably the most unique i've seen in a long time, and it just drives me so insane to see such a well-done exes plot. spoilers under the cut. <3

WHAT A KILLER FIRST LINE. an actual art form, really, to have u hook line and sinker in the first sentence!

knew as early as this part that i'd be in for a wild ride. it's very telling of a post-break up sentiment, and it's a stellar set up for the MC's mindset.

there's a lot to love here. the touch of "nine now, but who's counting", the call back of "God hates you" and just. soonyoung's trying to make the most of it. oomf. because of course kwon soony would jump at this opportunity, would try to make small talk w/someone he's been no contact with. it's just his style, and it leads in well to the rest of the story. the next paragraph is actual pure gold: "- sad puppy, you've nicknamed it," following the description of soony as an open book. vicious and accurate read. goes really well with the descriptiveness of this:

(aha. i'm on to you, MC. you can say what you want, but at the end of the day, you can still read him. you still know him.)

i'm more than a little obsessed at a tactless soony + jeonghan, of course, inadvertently being the one at the crime scene.

the first part is already a punch in the gut in itself— the acknowledgement of their differences, serving as a bit of a gravity that explains how the two have acted so far. think the wrong side of magnets clinking against e/o lol. but what amazes me is how hana manages to manifest is a couple of sentences later. soony who winces, who is still obviously pained by his ala-taylor swift the moment i knew moment (i don't even want to think too much of the forgotten birthday scene or i will cry) vs. mc who's 'not sure why [you're] trying to reassure him'.

i said i don't want of the birthday flashback, but it must be said. this fucking line? shot to the chest and i'm in love with the shooter (hana). sighs.

[CAR CRASH] [GLASS SHATTERING] [EXPLOSION] “OH MY GOD” [BABY CRYING] “WAAAHH WAHH” [YELLING] “HELP MEE” [POLICE SIRENS] WEE WOO WEE WOEOO [YELLING] [HELICOPTERS] ‘WE’RE REPORTING LIVE-‘ [EXPLOSION] ‘MY LEG… MY LEG!!’ [BABY CRYING] “AHFUCKK SOMEONE HELP US” [REPORTER REPORTING] oh, this got got me. something about the intimacy of a name, so deceptively simple, and soony feeling the weight of the moment :") man.

this is my favorite flashback scene (and the eventual conclusion 'tried so hard/neither of you tried hard enough) for a lot of reasons. on one hand, there's something my friends and i call the burden of knowledge, which is something i feel jeonghan is vouchsafed in this scene. he's the one who hears out why MC wants to break up with soony, who talks her through it. "little things add up." my god, what a simple truth. part of why i adore elevatory so much— aside from being a study of form, an entire story told in a one-act that no one else besides hana could pull off— is because of the way it aches. it doesn't cut, like some stories might. it doesn't scar. it's just... a dull, familiar sort of throb. like a phantom pain. i think that's the best way to put it. cuts scab over. scars heal. but aches are forever, and this is exactly what that fic does. some old forgotten breakup, some bitterness at the circumstances, some truths packaged in a kwon soonyoung fanfic that remind you right, my pain of that-time-we-don't-talk-about is somewhat universal. it's comforting, in the same way that it's damning, to realize that there are people who know y/our pain that same way. to read it back, though— to have it glaring up at you— is just. a one-of-a-kind experience.

the lead-in to the breakup is devastating, because it really is that, sometimes. you realize love in the tender mundane, which means you can also loss love on a random weekday. "... after realising you had no idea where he kept his cereal bowls" is just an absolute gut-punch. like, ah. this is a life we're supposed to be sharing, a small fact i would know if it weren't for all the distance and time apart (what kind of girlfriend doesn't know where their boyfriend keeps their cereal bowls?!) and it just. little things, as jeonghan had said. also: something so cruel in the breakup starting, and consisting, of MC just saying soonyoung. this, after present-day soony is jolted when MC says his name? yeah. abso-fucking-lutely brutal, man.

won't even try to act like i can be coherent about this when i started crying actual tears the first time i read this passage. even now, my eyes are skipping over the words in an attempt to guard my heart against that impending pain. like, hey, hana. what the fuck! reminds me of a poem, which i'm attaching here. "but i remember our kindness that day, / when it longer mattered."

i can tell you exactly when i first read this (second week of january -ish) and when i read it a second time (earlier this month; the aborted annotation attempt), and i just wish you could've seen the look on my fucking face/the gasp i gusped when it ended with this. i rate about it a lot already in this little post, but it bears repeating: pulling off a one-act/one-setting piece is no easy feat, and you do it with such finesse. the un-chronological order of the flashbacks, the glimpses of their present selves and how they've changed/how they're still like their past versions, and this ending. absolutely bowls me over. hana, you have talent that bursts at the seams. elevatory is living, breathing proof.

You were once deeply and irrevocably in love with Kwon Soonyoung, and it’s incredibly hard to avoid that fact when he works literally two offices down from you. It’s even harder to avoid when you’re stuck in a broken elevator with him for hours, and he seems determined to dissect everything that went wrong three years ago.

⇢ pairing: kwon soonyoung x f!reader

⇢ genre: angst, fluff, exes!au, lawyer!au

⇢ wc: 5.6k

⇢ warnings: minor alcohol consumption, lots of flashbacks

⇢ a/n: early happy new year!! this is my gift to u all <3 thank u to @haologram for hosting this collab and for just being alive. and thank you SOO much to ally @lovetaroandtaemin and em @gyuswhore for beta'ing i appreciate u both endlessly 💗

as part of the don’t hate, litigate! collab hosted by the wonderful @haologram

SOMETIMES IT TRULY feels like God, or the stars in your skies, or whatever the hell is controlling your fate down on this measly earth, hates you.

Sometimes it truly feels like this indefinite being is determined to deal you the worst set of cards, and this – this trumps all. Being stuck in an elevator with your ex-boyfriend sounds like the beginning of a shitty romcom, except it’s not. It’s your life, and it’s been your life for the past eight minutes, since the metal box you stepped in ground to a creaky, noisy halt halfway between the sixth and seventh floor. 

And it takes eight minutes before Soonyoung sighs resignedly. “Are you just going to ignore me forever?” 

Forever, you think, is your least favourite word. There were a lot of things you thought you’d have forever, and one of them is standing right next to you.

You swallow thickly. Your reply comes measured and clipped. “For as long as possible.”

When he speaks next, you can hear the attempt at a forced smile in his tone. “Well, you kinda just failed.”

You stay silent. If anyone had told you five years ago that Kwon Soonyoung would be begging to talk to you and you’d be ignoring him, you would have called them crazy; and yet, here you are. Ignoring him like your sanity depends on it, because actually, it does. So for the past eight minutes – nine now, but who’s counting? – you’ve barely spoken a word. You’re both stuck; the recovery team can’t make it for two hours at least; and God hates you, basically.

Soonyoung’s trying to make the most of it, and you’re not letting him.

He says your name, ever so softly. “Really, though. How – how have you been?”

It’s weird, going from years of no contact to working together. It’s been a year since Soonyoung joined your company, but it hasn’t become any easier. Not when he’s such an open book, so fucking easy for you to read. Every time you cross paths, he gets this look in his eyes – sad puppy, you’ve nicknamed it. Now is no different.

“I’ve been okay,” you say finally, stiltedly. You’ve never been able to resist that face, and you’re pretty sure he knows it too. “What about you?”

The silence is painful, but the way he says fine stings a little bit more. You know when he’s lying, and he never used to do that to you.

“So…” He shifts his weight awkwardly, huffing out an uncomfortable laugh as he gazes intently at his shoes. “This is weird, right?”

You match him with an equally uncomfortable smile. “The weirdest.”

“Our longest conversation after forever,” he says. “But I wasn’t expecting it to go like this.”

You cock your head to the side, fixing him with a questioning gaze. All hopes of ignoring him are sailing out the hypothetical window. “How were you expecting it to go?”

Soonyoung looks up at you with one of those embarrassed, endearing smiles. “Better.”

There’s a pregnant pause, and then – “You know, Jeonghan calls you the one that got away.” 

He’s always had a habit of dropping things like that on you; things that leave you a little winded.

“That makes it sound like I escaped,” you say, with an ease you don’t feel.

Clearly, Soonyoung doesn’t feel it either — he exhales heavily. “Maybe you did. Escape, I mean.”

You snap your head towards him, eyes almost owlish in your surprise; “You’re not serious.” When he doesn’t say anything, you continue haphazardly, “Soonyoung, that’s not — there wasn’t anything to escape from.” 

Your ex-boyfriend looks miserable. Avoids eye contact, staring fixedly at his shoes with a dejected expression he can’t properly disguise; even throughout the three years of your relationship, you rarely saw him like this. He looks…

Heartbroken, your mind suggests.

“I’m serious,” you insist again, pushing the thought out of your mind. “You weren’t a bad boyfriend, Soonyoung.”

He snorts then. “Okay, we both know that isn’t true.”

“It is!” 

“If we had, like, a counter of who fucked up however many times, I would leave you in the dust.”

You don’t know how to tell him this might even be half of it. This weird pedestal he puts you on – it’s not even guilt-tripping. You’ve seen that, but never from him; Soonyoung just truly, sincerely feels bad. Whenever you look back on your relationship, which is more often than you’d care to admit, it’s plain as day. He truly, sincerely feels that he has never deserved you. Like you’re something out of this world, out of his world. 

“Wow.” Soonyoung huffs out the one word, and it’s half a laugh, half admiration. “You are so out of my league.”

“Stop,” you whine, pushing his shoulder lightly. “Don’t say stupid things like that.”

“Well, not everyone gets to date the prettiest girl in law school,” he retorts quickly, lifting his brows. “Not sure why I of all people get to, but thank you.”

“Stop it,” you repeat, rolling your eyes and fixing the tie he’s wearing. “You’re gorgeous and you know it. You should know it, at least.”

“Not just that!” he protests quickly. “I just mean… you’re so smart. And good. And kind, and funny, and — ”

“Ah, yes! Of course, Kwon Soonyoung, known famously for being mean and horrible and extremely unfunny,” you say sarcastically, before tugging his tie and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “I choose my league, and you’re the only one in it.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” he murmurs, slightly breathless.

“Oh, shut up and kiss me.”

There were a lot of things that went wrong with you and Soonyoung. You’d started off wonderful: both of you bright, flaming, drawn to each other like magnets. You managed the stresses of law school, graduated together, and lined up jobs – jobs that were miles and miles from each other.`

There were lots of things that went wrong with you and Soonyoung, but if you had to pick one, it would be long distance.

“When did we stop trying?”

The question makes you snort. “What, you want a date and a time?”

Soonyoung smiles ruefully, but there’s nothing happy about it. It’s more of a painful grimace. That’s always been the way with you both: you deflect, he feels. He doesn’t hide the way you do, not from anyone. And for a few years, he was the only one who you didn’t hide from. 

Maybe that’s what has you opening your mouth again. “I could probably give you one. A date, I mean.”

Soonyoung hugs his knees to his chest, eyes searching your face. You can read him so well it physically makes you ache. The hint of uncertainty in his eyes, the twitching of his fingers – he’s nervous. He’s torn between wanting to know what you have to say and the strong sneaking premonition that it might hurt. “Go on,” he says finally, just as you knew he would. 

Honestly, you don’t have an exact date. Things fell apart slowly, and then all at once. A toppling tower – leaning, leaning, leaning, until it crashed. 

“There were probably a few things,” you say, softly. “My birthday, for a start.”

He winces reflexively. “That…” he begins, and then breathes out, shutting his eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make up for that.”

“I mean, in the end, it wasn’t that big of a deal.” You’re not sure why you’re trying to reassure him, even if it's true. You forgave him almost immediately.

“Shit.” 

Soonyoung’s first eloquent word when he walks into the apartment only means you become sure of what you already suspected. He takes in the half-eaten cake on the table, candles blown out and tossed to the side, the scraps of wrapping paper littering the floor, the cards; you take in his face. And you know, as quick and as simple as that – he forgot. 

Some small part of you had been holding a sneaking hope that maybe this was just an elaborate attempt at a surprise. You’d told him once, months and months ago, that you didn’t think ignoring people on their birthday to surprise them later was a very nice thing to do. But you’d rather he forgot that than your entire birthday.

His eyes meet yours, both of you frozen to your places. Him at the doorway, you at the table. The distance between you isn’t more than a few metres, but suddenly it feels like an engulfing abyss. Still, even from the other side, you can feel the guilt pouring out of him. 

“Shit,” he says again, before rushing his words out. “Shit, baby, I’m so sorry.”

You haven’t cried all day. You haven’t let yourself, but this has your eyes brimming over before you can control it.

“I’m going to bed,” you say finally, hugging yourself tightly, making yourself smaller. The apartment is warm, but you suddenly feel freezing. And despite your best efforts, there’s a waver in your voice, verging on a crack. “I’m tired.” 

You glance over the remains of your birthday party, one that you plastered a fake, painful smile on the whole way through, and then you turn to leave. 

“Baby, wait,” he implores quickly, and takes a step towards you — you mirror it immediately with a step back, and it makes him pause, his expression falling even further. “Baby.”

“You’re not allowed to call me that.” Your voice is obviously shaking now. “Not today. Maybe — maybe tomorrow.”

Maybe tomorrow you’ll be able to hear his excuses, his promises, but today, you’re allowed to be upset. You’ll let yourself have today, at the very least.

He’d driven hours to see you that day, but he’d still forgotten why he was there. You hadn’t really celebrated your birthday before you met him. Soonyoung was the one who made it a big deal, back when you first started dating, and even now, there’s a sharp pang in your chest when you remember how hurt you were that day.

“You made up for it tenfold,” you remind him now, because it’s true. He made the rest of the week practically a utopia, once you banned him from apologising. And he’d been so busy at work, so incredibly tired the whole month before, and you could understand. Both that he upset you, and that it was an innocent mistake. And you’ve never seen more sincere apologies than those that came from Soonyoung.

He looks grim, shakes his head, but doesn’t say any more. Probably because you’ve had this conversation a few times already, both of you too stubborn to give in. 

“Keep going,” he says, then, looking at you head on. “What else?”

All of a sudden, you don’t want to talk about what else. All of a sudden, you’re annoyed with him, his stupid face, this stupid elevator. “Do we have to do this?” Your voice has switched from somewhat reassuring to harsh – for want of a better word, angry. It makes his brown eyes a little round with surprise, his mouth parting a little.

“What?”

“What else and what if have been on my mind for three years, Soonyoung,” you say acidly. “Forgive me if I don’t really want to talk about it to your face.”

Again, his mouth opens a little bit, stays open as he tries to form words. Until he gives up, seals his lips and nods. “Alright. Okay. That’s fine.”

“I know it’s fine!” you cry out, only more angry that he won’t argue back. You’re lawyers, it’s what you do. And just to be petty, you add — “Besides, I bet your girlfriend wouldn’t be happy about this anyway.”

Finally, his passive poker face drops, and he looks a little confused. “My what?”

Immediately, you regret opening your mouth, but it’s too late to back down. “Your girlfriend. You know, that girl from accounting.”

“The girl fr— You mean Rachel?” Soonyoung gapes at you, and something in you bridles, until he continues. “Mrs Choi, who's married to her wife and adopting a kid next year?”

Well, now you feel stupid as fuck.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he continues, and if you weren’t afraid to look at him right now, you’d swear he was hiding a smirk.

“Whatever. I don’t care. Why are we even talking about this?” you snap, irritated and embarrassed.

He still sounds smug. “You brought it up.”

“You sit with her every lunch hour,” you mutter, heat creeping up your neck. “I just assumed.”

“Well, there’s nothing there. So don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried! I don’t care who you date, Soonyoung!”

He looks a little taken aback, blinking once or twice, cockiness gone without a trace. “Wow,” he says, finally. If you didn’t know him as well as you did, you wouldn’t notice the slight tremble in his voice. “That’s the first time you’ve said my name since — ”

He cuts himself off, but you complete the sentence in your head — three years ago. Three years since you packed up and walked out of his life. It feels like a decade ago; it feels like last week. You’d been so sure that you wouldn’t see his face again after that, that it was a decided end of a full four years of your life. Until last year, when he’d waltzed straight back into your life, this time at your workplace.

“This is the new hire.” Your boss is speaking, but you’re still finishing up the last sentence on the document you’re working on, and you listen absently as he fires a couple instructions — “Jeon, you’ll show him around. Filing system, get him logged on, the works.”

You look up then, to cast Wonwoo a knowing smile, because he always gets lumped with showing around the newbies, but halfway to making eye contact with your friend, you catch the familiar tilt of a jaw, the soft lines of a nose you know so well.

You’ve seen Soonyoung in a hundred people since you left him. You’re always looking over your shoulder at the bus stop, at the grocery store, at the library, finding a tiny piece of him in everyone and everything, a tiny piece that lodges itself tight and sharp into your throat until you take a second look, until you see unfamiliar eyes or too dark hair or shorter legs. Until you find something to make you swallow, exhale, and keep walking.

Now, your second look doesn’t yield anything unfamiliar. Except maybe his hair, gone from blonde to black, but everything else — everything else. It’s him, and he looks just as shocked to see you as you are to see him. There’s a heavy moment that seems only heavy to the two of you, everyone else still talking, the boss still giving instructions, but you and Soonyoung are looking at each other, dumbfounded, and all you can think about is the distinct taste of bile in your throat and the tie he’s wearing is the one you got him for his birthday.

Your initial plan is to avoid him. He foils that plan within two hours, cornering you in the break room, whispering urgently, “I had no idea you worked here, I swear I’m not, like, following you or – ”

The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind, and you just pin him with a blank stare. 

“I could quit.”

You’re shaking your head before he can even finish the sentence. “I’m not so butthurt that I can’t be a professional.”

“Right,” Soonyoung nods, breathing out a little. His lips are chapped. He never used to wear lip balm, just used to borrow yours. You hate yourself a little for remembering that.

The memory almost makes your lips twist with an sardonic smile. “I was so pissed when you showed up here.”

You can see his half smile, rueful and charming, through your peripheral vision. “I felt so bad about it, you know. But you just seemed annoyed when I saw you in the break room, so I figured you weren’t… mad or upset or anything.”

“I went straight from the break room to cry in the bathroom for fifteen minutes,” you admit truthfully. “I had to tell Wonwoo I had curry for breakfast.”

“You cried?”

You scowl. “I’m not saying it to be pitied, Soonyoung. I’m just saying, I’m not, like, some heartless jerk with no feelings. Of course I was upset.”

“I know that,” he says quickly, vehemently. “Of course I know that.” He hesitates, and then continues, words practically inching out of him. “It’s not really my place to ask, but… you and Wonwoo… are you guys…?”

“You’re right,” you say, and press your cheek onto your knees to fix him with your eyes. “It’s not your business. But that’d be hypocritical of me, so… no. No, we’re just friends. I’m friends with his girlfriend too, Cam, she works at the plant shop down the road.”

Soonyoung tilts his head back, lets out one of those breathy laughs that aren’t really laughs. “It’s so weird that you have new friends now.”

“Thanks,” you say, dripping with sarcasm.

“Not like that! I just mean I’m so used to – like, it used to be our friends, you know what I mean?”

“Not since three years ago,” you say with false lightness, because when you lost Soonyoung, you lost the friends he brought you too. You catch the glint of pity in his eyes again, and scoff. “It’s not a big deal. They were your friends first.”

Frowning, he speaks again. “First doesn’t matter. It didn’t matter to them either. Seungkwan said you were the one who stopped answering their calls.”

It’s true, and the feeling still burns a little, because Seungkwan and Jeonghan had called so many times. Even Vernon called a couple times, and you weren’t even that close to him, but Soonyoung has always attracted good people. Like calls to like. Maybe that’s why you ended up leaving.

“I was trying to make it easier,” you say bluntly., “for them to choose you.”

Your ex-boyfriend clicks his tongue, rakes a hand through his dark hair. “It’s not about sides, ___, for fuck’s sake.”

“Well, it felt like it at the time, alright?” Your words come out louder than you mean them to, and you pause, trying to quell your defensiveness. 

Soonyoung raises his hands in half-hearted surrender. “Alright. Alright.”

Something in your stomach feels acidic. Leaning your head back against the cool wall of the elevator, you manage to meet his eyes apologetically. “How – how are they, though? Seungkwan and everyone?”

Graciously, he ignores your quick show of temper. “They’re good. Seungkwan’s working freelance photography now. Jeonghan still hates his job, but keeps getting promoted anyway.”

Jeonghan. You told him you thought you were going to break up before you even told Soonyoung. You wonder if he remembers it, because that night is seared into your memory – New Year’s Eve, three years ago.

You’re much drunker than you ever intended to be when you finally find a place to sit in the cramped apartment, waved over by a sympathetic looking Jeonghan. He pats your head affectionately as you groan. 

“Feeling alright?”

“No,” you say elaborately.

Jeonghan never pries, which is probably what makes people tell him everything. He only raises his eyebrows at you, a hint of scepticism toying with his smile.

You look away, eyes drawn immediately to your boyfriend, laughing in the middle of the kitchen. Throwing his head back, squeezing his eyes shut, looking so fucking happy; when you see him like this, your heart always feels so incredibly warm and so incredibly full. 

Except today, there’s something else intertwining it, something similar to dread, and it causes the faint smile on your face to fade a little.

Jeonghan sees it, of course, and when you look back at him, his eyebrows only raise higher. 

You sink further into that horrible, looming feeling. “Jeonghan.”

“___.”

“I think I’m going to break up with him this year.”

If you didn’t know Jeonghan as well as you do, you’d think the information hadn’t affected him at all; his features remain completely impassive, but you catch the flash of surprise in his eyes. He stays quiet for a long time, the silence between you filled with thumping bass and indistinct conversation, until finally, he asks the only question there is to ask. “Why?”

It’s ridiculous, how one word can bring you to the verge of tears. But that one word holds so much weight – why would you break up with him? Why would you, when you’ve pictured a future with him a thousand times over? 

Why would you leave the best thing that ever happened to you?

You blink back the tears, and Jeonghan waits.

His voice is soft, but you still hear him under the din of the party. “Is this about your birthday?”

You shake your head quickly. “No.” You stop. “Maybe. It’s – there’s just – little stupid things.”

“Little things add up,” Jeonghan says gently. You hate how he’s already understanding.

“Sometimes – ” You swallow thickly. “Sometimes I just feel so far away from him.”

You don’t have to explain that you don’t mean physically. Because that’s part of it, but it’s not all of it, but without you saying that, Jeonghan knows. You barely notice when he takes your plastic red cup from your hands, setting it on the table next to him. “And I know he loves me, and he’d never hurt me on purpose, and – he’s been so good to me, Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan only hums, waits for you to continue. And you do, the alcohol only pushing more words out of your mouth. “The distance,” you say, “is killing us.” You rub furiously at your eyes. “No matter how hard we try, Jeonghan, it’s not working, and I feel like – I’m the only one who can see that. He’s ignoring it, but we can’t keep going like this.”

Jeonghan hesitates for a second, looking torn, more torn than you’ve ever seen him look. “Do you still love him?”

Tears blur your vision again, but don’t quite escape this time. “I don’t know how to stop.”

When you kiss Soonyoung after the countdown, your cheeks are wet.

“Long distance.”

“What?”

“You asked what else,” you say, picking at your nails. “I think it was the distance. I think that’s what – you know. Broke us up.”

Soonyoung has that look in his eyes, the one where he wants to argue but knows he’s going to lose, knows that you’re right. He breathes out, licks his lips and tries to speak. “We tried so hard.”

It’s not even a counter-argument. You agree with him, even. The two of you were brilliant at long distance, until you weren’t. Hours-long video calls, surprise weekend visits, staying over for the holidays, until it all started collapsing. Weekly movie nights kept getting postponed. Visits had to decrease in number. You were missing each other’s calls – if one of you wasn’t working late, the other always was. It was like the entire universe was working against you both, and suddenly, you felt like a burden rather than a lover, and Soonyoung would probably say the same. It’s hard not to feel that way, when you’re celebrating your anniversary over FaceTime and both of you keep dozing off while the other talks.

In a way, Soonyoung is right: you both tried so hard. In a way, he’s so wrong: neither of you tried hard enough.

Towards the end of it all, you were too tired to fight. Both of you were. The breakup was a quiet affair, mostly. You brought it up first, standing in the kitchen of Soonyoung’s apartment after realising you had no idea where he kept his cereal bowls.

“Soonyoung?”

“Babe, I told you, it’s the third cupboard from the left,” he calls, but he’s rounding the corner to his kitchen anyway. He stops in his tracks when he sees your face, smile fading, and for a second, time freezes.

“Soonyoung,” you say again, quieter.

And he knows. “Don’t,” he says, faintly, but there’s no weight behind it, because he knows.

Tears are already brimming your eyes, and you’re wrapping your arms around yourself, shaking your head. “I can’t,” you say, and you’re not sure what you mean. I can’t end it. I can’t keep going.

The picture before him is enough for Soonyoung, and any defence, any fight he still had in him (because he’s always been the more tenacious) drains. He gives in, same as you. 

“Okay,” he says, in a voice that’ll haunt you for years to come, a clashing harmony of gentle and damning. “Okay.”

You try to formulate words. You fail. All that you can say is “Soonyoung.” before you trail off. 

You don’t finish. He gives you a tired, forced smile, says something about, “We had a good run, didn’t we?”, but you’re too busy trying to wrench the tears back into your eyes to focus properly. Your efforts are in vain, of course, tears slipping down your cheeks hot and heavy, no matter how much you try to stop.

“I’m sorry,” you say tearfully, but he shakes his head.

“Don’t be sorry.”

After that, he only helps you load your bags into your car and says thank you when you give him the house keys. He does everything so quietly, so methodically, so defeatedly. It’s like he’s just lost a war he’s been fighting for far too long.

It turns out that in the end, four years can be reduced down to this: two cardboard boxes, three bin bags, and two broken hearts.

It’s your fault, in technical terms. You finished this. You’re the one who said the words, or almost said them, the one who spelled out what was so obviously ignored. More than once, because you’d tried this before, six months ago. Soonyoung was the one who fought back. He’d said no, of course, that first time. He’d said no with tears in his eyes, like it was a surprise to him, like he couldn’t see it the way you saw it — that you were on two very different paths. 

Soonyoung didn’t believe in following diverging paths, he believed in forcing yourself straight ahead hand-in-hand, come hell or high water. He believed in it, until he didn’t, and then he let you go.

When it’s time for you to leave, he accepts the hug you can’t help but fling on him just before you step in the car. Both of your arms around each other, fitting into place like you have a hundred times before, but so much tighter and so much briefer this time. Soonyoung clings to you like he’s never going to see you again, because he isn’t. You cling to him like this is the last time you’ll ever hug him, because it is.

And then both of you are pulling away, laughing awkwardly at the wet patch you’ve left on his shirt, and then you’re getting in your car and he’s waving you off and it’s over, just like that.

“It’s kind of ironic, isn’t it?” There’s an acerbic quality to Soonyoung’s laugh as he continues. “We broke up because of distance, and here we fucking are.”

There’s a metre and a half between you two.

“Maybe it was a dumb reason,” you say. Voicing the thought that’s tormented you since the day you drove away. Because maybe it was stupid. Maybe it was a temporary rough patch, and if you’d stayed, if you’d fought a little more and a little longer, you’d still have Soonyoung.

But you didn’t, and you don’t.

There’s a heavy expression on Soonyoung’s face, a strange mix of anger and confusion and guilt. “Maybe,” he says, at last. There’s the vaguest trace of bitterness, the little tiny sting that reminds you again that you’re the one who called it quits. 

“It felt like the weight of the world at the time,” you say ashamedly, squeezing your eyes shut for a second.

Soonyoung takes the chance and scoots closer to you, sitting against the wall with you, shoulder-to-shoulder. (How easy it would be to just rest your head there, as you’ve done a thousand times before.) “It can’t have been easy,” he says, patting your hand with his own. Warm and familiar in its unfamiliarity, which is when you realise you’ve misread him, for once – he’s not bitter. He’s empathetic.

“It wasn’t stupid,” Soonyoung continues softly, rubbing his eyes, “but God, I wish you’d just talked to me. Actually — I wish we’d talked to each other.”

“Yes, well,” you say dryly, wondering if he’s going to catch your reference, “I’ve always had a problem with communication.”

He catches it; it makes him pause, lift up his head, give you a tiny smile.

It takes you a minute to register that the seat across from you has been occupied. When you do look up, you realise Soonyoung’s mouth has been moving since he sat down, and you haven’t heard a word of it. Also, somewhere between the class you guys shared two days ago and his presence in the library this morning, his hair’s gone from a discreet dark brown to a particularly indiscreet blond.

“I’m sorry,” you shake your head, taking out your earphones and setting down your pen. “What?”

“I said – do you have a problem with communication or something?” Despite the nature of his words, he’s practically beaming at you.

You blink at him, bewildered. “I mean… maybe? But — what?”

He holds up his phone. “Project,” he explains elaborately. “I’ve been texting, and I didn’t get a reply, and then I saw you over here, so I thought I’d ask.”

You frown, grabbing your phone. “I didn’t get any texts.”

Soonyoung mirrors your expression, tapping at his screen, and you’re struck by how much the blond suits him. As did the brown. As did the black he had a semester ago. Not that you’ve been keeping track, but it’s hard to not notice someone like Soonyoung. Even if the first time you talked to him was two days ago to organise the project you’ve been paired up for — you know him. Of him, at least.

He swivels his screen round to face you, showing you a contact with your name and what you quickly realise is almost your number. You smile a little awkwardly, tapping the last digit. “That’s meant to be a seven. You’ve got an eight.”

“Fuck,” he exhales, “that explains it. Who the hell have I been texting about litigation then?”

Something about his expression and his tone is so comical it makes you laugh, which surprises him a little – he glances up at you with a blatantly admiring smile, and he taps the edge of the desk. “Your eyes light up when you laugh, did you know?” And as quickly as he says it, he moves on, gesturing to your phone. “I’ll text you about the project, okay?”

He’s like a hurricane, and you’re trying your best to keep up. “Okay,” you agree confusedly, still hot-faced from the sudden compliment. “Yes. That’s — yes.”

As he gets up to leave again, he shoots you another one of those blinding, dazzling smiles, and sticks his hand out. “We’re friends now, right?”

His question sounds childishly sweet, and you can’t find it in yourself to do anything other than agree. 

Your one little reference sets you both off. You spend the next two hours talking and talking and talking, every other sentence beginning with “Remember when…”, as the two of you dredge up the long-buried memories of four long years spent together.

Soonyoung talks about the massive crush he had on you before you even got paired up for the project. You talk about how you never believed him, even when he did ask you out – it took three tries before you understood how serious he was. And then you remember the time Soonyoung sprinted from campus to his accommodation and back just to get you the calculator you forgot for your exam – and the time you both went to a frat party and ended up playing the most intense game of UNO in the bathroom with Vernon, which ended in a drunk Soonyoung trying to flush the cards down the toilet. 

He talks about the surprise party you threw for his birthday, and you talk about the time he tried to make you pancakes for National Girlfriend Day and failed horribly. You ate them anyway.

You don’t, however, talk about other things, even if you remember them. You remember Soonyoung kissing your forehead every morning he woke up next to you. You remember him buying your favourite flowers for your favourite vase every week. You remember coming home after a long day to food already delivered and paid for when he was working hours and hours away. You remember being so incredibly in love that it made you giddy and so in love it made you calm. And you don’t talk about it, just store it away somewhere as a reminder of what love is meant to feel like. If four years with Soonyoung brought you anything, it’s that: it taught you how to love and be loved.

When the recovery team finally arrives, you leave the elevator feeling like a new person. It doesn’t hurt when you look at Soonyoung anymore, there’s only a vague, warm fondness. And he can look you in the eye now, which he does. He smiles at you, sticks out his hand the same way he did all those years ago.

“We’re friends now, right?”

an / AHHH!!!!!! i know this fic is only like 5k but it took a lot out of me so i’d love to hear your thoughts. literally any thoughts. i wanted this fic to be longer but it happened this way and. what can i do. i may be the author but im NOT in control. it’s not a fic i’m 100% proud of but i think it’ll still hold a special place in my heart!!!! i love an angsty exes au.

anyway — this will be my last fic this year!!! see you all in 2025 and thank you so much for all the notes and all the reblogs and all the wonderful conversations this year i love you

perm taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @glowunderthemoon

@wondering-out-loud @tokitosun @hannyoontify @sahazzy

@dokyeomin @icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars

@immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts @astrozuya @doublasting

@yepimthatonequirkyteenager @qaramu @weird-bookworm @phenomenalgirl9

@lightnjng @strnsvt @onlyyjeonghan @athanasiasakura

@iamawkwardandshy @twilghtkoo @yuuyeonie @lllucere

@pearlesscentt

@sourkimchi @porridgesblog

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.81)

(Sneak Peek)(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Your heat is oh so close to breaking, but first, you need your whole pack even closer, but nothing seems close enough…

Tags: heatsex, Dumbification kink, Dacryphilia, Crying during sex cuz its so good, overstimulation, Double penetration, Two Knots one hole, sope x reader, settling spanking, subspace, dom! Namjoon, Dom! Seojin, Holecheck, fluff, Comfort no hurt,

W/c: 11.1k

A/n: honestly how do i tell you guys that there's double penetration in something through a moodboard???? like i struggled so hard with this one you're just going to have to believe me. i went with more of a nostalgic vibe because the ending of the heat is actually really sweet and pretty.

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

It isn’t the first time Tae has used your bare back as a rest for her notebook. It’s comforting. The feeling of the paper against your bare skin. Her non-dominant hand tickles over your shoulder as you doze, not fully asleep lazing in the water.

Yoongi leans his cheek against the ball of Tae's shoulder, nuzzling briefly. He peeks over as she writes and scrawls and she tilts the paper so that he can see better.

You’re spread across Jimin’s lap now, body half tipped into the water. occasionally hands grip under your arms, readjusting so that you don’t actually drown as you sort of fall asleep. You’re so tired, a bone deep exhaustion that cannot be roused.

And it's so warm, the places where they touch you blend and move, sudsy and slippery.

Your face gets gently washed, gentle fingers in smooth circles and when Yoongi tilt’s your chin, you notice that his fingers have already gone pruny from how they’ve sudsed you up between your legs to your knees, every inch of you clean. even the hem of his pushed up sleeves are damp.

Finally.

when she’s done with her little poem, Tae recites it for you three. The steam turns the air hazy. it sort of feels like a love letter that turns into a poem. You’re distantly aware of it as always, that this poem is about you.

But then again, most of the time when Tae writes, it’s about you. (Jimin too, but mostly- you).

You think when she finally lets you read her book, that you’re going to see little bits of your love story in-between the pages, you’ll notice flashes of you. Sweet reminders that you are loved and as treasured just as dearly as one of Tae's characters, that you live in her head just as they do.

8 months ago, she would have never shared a poem with any of them so soon after it popped into her head. She’d at least have edited it a little. Tae's words used to be kept under lock and key.  

But you have made Tae into someone brave enough now. She is not so scared of showing the delicate parts of her. You curl your hand around her thigh in response. Cheek resting on her knee as you listen to her voice. 

“I long to be careless with my heart, to not know what it feels like when it burns. To give it thoughtlessly again, so that I might prolong those firsts with you."

There is a lump in her throat, you can hear it as she says the words, it makes them come out hushed, like she is close to crying. The ending of these firsts has never bothered you. First kiss, first date, first heat. all crossed off a list. Maybe when you're more lucid, you'll tell her you can play pretend and go on as many first dates as you need too to get it right. Until she stops feeling it- the burn.

"As the firsts become fewer and fewer, I find myself pausing, making it last, savoring it.” You rub your cheek into Tae's knee, and Yoongi’s hand runs through your hair, then tae's.

“A bite, a blush, a secret shared.” Jimin’s hand lingers around the curve of your shoulder, holding you out of the water.

“The love on the blankets, your kiss ruddy on my hands. The feeling of your knees between my knees, your heart and other banquets upon which we feast.”

Tae's hand thumbs over your lip, and when you look up at her you find her watching you. Reading off the words without looking at the paper, like she’s already committed the words to memory.

“A first meal or last like any other. Regardless, I eat.”

Coming Saturday February 22 at 5pm EST (Time Zone Adjustments Below)

[grayskiesandink]

You know, i've always really liked Ink's concept of forgiveness/way to deal with conflicts and now with your jewish interpretation, i like it even more!

So, according to Ink's FAQ, Ink never tries to attack a enemy first and always tries to reconcile and understand where the problem is coming from, which includes him talking with the enemy in order to be able understand the issue and try to brush them in the right direction.

You may already now this but i realllyyy want to explain for anyone who doesn't, there's a concept in judaism called "teshuvah" (meaning "repentance" or "return"), it's a concept of forgiveness where the perpetratir undergoes a rigorous self-examination that requires engagement with the victim, by confessing, expressing regret and making an active effort to right thr wrong of what they commited.

I've always thought that his formula of dealing with fights to be very Teshuvah all around! In my opinion ofc

But anyways, i think the previous anon expressed their thoughts incorrectly because his need to "follow the script" is not a part of this headcanon at all. (it's actually a result of his abandonment issues, dissociative outlook on pretty much everything and always thinking what's best for the creators rather than what's better for him but i digress)

What i could however consider a part of this interpretation is his importance on life and the creations. It was said by comyet that Ink thinks all creations/life should exist because "it's fair", and that's actually one of the main reasons to why he decided to protect such creations in the first place! He loves them with all if his nonexistent heart and wants them to exist (this does imply that he protects AU's with bad endings but i'm trying to focus more on his want for living you know?)

yes !!! finally someone talks about Ink's fighting style...... It is so important to me that he's not this aggressor- in reality he'll do anything to not have to fight/aim to kill. He's a talker!! Fighting uses up his ink and that can always be dangerous (in how I write Ink- he does fight a bit more often but there's reasons for that. I still like to keep in mind his usual fighting style. and also my Ink is Not canon). It's really interesting to connect teshuvah with his fighting style... turning it around in my brain. honestly I always find thinking about forgiveness and how characters would deal with it super super interesting. I am always thinking about how Ink would deal with forgiveness. does he acknowledge his own mistakes... I think he'd more openly engage with his mistakes towards the Creators than he would for other people. is he haunted by his actions towards other characters. is he??? does he understand that's what he's feeling??? I NEED TO KNOW !! WAHGAG. Ink you're so cool and interesting I love youuuuu. I love thinking about Ink's worldview <3 I agree with everything you said about his attitude towards the scripts- I haven't seen it put into words often but there is something super intriguing about how at the same time he's both self sacrificial and selfish. I say selfish in the most non judgmental way to be clear, textbook definition of the word. How I see his desire to keep the scripts running is both out of deep respect for the creators and out of a desire to keep them happy so they keep creating (giving him access to the life force he needs). But, at the same time, this means everyone he cares about is put at risk (his dads!!!!!!). He's sacrificing his own personal attachments so he can focus on his own survival (at least, in part. I do think it's clear he just loves the creators). I do agree that his love for all creations is very Jewish of him <3. slaps the top of Ink. you can store so much love in this lad. soul or not. I think there might also be something to how he views everything as fiction- you can argue that he's fighting for the life of the creative work. the characters in it aren't like. real deaths. technically. idk. there's a lot to think about !!! I love answering these asks btw I hope that's clear. everybody feel free to come into my askbox and talk about Ink and also Judaism to me

[cherienymphe]

When I first followed you a year and a bit ago I was still in a place where I was so ashamed of these fantasies I’d had as earliest as my first sexual fantasies. Not a soul in my personal life knew but this space and just tumblr in general was the first discourse I engaged in with normal gals like me that happened to like the same thing that made me feel so guilty and ashamed and for the first time I started to question that guilt and shame.

The first person I told irl was my therapist and mostly because I felt like it was something about myself that I needed to fix. Because what kind of person gets aroused at the idea of being forced or violated or abused? But my angel of a doctor instead informed me that this sort of fantasy is normal and can even be explored safely and then we started to do the work to understand why I had these fantasies.

I realize now that I was having these fantasies because I grew up in an environment where I felt a lot of shame and guilt around sexuality in general. So it felt like the only way I could experience guilt-free arousal was in these pretend scenarios where it “wasnt my fault” cause “I had not choice”. Obviously as I got older and understood what that meant I felt so ashamed. And then when my first sexual experience wasn’t consensual (which was obviously not pleasurable at all) I felt like I had manifested it and hated myself even more.

The main point of me sharing all this was because while I’ve also found lot of comfort in this community, I’ve witnessed you and other writers being harassed for writing non con stories. Something that I would say is arguably the safest and most ethical way to explore this common but taboo kink. And I think a lot of people who comment stuff about how “sick it is” or how you’re “glorifying rape” are probably people who have found your page because they themselves are curious but they attack you to deal with their own shit and blame you as the writer instead of taking responsibility for the content they engage in. But I wanted to share a connection I made in therapy:

I’m an actor and if I’m playing a woman who whose dog has died. I, as the actor, know I don’t even have a dog but I’ll say the lines and feel the feelings and my nervous system doesn’t know the difference. And after the scene is done I, the actor, can wipe my tears and go “that was so much fun. Let’s do it again!” And that doesn’t mean that I want my dog, that I don’t have, to die, or that I find pleasure in other people’s dogs dying. But it was thrilling and cathartic to pretend those were my circumstances in a safe environment

I know this was a hella long question that wasn’t even a question but that connection really helped me understand this all better and helped with my guilt so maybe it might help others. Or offer another explanation why people have fantasies like this

I remember first learning about the connection between certain fantasies and guilt free arousal where you're not in control and it made a lot make sense 😭 of course I feel I'm past that for the most part irl and I actually enjoy having autonomy and the choice in my own sexuality and what not but obviously it's still something I fantasize about. Writing about taboo topics is also cathartic for me sometimes. I remember specifically being in a weird/bad headspace when I wrote SLTS and immediately after writing it, I felt so much lighter and better

Also yeah for argument's sake if someone is just wholly against someone having rape fantasies, writing about it is arguably the least harmful way to explore them 😭 it's very much a non problem problem like of all the things in this world some woman writing about her being chased through the woods by Steve Rogers is just nowhere near the list of things to worry about

[butchhamlet]

i also want to circle back to the gap between their madnesses, particularly the framing of it as if hamlet's is constructed and deliberate and artificial/strategic whereas ophelia's is natural and "real" and bodily. thought vs. feeling. frankly i should reread the article on the original post, because i think showalter gets into this, but i'm thinking about these lines--

Her speech is nothing, Yet the unshapèd use of it doth move The hearers to collection. They aim at it And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts; Which, as her winks and nods and gestures yield them, Indeed would make one think there might be thought, Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily.

and at the risk of saying the obvious: i do not believe this. i do not think this is actually true! okay, some of it is nonsense, but a lot of the shit ophelia says in her madness is extremely coherent. specifically she is circling around the violence that men do to women, particularly young women, particularly the violence of sexual exploitation in a society where women who have sex out of marriage are soiled goods, not even to mention the flower symbolism--like, are we saying any of this actually makes less sense than hamlet's fucking chameleon line or "if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog"? the difference is that nobody cares, at all, at any point in the play, what ophelia has to say. and the above lines come before we see her mad, so they serve as a frame through which the audience can interpret her words: hey, listen, she's about to sound like she's making sense, but don't get sucked into believing there's an underlying logic! as if there isn't method in this madness, too.

(i don't pretend to know shakespeare's intentions--i'm wavering about whether saying he did this on purpose is giving him too much credit or just the right amount. i mean. he was really not bad at writing women most of the time. but whether or not shakespeare meant for us to see ophelia's madness as politically meaningful in the same way that hamlet's is, i am certainly willing to throw under the bus all the academics who just take "ophelia = naturally mad like a bodily woman; hamlet = schemingly mad like a melancholy genius" for granted.)

i’m always hesitant to be like “ophelia is JUST a facet of hamlet and the feminine” because ophelia is fascinating and shouldn’t be reduced to that much (and this essay proceeds to get into that). but. due to my condition (not caring about cis people disorder) i am thinking… about transgender hamlet again. obviously hamlet’s words are misogynistic regardless of what gender hamlet is, but something something ophelia as reflecting hamlet’s self-loathing by being The Feminine Part Hamlet Wants To Destroy–in the case of transmasc hamlet, because she’s who he used to be, a walking deadname, and in the case of transfemme hamlet, because she represents a sort of womanhood/femininity she’s not allowed to access and is terrified to think about. what does ophelia reflect back at hamlet that he can’t stand? and what might she know about him because of it?

[image description: a screenshot of the following paragraph from Elaine Showalter’s “Representing Ophelia”:

A third approach would be to read Ophelia’s story as the female subtext of the tragedy, the repressed story of Hamlet. In this reading, Ophelia represents the strong emotions that the Elizabethans as well as the Freudians thought womanish and unmanly. When Laertes weeps for his dead sister he says of his tears that “When these are gone,/The woman will be out”—that is to say, that the feminine and shameful part of his nature will be purged. According to David Leverenz, in an important essay called “The Woman in Hamlet” Hamlet’s disgust at the feminine passivity in himself is translated into violent revulsion against women, and into his brutal behavior towards Ophelia. Ophelia’s suicide, Leverenz argues, then becomes “a microcosm of the male world’s banishment of the female, because ‘woman’ represents everything denied by reasonable men.”

/end description.]

[endlesslyhyperfixating]

Richie Jeromovich might just have the best character arc in The Bear, and I’ll die on that hill. Like, season one Richie? That man was a mess. Loud, defensive, constantly posturing like he had everything figured out when, in reality, he was barely holding it together. And the thing is, you can tell he’s not a bad guy—he’s just stuck. Stuck in the past, stuck in his grief over Mikey, stuck in his idea of who he’s supposed to be. Stuck in his "Delicate fuckin' ecosystem"

It’s frustrating because you see the potential, but he’s his own worst enemy at first. All the way up until the season one finale, and even into season two he's slow to his journey of self actualization. He's slow to growth.

Then we get Forks. Oh my god. Watching Richie get thrown into that fine-dining hellscape and, instead of fighting it like you’d expect and like he initially does, actually leaning in? That’s growth. That’s what self-improvement actually looks like—getting uncomfortable, learning from people who know more than you, and deciding to take yourself seriously.

He thought- and somehow still while being there in that environment - that Carmen sent him there to fuck him over, but eventually he realized that wow, this place actually made him. And it can make Richie too

Him clocking how much care and pride those chefs put into every single task? Watching him learn how to be of service rather than just taking up space? And let’s be real, he looked good as hell in that suit.

But what really kills me about Richie’s arc is how he doesn’t just grow—he actively seeks out ways to keep growing. He starts throwing out words like actionable when he’s writing down his non-negotiables in season three because this man is not just thinking about what he wants—he’s thinking about how to make it happen. Even if it's bothersome to Carmy, but let's be for real, Carmen had his regression all of season three (but that's a rant for another time.)

Richie, of all people, talking about actionable goals? The same dude who used to spend his days ranting about kids not respecting Al Capone? That’s insane growth.

And peep how he STAYS calling Carmen out on his toxicity too? Although they both said shitty things in their season two finale fight in the fridge, Richie knows Carmen's on edge and even being indirectly aware of Carmen's repeating trauma and abusive cycles.

And then there’s the way he handles Carmy. He could have gone back to their usual screaming matches(which hey, they still kinda do because they still be "fuck you"-ing each other) , but no—Richie actually calls him out. He tells Carmy the truth, tells him he’s hurting people, tells him to stop acting like he’s alone in everything. And that’s the Richie we saw glimpses of all along—the one who gives a shit. He doesn’t just want to be better for himself; he wants to be better for the people around him.

Richie’s growth isn’t linear, and that’s what makes it so damn good. He backslides, he gets in his own way sometimes, but he keeps pushing forward. He keeps choosing to be better. And that? That’s everything.

Season one Richie would look at season three Richie in pure shock. N' probably make fun of his suit too.

Point is, Richie is a character I really can't wait to see in his continued growth.

[arcane-ish]

Canon vs. Headcanon

I wanna talk about the status of canon versus headcanon (respectively impression).

First, yes, canon is overrated. Yes, you are allowed to death of the author. You can veer off from canon or just adopt the parts you like.

Here's what I think the difference is:

You can have your own headcanon. Nobody can force you to embrace something just because it's canon and canon wins.

But here's the rub: you don't get to force your headcanon on other people either.

Canon is something we can both look at it. It's the potential shared space we have and that we can veer off into different directions to.

I cannot look into your head. What makes sense to you might not make sense to me.

IMO headcanons are things that you can try to seduce people towards. Not something you can try to browbeat people into.

And no, you are not obligated to have encyclopedic knowledge of all aspects of just canon even though that is the small set of things that is actually roughly equally available to everybody with an interest in the fandom.

A lot of canon is still open to interpretation. Did A really love B? What did C mean when they said XYZ? How does D feel about UVW?

Some things are just facts in canon.

"The bar in Arcane is called The Last Drop" is an easily verifyable fact.

If you weren't paying attention in detail and you thought it was called "The Big Spot" and people point it out to you with evidence, no actually, it's the Last Drop, just take the L, say it's not that deep to you. But, no, you should not go on a big crusade where you try to force people to accept that it's called The Big Spot or at the very least the writers are at fault that you mistook the name for "Big Spot". Because that would be a shitty, asshole thing to do.

Again, no, you don't have to encyclopedic trivia knowledge over a piece of media. I for example paid relatively little attention to Viktor and Jayce's storyline so if I tried to sum it up, there's a decent chance I would forget things or mix them up or not notice all the details (like I was watching the Necrit video about like the symbolism of Viktor's clothes in his cult phase or his hair in the Arcane space and yeah, never got that from watching the show). Like, I've been writing Silco vs Vi meta for ages and I just realized I completely blink and missed the scene in Vi's old home even though that scene is very much about what she will later say to Silco about how she thinks he messed with Powder's head and how she sees him as a threat separate from Piltover. Mistakes happen.

So yes, this rant is about the "I thought Silco and Vander were bio brothers" thing. No. They were not bio brothers. This information is part of the main, shared canon. It's not hidden in some music video or artbook. It's not in some micro-expression body language or "actually that line has a special meaning if your mother tongue is Spanish" kind of thing. It's just there.

And no, it's not a crime if you didn't pay attention and the only thing that stuck to your memory is that the scene between Vander and Silco going head to head mirrored the scene where Vi and Powder go head to head and you drew your implications from there. And if you like that better, you can keep it and be happy with it. Nobody is putting a gun to your head and forcing you to pay equal attention to the scenes of all characters, especially if they aren't your faves.

That said: If you care enough to make a rage video or rage post or send people hate, then yes, I think you should actually have watched what you are talking about. You are wiling to inves the time and energy to make a rage video/rage post/send people hate mail, yes, you should have the time and energy to actually watch the scenes of what you're talking about.

Again, this is not a secret, hidden away in the corner of some music montage kind of thing. It's just …. there. Like I get why people might not catch Jinx's "like a brother" line, but this one?

It's just there, in plain sight. And yeah it should be enough to make you pause.

(and no, this is not about people answering when they've been explicitly asked about what their first, off the cuff, potentially shallow reactions to something were. This is specifically about people who create their own main piece of anti media and no, just expressing how you were surprised that your headcanon wasn't true is not anti media. It's imo at this point a bit late to the party, but it's not anti media)

[moon-ttokki-x]

The angst fic you just did of skz reacting to your death was soooo good 😭😭😭def think you should do a pt 2 if you ever consider it :)

*throws heart-wrenching, sob-worthy angst in your face and runs away cackling* SUFFER ! YOU ASKED FOR IT, YOU GET IT !

don't go, please - skz maknae!line x reader (part 2)

pairing: ot8!skz maknae!line x reader

summary: skz maknae line reactions to when you d*e.

genre: so so heavy on the angst like hyung line's, mentions of pushing people away, heavy grief themes, denial, mentions of manic disorders, deluded illusions of happiness, fading personalities, mentions of graves and headstones, mentions of blood and scissors in felix's, jeongin's almost made me cry (oh, my sweet, sweet innie), han's is also super sad

a/n: yeehee part 2 of the angstiest fic i've ever done. why is it actually kinda fun to write sad stuff . . . ? anyway div by @carnage-cathedral

if this content makes you uncomfortable, please skip it . the last thing i want is to make people upset, so don't read this if it's triggering for you. proceed with caution and be safe, my loves <3

skz masterlist | part one (hyung!line)

Han whose mic clatters to the floor as the news sinks in. Can't believe it for a good week or two. Not until he realises that when he comes home, there will no longer be something simmering on the stove, there will no longer be the love of his life standing at the counter with sauce-smeared fingers and a cheeky grin. Spends hours and hours listening to all the love songs he wrote for you and that you never heard; cries over his keyboard and breaks the electronics with his misery. Refuses to rap, because like Changbin, he just can't get the words out of his mouth anymore. Becomes quiet and reserved; is aware of every single word that comes out of his mouth, every move he makes, he scrutinizes. Cries for you in the dark every night.

Felix who storms to the bathroom and immediately begins cutting off all of his hair. Hacks it relentlessly; tufts of blonde fall around his feet and collect on the tear-soaked cotton of his shirt. Nicks himself with the scissors in the process, but he doesn't care. Leaves spots of blood in the ironic shape of a heart on the dimly lit bathroom floor. Stains one of your photo frames with the scarlet; kisses it off, and then kisses the delicate depiction of your face behind the glass, setting it down on the bedside and burying his head in his hands. Refuses to dance or sing; the light goes out of his eyes and doesn't seem to return, an odd, almost eerie look taking over his once effortless and joyful exuberance.

Seungmin who pretends not to be affected; lives in denial of what happened, and goes about his life wondering if it's true. Refuses to look at news articles and completely shuts down when one of the members gently tries to help him open up; it always ends in an argument and slammed doors. Sits on his bed wondering if you'll ever come back, and if you left, was it because of something he did? Often regrets not being nicer to you, and jokes to himself about little things he sees that you would have hated; like incessantly hot weather where it melts his skin like pale chocolate, or the whirring of his laptop fan, which you always complained about. Lives the rest of his days in a sort of deluded happiness; he doesn't really believe you're gone.

Jeongin who chases after you in the crowd, only to come up short holding the sleeve of someone who looked the same as you from behind. Is bewildered when he wakes up every morning and places a hand next to him on the bed, expecting you to be there; he finds only a cold-empty loneliness, your soft indent in the mattress rustling under his shaking hands. Still wears your matching jewelry, and visits where you lay often, burying the rings and necklaces in the soft dirt so that you might be able to see them again one day. Scratches little pictures into your headstone and sits with you for hours, talking about anything and everything. Doesn't move, even when it's pouring down like the sea is crashing down from the sky, and holds and umbrella over your buried being to shield you from the wetness.

a/n: so this one is a little longer but it just flowed out of me i guess

[mer-acle]

This is such a silly idea, but I thought you’d appreciate it: so, I was re-reading ftbl, and my brain was like, ‘wait… what if this was somehow set in modern times’. Like all the events of Epic still happened, Athena’s still a goddess, it just looks like our world. Don’t ask about the logistics of this because the REASON I thought of this was:

1. I had a sudden image of Athena wearing pyjamas with owls on them. It was probably Penelope’s idea — if Athena is stuck in bed, she might as well be comfortable. So Pen goes out shopping and comes back with owl pyjamas. Athena is trying not to cry because when was the last time anyone actually cared about her being comfortable?

2. If the fam are living in like a regular house instead of a palace, I can definitely imagine that scene from ftbl where Athena is feeling temporarily better and she and the others sit on the balcony instead being that she manages to come downstairs for a little while and she’s just sitting on the sofa wrapped in blankets.

3. The TV is on for background noise and the weather report comes on and there’s all these warnings about thunderstorms. Athena and Ody are both terrified and trying to act like they’re fine, but it’s not working. 🥲

4. Sad thought: a lot of houses have central heating, right? Which warms the room a lot quicker than a fireplace. This sounds nice until you consider: Athena during a fever spike, shivering and deliriously begging the others to turn the heat on, she’s so cold, but they can’t because she’s actually burning up and they don’t want to raise her temperature even more. (Maybe that’s what made Ody realise she had a fever to begin with — she said that the room was freezing despite the heat being on full blast.)

I’m so sorry, my brain was like ‘owl pyjamas!!!’ and wouldn’t leave me alone until I’d typed all this out 😂 anyway, your writing is awesome and so are you!!!! Have an amazing day!!! 😁

(sorry for the delay I wanted to think of some ideas for this first)

OH you bet I appreciate that how could I not appreciate owl pajamas I'm not a monster (I actually would kill to read this btw. I am 100% serious)

awww her being on the sofa with them would be so cute. Tel would all be like this is my favorite blanket *wraps it around her shoulders* and ooh this pillow is super soft *tucks it behind her* I'm gonna make hot chocolate I'll be right back. He's such a bean. Now I'm imagining their living room what have you done to me XD

Oh no my poor traumatized babies 😭 (make the storm hit hard I beg)

oh nooooo (yes. please. I am mad I never made this a thing) Pen went and bought like half a pharmacy against this fever but nothing really helps and Athena does not want anything that induces sleep bc control issues

Some ideas:

(if they live in an apartment building) Ody sneaking into the basement to wash ichor-stained clothes

Athena not being able to use phones due to electrical interference so she couldn't call ahead

by @evermorecatra : Athena in owl-form being filmed as she flies to their place and the video ending up on the internet. Cue the more social-media involved gods (Apollo, Aph and Hermes) stumbling over a video of their sister fly-staggering over Ithaca.

Thank you for letting me in on your idea :D This is great fun!