#and the flat colors on this I feel was the perfect choice

[apteryxparvus]

your ‘just a little bit’ suspicious roommate

Pairing — Jiaoqiu / Reader

Word count — 5,191

Content warning — drinking • Astral Express shenanigans

Summary — You’re just trying to survive university life. Your new roommate? Definitely not a vampire. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself—until a drunken, accidental makeout session definitely confirms some suspicions.

Now, you’ve got to explain everything to your friends... who are definitely not going to let it go.

"As we all know, garlic is a well-known vampire repellent," March rambles, her finger waving dramatically at the screen, the laser pointer dancing over a grainy image of garlic. "And as we've discussed before, your smoking hot but totally shady roommate, has yet to touch the stuff—evidence number... what, four? Five? But regardless, this undeniable truth, along with everything else we've gathered so far, solidifies our theory."

"And with that," Stelle chimes in, crossing her arms with a smug grin, "our TED Talk has officially concluded."

"Here are our references," Caelus says with exaggerated politeness, as he presents a final slide filled with sources no one’s going to actually check.

You stare at the screen, watching the poorly edited image of Dracula with pink hair and yellow eyes—somehow eerily resembling your roommate. You blink a couple of times, unsure whether to laugh or question your life choices.

“First of all, the fandom wiki page for Count Chocula is not a proper source,” Dan Heng says, voice flat. "Second of all—no. Just no. Now, can we please go back to the movie? You know, the one that doesn’t involve… whatever this is?"

"I can't believe none of you care about this!" March exclaims, throwing her arms up in frustration. “Our dearest friend is living with a bloodsucker!”

You roll your eyes, digging further into the pile of blankets you're buried under, one hand grabbing buttery popcorn from the bowl. "I don’t care. I just want to see how the movie ends."

"The ending isn't that interesting anyway," Caelus says. "The family’s all dead. They’ve been dead the whole time."

"Caelus!" you shriek, leaping out of your seat. Popcorn explodes into the air, scattering across the couch and floor. Dan Heng groans, already pinching the bridge of his nose.

Without hesitation, you lunge at Caelus, who barely flinches as you grab a fistful of his hair and give it a solid yank. "You cannot just spoil a movie like that, you absolute moron!"

"Ow, hey—it's a classic twist, not my fault you’re slow—"

"Get off him, you heathen!" Stelle rushes to the rescue, only for you to snap at her hand like an angry feral cat when she tries to pry you off her twin. "Did you just—did you bite me?!"

Moments later, the three of you are a tangled heap on the floor—Stelle trying to wrestle you off Caelus, you stubbornly clinging to his hair, and Caelus, smirking like he’s above it all despite being squished under your combined weight.

"Am I interrupting something?" The voice is smooth, sultry. You freeze mid-pinch.

Jiaoqiu is standing in the entryway, leaning casually against the doorframe that divides the open kitchen from the living room, his expression an elegant mix of bemusement and mild confusion.

"No! No, absolutely not!" you blurt, untangling yourself with record-breaking speed and shoving Caelus aside. Scrambling upright, you snatch the remote from March and begin button-mashing like your life depends on it. The TV stubbornly scrolls through several slides until one final image—the ridiculous Dracula with suspiciously pink hair and honey-colored eyes—flashes on the screen.

You freeze. The room freezes.

Jiaoqiu arches a single perfect eyebrow, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smirk. "Interesting taste in… presentations."

You can feel your soul actively trying to leave your body. "It’s just… uh…" You scramble for an excuse, words tumbling out in a panicked jumble. "March! March really wanted to, uh, dive into the intricacies of garlic and Dracula! For—um—for some very important in-depth cultural research!"

Stelle chokes on her soda, snorting audibly. "Oh, absolutely. Garlic research. Very academic."

You whip around to glare at her, betrayal etched into every fiber of your being. "Stelle."

She just shrugs. "What? I’m backing you up."

"Yeah, real convincing. You’re totally selling it," March wheezes, barely holding back another laugh.

Jiaoqiu clears his throat. "Well, I wouldn’t want to interrupt your… research.” His tone is polite, barely concealing his amusement. "I have some client work to finish, so I’ll be in my room. Have fun."

He turns to leave, his footsteps unhurried, but just before he disappears down the hall, he glances over his shoulder. His golden gaze locks with yours, a faint smile playing on his lips. "By the way," he adds smoothly, "that Dracula edit? A striking resemblance."

Your face burns hotter than the sun as he strolls away, leaving you mortified and very much on the verge of curling into a ball forever.

You bury your face in the nearest blanket, muffling a loud, frustrated groan. March leans over, whispering, "So… about that garlic test..."

The morning after, once your friends have cleared out—leaving behind only the faint smell of coffee and a suspiciously large pile of crumbs—you find yourself at the sink, scrubbing the last of the dishes. The kitchen is quiet now, save for the gentle clink of ceramic against metal.

You’re rinsing the final mug when Jiaoqiu steps out of his room. You don’t hear his footsteps— he’s always freakishly quiet—so when his raspy morning voice cuts through the silence, you nearly drop the mug into the soapy abyss.

"Mornin’," he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly as he rubs the sleep from his eyes.

You whirl around, and suddenly, all those memories from last night come rushing back—March’s presentation, and, most importantly, the fact that he saw it.

Your face heats up. Your neck burns.

You manage to croak out a greeting—something between a “good morning” and a choking sound—but the words trail off as you take him in.

Jiaoqiu has always looked unfairly good—but right now, it feels almost absurd. In the soft morning light, he’s effortlessly flawless, like he just walked off the cover of some magazine. His pale skin practically glows under the sunlight. His hair, messy from sleep, somehow falls perfectly into place, and his golden eyes catch the light, sharp and vivid, drawing attention without trying.

“I assume you had a good time last night,” he says, suddenly right next to you, voice teasing.

You nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah. Sorry if we were too loud,” you mumble, rubbing the back of your neck, avoiding his gaze.

“It’s alright,” he replies. “This apartment is as much yours as it is mine. Here, let me help finish this faster.” Without waiting for a reply, Jiaoqiu grabs a dish towel and starts drying the remaining mugs. The two of you work in a comfortable silence, the clink of the dishes the only sound between you.

When you’re done, you wipe your hands on a towel and turn to him. “We made some Songlotus cake. You just woke up, so feel free to grab some. And there’s fresh coffee in the pot.”

He gives you a small nod, eyes soft. “Thanks.”

What you definitely don’t mention is that March—with Caelus acting like her evil mastermind sidekick—turned a few of the crispy cakes into garlic landmines. Powdered, minced, pureed—she threw in every form of garlic known to mankind, probably hoping Jiaoqiu would take one bite, and dramatically burst into flames. Or, at the very least, recoil like someone slapped him with holy water.

After pouring himself a cup of dark coffee, Jiaoqiu sits down at the table. He takes a slow sip, golden eyes flicking to the leftover cakes in the middle of the table. In your peripheral vision, you watch him reach out for one, holding your breath as he picks it up. He inspects it, almost as if he’s solving a particularly tricky puzzle. He sniffs the air, and your stomach drops—does he smell the garlic?

(You’re pretty sure March and Caelus tried to mask the scent with an absolute overkill of vanilla extract. Or was it almond extract? You don't know, and frankly, you don’t want to know. But what you do know, it was probably a huge mistake, all of this.)

Jiaoqiu doesn’t seem alarmed. Maybe he trusts that your friends wouldn’t sabotage baked goods, or maybe he’s just so committed to his side-job as a nutritionist that he refuses to waste a perfectly good breakfast. Either way, he takes a bite.

You pretend to be extremely invested in wiping down the counter, sneaking glances from the corner of your eye.

And then it happens.

Jiaoqiu freezes mid-chew. A split second later, he’s coughing and his eyes are watering, as if someone blasted him with a full can of pepper spray. Wheezes echo through the kitchen as he struggles to swallow. With the last of his dignity the can muster (not that much, by the way), he takes a massive gulp of his coffee, his expression somewhere between betrayed and horrified.

“You and your friends… seem to have… interesting taste in food, as well,” Jiaoqiu manages to rasp out between coughs, his voice strained. You shrink where you stand, guilt simmering beneath your skin. Was March right in her theory? Or perhaps, did you take things too far?

Awkwardly, you step closer and give Jiaoqiu’s back a light pat, cringing at your own inadequacy. The man is choking on a crime against baking, and all you can do is offer this sad little pat. Internally cursing your friends, you grab one of the cakes and take a small, cautious bite to see if they’re really that bad.

And oh. Oh no. You immediately regret it. The flavor assaults your senses with all the subtlety of a brick to the face. It’s salty, sweet, sour, and umami all at once—a culinary abomination that defies all natural laws. 

You gag as minced garlic chunks battle for dominance against unmelted sugar granules, creating a texture so horrifying you nearly spit it out on the spot.

You can’t believe you made Jiaoqiu eat this. All because your friends had convinced you he might be a vampire. A vampire. And for a split second just now, you’d actually believed them. Why? Because he choked on the garlic cake? Anyone with a functioning palate would choke on this monstrosity.

"Shit—I'm sorry." Without a second thought, you snatch the plate of cakes and chuck it straight into the trash, refusing to even look at it. You’re already composing a furious text to March in your head—because if you’d taken a bigger bite, there’s a very real chance you’d have keeled over on the spot. "I can make you something better," you offer hurriedly. But Jiaoqiu just waves a hand, his expression tired, his face somehow even paler than usual.

"Can you pass me the medicine bottle from the fridge?" You nod quickly, opening the fridge to reveal a shelf lined with identical small vials, each filled with a thick red liquid. You grab one and hand it over.

"I think I’ll take this in my room," Jiaoqiu says, holding the small vial as he turns toward the hallway.

"I’m sorry for ruining your morning," you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, hot and unwelcome.

"It’s—" Jiaoqiu pauses, his expression softening just enough to ease the weight on your chest. "It’s alright." He reaches out and pats your head gently, ruffling your hair. "I’ll be fine."

The sun is dipping below the horizon by the time you return from a grueling day at university. Between March’s relentless pestering—complete with even more outlandish theories—and the soul-crushingly dull lectures from your professors, all you want to do is crawl into bed and hibernate until the semester ends. Unfortunately, that’s not an option. Three assignments loom over you, their deadlines inching closer.

The apartment is eerily quiet, but Jiaoqiu’s shoes are neatly lined up by the entryway. The guilt from this morning rears its head again. Is he still locked up in his room, recovering from the monstrosity of a cake you let him eat? You shake the thought away. No spiraling, no distractions. Tonight is for coursework.

With a tired sigh, you settle on the carpeted floor of the living room, leaning your back against the couch and setting your laptop on the low coffee table. The university’s digital platform greets you—an overwhelming grid of assignments and unread announcements. You skim through the options, settling on what seems like the easiest one: “Cultural Analysis: Xianzhou Alliance and the Legacy of the Abundance Wars.”

You plug in your earbuds, selecting a relaxing playlist, and settle into the task at hand. Hours slip by without you even noticing. The topic—the Third Abundance War—seems endless, each paper you open just a little more confusing or irrelevant than the last. You only get up once to restock on energy drinks and snacks, fueling yourself for what feels like a marathon of academic misery.

Groaning, you slam your laptop shut after yet another fruitless attempt to find a decent source. The deeper you dive into the history of the Xianzhou Alliance, the more it seems like you’re wading through layers of conspiracy theories and folklore instead of actual research. Despite the importance of the topic in Xianzhou history, finding proper sources seems impossible.

The amount of nonsense you’ve had to close—websites dedicated to the monstrous Borisin creatures, the mystical Foxians, and other equally questionable topics—is ridiculous. You’re pretty sure if you handed in a literature review about that nonsense, not only would you be the laughing stock of the class, but you’d be expelled on the spot. 

They're just legends, and there’s nothing scientifically sound to back them up. But here you are, wading through a swamp of unreliable sources, praying for anything that remotely resembles actual history.

A hand suddenly pats your head, and you nearly jump out of your skin, heart leaping into your throat. You yank your earbuds out, startled, only to find Jiaoqiu grinning at you, looking far too pleased with himself.

"You scared me," you grumble, swatting his hand away. 

You take a second to really look at him. He seems better now—the sickly paleness from earlier has faded, replaced by a touch of color in his cheeks. His golden eyes are bright again, brimming with that quiet amusement that always makes you wonder what’s going on in his head.

"Were you working on something?" he asks, leaning towards you, his curiosity piqued.

You nod, slumping slightly as you glance at the time. "A stupid assignment... due in—" you squint at the clock, the reality sinking in, "—in two hours and a bit." You let out a long, defeated sigh. You’re done for. There’s no way you’re getting this paper done in time. No proper sources, no coherent thoughts, and you’re still a million words short of the required word count. You're cooked, completely and utterly cooked.

"What is it about?" Jiaoqiu asks, settling down beside you on the floor, his presence warm and close.

His proximity catches you off guard. The faint scent of jasmine fabric softener lingers on him, mingling with something subtler, something metallic that you can’t quite place. It’s faint but distinct, enough to draw your focus for a moment. You shake it off and try to redirect your attention to your laptop.

An idea suddenly strikes you, and you swivel your head toward Jiaoqiu—only to freeze when you actually realize how close he is. Your faces are mere inches apart, close enough that you can make out every flicker of gold in his irises.

“You’re a Xianzhou native,” you blurt, your voice rushing to fill the sudden silence. “Any chance you know something about the Third Abundance War? Because I’ve been wracking my brain trying to find proper sources, and—well, I’m sure you can see how that’s going.”

“Let me see,” he says, reaching over to take your laptop. You freeze, a wave of secondhand embarrassment crashing over you as the screen comes to life.

It is utter chaos—over fifty tabs open, grouped and color-coded in a system that only makes sense to you, with labels ranging from “Decent Source” to “Probably Fiction” to “Absolute Nonsense, but Fun.”

He clicks on your assignment draft, and your soul momentarily leaves your body. A grand total of 400 words stares back at you—two solid citations, a lot of filler, and way too many angry swear words sandwiched between half-baked sentences.

He spends a few minutes reading through your draft, face scrunched up in concentration. Every now and then, he clicks his tongue or tilts his head, eyes lingering on certain sentences for far longer than you’d like.

“It could use some work,” he says finally, in a tone far too gentle for the absolute travesty he’s just witnessed. Some work, he says, as if it doesn’t need to be exorcised and erased from existence. You’re too terrified to reread any of it yourself, unsure of what kind of unhinged caffeine-fueled nonsense your brain had conjured.

“Yeah, no. Better to start fresh,” you mumble, already highlighting and deleting the entire document before he can respond. You refuse to meet his gaze, staring intently at the now blank page, fingers hovering nervously over the keyboard like a criminal returning to the scene of the crime.

 “Perhaps you could focus on the Lux Arrow?” Jiaoqiu suggests scrolling through a couple of tabs.

You frown, tilting your head at him. “Lan’s Sky-Shattering Lux Arrow? Isn’t that just a myth?” The words tumble out before you can stop yourself. You’d stumbled across mentions of it earlier—both in academic papers and in… less-than-reliable historical mythology blogs. From what you’d managed to piece together, it was either a groundbreaking piece of artillery technology that changed the tides of the war or an overblown legend with zero basis in reality.

“I can suggest some sources,” Jiaoqiu offers. His fingers swiftly fly across the keyboard before he pauses, scrolling through a list of results. “Here,” he says, pointing at the screen.

You lean in to get a better look. It’s a book by Zongguang, a renowned cultural anthropologist from The Xianzhou Luofu’s Grand Virtue Academy. The title alone makes your brain hurt with how dense it sounds, but it has piqued your interest, nonetheless. You’ve studied several of Zongguang’s papers throughout your courses in Xianzhou history, though you’ve never even heard of this specific book.

“It has firsthand accounts from the last battlefield,” Jiaoqiu explains, scrolling through the summary, “and covers topics like the Borisin and the Merlin’s Claw—though back then, General Feixiao was simply called Saran.”

“Wait, seriously? I thought the Borisin stuff was mostly folklore.”

“Perhaps some of it is,” your roommate replies, but there’s a shift in his tone. It’s subtle, but you catch it—the way his voice dips, the way his words slow just slightly. There’s something heavy there, almost like... anger? It’s faint, but unmistakable; and it seems to sharpen when he mentions the Lycan beasts.

You blink, caught off guard by the change. “You okay?”

Jiaoqiu’s eyes flick away from the screen, his features smoothing out like nothing happened. “I’m fine,” he says, voice calm again. “Just... the Borisin aren’t mere legends to everyone. Their methods were brutal, and their impact left scars—literal and otherwise.”

There’s something in his words that makes you pause, like the weight of them belongs to someone who was there. Which is ridiculous, obviously, because he couldn’t have been. Right?

"Alright, March, I’m not saying I believe you," you start, lying sprawled out on Stelle's plush carpet with a giant teddy bear clenched tightly to your chest. You stare blankly at the ceiling, the words barely forming in your head before spilling out. "But something strange happened, and I cannot explain it to myself."

“Oh?” March and Caelus call out at the same time from over by the fridge. You turn your head, and you’re momentarily at a loss for words. March is busy scooping homemade ice cream into bowls, while Caelus... well, Caelus is sniffing and biting into a jade-colored cloth like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You shake your head, deciding to ignore his antics. At this point, you've seen stranger things.

"Tell us!" Stelle pipes up. Meanwhile, Dan Heng is across the room, calmly trying to wrestle the cloth out of Caelus’s grip without much success.

Maybe you’re just overthinking it. Maybe you’re grasping at straws.

“You know that assignment on cultural analysis of the Xianzhou wars?” you finally say, sitting up to better face your friends. "I was having trouble coming up with a good topic and finding sources, so I asked Jiaoqiu for help."

"Go on," March says.

"I mean, I asked him because he’s a native, right? But it’s weird—he knows way more than I thought. And—"

“What’s weird about him knowing history?” Dan Heng interrupts, looking up from where he’s now holding a defeated-looking Caelus. March swats him, shushing him with a glare.

“It’s just—he wasn’t just talking about history. It was like he was living it," you continue, pulling your knees up to your chest. "When he mentioned Borisin, he completely changed. He looked... upset, like he was actively repressing anger."

“Borisin might just be a myth, same as the Vidyadhara," Dan Heng replies, shrugging. "But some people are passionate about their cultural history. Maybe Jiaoqiu is one of them."

“Sure, Dan Heng, but his recounts were too elaborate,” you argue. "It didn’t sound like some history buff talking—it sounded like he was remembering it. And when he talked about General Feixiao, it wasn’t like he was describing a famous figure from history. It was like... like he was talking about a close friend!"

“Oh, my Aeons,” March gushes, eyes wide and sparkling with excitement. “So do you think he used to be a warrior in the war? Like, was Jiaoqiu out there with a sword, fighting Borisin and stuff?!”

“March,” you deadpan, “that’s literally insane. He’d have to be hundreds of years old for that to even make sense.”

“And?” she counters, completely unfazed.

You open your mouth to argue, but honestly, what’s the point? Logic has never been March’s strong suit, and you’re too tired to debate with someone who just last week tried to convince you she saw a Vidyadhara in the campus library.

“I’m just saying,” she continues. “It’s not that far-fetched. Maybe he was in the war. Maybe he’s like a retired general or medic or something. Or—or maybe he’s secretly General Feixiao! Wouldn’t that be wild?”

“March.” Dan Heng’s voice cuts through her growing enthusiasm. “Stop filling their head with nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense! It’s a totally plausible theory!” she protests, crossing her arms. “Right, Stelle?”

“I mean... it would explain why he knew so much, right?”

You groan, burying your face in the teddy bear. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to say anything.”

“Too late,” March says, grinning wickedly. “We’re already planning the movie adaptation. I’m thinking: Jiaoqiu—secret immortal of Xianzhou, haunted by his dark past. Directed by me, obviously.”

You groan even louder.

You’re staring at the Google Doc sent in the group chat, eyes glazed over. The words blur together, swimming in and out of focus. Caelus and Stelle had relentlessly begged you to try and outdrink them—and you never back out from a challenge. But now, as you stumble home with your phone clutched in your hand, you're definitely regretting your choice.

Your head swims as you fumble with your phone, squinting at the document like it’s written in a foreign language. The room spins, and you find yourself swaying slightly, leaning against the doorframe for support.

The title stands out, bold and impossible to ignore:

March 7th’s top secret investigation protocol 🔍🔴

You blink. Twice. Slowly.

It’s time to face the facts. Your roommate is 100% a vampire. I don’t even know why we’re having this discussion. I’ve been observing for weeks (because, duh, I’m a professional), and the evidence is everywhere. I’m not saying this lightly, but, I’ve seen enough weird stuff to know. And the guy’s practically a walking, talking vampire stereotype. Here’s the definitive checklist. Foolproof.

The headache pounding in your skull intensifies as you scroll down to March’s “definitive” checklist:

Aversion to garlic ✅ Gagged at the garlic cakes. Suspicious. Dietary restrictions ✅ Weird-looking "medicine" in the fridge. Super normal. Definitely not vampire-y. Listen, I’ve seen blood. It’s the same color. Supernatural senses ✅ Remember that time he overheard us talking about him from the other side of the house? Yeah. Explain that. Remembers super old stuff ✅ Talks about the Abundance Wars like he fought in them. “Good times,” he said. GOOD TIMES.

You’re about to scroll past, when your gaze lingers on the final item:

Vampire canines? 🚨 Priority check!!! Report ASAP.

Your half-drunken brain latches onto the challenge. You stumble into your apartment, shoes clattering noisily to the floor, and head straight for Jiaoqiu’s room. 

Logic? Gone. Boundaries? Absolutely not. 

Fueled by a potent cocktail of curiosity, adrenaline, and alcohol, you throw open his door without a second thought.

You don’t bother knocking. You just slam the door open, the hinges creaking in protest. Inside, Jiaoqiu is sitting on his bed, casually flipping through a book. His eyes flick up at the sound of the door, but there’s no surprise, no alarm. He doesn’t even flinch. It’s like he knew you were going to barge in, unannounced, with no warning whatsoever.

He closes the book with an exaggerated sigh. "Something I can help you with?"

“I need to check something,” you announce, voice wobbling as you stumble over to him. Without waiting for a response, you drop onto the bed beside him, far too close, and lean in.

His brows raise in amusement. “Do you, now?”

“Yeah,” you slur. “Your teeth. Lemme see ’em.”

“My teeth?”

“Yes.” Your hand wavers near his face, trembling slightly as you poke at his cheek. “The canines. Open your mouth.”

He doesn’t stop you. If anything, his grin widens, and he leans in just enough to make your heart skip. “You think you’ll find something interesting?”

“I know I will,” you murmur, your drunken determination unwavering. Your thumb brushes against the edge of his lips, and you swear you see his eyes darken.

His mouth parts slightly, and you squint, leaning closer—a bit too close, perhaps. Your eyes zero in on his teeth, scanning for anything remotely sharp or suspicious. And then you see them.

The soft light catches just right, revealing a pair of faintly elongated canines, sharp and glinting like tiny daggers.

Your breath catches. “No way,” you whisper.

Before you can respond—or think—your hand moves on its own, fingers brushing against his teeth. His smirk deepens, and he leans into your touch. Then, without warning, his mouth closes gently around your fingertip. It’s deliberate, teasing, and before you can pull away, you feel it—a quick, sharp prick. You yelp, jerking your hand back, staring at the tiny bead of blood pooling on your skin.

Jiaoqiu watches you, unbothered, his gaze steady as he slowly licks his lips. “Interesting,” he murmurs, his tone almost lazy.

Your head spins. You stare at your finger, then at him, then back at your finger. “You—you bit me,” you stammer.

“Did I?” His smirk sharpens, his fangs catching the light again.

“I—I knew it!” you shriek.

“And now what?” He tilts his head. “Does your little investigation end here, or…?”

You don’t think. You lean in before you can think better of it, your lips crashing against his in a messy, impulsive kiss. The faint taste of blood lingers between you, but you don’t care.

When you finally pull back, gasping for air, there’s blood on his lips—your blood. He licks it away lazily.

“Well?” he asks, his voice low and teasing. “Satisfied?”

You’re definitely putting a checkmark on March’s last list item.

But that’s a problem for future you. For now, you dive back in, ignoring the faint sting on your lips and the little voice in your head screaming that this is a terrible idea.

"Thanks for inviting us," March gleefully says, her voice full of her usual energy. The whole group is sitting around your dining table, chatting and eating.

Jiaoqiu nods casually, his demeanor as composed as ever. "Of course," he replies smoothly. "It’s important to get to know my partner’s friends better. I’ve seen you all around, but it’s nice to connect properly.”

You nearly choke on your drink at the casual mention of “partner”. But Jiaoqiu doesn’t even glance your way, his expression unreadable as he takes a sip of his own drink.

March is the first to react. Her fork clatters against her empty plate as her head snaps up. "Partner?"

Stelle and Caelus exchange a knowing glance, trying and failing to hide their smirks. Dan Heng pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh, as though he can already see where this is heading.

March leans forward, elbows on the table. "Did I miss an announcement? Since when are you two a thing?”

"You know how it is," Jiaoqiu says. "When you live with someone long enough, you get to know them better. And… sometimes things happen."

"Things? What kind of things, exactly? Spill. Now."

You bury your face in your hands with a groan. "March," you mutter, voice muffled, "please don’t."

Before March can push further, Jiaoqiu rises from his seat with a faint smile. "Excuse me for a moment," he says, gesturing toward the kitchen. "I’ll bring out the rest of the dishes."

When he returns, he sets a dish in front of March first—a well-done steak, neatly plated and still steaming. "For you," he says lightly. His own serving follows, the steak so rare it looks like it might moo if you poked it.

"Apologies if my preference for steak so rare makes anyone uncomfortable," Jiaoqiu says, his golden eyes flicking briefly to March. "I just can’t resist the flavor. There’s something… primal about it."

March freezes. Her expression wavers for just a moment before she forces a tight-lipped smile. You can practically hear the wheels turning in her head as she remembers her checklist.

You shoot him a glare, mouthing, Why are you like this? He simply raises an eyebrow, as if to say, Because it’s fun.

March clears her throat, clearly trying to regain her composure. "You know," she says shakily. "you’re awfully… specific about your preferences."

"Not everyone enjoys their food well done," your roommate-turned-boyfriend adds casually. "Sometimes, a little blood adds that extra something."

A groan threatens to escape you, but you manage to hold it in. "Guys," you mutter, sinking deeper into your chair. "Please, don’t even start."

March swallows, eyes darting between you and Jiaoqiu. Her lips part, but no words come out, just a breath of disbelief.

Jiaoqiu, however, seems completely unfazed. “Cravings, preferences... they’re just part of who you are, aren’t they? No point in pretending they don’t exist." He continues to eat, taking another slow bite of his steak, his smile creeping wider as he watches her, clearly enjoying the reaction he’s getting.

Author's note: i wrote some of this while procrastinating a lab report awhile back, and the amount of revision i had to do because the fic started sounding like a full-blown research paper... yikes 🤧🤧

but yes, here’s my silly attempt at humor. now, if you'll excuse me, i’ll go cry about my resit tomorrow and hope the universe decides to take pity on me and let me pass

[jobean12-blog]

Fashionably Late

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader (No!Outbreak)

Word Count: 893

Summary: You and Joel have to attend an event (any event you want) and you're both dressed up which makes it extra hard to get out of the house...

Author's Note: Listen, after the SAG awards look the other night I have still NOT recovered so this is my little way of channeling some of that because wow. How dare he? And thank goodness because oof. You can have Joel taking reader to any kind of event you want- I figured that really didn't matter here because it's more about how delicious he is. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Thank you Daisy @firefly-graphics for the lovely divider🥰

Warnings: sexy teasing and tension, softness and flirting, Joel is pretty dom here but he's all about her

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

After letting out one final, soothing exhale, you step into your shoes, pick up your clutch and leave the bedroom.

Joel stands at the counter finishing off a glass of water, his white dress shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and the top few buttons undone to reveal the strong lines of his neck as he drinks.

At the sound of your steps he turns to look at you.

And stops cold.

When he doesn’t say anything and just stares you start to panic, wondering if you’d made the wrong choice of dress. He looks utterly perfect with his tanned skin against the stark white fabric, his black pants fitted to every thick muscle and his magnificent curls framing his face.

You can’t help your shiver of anticipation and goosebumps break out over your skin.

When you meet his eyes you watch them sweep along every inch of your body before he crooks a finger at you.

“Come here.”

His voice is raw and uneven and you slowly close the distance, watching his jaw tighten as you get closer.

“You’re going to make us late Joel.”  

“And you’re fuckin’ gorgeous darlin’.”

Your breath catches in your throat and you set your things down on the counter. “Thank you.”

He finishes off his water and discards the glass in the sink then takes your hand in his and lifts your knuckles to his lips, lightly brushing across them with soft kisses.

With deliberate intention he circles you, taking in his fill and getting a complete view of you in your dress.

“What color are you panties?”

“Excuse me?” you ask.

“You heard me darlin’.”

“Why?” you counter, already loving the game he’s playing.

“If I have to take you to this event, to a room full of other men who are going to see you lookin’ like you do in that dress, you bet I’m gonna be the only one who knows the color of your panties.”

He moves until he’s so close you can feel the heat from his body but he’s still not touching you. Even so, it feels like his hands are everywhere and your skin tingles all over.

“Where’s my answer?”

You remain silent, your lips turning up in a smirk when you feel his breath warm the nape of your neck. He presses his chest flush to your back and whispers along the shell of your ear, “mm alright then gorgeous.”

He pushes you forward so you have to brace your palms flat on the counter.

“Spread your legs.”

Your breathing intensifies and you dig your teeth into your bottom lip, using all your willpower to remain defiant.

“Do as you’re told.”

His words are a growl of warning and your arousal outweighs your flicker of annoyance so you slowly spread your legs.

His fingers press into your calf and he hooks one under the silky fabric of your dress to drag it up with restrained delicacy. Once he reaches your thighs he shoves his knee between your legs and spreads them wider.

A strangled groan leaves his throat before a long stretch of silence passes with the weight of his gaze on your bare skin.

“No panties, darlin’?”

“Not with this dress,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Hm,” he muses.

His large hand comes down hard on your exposed ass, jarring you against the cold countertop.

You hiss out a curse of pleasure but before you can respond with more he does it again. And again.

He then soothes the stinging spot with his palm and you try to straighten but he places a firm hand on your lower back, keeping you bent over the counter.

“You like that darlin’?” he asks.

“You know I do.”

Your breathy affirmation has him leaning over you, caging you in, his lips brushing the shell of your when he murmurs, “good. That’s for the hard on I’ll be walking around with tonight.”

When you try to straighten again he holds you down still, first fixing your dress with a gentle touch that offsets his actions from just a moment ago. His hand smooths along the curve of your hip and he lifts you up, turning you in his arms and cradling you against his chest.

His scent teases you, warm and earthy, and you dip your head to brush your lips along his.

“We best get goin’ darlin’…”

You nod, closing your eyes when his palm flattens on your back and his hand slides up to your neck, grabbing hold and dragging you closer. It’s too easy to give in. Too easy to be consumed by everything that’s him.

Your fingers tease the curls at the back of his neck, sliding through the silky strands as you sigh his name.

“Ok.”

It’s more of a whine and his eyes narrow dangerously.

“I’m trying really hard here,” he says roughly. “I won’t be able to stop if we keep this up.”

“I don’t want you to stop.”

You tilt your head and your lips find his throat, placing soft open-mouthed kisses along his skin then you look at him through your lashes, daring him to tell you to stop.

His breath accelerates, filling the quiet space and heightening every sensation.

“Sweet fuckin’ hell darlin.’ I have no self-control when it comes to you. You’ve ruined me. I’m completely ruined.”

@blackwidownat2814 @lizette50 @hiddles-rose @kmc1989 @littleseasiren @lorilane33

[fluentmoviequoter]

Tim Through the Years - The Perfect Ring

Series Masterlist (part 9)

Summary: Tim finds the perfect engagement ring and stops a robbery in progress. 1.2k+ words

Tim loves you and, as a result, he thinks that he knows you well enough to understand what you do and don’t like, what you want and enjoy, and what is special to you. Yet, he can’t find the ring. He has a mental image of the ring he wants to put on your ringer when he proposes, but he can’t seem to find the right piece to match his idea.

Since finding out that Tim was dating you, Angela has dropped hints about getting married: leaving paper samples on his desk, texting venue options late at night, and even slipping jewelry store cards into his pocket. As he slides his hands into his pockets, thinking about you and how he should propose, he isn’t surprised to feel a rectangular piece of cardboard. The slogan about custom engagement rings, however, captures his attention. Tim puts the card back in his pocket to keep it safe before he gets back to work, but he feels a little lighter because he is one step closer to forever with you.

“Welcome!” the owner of the jewelry store calls as Tim enters on an afternoon off. “What can I help you with, sir?”

“Well,” Tim begins, glancing down at the rows of expensive rings and watches in the case between them. “I’m looking for an engagement ring, but I’m having trouble finding the right one.”

“You know what you want then?” the man asks with a smile.

“I think so, I just can’t seem to communicate it well enough to search for it.”

The man nods and pulls an iPad from a nearby shelf. He opens the magnetic case and sets it on the glass case. “I’ve been working with gentlemen like yourself for years. Think of the ring you want and talk me through what you see. We’ll see what we can do from there.”

“Okay,” Tim agrees hesitantly. He smiles and begins talking about the ring he pictures on your finger: the color, cut, size, and design he envisions when he dreams of his future with you. Though you haven’t sent him pictures or said anything to make him think he should propose - or given him an idea of your ring preference, for that matter - Tim Bradford knows you, so he can make connections between your personality, your style, your heart, and a ring. Or so he thinks. 

“... and maybe an engraving to signify how we met, at the police station,” Tim concludes.

“Alright,” the owner murmurs, tapping another marker setting. “Give me one second to finish this up. Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but it sounds like the two of you are perfect for one another. You’re lucky.”

“I appreciate that. Hopefully her brothers think the same when I ask him.”

“You don’t necessarily hide it. Okay.” He straightens and sets the pen aside, then turns the iPad toward Tim and asks, “Something like this?”

Tim is speechless as he stares at the sketch of the ring. The owner says something about not being able to hurt his feelings, but all Tim can think of is you.

“That’s it,” he says, looking up to thank the owner. “This is the ring.”

With a smile, the man extends his hand and offers, “Then let’s get started. I’ll need your help with a few things, just picking out the final material choices, and then I’ll start making it for you. I trust you know her ring size.”

“I do,” Tim answers. “One of my coworkers stole one of her rings as a hint, but I already knew.”

“See,” the man points out, “you don’t hide it, so if her brothers can’t see it, they aren’t looking.”

Tim nods and follows the man to a flat cart at the end of the display case. He lifts a box of sample diamonds in different cuts and colors before pulling out the one closest to his drawing.

“What do you think?”

Tim turns the man-made version of the gem in his hand and envisions you walking down the aisle, holding his hand, teaching, and growing old with it on your finger.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Let me get your information and I’ll give you a call with any questions and again when it’s ready to pick up. You’re sure this is the perfect ring?”

“For the perfect girl,” Tim answers. 

Since finding the perfect ring for you, Tim was looking forward to his next day off. His plan was to grab breakfast with your brothers then go get the ring afterwards, even if he was told no by your brothers. Tim knew how you saw Dean as a father figure and that traditions were important to you, so he wanted to make sure he got permission. Tim felt pretty confident that they would say yes, they all were pretty good friends at this point. Tim and Dean would go to a sports bar to get burgers and watch the game when they both could. While Sam would go jogging with Tim on occasion, but at least once a month everyone would get together for dinner. But on the chance the brothers would say no, he would ask you anyway. He was in love with you and wanted to scream it to the sky.

Today was finally the day, and it was going great so far. Breakfast went exactly as he planned, the brothers immediately agreeing and then arguing about who would walk her down the aisle, which turned into arguing who was gonna dance with her first. Tim chuckles to himself at the memory, the brothers truly loved you. Finally arriving at the store he feels a little nervous, nervous that the ring is going to be the wrong one, nervous that you will say no, but when the store clerk shows him the ring he ordered, all the fear goes away because the ring is perfect.

“Put your hands in the air! This is a robbery!” a deep voice bellows from behind Tim.

Tim’s smile turns to a frown instantly, this is not how he wanted to spend his day. Tim complies; he didn’t want to get seriously hurt since he is off duty. But when the guy shoves Tim to the side and grabs your engagement ring, Tim grabs the guy by the back of the head and slams his head on the counter then grabs his gun all in one quick motion and aims it at the robber.

“LAPD! You're under arrest!”

Tim is annoyed, he is now trying to make it seem like he was not buying any jewelry as to not involve more people than necessary. But of course Lucy was one of the first people to arrive on scene and so she has to take his statement.

“Like I keep telling you, I was walking by and saw the robbery take place so I stopped it. What’s so hard to believe?” Tim grunts to Lucy.

“Okay, okay, this just doesn’t seem to be the part of town I’d take you to stroll around, it’s too fancy for you,” Lucy replies with a small smile.

“Tim! Great news, I got your engagement ring to not be processed and the owner of the store wants to give you a big discount since the guy has  robbed the store 5 times now! Isn’t that great... news. Oh, hey Lucy.”  Angela freezes as she gets closer to Tim, not knowing Lucy was with him.

“You bought a what?!” Lucy exclaims.

[olderthannetfic]

sorry it didn't entirely occur to me that race play wasn't inherently racist. Guess I literally should've just googled that to see, flew over my head. Wasn't intending to be bait or whatever, I was genuinely confused what goes too far in fiction or not, since you could write practically anything including immoral stuff. It was hard to wrap my head around and entirely forgot POC could write stuff that would be considered racist if a white person did it. My bad I understand the reasoning now. Again sorry was genuinely just curious cuz I'm not a "professional" in what's right or not (I usually follow the majority to determine what's right, I'm a sheep, my biggest fear is to be offensive in any way so I try to listen to people who know their stuff and follow), terms and complicated words (at least complicated to me) tend to go over my head. Perhaps I should've used a tonetag to show I was being genuine in my response and meant to be curious and not to harm. I apologize sorry for making you mad have a nice day/night afternoon :) I really appreciate the work you put in this blog, it's very informational for me

--

Oh god. You're in earnest? Well, in that case, you were doing a pitch-perfect imitation of the people you've been reading, and those people are annoying.

--

It's fiction. Who cares what's in it?

The thing that makes it matter is how the fiction is disseminated and the whole context around it. For example, media aimed at young children is held to higher standards because four-year-olds often aren't that competent at telling fiction from reality or understanding that depiction isn't endorsement.

Mainstream US TV shows have millions of viewers. If they reinforce mainstream unconscious prejudices, that tends to encourage the audience to continue unchecked in those beliefs.

Weird niche porn or fanfic on AO3 have tiny audiences, often deal with things that are already contentious, and are labeled as non-mainstream in the first place by their very nature.

"But what if people write immoral fiction?" is itself an unethical position. It is the domain of the religious right, radfems, and other assholes who believe in thought crimes.

Yes, sheep do follow these people. This is an unethical behavior, but it is common.

The tyranny of the majority is not a good thing. The fact that a large number of people on social media say that such-and-such makes them feel gross is not an excuse for them to tell a smaller group with "gross" tastes what they're allowed to do in their own circles. Lots of people are horny over weird shit. This is fine.

The fear of ever offending anyone is a prison that will cause you to make bad choices.

Genuine harm is bad, but lots of people are offended at the drop of a hat. Yes, this goes for nonwhite people too, and it definitely goes for idiots white knighting in fandom spaces and going "You can't write X about characters of color! You can't write Y! Everything is problematic!"

As has been discussed on here many times, a lot of fans, including nonwhite fans, find that kind of behavior stifling to the point where they can't write about those characters at all. The response is often a huffy "Well, they shouldn't feel like that." But they do feel like that. It's not on purpose. Most people feel like that, to be honest. Living in a fishbowl has a chilling effect on art just like being afraid of offending paralyzes you yourself.

Offensiveness is highly dependent on context. Not only will it vary with your cultural background, but a great writer can handle material and make it feel nuanced, while a crummy writer will fall flat on their face with the same material.

If we are too precious about "Nobody should ever offend anyone", we're calling for all fans to publicly disclose their demographic and for all fans to be extremely skilled. Pity the poor, dumb teenager who just wants to write about their black blorbos because they are black themselves... and a shitty writer... who likes sex pollen.

If you look again, you will notice that a lot of fandom drama around offensiveness boils down to "You have a rape kink and that's not okay".

The bottom line, anon, is that fandom has a bullying problem. The internet has a bullying problem. People who are too scared to have their own stance on what's offensive or what's correct behavior are easily weaponized in bullying campaigns. This is the problem with being a sheep. You'll reblog shit saying "Well, I'm not sure, but this sounds important..." and then it turns out to be a smear campaign. Or maybe you personally won't do that, but you will stay silent when you should speak out.

Doing the right thing often involves offending people.

Look, anon, I've been canceled before for supposedly being "fandom's worst racist", and yet there are a bunch of fans of color in my comments section because they're tired of prissy jackasses who won't ever expose themselves by having an opinion, think it's more important to never be wrong than to have a conversation and risk changing their minds, who think only one very specific, very American, and very era/platform/fandom-specific standard is okay, and who hate on kinky fanfic day in and day out.

--

To interact with other humans is to risk offending someone. Yes, I think it's on all of us to at least recognize extremely blatant racist stereotypes, but that doesn't mean agreeing with every single moron who walks up and goes "I had a yucky feeling, and now that's your problem."

A lot of this pearl clutching makes one think of that line from Cold Comfort Farm:

"I saw something nasty in the woodshed!"

The matriarch of the family took to her bed years ago, claiming to have been prostrated by the sight of some unnamed horror (in context, probably people fucking). For years, she has used this supposed ~harm~ to bully and control the rest of the family.

Fandom is also full of this behavior lately. "Other people's fiction made me shake and cry!!!" is not actual harm. It is, at best, people who are genuinely upset but who need to take it up with a mental health professional. Very often, however, it is shitty, manipulative, abusive behavior that is entirely intentional. Do not fall for it.

Some people are just children and need to be told "No."

[casscainmainly]

Race and Perception in Batgirl (2000)

This is a companion piece to my two gender posts on Batgirl (2000). There are many interesting takes on race and Cassandra Cain, but most focus on whether she is a 'racist' character or not. This post is not about that, though I think my stance is fairly clear given what my blog is about. Rather than retreading the same ground of whether the conception of Cass is racist (something I might tackle later, because some arguments are flat-out wrong), I want to look at how race actually plays out in Batgirl (2000).

This post focuses on how Cass' Asian identity influences her views on perception, beauty, and agency. As usual, feel free to disagree as I'm not an ethnic or Asian studies expert.

Mask of the Batgirl

We all know and love Cass' iconic Batgirl costume. Besides its distinctive total-blackness, the most interesting aspect is the full-face mask. She is the only Batgirl to cover her face completely - when Stephanie takes over, one of the first things she does is rip the bottom half off.

Skin and external perceptions don't mean the same things to Barbara and Steph as they do to Cass. Cass' entire life is fraught with not just the male gaze, but the White male gaze - her father, David Cain, films her on video tapes, and Bruce later views these tapes (importantly, Cass herself does not get to). These tapes symbolise how her appearance does not belong to herself, but to external White perceptions.

In issue #1, Batman says the following:

"You... are me." Here, Bruce posits that the full-face mask makes Cass more like Bruce. It functions to hide their racial and gendered differences. By covering her face completely, Bruce (and Cass) tacitly suppress her race. Once again, White men are controlling the way she is perceived, something that began with David Cain and continues with Bruce.

Interiority and Exteriority

A common Asian stereotype is that Asians are mechanical - they have no interiority. The common conceptions of Asians as STEM majors and being emotion-deficient all come from this core belief, that Asians are utilities for White people. For Cass, this belief manifests from Babs, Bruce, and David Cain:

Babs says it's hard to care without knowing what's "going on in her head." She cannot connect with Cass' exterior, and finds it hard to imagine what her interior is like. Even worse, Bruce and Cain both argue that Cass belongs to/is like them, almost treating her as property- they reject Cass' own interiority and project theirs onto her, using her as a tool to extend their own identities.

In the early issues, Cass doesn't have an internal monologue. This somewhat reinforces what Babs, Bruce, and Cain all believe about her interiority. However, in issue #5 a White man gifts her the ability to think in language:

This plot point serves to demonstrate Cass' interiority to the reader, but it is another example of a White person choosing for Cass. She didn't get a choice to be raised without language, and she doesn't make the decision to receive it. Both externally and internally, White people control her narrative.

The Shiva Solution

After her newfound language skills impact her ability to fight, Cass encounters Lady Shiva, her future surprise mother. Shiva is the first one to ever acknowledge Cass' race.

Unlike Cain or Bruce, Shiva doesn't say 'you're like me'; she says, "we're a lot alike." She doesn't map herself onto Cass, but finds something they both have in common. By naming Cass' race ("in terms of our coloring") and framing their similarities in this way, Shiva affirms Cass' difference from White people, while providing an alternative solace: Asian solidarity.

Shiva gives Cass her first real choice. It's not exactly a good choice, and it's somewhat coloured by White perceptions (the idea of 'perfection'), but it's still the first major thing Cass gets to decide for herself. She even frames Shiva's path as opposing "Batman's method;" it's the beginning of her path away from White control, towards racialised agency.

It's no surprise, then, that Shiva is the one that helps Cass over her death wish. Not Bruce, not Babs, but Shiva - a literal and metaphorical link to her heritage.

Another Stephanie Brown Segment

As an integral part of Cass' sexual and gendered awakening, Stephanie of course plays a role in Cass' understanding of race. Moving from Puckett's run into issue #38, Stephanie and Cass have this iconic conversation on the rooftop:

I've written before about how this marks the beginning of Cass' foray into gender and sexuality, but this scene has a different meaning when viewed from a race angle. Stephanie is the quintessential American girl, with blonde hair and blue eyes; additionally, she's sexually and romantically experienced. Cass' own Asian appearance, then, may be causally linked to her lack of experience.

When Stephanie comes back as Robin, we have this moment:

Cass is unable to be perceived as non-threatening, helpful, or friendly, while Steph achieves all this with ease. Beyond the differences in temperament (Cass is definitely the spooky scary type), it's also the difference in costuming - Robin's bright colours and majority-unmasked face make for a friendlier appearance than Batgirl. Once again, Cass is unable to control other people's perceptions of her.

It's notable that the majority of Steph's appearances throughout Batgirl end with her leaving Cass on a rooftop. This happens in issues #38, #53, #54, and of course War Games. Their relationship is consistently tenuous, and I think this contributes to Cass feeling like she'll never belong in Steph's world.

Tai'Darshan Turns the Tide

At this point Cass is in pretty bad straits: no one has ever shown romantic attraction to her, Steph is mad at her, and she still doesn't have a full understanding of her race (bar Shiva, she's encountered no other Asians). This feeling of disenfranchisement from both the White and Asian worlds is a very common experience among third culture Asian kids, particularly mixed-race Asians.

Then comes Tai'Darshan, the second major Asian person Cass interacts with.

He is the first person to show romantic interest in her, and asks to "see [her] face." He wants to see her interiority and her skin - Cass' Asian features are now described as something attractive, something worth seeing.

Where Cass is creeped out by Conner's gaze on the boat, she's not similarly affected by Tai'Darshan. She's beginning to understand racialised dynamics, and finding comfort within other Asians rather than her majority-White friends and family.

Both during the fight with Tai'Darshan and the later fight with Bruce, Cass wears these eye-cut-out masks. The eyes are both the site of perception and the site of Asian racialisation, as the most identifiably 'Asian' part of people's faces. By wearing these kind of masks, she's allowing others to perceive her race, reclaiming racialised perception as an act of choice rather than something imposed onto her.

Choosing

In the final arc of Batgirl (2000), Cass sets out to find Shiva. The decision is spurred by this conversation, where Brenda explicitly asks about Cass' race. Everything has been building up to this acknowledgment of Cass' fuzzy origins, a recognition that the uncertainty around her race impacts her ability to achieve full self-actualisation.

Cass rejects Batman's help on the matter, instead going to Onyx:

By going with Onyx, a Black woman, instead of Bruce, Cass is starting on her journey towards racial solidarity beyond Asian communities.

The abrupt ending to Batgirl (2000) kinda cuts off any definitive arc, but I actually think what we have already paints a solid picture. There definitely is a lot more room for explorations into Chinese culture (Spirit World kinda covers this), Cass' relationship to White proximity, interactions with other Asian characters and more. I think her Asian identity deserves more of a spotlight, and I'm hoping more comics in the future delve into it.

[pasdasin]

Wicked Game

wolverine x vampire!reader

an: guys im sorry!!! I started work and I love my job and i camped out a buffalo wild wings grand opening!!!! now i get free wings for a year. I also have been stressed about school but im hopping to have updates be frequent again!! sorry if its bad i have a little delirious

ch 6

warnings: more blood drinking, regular and erotic, mentions of blood in general!! SMUTTTTTT, unprotected sex (dont be dumb), oral fem!receiving, mentions of smoking, cussing, prob more lol

previous -- next

~~~~~

When someone is turned into a vampire it has three stages to show that the transformation is taking effect. First, the skin of a person will turn clammy and ashy, this is the vitamins of the body being slowly killed over time. Secondly, seizures will be induced at irregular rates, ranging from seconds to hours. This is the sign of the body dying. Lastly, the person infected will turn to self-mutilation in order to cope with the debilitating pain of the body transforming.

In your case, your vampirism was a result of your mother being bitten in her last month of pregnancy. While she had died, you lived, transformed. The venom changing your dna forever. You could be kept at bay through normal human food, but it was blood that you primally craved. It made you strong, and it made you feel alive.

From what Alex was appearing, you could tell he was in stage two. He laid on the floor convulsing. Looking at his body, you noticed the bite marks on his collarbone.

“Shit. He is turning”

“Can’t you stop it?” Logan leaned down next to you, holding Alex as his seizure worsened.

“I have no idea” Your eyes met Logan. Blood was cascading down your mouth and chest. A reminder of the other night. “I have never tried”

“Do you have a better idea?” Logan prayed to who ever was listening for a better idea. He knew it was a necessary action in order to save Alex, but the idea of you drinking this assholes blood made him feel irrationally angry.

“I have too try, but… what if I can’t stop?” You were full of worry now. Soon you knew the sun would rise, people would flood the alley, and another blow to mutant-kind would be delt.

“y/n, if you don’t. Alex will die. You will stop. You have control. You don’t have a choice.” He knew he was being harsh, but the two of you couldn’t afford conversation. Alex’s life was on the line.

You nodded as Logan laid him flat on the asphalt. You moved to straddle his hips and stared at the bite marks. No doubt the venom was killing him, you lowered your mouth to the wound and sunk your fang in.

Alex’s blood tasted weird. You weren’t sure if it was the venom or just the taste of Alex. It was nothing like Logan’. He tasted perfect, like a virgin’s first orgasm. Regardless of taste, blood was blood. You didn’t have to like every single person you drank from. The velvety fluid made your body vibrate in harmony.

The sound of Logan on the phone fell on deaf ears. You didn’t even register the blue devil boy or his fear of what you were doing. You closed your eyes and nuzzled deeper into Alex’s neck. The only sound you could hear was the pounding of his heart as more blood flowed into your mouth.

You opened your eyes again and was blinded by bright, sterile lighting. You felt your body being lifted off Alex and suddenly, all your senses came back to you. Somehow you made it to the infirmary of the mansion, surrounded by your friends.

You blinked in confusion before looking down at Alex, his color starting to return. You wiped your mouth and looked at the handful of blood. Your confusion turned to horror.

“Oh my god-”

y/n you have done enough. Relax now.

Slowly, you backed out of the room, before running to find your own. Logan trailing behind.

You threw the door open and rushed to the bathroom. Facing the mirror you stared in horror of who you were. Acceptance was the final form of grief, but you never knew exactly what you were grieving.

Turning on the facet, you aggressively started to scrub your face, hoping to erase the actions of the night. You felt a hand grab your wrist, stopping you from rubbing your face raw.

You met Logan’s eyes in the mirror. He looked at you the way he always had, only this time you could place the emotion. He yearned for you.

“Stop that darling. Let me give you a bath yeah?” You mindlessly nodded. He went through the actions of running you a bath, undressing you and easing you into the bath. You wordlessly accepted his help, staring at the faucet of your bathtub.

“Mind if I smoke in here?” You didn’t respond. “Okay… trying to lighten the mood”

You felt as he washed your back. The water of the tub turning darker shades of red with every dip.

“I’m a monster”

“No you’re not”

“I created him. Alex is dying. I am covered in multiple people’s blood. Logan I-”

“Despite all of that I am here, aren’t I? After centuries I am still here” You turned to look up at him.

“Logan” you reached out to him. “You don’t love me. It’s been so long and…” Logan cut you off. Pressing his lips to your own. You leaned up, wrapping your arms around his neck. The kiss turned more passionate as you felt Logan lift you up out of the tub and brought you to the bed.

Laying you out, Logan knelt over you, kissing your neck. He nipped around until he found the spot that maybe you whine. He nipped at your neck like how you had the other night, expect instead of drawing blood, he traced the curvature with his tongue. He sucked hard, his nose flaring, as he grinded down into you.

“Logan please” You whined in his ear.

“Use your words sweet girl”

“Give me more” He snickered softly in your ear. He moved his tongue down your body, stopping at your nipple. He looked up at you, waiting to see if you were going to change your mind, but the buck of your hips in anticipation was all he needed. He twirled his tongue around your nipple, enjoying the feeling of it growing hard in his mouth.

The sound of your moans filled the room. You were desperate and whiny for his touch. As his hand moved down to your cunt, you squeezed your eyes shut. The mixed pleasure of his tongue circling your nipple and his hand playing with you was to much. You moaned as he finally circled your clit, his finger doused in your own arousal.

He hummed as he watched your face contort with pleasure, your legs squirming at the sensation.

“Look at you, so beautiful like this” He brought his fingers up to his mouth, eyes rolling back at the taste. “Always wanted you like this” He moved down in between your thighs, pushing your legs up over his shoulders.

You moaned his name as he licked up your cunt to your clit. He messily ate your cunt, pushing his head further into your body. Your hands reached out and desperately gripped his hair tufts. He grunted at the sensation, reveling in the pain, causing him to pick up the his pace.

You were bucking into his face, chanting his name over and over.

“Logan, I’m gonna cum… please” He grunted in response, pulling your hips closer to his face. Giving you silent permission, you squeezed your legs tight around his head and moaned out of his name.

Letting go of Logan, he crawled up your body and placed a chaste kiss to your lips.

“You taste so sweet” He mumbled in your ear. Unzipping his pants, he fumbled to free his cock. Pumping it, he lined himself up and inserted himself into you.

He groaned at the feeling of your cunt adjusting to fight him. Your face was contorted into a look of pressure. A chorus of moans left your lips, chanting his name as the bed creaked.

“Fuck your so right” He muttered, balls slapping against your cunt. The feeling of his cock hitting deep inside of you caused you to lift up against his chest. Your fangs started to expand as you nuzzled into his neck, claws scratching down his back, leaving a blood trail that was instantly being repaired.

“Logan, please-“

“I’m right there with you” He groaned at your fangs penetrating his neck. The sensation of his blood being pulled out of him caused his hip to stutter.

“Where do you want me?”

“Inside please” Logan thrusted harder, making you cum around his cock. He moaned at the feeling and pumped his cum inside of you.

Panting the two of you laid on the bed, detaching from one another. He pulled you close and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“You are everything I have ever wanted” You turned to look up at him. A smile on his face. “Go to sleep. I promise to be here in the morning”

~~~~~

tag list: Tag list: @captain039 @twinky-wink @fuckmachine42069 @honeybeedrabble @reidsworld @clairealeehelsing @bontensbabygirl @policedeer

[dunmeshistash]

in regards to skin tone variation in DM, i do think a lot of it is colorism/racism too. theres a few characters of color, but not many (just like how theres some fatter characters, but none of them are main characters (even senshi & other dwarves arent really depicted as fat)).

ryoko kui has surface representation for these people, but it lacks much substance, and the brown characters she does draw arent given brown facial features, and are almost always colored with very ashy skin. a lot of them just look like a recolored white person (especially cithis, kaka, & kiki). her random portraits of characters who dont actually appear in the series otherwise tend to be much better about this, but the actual characters that show up and play a part all seem to suffer from this issue.

im not saying kui is like, super-duper racist and we all need to stop reading DM etc etc, but i think its important to recognize and point out everyday/usually-overlooked colorism & racism when we see it, and i know im not the first or only person to point this out about her character designs. if she can draw fat people and actual brown people as part of the portraits, why cant she or wont she do the same for any of the featured characters in the series?

(i know the orcs are fat, but its not a good thing the only consistently fat people are the ones who are a fantasy race based off of violent racial stereotypes, who are also pig people, while none of the main cast of "real" humans are fat except *maybe* the dwarves, who still have small waists and flat stomachs, and the lord of the island, who is depicted as corrupt & decadent)

Well yeah.

I'm just a lore blog so I don't like to get too into real life issues or make assumptions about how the author feels about these subjects. What I talked about on the skin tone post was assumptions as to why she thought it would be important to show skin tone variations on certain races as a character design choice. (In the sense that her character design is very purposeful)

I realize some people over praise Kui's designs when most of it is pretty safe for what it is, but even if it's just a step closer to better representation it's something that's rare to see in anime. So I understand why some people get so excited about it.

It is important to realize this isn't the ideal either (Dark skinned characters with the same features as the others, mostly well build characters on the thinner side) but I personally don't like to criticize these type of stories on what it "could/should have been".

As someone who is fat and not white, I'm happy we get some diversity in dungeon meshi. I hope this opens up the possibility of better character design in the future even if what we got now wasn't perfect.

It shouldn't be the case that this piece of art filled me with so much joy I teared up cause I had never seen someone with a similar body to mine drawn with so much respect and objectivity. But unfortunately that's the world we live in and I don't think it's wrong to be happy for what we get for now while acknowledging it's not perfect and that it should be better.

I'm also super happy the anime chose to make the dark characters even darker.

[normshortfornormal]

Steb x OC

"Firefish"

Steb x fem!OC (Vastaya) 

Summary: Steb and Eiden, childhood friends turned lovers, serendipitously run into each other in Piltover after many years of having not seen each other. They decide to commemorate their reunion with a night of pleasure. 

Word Count: 5594 

Tags and Warnings: Explicit, Smut, Oral Sex, Aftercare, Alcohol, slight animal biology, they are in love, steb is such a romantic during sex, established relationship, established relationship and OC lore that isn’t all revealed in this one piece, NOT EDITED, Steb was born in Ionia and is not native to Piltover or Zaun, Steb and OC travelled around Runeterra before Piltover (but not always travelling together)

This is my first time writing smut! Please be kind. This is meant to be the first chapter of a series, so there’s a lot of information and lore that has yet to be revealed. I plan to post this on Ao3 once I have more written for it and once it’s more revised! Please enjoy, and thank you so much for reading!

(yes this is a repost bc tumblr hates whimsy and love)

Read below the cut!

Eiden decided to go to a different bar today. One where the wine was cheap and the music was quieter. Here, in this modest bar where everyone seemed to be friends and knew each other on a first name basis, the bass wasn’t so heavy that it made her feathers feel like they were going to fall off. 

Sitting further in the bar was a stage hosting karaoke night. There was a pretty pair who were singing quite a horrible rendition of a popular love song. The girl was really carrying the whole song, she could actually sing and had a nice voice. The boy accompanied with harmonies that were somehow too sharp and too flat at the same time. Eiden watched from the bar that sat near the entrance, legs crossed and swirling a glass of red wine the same color as her dress. When the pair finished, everyone clapped and whistled, and the woman in charge of the music congratulated them for a sparkling performance. Eiden clapped along, too, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, but she could blame the wine for that. 

She downed her glass and beckoned for another one. 

“Must’ve been a pretty tough week, huh?” The bartender grinned as he poured her another one. 

“Quite the opposite, in fact. Thank you.” Eiden took the glass and sipped it. “Tonight calls for celebration.”

“Oh? And what’s the occasion?” 

“Celebration, of course. Celebrating for celebration’s sake—makes life a little livelier.” 

The bartender chuckled. “Here’s to life, then.” He went off to help another customer, leaving Eiden to bounce her foot to the beat and watch the flow of people. Standing on the stage now was a man doing mumble rap. Despite the poor choice of music, people were dancing anyway. Eiden was tempted to join them, but she was quite comfortable where she was. She had a perfect view of the bar and all its activities. 

There was a group of people who were playing foosball. There was only one woman amongst them. Every time someone scored a point, the loser had to take a shot and shuffle off for the next person. The reigning champion was a very pretty boy whom she’d been trying to catch the attention of since she laid eyes on him. Perhaps if he wasn’t so focused on the game, he would have spotted her by now, but alas, Eiden was left to sit at the bar, sipping wine and lamenting the lack of attention.

Others had noticed her—she was a new face in a bar that seemed intimately acquainted with their regulars—but they were not him, so she didn’t care. 

She was on her fifth glass when he finally noticed her. He had lost to the woman—a young girl with short orange hair—and was forced to take a shot. He wiped his mouth and crossed his arms over his chest, grinning as the woman decimated her opponent, when one of the drunker men elbowed him and pointed her out. His eyes flicked over the bar and did a double-take when he saw her.

Eiden couldn’t help it. Her lips curved into a coy smile. She winked at him before turning away and sipping her wine. From where she sat and where he stood, he had a perfect view of her back, generously revealed by the backless dress she wore. He could see her feathers peeking from just above her tailbone, she knew. 

She could hear his friends egging him on, encouraging to go say hello to her. She did not look in his direction, not even when his shadow graced the wooden countertop. 

“Eiden.” 

She loved the way he said her name. It made her wings ruffle and the tiny feathers on her cheeks twitch. More than that, it was refreshing to hear the familiar Vastayan dialect she had grown up with. She turned her head to face him. She did a very slow once-over of him, paying extra attention to his legs and chest and the blush on his face. 

“How do you know my name, stranger?” she asked with round eyes and fluttering lashes. 

“Just a feeling,” he said, looking equal parts exasperated and amused. “May I sit?”

“You may.”

He took his seat and Eiden eyed his friends in the back, all watching with unabashed eagerness. He leaned to the side, obstructing her view with his pretty face. 

“Don’t be jealous, Steb,” Eiden teased. She swiveled in her seat so her body was towards him. “No one catches my eye like you do.”

He smiled and rolled his eyes. His gaze lingered on her lips, colored deep red with lipstick, and her plunging neckline that teased her stomach. Then he looked at her fingers, and that was what made his frills flicker across his cheeks. 

“You’re adorable,” she said. Her fingers teased his knuckles, and he cleared his throat. 

“I wasn’t aware you were in Piltover.”

“What a coincidence then, hm? Guess we’re fated to meet again and again.” Eiden smiled when Steb intertwined his fingers with her own. “So? What brings you here? To this bar, I mean.”

“A celebration. I passed my Enforcer exam.”

“Oho, congratulations. And I suppose those are…?”

“Colleagues that passed with me.”

Eiden hummed. “Have you had anything to drink? Apart from the one shot you had. Shame your winning streak had to come to an end.” Steb’s friends were playing without him, but they were watching the interaction at the bar, so they weren’t very focused. 

“Not much.” Steb raised an eyebrow when Eiden pushed her half-full glass towards him with her finger. Clearly, he was not impressed by the cheap wine. 

“Don’t act so high and mighty,” Eiden said. “Don’t you remember Bilgewater?”

Steb may have shaken his head and sighed, but he was wearing a smile and his eyes were soft under the low light of the bar. He finished Eiden’s glass. 

Eiden called for two more drinks so they could celebrate Steb’s new place on the Enforcer team. She asked for gin, flashing Steb a knowing wink. They have known each other for too long for her to forget what his choice drink is. 

They clinked their glasses together and downed the drink in celebration. Then Steb asked the bartender for water and nudged the glass to Eiden. She humored him, only because it was Steb and it had been so long since they’d seen each other. 

They caught up on old times. Eiden traced his fingers and nudged his leg with her heels, while Steb admired her wine-red dress and the way it rode up her thigh. When the music turned soft and jazzy, Steb invited her for a dance, offering his hand and bowing because he’s a gentleman. 

Eiden obliged him. Together, they headed to the dance floor. Steb twirled and spun her slowly, let her step on his feet and rested his hand on the small of her back in a way that was all too comfortable and familiar. He smiled as she laughed, and went willingly when she pulled him towards her. She spun twice and ended with her back against his chest, his arms wrapped around her midsection. Eiden let her eyes drift shut as she lost herself in the music and the comfortable embrace. Like this, they swayed together. 

Eiden didn’t realize they had danced for three songs until Steb’s friends rudely interrupted them. Some were more sober than others, but they were all at least a little tipsy. They crowded Steb’s space, oblivious to how his shoulders grew rigid and he shuffled away.

“He’s a gentleman,” they said, “a real nice guy. A little quiet, but he’ll treat you right.”

The only one who was respectful was the woman, who smiled at Eiden. She did not crowd their space and actually asked for Eiden’s name. She complimented her dress, so Eiden complimented her foosball skills. 

The men were both human and men and didn’t notice how her wings and feathered ears kept twitching. Eiden suspected that even if they did notice, they wouldn’t care. It took both Steb wrapping an arm around Eiden’s waist and fixing them with a look, and the woman telling the men they should leave for everyone to finally clear off. They winked at them and flashed them knowing looks as they left the bar.

“Have a good time, you two!”

Eiden huffed, the feathers on her ears flaring a bit. “I see why you call them colleagues now,” she said. 

Steb smiled apologetically and rubbed her arm. “Maddie’s nice.”

“Is that her name? She was the most pleasant of all of them. Are you two actually friends?”

He nodded. Then he held out his hand with a small smile, inviting her for one more dance. 

“How can I say no to you?” she smiled.

The dance was too short for Eiden’s liking, but her heels were pinching her feet and her soles were sore. Steb offered to walk her home, so Eiden accepted his arm and they made the slow journey back to Eiden’s apartment. Part way through the walk, Eiden took off her heels so she could walk freely. Her feet were that of a bird’s. Had she been more sober, she would have perched on Steb’s shoulder or arm, just like they had in the past, but she liked holding onto his arm and leaning on his bicep. He offered to hold her shoes, and let them dangle from his fingers as they walked down the cobbled streets, dimly lit by the lanterns on the street. 

Steb walked Eiden all the way to the door of her apartment. They stopped in front of her door and turned to each other. The way he looked at her actually made her shy. Her feathered ears ruffled and came down over her cheeks. 

“Will you stay?” Eiden murmured, hiding behind her feathers. Steb shrugged. He lowered his head and moved her feathers out of her face. His touch was so tender as he traced her cheek, brushing just below the tiny feathers on her cheeks. He had the gentlest smile on his face. “I’m glad to see you again, too,” she said. 

He entered Eiden’s apartment with her. The door clicked shut behind them and Eiden flicked on the lights. Steb placed Eiden’s shoes in the mess of shoes by the door, shooting her a chastising look as he did. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Eiden said. She sighed and stretched her arms into the air. She grinned at the way his eyes lingered on her back and wings before quickly darting away. “It’s not messy, it’s just organized my way.”

It was a nice apartment. Not nearly as nice as the more expensive apartments in the upper crust of the city, but still nice nonetheless. She had a nice kitchen that still had dirty dishes in the sink and a living room with a couch so plush it welcomed her body with a sigh. The apartment had two bedrooms and two bathrooms. It was just her in the apartment, but she liked the extra space. 

Steb brought her a glass of water while Eiden laid on the couch. Then, to Eiden’s amusement and endearment, he headed to the sink and started washing her dishes. Eiden watched him as she sipped her water.

How many years had it been since they’d seen each other? Twenty? Fifty? The years all blurred together after a while, but seeing him filled a hole in her she hadn’t even realized was there. No matter how many times it happened, she was always surprised by the way he completed her. 

She finished her water and went to the bathroom. Then she came up behind him and wrapped her arms around him. She sighed and toyed with the buttons of his shirt. 

“How long will you be in Piltover for?” Eiden asked.

Steb shrugged. “What about you?”

Eiden hummed. “However long feels right. If you’re here, I might stay a little longer.” She was untucking his shirt now, but Steb was focused on the dishes. Eiden pouted. “If I wanted you to do my dishes, I would’ve asked you over during the day.”

Steb put the dishes down, wiped his hands with a towel tossed haphazardly on the countertop, and turned around. His smile was amused and exasperated. 

“I have a morning shift tomorrow,” he murmured, tucking her hair behind her ear.  

“We’ll make it quick, I promise.”

He shook his head and cupped her jaw. The tips of his fingers brushed the hair at the back of her head. He leaned in, his smile growing when Eiden stood on her tiptoes to catch his lips. He pulled away, smiling at Eiden’s pout. He ran his thumb across her cheek and rested his forehead against hers.

“Don’t lie.” 

Eiden smiled into the kiss. Still on her tiptoes, she draped her arms over his shoulders, carding her fingers through his hair while she traced the ridge on his neck. He shuddered at her touch, his breath hitching as she drew her finger up and down the ridge. Steb cradled her face as he kissed her slow and deep. His lips curved into a smile as Eiden tucked his shirt and popped the buttons. 

Eiden chased his lips when Steb pulled away again. He shushed and soothed her, pressing featherlight kisses to her cheeks. His hands trailed to her thighs.

“May I?” he murmured. 

“Please.”

His grip was firm on the back of her thighs. Eiden gasped when he hoisted her up with ease, and placed her on the island behind her. Whatever Eiden wanted to say was swallowed up by Steb when he kissed her again.

His kisses were always so deep and intense, like he was worshipping her mouth with his soft lips and tongue. He swallowed every whimper Eiden made and dug his fingers into her thigh when she sucked on his tongue. He slid her dress further up her thigh and groaned against her lips when she pulled at his hair. He hardly gave her a moment to breathe, kissing her until she was trembling and had to tilt her head away to catch her breath. 

Steb dragged his lips to her jaw and down her throat, mouthing at her shoulder and back up to her throat. Eiden slid his shirt off his body until it hit the floor. She pressed down on the ridge that trailed from his tailbone to the top of his neck, and Steb moaned into her skin. His hands roamed to her back, climbing up her skin until he traced the sensitive part of where her wings sprouted from her back. He rubbed underneath her wing and Eiden jolted, gasping and gripping his biceps. 

“Mean,” she breathed. She felt Steb smile against her throat. He kissed back up to her mouth, pressing a sweet, chaste kiss to her lips before pulling back to stare at her.

His pupils were blown and his lips were wet and swollen. Her lipstick was smeared all over him, coloring his lips with a dark red tint. One of his teeth was stained too. Steb raised an eyebrow, ran his tongue across his teeth and cleaned the lipstick away. He dragged his thumb below his lip, slow and tantalizing as he stared at Eiden, and sucked away the lipstick he had smudged on his thumb.

“Open,” he whispered, and Eiden obeyed without a second thought. She opened her mouth and Steb slid his thumb in, watching with rapt attention as Eiden sucked on him, swirled her tongue around him while looking up at him through her long eyelashes. He pressed down on her tongue and his breath hitched when her eyes fluttered. He drew his thumb out and Eiden pressed a kiss to the tip, smiling when he smeared her own saliva across her bottom lip.

Eiden cradled his face, resting her forehead against his. He held her waist, and when they kissed again, he pulled her forward until she was sitting at the very edge of the counter, pressed flush against his torso. He nudged her fingers up to the frills below his eyes. She dragged her thumb across them, and delighted in the way he moaned into her mouth. His lips drifted to her jaw and down to her throat. He mouthed at her pulsepoint and teased under her wing until Eiden was trembling beneath him. She breathed his name and ran her fingers across the frills on his chest and sides, delighting in the way he hissed her name.

“Can I mark you?” Steb murmured against her throat, voice thick and wrought with arousal. He pressed light butterfly kisses to her skin, looking up at her with big eyes. 

“Please…” 

Eiden’s lashes fluttered against her cheeks as Steb sucked a pretty mark onto her neck. He ran his tongue over it and dragged his lips back to hers. His hand had trailed so far up her thigh that he was holding her ass now. He squeezed, digging his fingers into her flesh before touching her tail feathers. She jolted against him, the sensation heading straight to her core. It was difficult to breathe as he played with her. She buried her face into the crook of his neck as her body twisted and twitched, unsure if it wanted more or to get away from his touch. 

“Where’s your bedroom?” he whispered into her ear. 

“That one.” Eiden pointed to the door across the room. In a smooth motion, Steb swept her into his arms, holding her like a bride as he headed towards her room. Eiden laughed, her hands falling naturally onto his shoulders. “Such a prince.” 

Steb smiled and kissed her cheek. He placed her on her bed so gently, making sure her head rested comfortably on the pillows, like she really was his princess. 

The bed creaked with his weight as he crawled up her body. He pressed a sweet kiss to her lips, then her cheek and to her jaw, down her neck and to her shoulder. 

“I like this dress,” he murmured, slipping the thin strap off her shoulder. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” His hands roamed her body, searching for the zipper. Eiden helped guide him to the back of her dress. 

“Then I’ll wear it more for you,” Eiden whispered, arching her back so Steb could unzip her dress. 

“Just for me?”

Eiden’s breathy laugh melted into a sigh once Steb started planting kisses all over her exposed skin. “Don’t want anyone else seeing me in that dress, huh?”

Steb shook his head and slid the fabric off her body. “Tonight was enough.” He kissed her shoulder and then trailed his lips down to her chest. They locked eyes as Steb took her nipple into his mouth and swirled his tongue around the bud. Eiden’s sigh was blissful. Her eyes fluttered shut and she carded her fingers through his hair. 

He flicked her nipple with his tongue and pulled at the other one with his hand. Eiden’s breathing grew more ragged, her body hotter beneath him as she arched her back, pressing her chest further into his mouth. She whispered his name like it was a secret just for the two of them. 

Steb kissed down her body, taking his time to mark her skin while Eiden whined for him to hurry up. Steb looked up at her when she said his name, and smiled at the look on her face. He took her hand into his own and pressed gentle kisses all across her knuckles. Then he kissed her stomach, slow and sweet, and caressed her hip while staring at her with his pretty eyes. 

Eiden’s lip quivered. She turned her head to the side, burying her face into the pillow. “You make me feel like it’s the first time.”

Steb chuckled against her skin and held her hand in his own as he drifted down, down until she could feel his breath against her clothed cunt. Her legs were trembling as she spread them. He pressed a soft kiss to her panties and looked up at her. She nodded, gripping his hand like a lifeline even though this was far from their first time ever having sex, but the way he looked at her, the way he kissed her body so reverently, brought back old shyness. 

He kissed the inside of her thighs, licking and leaving his own private marks that only he would see. The way he kissed her, sucked marks into her skin while running his thumb across her fingers made her thighs tremble. 

When he finally started to kiss her panties, Eiden breathed out a blissful thank you. He made out with her cunt through her panties, ignoring her pleas to take them off because he liked to hear how needy she got. When she was all but choking please and Steb and I want more, he generously pulled her panties to the side. He held them to the side with his thumb. He blew a light puff of air against her clit and the sensation made her flinch. 

“Don’t tease,” Eiden whispered. 

Steb breathed a laugh against her core. He pulled his hand from hers, leaving Eiden to grip the sheets as he used his hand to spread Eiden’s lips apart and lick a fat stripe from her ass to her clit. Eiden gasped, hips rocking against his face. He held her open, his long tongue diving into her entrance and pressing against her walls. Her slick coated his tongue and when he moaned, mouth pressed flush against her, the vibrations went straight to her pussy. Her body twitched each time his lips brushed against her clit as his tongue squirmed inside of her. When the hand holding her open moved up to her clit, fingers circling around it, Eiden’s hips lifted off the bed. 

His thumb flicked her clit in quick motions. Eiden whined, high and needy as her head fell back onto the pillows, chest heaving as Steb ate her out like it was his last meal. He circled her clit, wringing out all sorts of noises from Eiden until all she could do was stammer his name and grip his hair, rocking her hips against his face. He moaned against her pussy, tongue deep inside of her as he circled her clit, and the combined pressure and pleasure had tears building at the edges of Eiden’s eyes. 

She rode his face, rolling her hips until she came with a gasp and a shudder, choking on Steb’s name as he continued to flick and roll her clit beneath his thumb. She gripped his hair, back arched and toes curled as he worked her through her orgasm. When it became too much, her thighs squeezed over his head and she tried to push him away. She whined when Steb finally slid his tongue out of her, leaving her pussy to pulse and squeeze on nothing. Her back was still arched when he pressed a soft, tender kiss to her clit and slid her panties back over her pussy. 

Her eyes fluttered shut, just starting to come down from her high when she felt Steb pull back her panties and release it with a loud snap. Eiden yelped, her clit stinging. She finally looked up at Steb, and he was looking at her with such ravenous lust that her stomach swooped. 

Steb removed her panties in a quick motion, tossing them onto the floor before lowering his head between her legs again. 

“Wh-what are you— oh!” Eiden’s head fell back, legs closing over Steb’s head as he licked her cunt again, swallowing up the slick and cum straight from her pussy. With one hand, he held a firm grip on her waist to keep her on the bed as his lips latched onto her clit. He sucked and flicked his tongue over her clit in rapid motions, drinking her shrieks and moans like he did the slick gushing from her pussy. With his other hand, he slipped two fingers easily into her entrance, giving her something to squeeze on while he sucked and licked at her clit. 

He fingered her as his lips stayed latched onto her clit. She barely felt it when he added another finger, all pressed in to the knuckle. Steb never let up even for a second, his tongue rapidly flicking her clit as he fucked her on his fingers. His grip on her hip was too firm for her to squirm away, even as she writhed in place. 

“S-Steb, Steb, it’s too much, please— please, I—!” Eiden gasped, keening between her teeth as Steb curled his fingers. The heat coiling in her gut was coming to a head. Tears were leaking out of her eyes now, overwhelmed as Steb continued to abuse her clit with his tongue and curl his long fingers inside her.

“C’mon, give me one more,” he muttered against her clit. “One more, you can do it.”

“I-I can’t, it–it’s too much, I can’t— I— Steb! Oh, fuck!” She squeezed her thighs tight over his head, words cutting off in a shriek as she came again. Her vision whited out, back arching as her legs and hips spasmed. Steb moaned against her cunt, drinking the cum straight from her pussy as she rode his face and tongue. From above the mound of her pussy, Eiden saw Steb’s eyes roll back into his head as she came all over his face.

He worked her through it until Eiden begged him to stop. He finally pushed himself up and crawled over Eiden’s body until his face was hovering above hers. His face was debauched. The lower half of his face was soaked, dripping with slick and cum. He had a pretty blue blush on his cheeks and he was panting, pupils blown and frills flaring.

He cupped her face, cradling her cheek with such tenderness that Eiden couldn’t help but melt into his hand. Steb leaned down and pressed a sweet, slow kiss to her lips. He slipped his tongue into her mouth, sliding it all the way to the back of her throat. Steb shuddered when Eiden choked and gagged on his tongue. 

Steb leaned back. He rolled her nipples between his fingers as he asked, “do you still want more?”

“Yes, please,” Eiden whispered. “I want all of you.”

Steb smiled and unbuckled his belt. “So greedy,” he whispered, and Eiden swallowed. “You’re insatiable.”

He tossed his pants aside. There was a dark spot on his boxers, where the tip had spilled precum and stained the fabric. He stripped off his boxers and dropped them on the floor. The gills on his pelvis, fluttering with arousal, had opened to reveal his pretty dick. It was a pretty blue color, the tip purple and leaking with arousal, with frills and ridges on it. 

Steb traced her legs, looking at her with a questioning look. Eiden nodded. It had been so long since they’d seen each other, since they basked in each other’s warmth and love, that Eiden didn’t want to do anything but missionary.

Steb grabbed her legs and spread them apart, resting her ankles on his shoulders. He stroked his dick a few times to spread the precum, and then he was lining up at her entrance. Her pussy throbbed when he brushed against her. He rubbed his dick up and down her dripping folds, and then he was pushing in.

Eiden was so wet and loose from her previous orgasms that Steb was able to push in with ease. He groaned, leaning over her body and burying his face into her neck. Instinctively, she threw one arm over his shoulder and tangled her other hand into his hair. They moaned in tandem when Steb bottomed out, her pussy throbbing and squeezing around him. He was panting heavy against her neck, mouthing at her skin and rolling his hips like he was trying to get even deeper. 

“So good,” Eiden whispered, pressing featherlight kisses to his ears. He shuddered and whimpered against her skin. “Always so good for me.”

“Eiden,” he whispered. Steb rolled his hips, eyes and frills fluttering as he savored the feeling of her pussy. He rested his forehead against hers, a pretty divot between his eyebrows, and kissed her as he made love to her. Every rock of his hips was slow and reverent, like the way he kissed her. He smoothed the feathers on her ears and peppered her feathered cheeks with butterfly kisses. 

They made out as they slowly fucked. Steb whimpered with each movement of his hips, his movements growing stronger and faster. It didn’t take long for Steb to lean his forehead against Eiden’s, moaning and whimpering as he snapped his hips hard and fast, hitting the deepest parts of Eiden’s pussy and carving it open with the ridges of his dick. Eiden felt like her pussy was on fire. Each snap of his hips left her clit throbbing and walls squeezing around him.

“So beautiful,” Steb whispered, his breathing heavy and thrusts growing erratic. “So gorgeous.”

He fucked her until her legs were trembling, toes curling as they slotted their lips together in a sloppy rendition of a kiss. Their kiss was more shared moans and sliding tongues than a real kiss, but it had Eiden clawing marks into Steb’s back anyway. He held her face with one hand, cradling her so tenderly, so gently, as his hand slid down to her swollen clit. Eiden shrieked when he started flicking and rolling it beneath his finger. She writhed in place, but Steb kept her body down with his shoulders pressed into her knees. 

“Feels so good,” he murmured against her lips, drinking in her moans and sobs. The combined pleasure of Steb fucking her while he circled her swollen clit had Eiden crying, gripping Steb like he was her last lifeline. “You’re perfect.”

Eiden’s orgasm rushed through her, sudden and electric, lighting her entire body on fire as her back arched, eyes rolling back in her head and mouth open in a silent scream. Her nails dug into Steb’s skin, her body trembling beneath his as he fucked her through her third orgasm. It was too much. Her entire body felt oversensitive, tingling with the sensation and pleasure of her third release. 

Steb moaned against her skin, whispering about how beautiful she was and how good she felt. He rolled his hips deep into her throbbing pussy, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his own orgasm. When he finally came, it was so deep that Eiden swore she could feel it in her stomach. He moaned, frills fluttering euphorically against his cheek as he filled her with so much cum that she could feel it leak out of her and onto the sheets. 

Steb cooed at her, kissing her tears away as he worked himself through his orgasm. Then captured Eiden’s lips in a deep kiss that carried the high for just a little longer. Steb sighed blissfully against her lips. When they pulled away, Steb sprinkled light kisses all over her face; on her forehead, her temples, her cheeks and the corner of her mouth. His hands rubbed her body, soothing her skin. They both groaned when he finally pulled out, and all the cum he pumped into her came spilling out onto the sheets. 

Her body felt like jello. Tingling and weak, her nerves were spent. She didn’t have the energy to speak, so when Steb looked at her with a worried expression, she smiled and signed to him, don’t be sorry. I’m alright.

He stood up, and Eiden watched as he headed to the bathroom connected to the room. He returned with a towel, and he wiped up the pool of cum that had spilled out of Eiden. He set that towel aside, and then went back into the bathroom. This time, he returned with a cloth soaked with warm water. Gently, he ran the cloth across Eiden’s legs, cleaning the mess and warming her body. 

She giggled when he pressed a soft kiss to her temple. 

I’ll get you some water, he signed. Eiden nodded, and he disappeared into the main room. He was quick to return with two glasses of water. He placed them both on the nightstand, and helped Eiden sit up. He rearranged the pillows to make sure she was comfortable, and then sat beside her. He handed her the glass of water, and Eiden downed it. 

She sighed and leaned on his shoulder. Steb sipped at his water, entwining his fingers with hers. Eiden’s energy was slowly coming back to her. 

“I’ve missed you,” she murmured, her voice a little hoarse.

Steb smiled and brought her hand up to his mouth. He placed a soft kiss on her palm, his gaze so tender and adoring. He kissed down her arm and then back up to her palm, smiling at the way Eiden giggled. 

He finished his water and placed both their glasses back on the nightstand. 

Let me massage you, he signed. You’ll be sore in the morning. Eiden smiled, amused and endeared. 

“After cuddles.”

Steb’s smile was just as amused. You never change. Still, he obliged her and settled next to her, pulling Eiden close to his chest. He pressed kisses to her hair, trailing his fingers up and down her back and smoothing the feathers on her wings. Eiden sighed in his embrace, letting herself relax in his arms. 

How she had missed his warmth.

[moltensmusings]

I'd seen people talk before about how yang became much less feminine once she was an amputee/was gearing up to get with Blake and honestly I don't think that really sunk in until arrowfell.

There is a notable difference between how yang is depicted vs how the other girls are. They have visible lips, soft coloring around their eyes, and notably yang isn't drawn as busty as she is in canon. Being busty isn't inherently sexual. It's a normal thing for some people to just have a larger chest but the choice to make yang more flat than the others feels intentional.

Yang was one of the more girly in the group at the start

She's drawn as soft and flirty in a way that leads to it being a bit of a surprise when she's the brawler of the group. She wears skirts and is comfortable in heels. Out of the 4 it's Ruby who is the tomboy. Ruby who is averse to fancy dresses and heels, who dresses practical constantly.

But when yang loses her arm, we see a shift.

Now I don't think the shift in her visual in volume 4 is bad necessarily. Her losing a portion of her body and not being capable of finding her identity following that makes sense. Her dressing less like her usual self is fine in theory. But that's not what the intention of the shift was and it's clear once we get to volume 7.

Now I Want to note: I'm a massive volume 7 yang design fan. But I can also acknowledge how bias' might have shaped it. It's also important to note we don't actually have a super feminine character with a prosthetic in the show.

Queer and physically disabled people both have an issue in media of them almost being seen as seperate from feminity. As if you need a certain level of physical perfection to perform it. Before Yang, the only female character with physical evidence of a battle injury was Weiss who has a tiny facial scar that to me isn't at all reflective of the actual fight she was in. It's a delicate injury.

I think this shift was also tied to the fandom perception that yang being a brawler means she has to be more masculine by nature when her original design was a subversion of it. Her shift was done so most of the fandom didn't even notice it was there.

Note: I don't think the writers did it maliciously I think it was unconscious bias that caused it. I'm not trying to hate on them, but I do think it's worth a mention

[zeroseuniverse]

Ready To Love

Word Count: 931 Summry: She glared. "And you’re annoyingly good with them." Kun smirked. "I’m annoyingly good at a lot of things." Pairing: Kun X fem Reader

Navigation

She was not built for chaos. Her life was meticulously organized—calendars color-coded, deadlines met weeks in advance, and every meal planned down to the last calorie. Disruptions were unacceptable.

So when her best friend called her in a panic, she should have known better than to pick up.

“___, please, I swear it’s just for a week,” Her friend pleaded. The desperation in her voice was evident, but she was already shaking her head, even though she couldn’t see her.

“ I have meetings, deadlines, I can’t—”

“Nari loves you! And I have no one else. My mom’s out of town, my cousin bailed, and if I cancel this work trip, my boss will actually fire me.”

She hesitated. The thought of caring for a toddler—a whole human being—for an entire week made her stomach clench. But then she heard a soft giggle in the background, followed by Nari’s tiny voice:

“Auntie ___?”

Damn it.

She sighed. “One week. That’s it.”

Her friend exhaled in relief. “You’re a lifesaver. I owe you so much.”

Yeah, she did.

She learned very quickly that a two-year-old had no respect for schedules, efficiency, or the concept of personal space.

Nari was adorable, sure—pudgy cheeks, big eyes, and an alarming ability to wrap her around her tiny fingers—but she was also a menace. She refused to sit still, turned meal times into a war zone, and somehow managed to make her feel like the most incompetent adult in the world.

By the end of the first day, she was exhausted. Her apartment was covered in toys (which she definitely didn’t own before), her inbox was overflowing, and her neatly structured life had been completely derailed.

Then came the final straw.

She was struggling to get Nari into her stroller for a quick grocery run when she heard a low chuckle from behind.

"Need some help?"

She turned and found herself face-to-face with her neighbor—Kun.

Of course it had to be him.

Kun had always been... annoyingly perfect. The kind of guy who helped elderly neighbors carry their groceries, always remembered birthdays, and had a seemingly endless supply of patience. He was also ridiculously charming—the worst kind of person.

“I’m fine,” she muttered, trying to wrestle Nari’s arm through the stroller straps.

Kun raised an eyebrow, then knelt in front of Nari. “Hey, kiddo. You wanna help me out here?”

To her absolute betrayal, Nari grinned and reached for him immediately. Kun fastened her in the stroller in three seconds flat.

She scowled. “How—?”

He smirked. “Oldest of four. I’ve been through this before.”

Of course.

By the third day, she had no choice but to accept defeat.

After another sleepless night—Nari hated sleeping, apparently—she found herself standing outside Kun’s apartment, knocking hesitantly.

He opened the door, eyebrows raised. “Wow. You look—”

“Finish that sentence and die,” she muttered.

He grinned. “How can I help?”

She exhaled. “I need a break. Just an hour.”

Kun didn’t hesitate. “Done.”

She blinked. “Wait, really?”

“Of course,” he said easily. “I like kids.”

“You like everything.”

He laughed. “Not everything. But I do like helping you.”

She ignored the way her stomach flipped at that.

Kun took Nari to the park, giving her an hour of blissful, uninterrupted silence. When he brought her back, she was laughing—giggling—and he looked so effortlessly at ease with her that something in her chest ached.

"She’s an angel," Kun said fondly.

She stared at him like he’d lost his mind. "She’s a demon.”

He just chuckled. "You’re just bad with kids."

She glared. "And you’re annoyingly good with them."

Kun smirked. "I’m annoyingly good at a lot of things."

By now, Kun had somehow wormed his way into her daily routine. He showed up with breakfast, played with Nari when she had meetings, and made her laugh more than she had in years.

It was getting dangerous.

She wasn't looking for romance. She barely had time for herself, let alone a relationship. But Kun made it so easy.

And the worst part? She liked it.

That night, after Nari had fallen asleep, she found herself sitting beside him on her couch, both nursing cups of tea.

“I don’t get it,” she admitted. “Why are you like this?”

Kun tilted his head. “Like what?”

“Nice. Patient. Helpful. Just... good.”

He smiled softly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because life isn’t like that.”

Kun studied her for a moment. “I think you just haven’t let yourself slow down enough to see the good parts.”

She swallowed. No one had ever said something like that to her before.

And the scariest part?

She wasn't sure he was wrong.

When her friend arrived to pick up Nari, she expected to feel relieved.

Instead, her chest felt... hollow.

She handed Nari over, ruffling her hair as she clung to her one last time.

“Bye-bye, Auntie!” she giggled.

She smiled. “Bye, munchkin.”

As they left, she turned to Kun, suddenly feeling awkward. Without Nari around, there was no reason for him to keep showing up. No excuse to let him into her life.

But he lingered.

“So,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “What now?”

She hesitated. “I don’t know.”

Kun’s gaze was steady. “I do.”

Her heart pounded. “Oh?”

“Dinner,” he said simply. “With me.”

Her lips parted. “With or without a toddler?”

He smirked. “Let’s start with just us.”

And for once in her life, she let the schedule go.

“Okay,” she whispered.

Kun’s smile was slow, warm, and full of something terrifyingly real.

Maybe—just maybe—this was a kind of chaos she could learn to love.

[nekohime19]

Wukong study in LMK # PILOT

Let's gooo! I already did a study for Macaque, tbh I still have to post the study for S5 but I hadn't got the chance to edit it yet 😅.

Though now I wanna talk about Wukong! His character, his evolution, how we perceive him and how he's shown. I have seen some people complain about Wukong, about how he's a bad mentor, how he made the worst choices possible…and, well, I wanna go back on that.

Truly, the fact he's not a perfect mentor is what makes me like him.

So here we go, this is gonna be long 😌:

The pilot is our introduction to Wukong and it already tells a lot as it is.

The first minutes of LMK is about Wukong. DBK is going rampant in a nearby city and the Legendary Monkey King appears to stop him. Tang's voice narrates the whole encounter, which gives the scene an epic feel, but also makes both characters, DBK and Wukong, more flat. By that I mean that they feel more like characters from legends than people.

This feeling is reinforced by the fact that neither of them talk. During the whole fight sequence we hear grunts and groans but no exchange in-between them. In fact, the only voice that can be heard is Tang's. The silence of both DBK and Wukong make them feel like puppets, only characters of legends that Tang narrates.

Voices, logos in particular, is a human characteristic (logos is a Greek concept, more precisely it is the ability to speak being seen as the ability to reason, and thus speech being the characteristic of human beings. In literature and many other media stripping a character of their logos/voice is a way to strip them of their humanity. ). Stripping a character of their voice is a way to make them feel inhuman. Here, the fact that neither DBK nor Wukong speaks makes them feel like legends, being of paper more than flesh.

Our first shot of Wukong is this one :

He's presented as a shining beacon. The hero who comes from heaven and descends to save the mortals. The clouds part under his feet, the sun shines in his back and even though DBK appears infinitely larger, Wukong is the one with power, he's physically above DBK which gave his appearance a sense of power.

The whole shot basks in his colors (gold/yellow), even DBK is plunged in his shadow.

Afterward, throughout the fight, Wukong showcases his numerous powers (72 transformations /staff / clones). He feels unbeatable. Mighty. And end the fight by dropping a mountain on DBK.

Once the fight scene ends, our focus is brought to Tang, who closes a book, and MK. That in itself told us that the first appearance of Wukong is not truly Wukong himself but more his legend. In fact, we can even argue that the whole fight we just watched was the fruit of either Tang's or MK's imagination.

As such we're introduced to Wukong as MK sees him : an unbeatable hero, a shining beacon. A perfect being who protects those in need. Which is in fact quite clever, because MK is the MC, so it makes sense for us to be introduced to Wukong as MK sees him.

So what is the first real appearance of Wukong then?

Yes. That's him. That's our guy. The bird in the shadows. A pretty underwhelming appearance isn't it? He's not shining, he's not gleaming like the sun, he's not even a monkey. At this point, even if we saw Wukong's bird form during his fight with DBK, we're not even sure if it's really Wukong.

Wukong wasn't even following MK, he was already here, probably to keep watch on the Bull family. MK just happened to stumble here and Wukong took interest in him.

Wukong as a bird become some sort of comedic aspect. He watches the Bulls schemes with MK, even nips at MK's fingers to make him fall.

Afterward, Wukong follows MK closely, each of his appearances gives rhythm to the different scenes. He acts like a link in-between the different scenes.

They're searching for the Monkey and he's right here, under their noses, but none notices him. Probably, because none would believe Wukong is this measle butterfly perched on the railing. Why would the Great Monkey King follow them?

I think it's a great subversion of what we could have expected of the Monkey King. We expected someone great, someone perfect. At the end of the journey, Wukong is supposed to be enlightened, to be flawless. Yet he clearly isn't. And that's the whole point of Wukong in the pilot. He defies our expectations of him by being… imperfect.

Story-wise, I think Wukong is monitoring them. We can see that he watches both the Bulls and MK's team, he's silent, observant, clearly he isn't letting fate decide. He's not irresponsible enough to not observe the situation and let others deal with it. Yet he's intrigued by MK. He wants to see what the boy is capable of. What he is, perhaps. That's probably why he involved MK in the situation by nipping his fingers and making him fall right in the middle of DBK's resurrection.

When MK falls on FFM and enters the water-curtain cave, he sees visions of the pilgrims. He see a vision of Wukong, perfect, shining with a golden hue, and think it's the real Wukong, yet when he tries to touch him, the illusion fade away :

There is great symbolism here. MK chases after an illusion. A legend. An afterimage of Wukong that will never be the truth. Clearly, the show is already telling us to not trust our assumptions of Wukong, to not see him as a perfect hero, because he will not be that.

MK had an epic introduction right there. With imagery of the journey highlighted in gold. This introduction felt mighty, it felt heroic, worthy of the Monkey King. Yet it's not real. In contrast, the true Wukong is introduced to MK through a joke, through a comedic light.

Wukong tries to introduce himself but MK squashes him under his foot like a bug. Sorry, Wukong, you tried.

Afterward, Wukong pushes MK's feet away and goes through an epic sequence of transformations to finally properly introduce himself. The show is playing with our assumptions of Wukong, especially by alternating epic and comedic tones.

Wukong is first presented as epic through Tang's storytelling, then he's seen in a comedic light during DBK's resurrection because of his “bird shenanigans”. Then MK sees an epic version of Wukong, only to find out it's an illusion and stumble upon him through a joke.

When you finally think, perhaps the Monkey King is really a joke? Wukong still introduces himself in an epic fashion.

Clearly, Wukong isn't perfect, he's not the hero you (or MK) thought BUT he's still a hero nonetheless. That's why the show is playing with those two different tones (epic and comedic) to introduce Wukong.

The conversation that follows between MK and Wukong paints Wukong as a laid-back and somewhat lazy person, he's reclining on his cloud, eating peach-chips. He's not the wise master we expected to see. In fact, he's very elusive, seems like he doesn't even care.

His advice is admittedly not that great (even a smidge can make the difference) but ultimately it is what pushes MK forward, it is what gives him the confidence to step up and become the protagonist.

And again, like the show subverted Wukong character, the show is also subverting MK's quest.

MK thought he was here to give the staff to Wukong, but turns out Wukong had been following him this whole time, 🤡. That's because MK's real quest isn't finding Wukong, it's to become the protagonist. The MONKIE KID. In the end, MK needs to be established as the MC. Wukong can't defeat DBK, it isn't his role anymore, it's MK's. In the same fashion, MK isn't the Monkey King, he's the Monkie Kid.

As we can see in this shot. MK is the one forward, he is the protagonist. Wukong is behind, smaller, because it's not his story anymore, it's MK's. The whole pilot is about MK establishing himself and carrying Wukong's legacy.

In the end, once MK defeats DBK, we can see Wukong silently bowing to him.

This is a symbolic passing of his duty to MK. He's not the hero anymore, MK is. He inclines himself before his successor as a way to show he acknowledges him and that MK is taking up his torch. At the same time the mere fact that he's here shows that he's not letting the kid fend off alone. He was here if anything went awry.

So what does the pilot tell us about Wukong?

First, Wukong isn't perfect. He's not like his legend, and as MK needs to let go of this afterimage of Wukong we, as an audience, also needs to let go. We will follow MK through his adventures and as the plot progresses, gradually, we will see Wukong for who he is rather than what we thought he was.

Second, Wukong will not be the stereotypical wise master that we are used to in other media.

The figure of the wise master is often presented as someone that cannot be surpassed, as someone silent, serious with poise and grace. Someone that will make no mistakes, that will be perfect in their teachings. Someone that feels like a pillar. A mountain that the student needs to overcome to end their training.

An example of a common stereotypical wise master would be Master Wu of Ninjago.

In contrast, Wukong is the opposite of this ideal of a wise master. He's shown as lazy, gluttonous with generic advice that anyone could give. Wukong is shown as an antithesis of the stereotypical wise master, he is a deconstruction of this ideal.

It makes Wukong feel way more human.

In fact, I would argue that he is better than other stereotypical wise masters because contrary to them, Wukong learns from MK, he is growing alongside his student. His journey isn't over. I love this because often than not masters in other media rarely if ever learn from their students, it feels like they reached a point where they have nothing more to learn. But it's not true, you will always be able to learn new things from life. In fact, Wukong in his ability to learn from MK showcases much more humility than others masters that consider themselves at the zenith of their own learning.

So I reached the end of this analysis of the pilot. I'll do another post for Wukong in season 1!

If you disagree with me then no hate. This is only my interpretation of Wukong and his appearances. I try to be as clear and unbiased as possible but, you know, I still love Wukong very much so my view of him in LMK will be biased no matter what I try to do, 😅.

Anyway, glad you read this long post of mine. See you for the nest post on Wukong 😉. Btw if you liked reading this, I also made studies on Macaque (You'll find them under the tag Macaque study).

Next

[munsster]

hitched?

A/N: i love love love proposal/marriage trope 💞 she is near and dear to my little heart

Pairings: Steve Harrington x GN!Reader

Summary: Steve gives you a cold proposal, maybe you just need to warm up to the idea? 1.5k words.

Warnings: fluff, proposal, marriage and divorce discussion, pet names (sweetheart), insecurity, marriage propoganda, little bit o angst, lovesickness 🥺

“C'monnn," he whines with a big grin stretched across his face, "why won't you marry me, sweetheart? Don't like me enough?"

"I like you plenty, Harrington, but I won't marry you."

"Why not? I've got solid genes. Great hair, perfect smile—"

"Marriage is stupid; name one good thing that comes outta marriage."

He takes a second. Really, he pores over it all while sidling up close enough to catch your breath. And he's looking at you like getting married is more than an age-old phrase used by people looking for wealth or status or power or whatever. He's looking at you like getting married is more than tradition. Like getting married to you would be for love. Not for the hell of it.

"One good thing, huh?"

"One thing, that's all."

"Gosh"—he tilts his head back and guides his cold fingertips into the opening of your coat and around your sides, dipping them beneath your blouse with a smirk—"Besides the whole you're mine and I'm yours deal, it'll be kinda hard to think of something."

"But I am yours. And you are mine."

"Forever?"

You drop your forehead to his chest with a heavy sigh. And he feels your pulse down your spine, carefully calculating how much room is left between each vertebrae and trying to ignore the way your heart rate spikes at the question. Then comes your soft grumble:

"Fifty percent of all marriages end in divorce, and the rest of 'em end in death. The odds are pretty much stacked against us, Stevie."

He takes a deep breath and tilts your chin up, looking concerned as ever with his brow furrowed sweetly. It tempts you. His face is so touchable—holdable—it's awful the way he uses it against you. On you. He gets what he wants with it.

"Hold on, now, sweetheart, you think we're gonna get divorced? Where's this coming from?

"Well... what if you don't want me forever?"

It gets him antsy. He's bugging out at the thought. You think he won't want you forever. You're worried he'll change his mind. How could he ever change his mind when you're all that's on it.

"What if I—" he scoffs a little and pulls away to look at you, "'what if I don't want you forever?'"

You shrug. "Yeah."

"Where'd you get that idea?"

"Dunno. It could happen."

"Not for me. Not to us."

"It could! I don't wanna trap you into a marriage you'll regret for the rest of your life."

"Trap me? Sweetheart, you think I'd ask you to marry me if I didn't mean it."

"Dunno."

"I mean, I know that I can be a little ambitious at times and that I come off a little ignorant, but I mean well. It's not like I have this idealized vision of marriage in my head. You've seen my parents, my mom's parents, my dad's parents, hell even Dustin's parents. I know all about the fifty percent, alright? And I wanna marry you."

Oh, despite, despite, despite he wants to marry you. Despite the odds and despite what he knows and what he can't know. Despite himself he wants to marry you. To have and to hold, that's the promise. His promise. It makes his blood curdle, he's so excited at the thought of it. His ring, your finger. God, the choice of despite and all its exhilaration.

But you give him that droopy look. You hold his hands and pull your mouth into a flat little line. And it makes him want to kiss it away. Bring back the fullness and color.

"Why can't we just... go through the motions? I don't want you to feel stuck if you change your mind down the road."

You moan and drop your head back, embarrassed now that you're hearing it out loud. Not because you've suddenly changed your mind and not because you don't want to marry him, but because why should he marry you? With all the choices in the world, all the fish in the sea and the stars in the sky, why you? And if you had only asked, you'd know why. He has reasons enough to fill the sea and the sky over and over. Oh, if only you'd ask.

He sees it in your waterline. How your lip quivers and you bring your hands to your cheeks and your lashes grow damp and solemnly temperamental. It makes every bone in his poor body want to fuse with yours. If he had some sort of industrial strength, non-toxic glue, he'd probably use it on the two of you. He wants forever more than he knows. Forever with you. Two rings and as many decades as forever allows.

But maybe it's not that forever is impossible for you and Steve. It's not that he can't afford any of it or he's not romantic enough or forever might only be a month or you don't want to or you both wouldn't love it. No, it's something vaguely familiar and much more nuanced. Something he's known very well once before.

"Sweetheart... You're tellin' me you won't marry me 'cause you think you're disposable or something? 'S that it? You don't want forever 'cause you think I'll... I'll just change my mind?"

"No."

"Hey, look at me, how could I—"

"No—Steve—"

"C'mon, you're killin' me, I love—"

"Steve, please—"

"You, sweetheart, all you. And you love me, don't you?"

You sigh and cast your wet eyes down like you're intimidated, and it makes him feel too big. Too much, too heavy, too loud, too loving. Until you grab his hand. And look up at him. And he's just right, though he feels bad he's the reason you're tearing up.

"Yes, I love you, I love you so much, but—"

"But, what?"

"But... what if that changes? What if I can't promise you the life you want, and what if you can't promise you'll love me forever? What am I supposed to do when you're done loving me, and... and you don't want my love anymore? What then? We'll just be married and unhappy and fighting until we hate each other?"

"No, that's not—"

"It happens, Steve," you huff. He pushes the tears from your cheeks before you even catch yourself sobbing and holding his wrists. "It happens everyday, and I want... I want you to have an out because I would rather you leave loving me than spend the rest of your life despising me for what you could've had without me."

He's never heard this kind of woe before. Not from you. You the spitfire, the stubborn, the meanest, sweetest, most beautiful and affectionate. You, filled with woe enough to burst. And you do.

He tugs you close, arms slung around you and one hand on the back of your neck because it's warm. Because you told him one time that it feels safe when he does that. He liked the way you said it muffled into his shoulder. But now you're shaken, and you have to know he loves you.

"You know what I love most about you?"

He feels your lungs expand into the dip of his tummy and peter out into a soft whine. You shake your head, 'no'.

"There's lots'a things, but top of the list? Gotta be the way you cover your face when you get grossed out or embarrassed or annoyed—”

You chuckle and groan at the snot that bubbles from your nostril. His face screws in and he wipes his thumb under your nose, wiping it on the thigh of his jeans with a disgruntled sound.

"We're so gross," you grumble, sniffling and wrapping your arms sweetly around his waist.

He sighs with a grin.

"I guess it's meant to be," he coos. You rest your chin on his chest, pecking his jaw just as he beams at you and dips close for a kiss. He's warm like a heater. Perpetual and renewable and reliable. And you get to thinking: he's got the prettiest brown eyes in the whole world and ninety-percent of the time, he's got them laser focused on you. He squeezes your hip and whispers: "There's no way in Hell I'll ever change my mind about loving you."

You play up a big frown, fat tears welling in the corners of your eyes until he smooches your face content. It's hard to believe in the kind of love that stays and promises and thrives despite. Despite any statistic or preconceived notion. Despite the past and despite the future. The kind of love that exists to better and grow. The kind of love shared between romantics and poets and lunatics alike. It's hard to believe until you've got it in your steady palms.

"I promise I'll do it properly with the ring and the knee and the view and the speech," he hums.

"I'd say yes even if you forgot all of that."

"You mean it?" he chirps, excitement tense in his muscles when you play with a longer strand of his hair.

"I do."

masterlist

[tshortik]

Hiiiiiiiii 👀 👉👈 thats SUCH a cool redesign for Zariel, it got me so excited to DM a DiA campaign. Any tips for running it? I LOVE YOUR ART ITS SO AMAZING AND THE COLORS ARE SO PRETTY, THANK YOU FOR SHARING IT OKBYEE

Aww thank you so much! ❤❤❤ I LOVE Descent into Avernus, but my love is a complicated one. I do think it is a really good, albeit difficult module, to learn how to become a better DM, though... I will explain.

The lore in DiA is pretty flat and the campaign is pretty railroady by design. If you have a roleplay-heavy group, I think it is best to heavily alter the module and incorporate things in there, that are very relevant to your players. That is also its magic though, because you can make the conscious decision to just use DiA as a base and structure, that you then heavily alter. The premise of the main quest is cool and imo easy to follow, so taking that and shaping everything around it can be pretty neat. I don't think I would have learned as much as a DM, if I had just used a "perfect" module that already did everything for me. If that is not what one looks for though, that's also understandable.

Tips:

In DiA, the characters start in Baldur's Gate, which is imo the absolute worst decision I've ever seen. Elturel's fate is integral to the story, so I recommend having your PCs at least see what happens to Elturel. I recommend the oneshot The Fall of Elturel for that, where the PCs become witness to Elturel's fate from afar. It will also cover the low-level sessions in a neat way. Having at least one player character with a connection to that city also really helps. Otherwise, your PCs will just go "Oh wow how terrible. Anyway, I'm not from there anyway, don't know anyone from there, never been there, whatever lmao."

Some people cut out the Baldur's Gate part, but my group enjoyed that area a lot, so you can use it for roleplay-heavy sessions and fleshing out the lore. It is also a great sandbox to figure out how you as the DM will implement your characters goals and backstory into the plot, before venturing forth. Having a player character from Baldur's Gate or with a connection from there is also perfect. SPOILERS: Same thing with Candlekeep as well. It is a wicked cool location that is not explored in the module at all, but it might end up a very interesting mini arc for your PCs if you approach it on your own terms.

To flesh out the lore and make everything feel more lived in and logical (note: there are some very silly bits in the module, that would make a thoughtful player immediately go "that makes NO sense lol"), I recommend checking out the Alexandrian Remix. It can go on huge tangents that are unnecessary for your own means though, so don't feel like you have to stick to it 100%. It does have some really neat ideas and fixes for the lore though, and I have ended up using it more than the actual book lmao.

Avernus as a Sandbox is also great. In general, if you find a way to give your players choice in where they go in the Nine Hells, they will probably have a good time. I think they should def feel pressure and know of a goal, but also make sure that they have power over what road they take there, you know?

I mentioned Candlekeep – Elminster's Candlekeep Companion is also an amazing resource if you wanna flesh out that location. I have also heard of some people adding adventures from Candlekeep Mysteries in there, but I didn't do it myself cuz my players felt time pressure.

Contrast the evil, awful and depressing with moments that are nice and calm, even if it's just roleplay opportunities. Otherwise everything will feel like a drag. On the other hand, don't be afraid to then overwhelm your players by throwing a bit too much at them afterwards. High tensions and emotions are perfect for the setting imo, but you need to design it with ups and lows as to not overwhelm.

I have completely rewritten some of the Forgotten Realms lore, changed characters' genders and names and races in the book (Ravengard is a woman in my story, Reya is a dragonborn, etc.) especially about the deities. Don't be afraid to make the story your own. I also incorporated the player backstories heavily into the plot, which makes them sometimes go on completely homebrewed sidequests. Embrace that and don't be afraid of it!

Sometimes players also see connections where there are none, or they speculate about super wild stuff – and this might be controversial – but sometimes it is really neat to take some of those ideas (not all! otherwise there is no surprise) and make them actually relevant, even if they weren't before. If your players are engaged, that is always the best possible situation. Making some of their thoughts true can be on one hand extremely satisfying for them, and on the other hand they will make your own made-up-world much more interesting, because they collaborated unknowingly in making it so much richer and complex.

It really helps the flow of the campaign to have at least one PC that is: Morally dubious, or interested in deities, religion or lore. If not, you as the DM can attempt to make them more interested until they actually get to Avernus, through new goals or revelations. The themes of the Nine Hells have a lot to do with corruption and betrayal and emotions, so having characters with themes that go into that direction will make it easier to keep your players engaged.

This is my own opinion, but maybe play a couple devil npcs with this motto: There are certain good deeds only a devil can commit. Devils are the enemies, but they also have to become your allies. Your characters will be literally walking through a plane that is inhabited primarily by devils, and they will have to speak to some of them or parlay, if they don't want to be ripped to shreds immediately. Devils are smart and cunning, and many would prefer to talk it out, instead of risking their lives in the Nine Hells. This can also be an opportunity to explore corruption or redemption arcs, or to explore fiendish pacts. Both can flesh out the story tremendously. 👀

The setting gives you the opportunity to explore some esoteric and theological concepts. IF that is your jam (it is certainly mine), think about how you make that digestible to your players. They could find lore in a library, find strange ruins, meet a powerful deity, get visions by other deities, be manipulated by archdevils, etc. You don't have to leave it all as subtext, because devils and angels and otherwise literally become a central point of the campaign. Also don't be afraid to get weird about angels and devils. They are from a different plane – making them a little alien, letting them have absolutely wild opinions about the universe, not needing to fit them into our ideas of science – that is rly interesting stuff to explore as a PC and also DM. Resources (optional)

Flee Mortals by MCDM, Tome of Beasts (2023), Tome of Beasts 2, Creature Codex have really awesome monsters

Encounters in Avernus

The Encyclopedia of Demons & Demonology by Rosemary Ellen Guiley is a book that I own privately for some creative projects, but I got some neat inspiration from it for my campaign too!

A lot of the lore in Dnd is very questionable, but especially in the older versions you can find some wild and creative shit (and also lots of problematic rubbish you can just filter out lmao) that is mentioned once and then never again. Little nuggets like that usually inspire me the most and a simple sentence can spawn an entire lore or mission idea for me. Some books that you might find interesting (try to find a pdf version online cuz they aren't printed anymore) are Fiendish Codex I: Hordes of the Abyss, Fiendish Codex II: Tyrants of the Nine Hells (3.5), Guide to Hell (2e), Manual of the Planes (3.5).

[internetgiraffekid1673]

Time for the next edition in: "The Batfam Brainrot has taken over my life, temporarily turned this into a comics blog, and forced me to draw them all!" Today, it's time for a SPOILER WARNING!

Initial trace and half-baked background of Stephanie Brown! My beloved, my darling, my favorite child! Stephanie Brown has actually had a multitude of different superhero mantles and costumes! She's usually depicted as Spoiler or Batgirl (although she's also Robin IV), but not with this costume. Unlike with Jason though, I didn't feel the need to draw all these other costumes because this is my definitive favorite! This is more or less her original costume, and I think it's her best by far! The pointy hood and the full black face mask make her look so intimidating, but it's also really simple and easy to read, and that deep purple color being her ENTIRE costume is really unique for a vigilante! Even better, all of these clothes do look like things Steph may have just had in her closet, which is perfect since she literally did just throw on a homemade costume to start going after her awful father. It's cool, it's intimidating, it's unique, it's instantly recognizable, it makes sense for the character, and it's perfect!

Stylization time where I use my trace as a reference to freehand her into a chibi! This whole project has made me realize I really like drawing capes and need to come up with more excuses to give them to people, but Steph's cape is definitely my favorite so far. I think it's that it's actually a cloak, with the hood and the part of her shoulders. It just looks extra cool and is extra fun to draw! Probably due to the simplicity of her costume and the fact that she's my favorite, Steph was both the easiest and the most fun to stylize thus far.

Characterization pose! Steph is cheerful, kind, spunky, and energetic, so I thought whooping for joy would be a good choice. I tried to draw her so that, standing flat, she's just the slightest bit taller than Tim. I've got them all in a lineup that I'll post when I'm finished. I'm a big fan of Steph in both overalls and a ponytail. For me, it contributes to both her spunk and her sweetness. I also think spoiler's logo text is my favorite so far. I traced it off a comics cover, as per usual, although Steph doesn't have a solo comic in the Spoiler identity, so I had to steal it off a Robin comic. It looks like she used permanent marker or spray paint to haphazardly smack it on there and get in everyone's way, which is very on brand.

Other Batfamily Members:

Nightwing Edition

Red Hood Edition

Robin (Carrie Kelley) Edition

Red Robin Edition

[ouroborosorder]

what do you think the most stellar examples of arknights' vfx are?

Okay so there are a lot of examples, so I'm going to try to keep my description of each one short. Unsurprisingly, most of my favorite effects are on more recent, paid skins for fan-favorite/meta 6* operators, since those are the ones they put their whole ass into.

Executor the Ex Foedere. The way that it weaves blasts of light and the shapes of Sankta wings into his shotgun blasts is absurdly creative. Perfect for a saint of Laterano.

Passenger's Skin. Specifically his S3. Stellar lightning is a weird pitch, but it's so fucking beautiful that it works. This is the effect that convinced me that I might enjoy being a VFX artist after all, not fucking kidding.

Jessica Alter. Look. Her skills are underwhelming as fuck, they're all the same shot effects every time. But. Do you genuinely understand how amazing these gunshots look? Do you know how hard it is to make a stylized gunshot that doesn't just look like magic? These are breathtakingly good. The glass shattering on hit genuinely made my jaw drop when I first saw it.

Eyjafjalla the Hvit Aska. It's hard to make a healer that genuinely looks unique, but Eyjalter's dreamlike colors and flat effects manage to bring the visual style of So Long Adele into every map and make it look reasonable with the artstyle.

Kirin R Yato. Monster Hunter's effects are extremely distinct, and seeing them recreate MH's style in Arknights' is really lovely. My one sorrow is that I wish there was more lightning, since like. Kirin.

Lin. Glass is a legitamately hard thing to pull off because it so often just looks like crystal, but leaning more into glass dust and shards makes it work perfectly. Her skin is also quite pretty, but it loses the glass look that made me love Lin to begin with.

Reed the Flame Shadow. Holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit holy fucking shit fire made of flowers?? The way the fire looks secondary to the whole thing while being undeniably present is stunning. Her skin is nowhere near as good tho.

Penance. Penance has such a stunning aesthetic that it immediately endeared me to her. Her vibe of gilded thorny chains carries to her effects and it works.

Texas the Omertosa. Fucking. Duh. It's hard to make a normal sword swipe look unqiue but Texas nails it. Her skin's effects are even more stunning, even if the animations are awful.

Minimalist. It's hard to make effects that are minimalist and still look good.

Specter the Unchained + Skin. I need to specificially call out her skin. Her skin may be one of my favorite pieces of effects at all time. The colors, the aegirian poetry as part of the visuals, the stellar water, it's all practically perfect.

Kazemaru. A sleeper hit!! She's got a lot going on with the "paper-controlling ninja whose clone has a completely unique aesthetic" thing so it seems like she might be too busy, but it manages to pull it off. Shoutouts to her clone's spawn, which actually does the slash mesh slightly wrong intentionally because the ring look actually helps a lot.

Goldenglow. It's rare that I see a lightning character and say "I have never seen anything like that before in my life" and Goldenglow's pink and blue stylized lightning genuinely shocked me.

Ling (Does it Wash The Strings). If you want my choice for best VFX in the game, this would at least be in running for first. It's flashy as hell, but manages to not be overbearing. The S3 dragon attacking with mountains rising from the earth alone is stunning, but the normal attack impact is my favorite part of the entire thing. It's so simple and elegant and stylish.

Amiya Guard. Amiya's Guard form is the combination of Amiya's Arts, Sarkaz Arts, Ch'en's swordfighting, the normal AK Arts and sword design languages, and a tiny bit of weird space tech to represent the Precursors. And it manages to come together to something that feels really cohesive while still drawing attention to how incongruous these elements are. The effects actively tell the story of Amiya - a girl with big shoes to fill, carrying the legacy of so many.

Ceobe, and her Unfettered Freedom skin. At this point in Arknights' lifespan, they had a much more defined visual language for how Casters look compared to melee units. Ceobe, being a Caster who throws fucking enchanted melee weapons instead of casting spells? So she combines their languages, with the buildup and trails of Arts casters and impacts of melee units, it's subtle and I love it. Unfettered Freedom deserves a special shoutout because I love geometric magic so fucking much.

Conviction's Skin. Why is this so good they're a joke operator.

Dorothy's Skin. I may have mixed opinions on this skin, but the effects are objectively stunning. I am personally heartbroken that she doesn't have the sand anymore, but that's a personal thing. I also don't like that her S3's range is obfuscated by the explosion but again that's nitpicking.

There's probably WAY more that I've missed and even more I cut for time, but those are my favorites after browsing the list of operators and skins for like, two hours straight. If there are a few I missed... Look, this list is this long already.

Also note that I didn't really list enemies or anything other than playable operators. Their enemy effects are usually... servicable, with a few standout exceptions with Talulah and Frostnova.

[turtledovenycx]

Heyy I Hope youre doing well can I request reader being on her period and having cramps so she’s really irritable. When Hyunjin comes home and says he has stomachache she thinks he’s just teasing her and doesn’t believe him but then she realizes he’s actually sick and takes care of him 🤞🏽💙

note: Hey lovely, I hope you did not wait long. Sorry I'm late but I wanted this to be perfect I think I went a lil overboard lol. I wrote and rewrote it a lot but then I decided this is the best <33333 I hope this lives up to your expectations and it is what you pictured. Stay happy <3

waiting to hear from you again with your thoughts on this 💙

_nyx.☽༊˚

Any soft song of your choice

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐒𝐅𝐖

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐇𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧

𝐭𝐚𝐠: 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐖.𝐂 𝟐.𝟏𝐤

𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐠𝐲𝐧𝐲 (𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧), 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐮𝐤𝐞/𝐯𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐭 (𝐧𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐬.)

ɴᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ

_

Fucking cramps ugh. Waking up to more cramping pain in your lower abdomen was the starting sign of your day’s downfall. The lack of iron in your body made your head spin and feel heavy it was like a never leaving hangover. The second day of your period was always the worst, with pain in your stomach combined with soreness throughout your body and sometimes your lower back also hurt it just felt so bad. You cursed at the higher powers for inheriting your mother's horrible PMS and dysmenorrhea rather than her good looks. 

Begrudgingly you did your morning routine sticking to the most basic skincare. You could not focus properly so you decided to take a leave of absence from your work. That call, however, did not go well your mood turned sour because honestly what the fuck!

 Your asshole of a manager lacked empathy and a female reproductive system so along with your morning coffee you heard an earful of how women were using periods as an excuse in the workplace. You really needed this job so you had no choice but to hear his nasty word and bite your tongue praying your mouth does not run. Colorful words were spoken in whispers so that you don't fully regret not saying anything. The dick granted you leave but it would cost a small cut from your salary. 

“Sir, but..”

“No buts. You can either come to work or produce a health certificate for paid leave. It's company policy.” 

Motherfucker. Fucking ass, dick! cun-

“I’ll bring the health certificate on Monday thanks for your time,” you say ending the call after hearing his grunt and flipping off the blank screen. You hoped a pigeon would shit on him and his over-gelled hair. Dickhead. Now you had to figure out how to get a medical certificate for periods. 

Fuck this. 

The day carried on, the meds did not help you one bit. Hyunjin was the one who usually restocked your supplies since you worked night shifts a lot, but this time however he had brought the painkillers with a lower dosage. You resorted to eating three or four pills before calculating that to reach at least 200 mg you would have to eat twenty pills!

“This is crazy. Aaah!’” you screamed into your empty apartment. 

These breakdowns left you irritable and cranky, the smallest inconvenience making you angry. You tried to control it but since there was no way to release the tension it kept growing and growing and growing until you would blow up on the next person you saw sadly it was your sweet and sometimes dumb boyfriend.

Hyunjin had let himself into your apartment to find you hunched over the kitchen island, the smell of soup prominent in the flat as it boiled on the stove. He knew you were on your period so he kept his footsteps as light as possible not wanting to disturb you, Poor baby startled you instead. 

“Jesus fuck Hyunjin. Makes some noise would you,” you yelled when he had placed his hands on your shoulder. 

He flinched, “Sorry baby. Are you okay?” he asked arms reaching to hug you. You were sweaty so you declined the hug not knowing he needed it more. In the haze of your irritation, you had failed to notice that his face was paler than usual. Hyunjin had left work feeling nauseous. He had a stomach bug, nothing serious but his leader recommended he take rest. 

“No, I’m not okay Hyunjin, I’ve been in pain since the morning and I don't have the right medicines and Nothing is helping me. My boss is an asshole-” 

“Your medicines are not right?” he asked confused. 

“No, they are not they barely do anything you brought the small dose ones. If you are not sure what to get just leave it I’ll buy it.”

“I’m sorry,” he says palm resting on your shoulder as he leans into you.

“My tummy hurts,” you whine, crouching over but you sounded so adorable Hyunjin could not help but laugh. “My tummy hurts,” he said whining too, little did you know he meant it. Misunderstanding the situation you got mad thinking Hyunjin was mocking you like the dramatic ass he was. “It’s not funny Hyunjin. Try bleeding for seven days every month and working a full-time job,” you say turning off the stove and not bothering to eat. “Baby no I have a stomach bu-” You stormed out of the kitchen leaving behind a confused Hyunjin. He did not mean to make fun of you. His stomach felt weird but you paid no heed to the man as you slammed the bedroom shut. “Shit-” he sighed into the empty kitchen. Slamming doors in your home meant one thing, ‘I don't wanna talk!’ he decided it was best to leave you alone.

Tears spring to your eyes, and feeling dejected and exhausted you cry. You were not sobbing but they were tears of frustration. Guilt seeped in you felt bad for lashing out at Hyunjin but as you heard the sound of utensils through the door you figured he was helping himself with food. Unreasonably this pissed you off more so you decided to sleep it off instead. Your fatigue caught up to you the sleep overpowering your pain as you slipped into slumber tear stained cheek and all. 

Contrary to your thoughts Hyunjin did not eat he was simply putting the soup away and cleaning the kitchen. He understood why you reacted the way you did so being the sweetheart he is he warmed up your hot bag and opened the door a little to peak. Seeing you curled up into a ball on your side broke his heart. He softly entered the room and checked if you were fast asleep. It appeared that you were out like a light so Hyunjin adjusted your body to lay in such a way that the heat pad was resting securely on your abdomen. Then he covered you with the duvet and fidgeted with the AC temp he knew you liked it to be cold so that you could wrap yourself in something warm. The furrows in your brow were slowly replaced with a look of peace. He rubbed your leg for a few moments before wrapping you in the warm blanket and giving you your favorite Jiniret to hug. Once he ensured you were comfortable the tired man slipped out and went to the couch to get some rest. His bowels were in discomfort and he still wanted to throw up, he resorted to gulping down glasses of water and going to sleep. 

.

You woke to the sound of retching from your bathroom, the cramps had subsided the 60 mg finally working in your body. It tugged on your heart when you noticed the temperature in the room, the blanket, the heating water bag, and your Jiniret. You felt like an even bigger asshole than your boss, at least that dick treated someone he did not know personally like shit while you treated the love of your life like garbage. Hyunjin hurled his stomach into the toilet and it clicked inside your head that he was sick. Groaning at your ignorance and rubbing your face you got up from your cozy cocoon and opened the bedroom door. He was still locked in the bathroom but you noticed the spare blanket on the couch. Poor Hyunnie must have been awful sleeping on the couch especially when his long legs won't fit in unless he is curled up. You notice the little green puke basket nearby. Shit, you messed up. 

The bathroom door revealed a tired Hyunjin who had just washed his face, he stopped in his tracks as he saw you standing in the hallway. You turned around to see your boy sick. 

“I’m sorry baby.” you cried as you ran to hug him, you tried to be as gentle as you could not wanting to disturb his body, but Hyunjin did not speak for a few seconds. Thinking he was angry at you you tried to give him space but his long arms brought you back into the embrace. You breathed a sigh of relief, a million apologies leaving you. 

“I’m so sorry, I was such an ass,” you repeat fingers moving his hair out of his face before placing sweet kisses on his wet skin. 

Hyunjin just hummed, he was leaning his whole weight on you now. 

“Did you eat?” you ask, your boyfriend shakes his head before hiding on your neck. “Oh sweetie,” you say as you bring him into the bedroom. The air is cool so immediately Hyunjin finds himself wrapped in a fluffy blanket. He held your hands eyes worried as you began to retreat. 

“I’m just gonna grab you some food,” you reassured after making sure he was lying down on a raised pillow. 

.

The soup had become cold, but you reheated it. You searched through the cabinets for tea sachets as ginger tea is good for upset stomachs. After preparing the food you put them all in a tray and grabbed a pack of Advil just in case he became feverish and went to your room.

Hyunjin was having cramps too so he did not sleep, he was sitting cross-legged and crouching over trying to make himself into a small ball.

“Baby, eat this will help,” you say putting the tray on the nightstand before grabbing the bowl. 

“I’ll throw up, I don’t want to eat,” he says turning away. 

“If you throw up I will clean it but if you don’t eat you might get gas and it will hurt more.” you explained, “Please just try eating half the bowl.” your hands held the food in front of him.

After a few moments of consideration, he opened his mouth welcoming the spoonful of hot clear soup, even though he said he didn’t want to eat Hyunjin must have been famished because he ate the whole thing in a short time, taking control of the spoon with his hand. 

You watched him carefully leaving to help yourself to some soup too, the two of you sat in your bed eating without saying much.

“You don’t have a fever so it’s not stomach flu,” you say checking his temperature and helping him back into the covers. He had a quick shower and brushed his teeth. 

“It's probably because of the street food you had yesterday.”

“Hey! You had it too.”

“Yes, but I only had one serving whereas you had almost three.”

“I was craving it,” he said lips all pouty as you smiled for the first time in that day at his cute antics. 

Seeing your smile, Hyunjin’s face brightened up too. He was feeling better no longer nauseous now he waited for his stomach to settle. 

“I’ll let you sleep,” you say clearing the bedside table and beginning to exit the room before you feel a tug on your arm. 

“You will come back to bed right?” your boyfriend asked whispering, his brown eyes almost sparkling, face red, and bottom lip jutting out. Any other human form making that face was an instant cringe for you except him.  You nodded as he reluctantly let you go. 

When you slipped back into bed after chores you were certain Hyunjin was asleep. But warm hands wrapped around your figure from behind his head resting between your shoulder blades, you turned around to hug the lean man spooning him as he tucked himself on your chest. 

“Hyunnie, are you asleep?” you whispered Hyunjin stirring at the use of his name, 

“No,” he whispered back before looking up at you. You felt guilty again as you stared into his eyes in the dim glow of the nightlight. 

“I’m sorry baby. I will try to control my emotions during my periods. I had a rough day okay. I’m so sorry.” you said fingers brushing his hair back as he closed his eyes. 

“It’s okay, I’m not mad at you,” he says eyes drooping as they get tired. “What happened?” he still asked despite almost falling asleep.

“I’ll explain tomorrow.” 

“I love you babe,” he says kissing your collarbone,

 “I-. I love you so much,” you say placing a long kiss on his forehead and turning to switch off the night lamp. When you turned around Hyunjin was snoring lightly hands holding you tight to him as he slept on your chest. You knew you were going to properly apologies to him once you guys were feeling better tomorrow but knowing that this boy loved you even when you messed up was such a warm feeling. Sleep called you once again as the two of you lay limbs tangled under his favorite fuzzy blanket.

𝘋𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺, 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵��𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘥𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘺𝘤𝘹 ©

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝

tagging 🏷️: @comet-falls @noellllslut

Let me know if you want to be tagged I might start a tag list if a lot of you guys want it. For now it is just my two lovelies I have on here <3