#and there are many parts of me to touch you have your choice 💕

[runariya]

My Beloved Villain (JJK) • Chapter 6

pairing: hero!Jungkook x villain!female reader genre: dark romance, gore, villain!AU, hero!AU, slow burn rating: MDNI, 18+ warnings: DDDNE, foul language, denial, a little bit of fluff, drugging, detailed description of r@pe, blo0d, gore, punch!ng, carving, cum, anger issues, shur!ken, kick!ng, f!ghting, realisation, wishing of being d€ad, pls lmk if I forgot smth word count: ~ 4.2K

a/n: pls don't hate me—hate the characters instead 🙂

a/n 2: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. Content errors related to med school are not excluded. Please do not use this story as your own. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

prologue • 01 • 02 • 03 • 04 • 05 • masterlist • 07

Two weeks go by, and with each passing day, you find yourself and Jungkook drawing nearer, though you had always believed, in the depth of your long friendship, that there was no further closeness to be gained. Yet still, there you are, sharing not just your days but, more often than not, your nights as well. There’s a certain way in which time fades into insignificance when you’re together, and though the light of day holds nearly no barriers for the way he maps your body, it’s the cloak of night that allows you to strip down more than just all of your clothes—it is there, in that twilight intimacy, that you feel you might finally be able to touch the entirety of his soul and him yours. He rearranges you completely in those moments, a cartographer of your flesh and spirit alike.

Taehyung, on the other hand, has had that difficult conversation with you far too many times to count—each instance his eyes filled with that same uncertainty, the struggle not only on his face but yours too as he questions whether telling Jungkook the truth, baring your past and present alike, is truly the right course of action. You’ve known for a long time it isn’t fair to leave Jungkook in the dark, not when this darkness is part of who you are, tethered to you in ways you sometimes wish it weren’t. It’s not easy to admit that parts of you have been moulded by decisions you never wished to make, paths you walked out of necessity rather than real choice. You can almost see how Jungkook might listen, his usual patient, understanding self—but with every moment you imagine his reaction, you also see him turning away, running when the truth becomes too much to bear.

And so, though you know you can’t be selfish in love—especially not when it’s him—each time you try to tell him, the words seem to stick in your throat like glue. You’ve tried so many times, only to falter at the last moment, unable to bear the idea of that carefree, incandescent smile slipping from his face. So, you promise yourself that you’ll tell him tomorrow, or maybe the day after. Always tomorrow, tomorrow, and tomorrow, each new day bringing with it a fresh round of procrastination and a fresh wave of guilt for the secrets you continue to withhold.

Gradually, you convince yourself that your relationship hasn’t yet reached the point where it can withstand such a confession, blinding yourself to the reality that the beginning of love is precisely when such truths should come to light. And yet, deep down, you know you’re deceiving yourself, creating a shelter of denial in which you hide from the storm that must eventually break.

At the same time, you’re beginning to sense that Jungkook too harbours his own secrets. There are nights when he quietly slips away, his reasons vague and evasive. He doesn’t share everything, and you’ve noticed it. Sometimes, he avoids your bed, though he never quite admits why, sidestepping your questions with a soft smile or a gentle touch. It’s something you don’t press him on—those absences leave you with the solitude you need to focus on the darkness you still carry and use to scheme, to map out your next move, like a chess player preparing for the final play that will topple the board eventually.

Those nights, while Jungkook is elsewhere, you roam the shadowed streets and buildings around Dojin’s office, gathering information about him, timing Sangwook’s weakest moments too, plotting when and how both will fall. And sometimes, on those nights, you catch a glimpse of Pulse, who never comes close, but you feel his eyes on you, the burning of his gaze a silent threat to dare make a move. He watches from a distance, still a spectre lingering on the edge of your plans, and his presence haunts you—his gaze lingers on your skin and mind since two weeks ago, like a thorn embedded too deeply to remove.

But when the nights are spent in Jungkook’s arms, curled against his warmth, the world feels different—quieter, almost safe. You listen to his soft, steady breathing as he sleeps beside you, utterly unaware of the poison bubbling inside you. Yet even then, as his embrace cocoons you, your mind remains restless. You lie awake, feeling torn between two worlds, wondering whether the path you’ve chosen is worth the price you might have to pay. Are you wasting precious time revenging your beloved parents? Or are you, in some twisted way, moving closer to the freedom you crave?

You let yourself dream, if only for a moment, that perhaps the happy ending is simply the softening of your being, the ability to remain gentle despite the rough hands life has dealt you. Perhaps it is a calm nervous system, a peacefulness that cannot be threatened. Perhaps the happy ending is you moving on with Jungkook by your side, where you finally reclaim the love you’ve lost, but always wanted back. Perhaps the happy ending is you embracing change, is you going in the direction of the person that grows you and moves you and magnitates your spirit.

But even as you entertain that hopeful vision, a darker force pulls you back. It wraps around you like it’s one with you, refusing to let go, as though with every step you take towards Jungkook, it drags you back three. For every word of love he whispers to you, a thousand doubts rise in your mind. Each time he brings you to the peak of ecstasy, it only pushes you deeper into a chasm you fear you’ll never climb out of.

The silence that followed Chulsoo’s death—the way it was wiped clean from the media, hidden from view so as not to tarnish Dojin’s image—only served to feed the fire of your revenge. That burning desire for justice, or perhaps just for release, is still there, gnawing at you like an unquenchable hunger of thousand starved demons. And so, despite everything, you find yourself returning to your plans, hoping that, in the end, they will finally give you the salvation and freedom to carve out the future you so desperately desire with Jungkook.

And now, two weeks later, it’s all set. Every piece has fallen into place. You called in a favour with one of Seokjin’s IT specialists, a man who owed you a debt for helping his daughter years ago with her SATs. It was a small thing back then, but now, that kindness has ripened into something vital, something almost fated. He fabricated a message, making it seem as though Dojin himself had ordered Sangwook into a night shift at the office. You thought long and hard about how to exact your revenge, and the answer came to you like a whisper in the dark—a plan perfectly devised to balance the scales that tipped over so many years ago. 

So here you stand now, darkness flowing through your veins like it never has before, alive and pulsing and fatal. You’re in Dojin’s office, with Sangwook before you, drugged and unconscious in the chair, his head lolling to one side, bound by the anaesthetic you pilfered from the lab days ago. Everything is ready—the second scene has been set. And the only question that remains is whether, when the final scene comes to an end and all is said and done, will the path truly be cleared for the future you dream of with Jungkook by your side. But you lock that thought away, deliberately procrastinating again until your demon screams ‘action’. 

Sangwook hovers in the haze of barely held consciousness when your boot collides with his side, sending him sprawling to the floor with a graceless thud. His face catches the weight of the fall, and though a pained groan escapes him, you find yourself devoid of sympathy, feeling nothing but the cold resolve that fills the room like silent smoke. The office is as barren as you anticipated, a hollow shell of corporate sterility, its emptiness bearing silent witness to the reckoning about to unfold, a ghost of a place where no one will hear the echoes of what you are about to do.

“You know,” you murmur, your voice a dangerous lull that barely masks the venom beneath, “I saw you smiling while he raped her. Perhaps it’s time you discovered how it feels to be on the other side, hm?” You crouch beside him, your fingers ghosting over his cheek, now wet with drool and slack with stupor. His eyes, bleary and unfocused, swim beneath heavy lids, his breath a sickly rasp that rises and falls in broken stutters.

You kick him again, flipping him from his side to his stomach with the ease of someone handling dead weight. His groans are quieter now, more distant, but you pay them no mind. You’ve come prepared for this moment, the cable ties rigid in your hands as you bind his wrists behind him, securing them with an efficient brutality. Once the ties are tight enough, cutting into his skin with a satisfying snap, you shift his body once more, forcing his hips up so that he kneels with his face pressed into the cold, indifferent floor, his knees scraping against it with a dull sound. 

With a nudge of your foot, you spread his legs apart, widening the space between them as you reach into your hidden pocket and retrieve one of your shuriken. The blade gleams faintly in the low light as you slice through the fabric of his trousers and boxers, leaving his exposed ass an ugly, vulnerable thing that turns your stomach. You swallow the disgust, pushing it down, focusing instead on the cold fury that hums inside you like a living thing.

From another concealed pocket, you pull out an oversized black vibrator, letting it dangle in the air between your fingers like a grotesque trophy. You wave it lazily in front of Sangwook’s face, his glazed eyes flickering with some faint recognition. “Oh no,” you say, voice dripping with a mocking faux-innocence, “I think I forgot the lube.” You pout, a cruel smile twisting your lips that aren’t hidden by your mask. “Looks like history repeats itself more than I thought.”

You move back behind him, your heart beating calmly despite the anticipation of what you have prepared next. And with a force born of all the pent-up rage you’ve carried for so long, you ram the vibrator into his exposed asshole, not bothering with gentleness or care. 

The effect is immediate—Sangwook’s scream tears through the silence of the office, a visceral sound that cuts through the fog of drugs clouding his mind. His body convulses, buckling against the intrusion, but you press your hands into his hips, forcing him to remain in position as you reach for the duct tape from your pocket, securing the vibrator firmly in place. His flesh resists, bleeding around the object, the blood flowing freely, but you push it deeper still, the tape tightening until you’re certain it won’t budge.

The blood, the pain, his broken sobs—all of it comes together to create an image that stirs something dark and primal within you, something that has long been caged but now finally feels liberated. His pitiful sounds mirror the cries you remember, the cries that haunt you from this distant, unbearable night, and for the first time in so long, you feel a strange, twisted sense of peace begin to settle inside you. It’s a perverse kind of satisfaction, seeing him brought low, powerless, humiliated. His sobs fill the room like symphony meant for masses, and with every tear that falls from his face, with every tremor that wracks his body, you feel your breath coming a little easier, feel that demon within you finally soothe itself into something manageable.

You stand back, watching with a detached sense of curiosity as snot and tears pool beneath Sangwook’s face, mixing with the blood that drips steadily from his ass. His humiliation is complete—the blood, the shame, even his unwanted orgasm staining the floor beneath him, the fluids mingling into a sickening mess. He can barely withstand it anymore, and you sense that his endurance is nearing its end, the agony almost enough to make him pass out. Almost.

You step forward and rip the vibrator free from his body with a vicious yank, taking the duct tape with it, peeling away skin and hair in the process. The sound is gruesome, the ripping noise followed by another hoarse scream from Sangwook, his head lolling against the floor. The satisfaction swells inside you, filling the space in your chest that has long been empty, and for a brief, shimmering moment, it feels as though you’ve finally taken something back from the world that once stole everything from you.

But this isn’t the end—not yet. You can’t let this be another act buried by Dojin’s power, another silenced death hidden from the eyes of the world. So you push Sangwook’s slack body back onto the chair, his head rolling from side to side in drugged disorientation. You calculate the dose just right, ensuring that though his body is weakened, his mind remains painfully clear, aware of every agonising second.

“It felt good, didn’t it?” you mock, your laughter low and dripping with menace. You step closer, forcing his face upward until his dulled, tear-filled eyes meet your own, your gaze lifeless as steel. “You remember what happened after, don’t you?” His silence is met with a sneer as you push his face aside and reach for your shuriken once more, the blade glinting in your hand as you rip open his shirt, exposing the heaving rise and fall of his chest, every breath laboured and uneven. Blood still pours from the wounds you’ve already inflicted, but you don’t care. “But first, let me leave a note, yeah?” The blade hovers for a moment over his skin before you press it against him, carving deep, big letters into his chest with more force than necessary.

‘Father, don’t forgive them, for they know what they do.’

The blood spills over your writing, cascading down his body in thick rivulets, pooling once again on the floor beneath him, mingling with the other stains of his disgrace. You step back and admire your handiwork, feeling an odd, almost surreal sense of fulfilment as you gaze upon the wreckage you’ve created.

It feels like freedom—like the release you’ve been chasing for years. You don’t care if anyone else understands it, don’t care if Jungkook would understand. In this moment, the world shrinks to this room, to this man, to this beautifully orchestrated vengeance. And for the first time, you feel as though this is the right path, the only path that could ever set you free. You toss the bloodied shuriken to the ground with a resounding clang, the sound echoing in the hollow space like a final punctuation to this violent symphony.

And then, you strike—fist meeting flesh again and again, until Sangwook’s face is nothing but a pulpy mess of blood and bone beneath your knuckles. Each punch sends a wave of release through you, every hit drawing out the grief that’s lain dormant inside you for so long. Tears blur your vision, and you let them fall, unheeded, as you continue to rain down blow after blow, releasing years of pain in a single, savage outpouring.

But suddenly, the sound of faint movement is heard through your frenzy, and your instinct kicks in. You spin on your heel and release a shuriken in one fluid motion, sending it hurtling towards the intruder behind you. It misses its mark by a hair’s breadth, embedding itself into the wall beside Pulse’s head. He stands there, watching, his eyes wide with shock, his expression stricken. But despite everything, despite the violence, despite the blood, his gaze remains—soft, empathetic, as though he can still see something within you worth saving.

“What the hell do you want?” you scream, voice raw, feeling too close to madness, eyes narrowing at the sight of him standing there, his presence alone an irritant to your senses. The sight of Pulse—of this man, this moron—makes your blood boil with a heat that consumes every rational thought, every shred of patience you might’ve had left.

“You can still stop Stasis,” he says softly, his words slipping through the chaos like a breeze through fire, and there’s something infuriatingly calm in his tone that makes your fists curl tighter. “It’s not too late.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you snap, voice dripping with venom, “I don’t have time for your bullshit.” You spin back to Sangwook, channeling the surge of anger into your fists, striking him again—he groans, barely a sound escaping his bloodied lips, but it’s enough to quell the fire in your veins, if only for a fleeting moment.

“This isn’t the right way,” Pulse insists, his voice still thick with that maddening compassion, that softness you cannot bear to listen to any longer.

“Oh, fuck off!” you spit, turning back towards him, seething. “What the hell do you know about anything?”

“I don’t need to know everything,” he replies, his voice unwavering. “I only need to know that it’s not too late.”

“Not too late?!” you bark, flinging your arms into the air, exasperation dripping from every word. “Do you even hear yourself? Don’t waste my fucking time with this fuckery—go fetch some petty pickpockets if you’re feeling heroic.”

You start to turn away, fed up, ready to pour all your anger back into Sangwook’s trembling body, but Pulse’s voice hooks you mid-step, tugging at something inside you, and despite yourself knowing better, you pause, facing Pulse once more. He stands there, almost pleading with you, a figure so at odds with the carnage around him. “I can help you,” he says, voice much gentler now. “You don’t have to do this.”

A low, biting laugh slips from your throat, raw and empty, more like the growl of something wounded than the echo of any true amusement. “Help me?” you sneer, the corners of your mouth twisting into a cruel smile. “Oh, I’m doing just fine helping myself.”

“That’s not helping,” he says quietly, and there’s a softness to his words that feels like nails on a chalkboard, like he’s trying to pierce through the layers of darkness that have long since engulfed you. “If you could just—”

But you don’t let him finish. You spin around again, but this time something’s different. Something cold and sharp slashes through the air in your mind, halting you in your tracks. Sangwook sits still, the rise and fall of his chest no longer there, his eyes now glassy and fixed on nothing. It’s as though the world shifts beneath your feet. His wounds, they’ve finally claimed him, and you missed it—the exact moment when life left him, when that miserable soul slipped away.

“He’s dead,” you whisper, though the words are nothing more than a breath, laced with an anger so potent it seethes from your pores. The demon inside you roars with a feral intensity, its presence so loud, so overwhelming, you reckon the entire city must hear it. But your blood, it doesn’t run cold—not in the way people speak of fear or regret. No, your blood burns hotter than ever before, an inferno raging through your veins, pushing you beyond the boundaries of reason, of sanity, into a space where you never been before. 

“He’s dead!” you shout, the fury shaking your body and walls, vibrating through every nerve as you reach for your shuriken. One after another, you hurl them towards Pulse with reckless, unrestrained violence, each throw fuelled by the white-hot rage that blinds you to everything else but this freak standing before you. Most of them miss, slicing through the air uselessly, but one grazes his side, drawing blood and a sharp hiss from his lips. You see the pain flash in his eyes, but it’s not enough. “You fucking idiot!” you scream, voice cracking under the weight of your fury. “You had to ruin everything!”

You launch yourself at him, driven by that blinding fury, your body moving faster than your mind can comprehend. The force of your kick catches him squarely in the face, sending him sprawling to the ground, but Pulse—fuck him—manages to scramble back to his feet, dodging and deflecting every punch, every savage blow you aim at him and his stupid face. He’s skilled, a professional, and you can see that now in the way he moves with ease, with a calm that only makes the inferno within you rage hotter, more fiercely.

You land a hit against his face, a sharp crack against his cheekbone, and for a moment, his composure slips. His eyes narrow, the warmth in them replaced by a cold anger, a frustrated irritation that mirrors your own. And then, for the first time, he strikes back. His fist connects with the side of your head that makes your vision blur for a moment, but that’s all it is—a moment. You recover quickly, shaking off the dizziness, your lips curling into a smug smirk as you catch the flicker of disbelief in his gaze.

“Jealous it didn’t faze me?” you taunt, your voice dripping with poison ready to take him down, your breath coming fast and shallow, though you force it to remain steady, to keep the superiority alive.

“As if,” he growls, his tone clipped, though there’s a flicker of frustration behind his words, a crack in that calm façade he wears so well.

The fight escalates, a brutal dance of fists and kicks, bodies slamming into walls and furniture bruising you both more than the actual hits. He throws you around like you weigh nothing, a mere doll, but you hit back with equal force, aiming for his weak spots with precision born from years of knowing where it hurts most. You’re both panting heavily now, bruised and bloodied, but where his strength begins to wane, your twisted advantage of feeling no pain holds firm. 

“Give up Stasis,” Pulse gasps, his voice ragged with exhaustion, but still, there’s that damn plea in his tone, that maddening refusal to break.

“Never,” you spit, a wicked smile twisting your lips as you fling your last shuriken towards him. It grazes the edge of his face mask, slicing through the straps with a clean cut. The mask falls to the floor silently,  in slow motion, leaving his face exposed to the dim, flickering light of the room.

And in that moment, the world stops last. 

The air is sucked from your lungs as you stare at him, your heart plummeting into an abyss that you thought you’d already reached the bottom of. His face—his face is the face you know so well. A face you’ve kissed, a face you’ve held in your hands, a face that, until this moment, you believed belonged to someone pure, someone who hadn’t been touched by the darkness that now consumes you. Jungkook. It’s Jungkook standing before you, bruised, bloodied, and trying to stop you.

You take a step back, your limbs trembling with the force of the adrenaline still coursing through your veins, but more than that, they tremble with the force of your breaking heart. “No,” you whisper, barely audible, the word slipping from your lips like a plea to the universe itself. But Jungkook doesn’t hear it, or if he does, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t see the devastation in your eyes, the cracks forming in your soul as the reality of this nightmare sinks in.

“You’ve finally had enough, haven’t you?” he taunts, voice cold, cutting, as he steps towards you, uncaring that his mask has been stripped away. His steps are slow and menacing in a way you’ve never seen from him before.

You can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t seem to make sense of the world anymore. Jungkook—your Jungkook, your friend, your lover, the man who filled your life with light and warmth for years—is standing here as Pulse, the man who’s tried to stop you, to save you, from the path you’ve chosen. It breaks you, fracturing the remaining parts of your soul, and for the first time since your parents died, you feel as though you’re drowning all over again.

There’s nothing left to do, nothing that could possibly fix this, fix you both, nothing that could make the universe undo its cruel joke. So you do the only thing you can think of and what you should have done years ago—you run. You turn and bolt, fleeing from this nightmare, desperate to escape the truth that has gutted you so deeply you wish you had died with your parents. 

You run, hoping the darkness will swallow you whole before the pain can.

prologue • 01 • 02 • 03 • 04 • 05 • masterlist • 07

a/n 3: hope you've enjoyed it👀 lmk what you think in any way you like! MBV-Game Part II:

a/n 4: please send me a message, ask or comment if you would like to be tagged for upcoming chapters 💕 also - character asks and drabble requests are open

Like what you read? Check out my other work here!

All Rights Reserved © @runariya 2024

taglist: @darkeneddiary, @dumbheadblog, @jksusawife, @jayhoneybeecomb, @kookienooki, @hagridshaircare 

[belit0]

HIIIII<3333 How are you and how have you been. First, i need to praise you for such a good work you do, i really am impressed by your writing skills and how you write the characters so realistic and understandable. You truly have my respect especially for writing some characters like Madara or Indra are really complex to write because of their personality and they truly are complicated due their backstory. So thank you dearly for accepting requests and working on them. You truly have an unique writing style wich i do absolutely admire! Please keep up but don’t overwork yourself, rest is important and please remember to drink and eat enough. I love you so much and your blog is literally my favorite. ( You 🔛🔝) So actually i wanted to ask for a request. (A oneshot or a scenario please) About Madara watching his wife giving birth to his baby and how he sees his wife holding their new born in her arms. Please i am too curious cuz i really can’t Assess this man if he would cry at this sight or not😭. I woule appreciate if you would accept my request. But there is no need to. Feel free to ignore it, i still love your blog so much.

I swear your words touched me so much that I took a screenshot and saved the message in my private chat to read it whenever I need motivation, you brought tears to my eyes (literally)!!!

Thank you infinitely for your beautiful company and for supporting my modest work, I love to share what I do, especially if I have people who like it and enjoy it, it fills my soul to read words like that💕🙏💫🛐

I can never explain the appreciation I feel upon receiving this type of messages, it's a very powerful and big feeling, too strong and too deep for words.

Thank you so much, my beautiful nonny, for being around and keeping me company, please never go away, i love u😭💕💫

Now, going back to the request, OF COURSE MADARA CRIES, he's one of those persons who cries out of anger, it bothers him a lot because he feels weak but has a great facility for tears.

Now, what I did to him in this piece is a bit cruel, I apologize🤣🙏

He can't stop pacing the hallway, anxious and nervous, desperate because of the screams he hears on the other side of the door. The midwives demanded he stay out of the room to avoid creating more chaos, his distress palpable in the air every time he asked "Is she in a lot of pain? Is the baby okay? Is something wrong with (Y/N)?"

He was kicked out of the place to avoid putting more pressure on the poor women assisting with the delivery, and even as the clan leader, he was taken away the choice of whether to be part of the moment or not. It all pushes him so far over the edge he even resorts to taking off his gloves and chewing his nails like he's 15 years old again.

"You look like crap, Aniki." Izuna comments with a smirk on his face, openly mocking his poor older brother. Leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, he looks at him with amusement and even a bit of pity.

As always, his Otouto accompanies him.

"No shit." He snorts in anguish, tearing the skin off his finger and hissing from the burning. He may be the strongest warrior of all his time, but he can't help the little mundane aches and pains of day to day life.

"What's got you so bad? It's just a baby." He reaches out to him as if to lay a hand on his shoulder, but stops before doing so, knowing the outcome, clicking his tongue at how fickle fate is.

Staring at the ground and swapping the tortured finger for a new one, he fails to get out from inside his mind, raise his head, react. Worry consumes him, and (Y/N)'s screams of agony don't help. "Exactly that. I couldn't protect anyone, I couldn't protect you, I won't be a good father, what if-"

"Wowowo, hold your horses, Aniki. You couldn't protect me because I wouldn't let you, if anyone was going to take that idiot down it was me. We talked about it many times, didn't we?" He stands in front of him, unable to get his older brother out of his vicious cycle of insane thoughts, and crouches down to the ground to meet the path of his eyes. He smiles at him again, an act that always manages to get Madara's attention, and he finally listens to him.

"Did you think of a name? That'll be your job if it's a boy." Madara jumps in a startled gasp as (Y/N) screams louder than ever, and looks at the door separating them as if wanting to set it on fire. Respecting the midwives' wishes feels stupid, but neither does he want to get in the way of things he doesn't understand.

"Izuna." He answers without moving his eyes from the spot, walking and avoiding his younger brother like he couldn't just walk right through him. He moves a little closer to the door, waiting.

"What?" The younger Uchiha gets up, and moves back to stand next to him, not understanding.

"Izuna, for the name."

"You want to give your precious baby my terrible name? You'll doom him to be a beautiful mess."

"Tribute, so he'll always remember the uncle he never knew." And at the moment his eyes fill with sadness and melancholy, his brother decides to change the course of the situation.

"If you want to pay tribute to me, take him to visit my grave and drink sake over my remains, you idiot. I say you name him Inari, I always thought it was beautiful."

"Inari..."

"Sounds nice doesn't it? It's a good one to scold him after he gets in trouble, which I'll make sure he does."

"Will the baby be able to see you?"

"We'll find out."

"MADARA-SAMA!" the door suddenly opens, one of the midwives coming out agitated "THE BABY IS COMING, SOON!" She demands him to re-enter the room, and Madara looks at his brother for encouragement.

He smiles at him again, and that's all he needs to know that everything will be okay.

The makeshift delivery room, on the other hand, is a mess. Several women run around moving bloody towels and trying to wipe the sweat from (Y/N)'s forehead. One holds her hand tightly as his wife pushes and pushes, legs spread wide and revealing a picture both terrible and wonderful.

"MADARA-SAMA!" the midwife shoves him from behind to the side of the bed where she attempts to deliver their child, unafraid to be rough with the clan leader. Madara, unable to react, grabs the hand that was previously held by another woman, as he stares at her belly and can do nothing but try to hold back tears.

Paralyzed by inoperability and not knowing what to do, the Uchiha feels useless, incapable of helping or assisting in any way. His expertise is in fighting, combat, violence, he has no idea how to act in sensitive situations or those that require emotional intelligence. He is afraid to say something inappropriate, something that will upset (Y/N), and cannot find the strength to speak without crying.

No one told him he would feel this way, an experience so surreal as to make him break down.

The last time he cried disconsolately was with his brother's death, years ago, but his child's birth seems to challenge him in the same way, the miracle of life and the product of his own dedication coming to reward him, demanding him to pour out all his feelings through tears, no shame for being in front of strangers.

Everything seems to disappear around him, focused only on his wife and the task ahead. The stupor washes away little by little, getting into the game and helping her get through the experience as best he can.

At one point he thinks to be speaking words of encouragement, but has no track of what is going on. The image of (Y/N) suffering, crying, screaming, stirs him to the core of his very being, wishing he could take away her agony and be the one to endure this odyssey.

He holds her hand with both of his, while between his wife's legs two midwives demand further pushing. Everything is chaos, a maelstrom of speed where Madara can only concentrate on her, until he suddenly hears it.

The most beautiful cry he has ever witnessed, a small, high-pitched sound coming from a tiny baby in one of the midwives' arms. (Y/N)'s face automatically relaxes, ready to faint from exertion and exhaustion, yet she whispers "Hold the child" before smiling with genuine joy.

Madara, following orders while being totally out of his comfort zone, receives the newborn in his arms, and what was once silent tears now turns into unrestrained crying.

He crumbles in front of his baby for different reasons, moved and overwhelmed for having been able to produce something so beautiful, so delicate, after destroying and murdering as much as he did. That adorable little human being is proof enough, at least for him, of not being a disastrous person, for there being hope and kindness in his destiny, able to repent for all the lives he stole on the battlefield.

Izuna's death brought him great resentment for the world, condemning him to anger and rage as a way of life, willing to destroy whoever it takes to regain what was lost, yet (Y/N) saved him from an avoidable catastrophe, and showed him he could be more than his grief, giving him the tools to move on.

Holding the result of such pure and generous love in his hands is the mythical demonstration of how the blood on his hands is washable, how his past does not define him, and how his future is not marked by eternal pain.

The thrill of a better life engulfs him completely, as he stares with pure affection at the child he himself created. His son, utterly his, the most beautiful ray of sunshine. "Inari..." he whispers between sobs, and brings him closer to his wife for reconnection with his mother.

Upon reassuring (Y/N) is no longer bleeding and there are no further problems to worry about, the women begin to leave the room, carrying lots of bloody sheets and towels, cleaning the space little by little and giving privacy to the new family.

One of them takes the newborn for close examination, and when the room finishes clearing of people, Madara can see Izuna near his baby, making sure the midwife treats him well and takes proper care of his little Inari.

He can't help but cry again at the image, knowing his son will always have a guardian angel with him.

[theostrophywife]

4,5,22 with cassian??? Thankss luv💕

devilish.

author's note: it's baby boy cassian's turn and he's feeling quite devilish. warning: smut under the cut

Scarlet and gold bathes your skin in a soft, hazy glow as Cassian's wings swallowed up every ray of light in your bedroom. The Illyrian warrior kneels between your legs with a predatory smile as he fastens your wrists to the bed with rope. That molten hazel gaze of his burns with desire as he traces the curve of your bottom lip.

"You look so pretty all tied up for me."

You wanted to reach out and touch him. To tug on his long, raven locks and run you hands all over his toned chest and sculpted abs. You wanted to wrap your legs around his waist and claw at his back as he brought you to the edge over and over again, but instead you could do nothing but watch as the beautiful male appraised you with a predatory gaze. You were entirely at his mercy tonight and he promised to reward you if you were a good girl.

"Play with me, Cas."

Cassian smirked, drunk on the needy and desperate tone of your voice. Gods, he loved seeing you like this. Laid bare and spread out on the mattress like his own personal feast. He hummed in appreciation, his gaze raking over your naked form. Cassian didn't even know where to start. He could bite and nip at your neck or flick his tongue over your sensitive peaks or make you come undone with his fingers alone. There were so many choices, but the scent of your arousal swayed him to the latter option.

You watched with rapt attention as Cassian spread your legs open, a growl racking through his chest when he found you wet and dripping for him. Your folds were slick and glistening with your juices, ready for Cassian's fingers, tongue, or cock. Whichever he preferred to give you first.

Your mate sucked in a breath, his eyes nothing but black depths of desire as his gaze flickers back up to your face. "Look at yourself, all wet and I haven't even touched you yet."

You bit your bottom lip, fluttering your lashes up at him. "I can't help it. This is what you do to me, Cassian. You make me so needy. So desperate. I'm so fucking wet for you."

Cassian growled, tilting your chin up and capturing your lips in his. The kiss is full of passion and heat, that heady desire stretching between you as his tongue slips past your parted lips. You moan into his mouth and the sound echoes through his entire body, making him come alive with pleasure. He nips and sucks at every inch of your skin, leaving trails of saliva all over your neck, your breasts, your navel, until he comes face to face with your pussy.

Your mate buries his face between your legs, licking a stripe through your folds that had you writing underneath him. Cassian holds your hips down, flashing you a chastising expression.

"Stay still, baby girl. I want to take my time tasting you."

You whimpered, wanting nothing more than to feel his tongue buried within you. But you knew that you had to be good. So you lowered your hips and stayed perfectly still as Cassian watched.

"That's my good girl."

The praise washed over you as Cassian kissed the inside of your thighs, dipping lower and lower until his tongue expertly flicked against your folds. You gripped the sheets to stop yourself from bucking your hips upwards. You wanted to be good. You wanted to please your mate.

But gods, it was absolutely excruciating to maintain control of yourself.

The Cauldron must have heard your plea because Cassian picked up the pace, sucking and swirling at all the right spots. He teased two fingers at your entrance and they slid inside your pussy with ease, lathering his digits with your juices as he pumped in and out of you. It felt good—so good—but it didn't stop you from wishing it was his cock instead.

"Cas—please. Fuck."

You were an absolute mess as he curved his fingers within your walls, hitting that spot just right. His tongue flicked over your clit and you could feel the tension building up in your core, the precipice of your orgasm rearing.

"Please, what?" Cassian prompts, pumping his fingers inside of you once more. "What is it that you want, baby girl?"

"I want you to fuck me. Please."

Cassian was absolutely fucking done for. He grunted, pulling his fingers out of you and positioning himself between your legs. Your juices glistened on his middle and pointer fingers as he brought them up to your lips. You opened your mouth, sucking his digits clean. Cassian groaned as you took him to the back of your throat before releasing him with a pop.

"So good for me, you ready for your reward?"

You eagerly nodded, making Cassian chuckle as he released his cock from the constraints of his trousers. Your mouth nearly watered at how long and thick he was and you could already feel the stretch it would take to accommodate his size.

He slowly eased the tip in and even that made you wince, feeling your walls hugging around his thickness. Cassian moaned in pleasure as you hugged around him.

"So fucking tight. You feel so good, baby girl."

You wanted so badly to claw at his back, but the restraints kept you from doing so and it only served to heighten the pleasure. You wrapped your legs around Cassian's waist, pushing him further in as you both groaned at the tight fit. When he was finally all the way in, your mate brushed the tears from your eyes and kissed your temple.

"You take me so well, sweetheart. It's like your pretty little cunt was made just for me." He thrusts into you, slamming his hips against yours. You moaned as he hiked his leg over his shoulder, fucking you right into the mattress.

"So good, Cas. So fucking good."

[aria-ashryver]

my introverted ass gets a lil shy about participating in fandom events sometimes lol, but I wanted to give some folks some love for ✨Choices Fandom Shoutout Day!✨

Firstly, to all my moots, but especially @pudb1e @alleykatart @icanmakewords @honeyinadream @scrumptioustimemachinetragedy @aces-and-angels @zhoras-bitch @lilyoffandoms and anyone else i've missed! (chemo brain is a bitch)

ngl, every time you guys like something to do with the Starlight blorbos it makes me giddy. You make this such a warm and joyous place to be with every little interaction -- your joy is my joy, and I'm so glad our shared love of ID and Choices fandom stuff (and hopefully, my writing too!) has brought you all some happiness.

I hope something makes you smile today. You deserve all the happiness in the world and I appreciate you all so much 🌻🌼🌷

I wanted to give an extra special shout out to @jerzwriter for making this fandom such an inclusive and welcoming place -- you are just straight up lovely! I know I barely know you, but you have a generosity of spirit that I really, greatly admire.

[Skip this bit if you want, as I'm touching on heavier health stuff]. I realise I haven't actually got around to posting the fic in question yet (writing takes a lot out of me atm), but I have been frittering away at a piece based on the ask you sent me forever ago, and I really wanted to thank you for taking the time to send that ask in the first place. Not only did it make me feel like I really was a part of the community here, but you actually sent me that ask right before a meeting with my oncologist where I was due to find out whether I had been responding to chemotherapy or not. (I am getting better! ✨🎉) It was a pretty rough morning, and through some truly serendipitous timing, you swooped in and offered me the perfect distraction. I immediately found myself imagining all these soft scenarios and trying to cobble together little plot points instead of fixating on my anxiety; you gave me an escape when I really needed it.

And for me, that's exactly what fandom is all about! That's what fanfic writers and fanartists are so wonderful at achieving with their works; is bringing this refuge of joy and levity and beauty when we need it the most. So, truly, thank you -- not just for the ask that day, not just for all your hard work with @choicesficwriterscreations, but simply for being you and for sharing your stories with the world. You really do bring a light 💛

And through all of this, my OG reader and wonderful friend @freedom-kitty ✨ You've been there since the beginning bringing so much enthusiasm and eagerness and leaving some of the most wonderful comments on my fics that I have ever had the joy of reading. I would be remiss if I didn't tell you that you are an absolute GEM and I'm so glad ID brought us together 💖 I have so many of your comments saved to go back and re-read when I'm doubting my own skills, or when I just need a smile (I'm still absolutely cracking up about the Aria the Great saga when I "joined you" on holiday lmao). You are the best ever, and I hope you know it.

Thank you for cheering me on, both in writing and in life with all the bullshit going on this year. You kick ass, lovely, and you should feel awesome about being you 💕

Lastly, thank you so much @choicesfandomappreciation for your hard work and thoughtfulness in hosting such an awesome event!! 🧁🎀 I love seeing events like this!

Sending you all hugs (if you are the hugs sort) and sunshine and warmth (if that's more your jam)

You are loved

You are brilliant

You are capable

You are enough 🌻

all my love,

aria xx

[starqueensthings]

WIP WEDNESDAY 🎉

Thank you for tagging me @sinfulsalutations! This is a snippet from Colder Weather, a Fem!Reader x Pirate/Post-Stassis Kix that I’ve been working on 💕

Sometimes, if the urge to flee stalled on its way from brain to body, he’d roll toward you, fold his arm underneath his head, and trail a gentle fingertip along all his favourite parts of your body: the fleshy space between neck and shoulder, where he so often sought the comforting fragrance of your skin; the shallow dimples on your lower back, perched just above the swells of muscle that he could barely keep his hands off; the gaps between your fingers that so-perfectly housed his, as if they were ten adjacent pieces of a puzzle crafted by divine artistry.

Time had yet to reveal any explanation for the mystifying tenderness of his touch… it didn’t seem possible that such rough hands could trail so gently against your skin, yet his calloused fingers could have been draped in velvet for how softly they graced your most sensitive areas.

And his pillow talk? It was poetry. His honeyed voice would utter whispered stories of glorious mountain ranges on far away planets while his delicate strokes from his fingertips ghosted atop the swells of your hips. He’d speak of the freckles smattered across your cheeks, and how they almost perfectly mirrored the night sky in Wild Space where the stars were so many, that astronomy had become an obsolete science, the citizens opting to merely look upon them for their unrivalled celestial magnificence. And when he would speak of the vibrant array of wild flowers that adorned the meadows of Felucia, he’d scoop your hand into his and kiss each individual knuckle, as if the immense power to blossom such beauty dwelled inside the fingers interlaced with his.

But despite the adoration that kept him returning to your side, only once had the bliss of your union softened his guard enough to let something slip. Only once had he mentioned a brother: Jesse, a man spoken of thoughtlessly as Kix snickered his way through the recollection of a frantic speeder ride across the plains of Saleucami. But the music of his laughter utterly vanished upon voicing the name he’d never meant to speak, the silence that filled its wake so saturated with unexpressed grief, that even the hushed sounds of your breath felt inappropriate, and despite having watched the light leave his brown eyes so often in the past, you’d never seen it replaced with a darkness as deep and as sorrowful as then.

“Tell me about him,” you probed instantly, hopeful that the delicate touch of your hand on his shoulder would be enough to ground him there in the bed with you despite the torment darkening his eyes; hopeful that the soft caress of your fingers would prevent him from conceding to his anguish, tossing the sheet aside, and leaving you with nothing but the familiar sight of his retreating back and the bittersweet smell of him lingering on your pillow.

A ringing silence encompassed the room, broken only by the uninterested and occasional chirp of a cricket nestled in the long grass just outside your window. Speaking his brother’s name had rendered Kix momentarily muted and seemingly paralyzed, his eyes affixed on an image that his cruel memory had imprinted upon the ceiling above him. His breaths quickened in earnest, his shoulder rising and falling rhythmically against your palm while his nostrils flared against the same onslaught of turmoil also knitting his brows together.

“Kix?” you whispered, fingers raising to gently stroke his hair. Waves of black, peppered with the beginnings of grey, almost entirely concealed the remnants of a tattoo… letters; pieces of a phrase that he’d consistently sidestepped divulging to you. The ink, seemingly unblemished by time, looked as if it had only recently been embedded into his olive skin, yet his repeated, vague explanation of ‘I was a dumb kid’, suggested it was a choice made long ago; a decision made deep in a past that he refused to speak of.

“Tell me about Jesse, my love…” you implored to his continued silence, watching with bated breath as the muscles in his jaw contracted in near perfect time with his hammering heart.

Finally, some semblance of a reaction. He wrenched his eyes away from the ghost hovering over top of him and swallowed heavily. “My brother…” Kix muttered to the ceiling after clearing his throat of emotion, his knuckles cracking quietly atop his chest as his fingers began to fidget. “He… he died a long time ago. They all did.”

“Who did?” You didn’t dare speak in anything above a whisper, grateful that the heartache hanging in in the air had robbed your words of the curiousity that he so often shirked and dissuaded. Tension gathered in your brows as your eyes danced across his tormented features, your fingers abandoning their soothing dance along his temple to trail all the way under his chin and weave their way into his beard. “Babe?” you asked, cupping his jaw and softly turning his face toward you. “Who is ‘they’?”

“My family.”

Not sure who’s all been tagged already, forgive me if you get a double! @staycalmandhugaclone @twistedstitcher27 @anxiouspineapple99 @isthereanechoinhere96 @stardust9905 @ghostofskywalker

[dmagedgoods]

aAAAUUUGH 1 and 2 for the BG3 act 1 ask thingy, tell us about your Tav tell ussssss

Ohhh nice! Thank you so much! Let’s start at the beginning, very good idea. 👀💕 1. Tell us about your Tav! Name, class and subclass, race, pronouns. Do you have a headcanon for where they're from? Their family? Are they a Dark Urge? Or did you choose an Origin Character? Was it an easy decision? (1) I usually have the most fun with games if I throw in one of my main OCs. Therefore, Dark Urge was not an option for me. (Not for round one that is, I may try it later though 👀). This time I picked Rowley. He’s been with me for around 11 years already and, to my own surprise, works greatly as Tav. Most games don’t allow enough unhinged madness or don’t have the needed kind of humor to play as him, but BG3 really hits the right tone to imagine him. I also didn’t have to change a lot about his story to make him fit the universe and premise. Rowley is a rogue and an assassin from Baldur’s Gate, half-elf, he/him. Originally, he was born in Red Larch. He and his twin brother are the sons of a human father and an elven mother (forest elf). She was a seamstress and dressmaker, their father a gambler and small criminal, and taught Rowley all his tricks at a very young age, mostly because the boy proved useful to him and had a natural talent for cheating, and lying, and theft. Rowley’s twin brother, on the other hand, was treated cruelly. Their father viewed him as worthless because he lacked Rowley’s talents (to get him money). His brother was calm, more withdrawn, drew, sewed, and wanted to become a dressmaker like his mother. His father often beat him and used him as an outlet for his aggression - the reason for a growing fierce hate Rowley developed against their father (and mother who never stepped in). When things became worse during their teenage years, Rowley took his twin brother and fled with him to protect him. 2. Was there something about the character creator that just couldn't capture your Character? Please tell us about their hair, facial hair, tattoos, piercings, disabilities, their trans or intersex body, or anything else you're comfortable sharing. There is a lot the creator wasn’t able to capture about Rowley and I only went for the face that came the closest. The flair is right (and I’m glad), details aren’t. His scar is wrong, his face appears a little too juvenile and the small character model isn’t tall enough while the tall character model too bulky for him. I would need something right in the middle. Anywayyy, here is a little description of him: Rowley is tall (183 cm) and lithe, fast, and dexterous, his body athletic though lean. A long scar leads from the corner of his upper lip upwards across his right cheek. There are more scars on his back, arms, hands, legs and almost every body part. He has sharp features, attentive eyes, the tip of his nose goes slightly upwards, his lips are relatively thin, but his mouth seems to be a touch too wide for his face. His insolent grin became his trademark. Furthermore, the scar makes it appear somewhat asymmetrical. His eyes are of a cold, stormy gray. He has short, straight hair, but it’s long enough to look wild and unruly. The dark ashen-blonde tone is cold but can look warmer in the sunlight. During missions and exploring, Rowley likes to wear leather: black coats with broad shoulders and cords and laces and belts and buckles, usually boots and gloves (sometimes fingerless). His style is practical but extra. In his spare time, he wears loose shirts with wide sleeves, mostly white, sometimes in bright colors, and dark simple pants. When the occasion allows it, he goes for more fancy fashion choices, eye-catching pieces fitting for a noble but casually worn and just the slightest bit loosened in this way or that to break with the etiquette. His ears are pierced in many places. He wears necklaces and bracelets of silvery metal and dark leather. His posture is confident and casual, very relaxed. He often has a provoking grin or mischievous smirk on his lips. His movements are smooth and graceful.

While he knows how to stay unseen when he wants to - and highly enjoys it -, he also likes to get attention by creating chaos or acting provoking and disrespectful. Here is a picture of him made in the game in comparison to the one I drew of him recently:

[omgitsbeewave]

HI your zedlidarity comic gave me too many brainworms here's the random thing. is it accurate? Who knows I threw it together over like 5 hours between classwork because it. beautiful. is it badly paced? Also sure!

He doesn't remember anything when he comes to.

Of course—He remembers the names of simple things, the floor is made of marble and he's lying in a bed. There's pots of pretty flowers and panes of glass are all that separate him from the outside. A bright light is installed in the ceiling, it makes him want to hide back under the covers. Its just anything about who he is or was feels like a void was in its place. Name? What he looks like? Who he knew? Instead of dwelling on it he sits up, trying to get a better view of his surroundings.

The new tiny room housed little more than the bed he was lying in, a corkboard with illegible papers stuck to it, and a few spare sheets strewn that had come loose from it. A sheep hybrid sits at a desk outside the room, running over as soon as they realized he was awake. They abandon whatever they were doing, and open up the door.

He gets a better look at their soft features-purple eyes with a mess of curly blonde hair and small tan-gray horns poking out of it. They wear a lab coat over a simple blue long-sleeve shirt. Not what he'd expected for a mad scientist presumably running human experiments, but his eyes were bright and full of wonder."Hi! What's your name?" Their smile seems genuine, welcoming.

The words feel like lead in his mouth, but he forces them out of his throat anyways. "I don't remember." His voice is raspy from disuse.

The sheep person blinks curiously, and nods. "That's fine-I'm Zedaph." This person-Zedaph sticks their hand out for him. Every part of him feels like it'd take all the effort in the world to move, but he accepts their gesture.

"To start, what do you remember?"

•--•--•--•--•

They're sitting in front of the flower pots he had observed earlier, neatly lined up in a row. He had accepted Zed's offer to allow him to stay and help around the lab, not like he really had any choice. He doesn't even know who he is, what he was doing before, and Zedaph graciously allowed him to stick around.

He looks a yellow flower up and down. The stem is a yellow-green, the spiky leaves sticking out from the base of the plant. The petals are a small and a vibrant yellow, he observes them carefully. He remembers them. Lots of them, and flowers of all sorts of hues from red to blue to the yellow they're observing.

"I remember those." He vocalizes his thoughts, imagining how the texture felt in his hands.

"Dandelions?"

He nods, and Zed scribbles something down on the edge of his clipboard rather than the paper on it.

"I like them," He reaches up to touch the flowers, feeling a wave of nostalgia. "They're pretty."

"How about we call you Dandelion?"

He pauses for a moment, considering it. Those were the only things he recognized in this weird new place, maybe it was his name before. He smiles genuinely for the first time he remembers. "I like that name, its cute."

Zed looks away from his work at last, and smiles with him.

-a rat (you'll never guess who did this because I haven't been telling you I did it in dms definitely not)

im absolutely in love with it and it's exactly how i imagine this moments 😭💕

have lil doodle ♡

[mytalemyworld]

What are your thoughts on the last two episodes of Yabani, and on the news from Birsen that there will be a Season 2?

Personally, I found your "the real Aslaz ended with the car make out scene" so true, but I still can't help watching. Each episode has a funny mix of both touching and cringe-inducing scenes (Asi hugging Alaz, he says her hugs have an anti-depressant effect 💕; then Alaz asking Asi if she loves him in front of Tolga 😳).

Anyways, would love to hear your thoughts!

I saw this a little late. Sorry.

It was a tough week. First, people thought Yabani would end, then the finale scenario was leaked and everything looked like a nightmare. I hated so many things that happened in the last episodes, I didn't even want to watch Asi & Alaz scenes and was ready to drop it. Also the leaked scenario made me really think this writer team would destroy the last good things about them. They already made many wrong writing choices so it was easy to believe the spoilers were true. That's why I didn't want to talk about it anymore.

However sometimes I could still some sparks that made them a different couple. So I definitely understand you. Maybe they ran out of the ideas and had to wrap the series abruptly, that's why all the secrets were found one by one - in a very anticlimactic way, unfortunately and the other parts of the show -like Alaz & Asi came to a halt. The bedroom scene from episode 35 was so beautiful for example but the scene with Tolga in front of the mansion was like meh. They just needed these characters -all of them- for shock value. And everything looked so forced and wrong.

But I got my enthusiasm back thanks to the season finale. Asi and Alaz finally acted in character and even though some storylines were questionable, it still made you feel like you were watching them, not the scriptwriters. I just want to forget some scenes that happened in between 31-35. Lol, if we don't talk about it, we can easily assume these didn't happen. We should erase them from our collective memories.

[moononmyfloor]

New Life Begins ep 1-14 Review!

Before even a minute could pass I immediately loved the intro, and worldbuilding of nine regions. I straightaway made a list so I can keep track of the backdrop.

On to the actual episode, I did like some parts about it but mostly I thought this is too much character introduction for a drama opening. Too many things to keep track of. But it was funny and cute so I kept watching.

By ep 4 I started feeling like...

This drama felt like something written by me (I have ocd and am extremely detail-oriented)

Except that's not a praise. It felt like written by a delulu me out of control 😂

▪︎There are 9 provinces in this universe. You need to remember facts and points about all of them whenever the drama name drops them.

▪︎ There are girls from these different provinces and about 5 princes. You need to remember all their characteristics.

▪︎One Prince has 24 consorts, I kid you not, that he named based on 24 solar terms

A me 10 yrs ago would write something like this, I thought. (Now I have better control 🤭) It was highly amusing to watch in the sense you are reading your childhood diary rambles lol.

I have no idea how the drama makers kept track of who is who. Viewers can watch it with no problem if they don't think too hard, but for someone like me who had to hog on every detail, this was simply overload. It looks like a detail oriented person's catnip on surface, but is actually nightmare.

And once I stopped being pulled in all 8 directions by the various character flocks in this drama, I started noticing tiny loose-plot things about it. Once again, it felt like the scriptwriter/author was too focused on the number-game-nerding with as much as characters possible and making them interact in this wild network, so they didn't have time to work on finer details that would make a story sensible.

I thought I was gonna drop and was like "maybe let's watch today's eps too".

And boy, am I glad that I did.

Like a switch turned on, I suddenly started liking it from ep 6. And I only became more enamoured onwards! I have no idea what caused this, maybe I got used to the numerous background details of the story. Maybe the story *itself* chilled down a bit with its worldbuilding and started on with what it came to accomplish.

It is incredibly feminist! 😍 I realised this by ep 7, which delivered ABOVE and BEYOND and woah, I was suddenly in love.

I was supremely impressed with the portrayal of feminism in Danchuan. When I first saw the summary of the 9 regions, I liked Jichuan the best (obviously) and was hesitant about Danchuan because it sounded like just another stereotypical attempt at toxic feminism where it is not at all different from patriarchy except with genders reversed. Aka what a lot of people imagine feminism to be as shown in Romance of Tiger and Rose.

But Danchuan.... their logic, their values..all so sensible, considerate and extremely progressive. They do not seem like a group of women who terrorised a province and took men for slaves, rather they are a bunch of chill ladies minding their own business and if the men are humbled and mature enough to not be offended by that, they get to stay! There was no unnecessary belittlement to men. Rather they just cared very much (as they should) about equality, consent and self respect and would not settle for anything less.

(The following two lines by Madam Danchuan stuck with me. It really spoke for their core belief: that they would never force a woman to do anything against her will and choice.)

And from that moment it became THE feminist Chinese costume drama of the year! What is it about November? Last year it was Marvelous Women 💕.

*eyeing 2023's November. You better plan on your game starting now on, if you already haven't.

.

And it did not stop at the Danchuan arc!

I already was liking how New Life Begins touches on various ideologies (patriarchy, polygamy, monogamy, matriarchy) all at once. But I didn't expect a 100% satisfying outcome as that is simply too much deep topics for a single simple Web drama.

A complaint I always had about historical dramas' typical portrayal of women is that they always make it look like the ladies had no other use of their time than scheming how to bring the other ladies down so they can have the man's affection to themselves.

And I was like... surely in a society where polygamy was the norm there was at least one or two examples of functional and peaceful families where the ladies were smart, knew their worth and didn't care for a man who didn't care for them in return?

.

Last year's Marvelous Women was a gem that set the bar high on this front, where the women joined forces instead of torturing each other pointlessly. When such nuanced portrayals are a rarity even in the "serious historical" genre, I did not expect any at all in a simple fluffy costume drama like New Life Begins.

But it has already blown my mind with how nicely the ladies are written! How they value themselves first and foremost, how mature and intelligent they are with independent personalities that do not revolve around a man. They are capable of thinking for themselves and change the world and its expectations of them by their own will. Even if there were one or two characters that started too narrow-mindedly, they also eventually flipped a new page by working their own brains!

It is not even halfway aired, but New Life Begins has already set a new high bar, because it is showing how to write cool women in all family dynamic genres, all at once!

Be it an ideal monogamy, or a fantastical matriachy, or even a traditional polygamous society, smart and sensible women can exist in all these genres! If they don't then it is laziness of noone's but the writer.

Good job, New Life Begins writer!

.

What is feminism? For me, it means treating women as the intelligent creatures they are. Accepting that even in the most patriarchal and oppressive societies, women did have their own agency and are not unnecessarily victimised. Letting them own up their decisions and choices. That they did not fall over each other at men's feet all the time and were in need to be rescued and "educated" by a "modern-thinker". This is the narrative a lot of "feminist" dramas/movies push, which is actually disguised savior complex that feeds male supremacy more than they'd like to think.

It is sad just how much viewers are used to crappy female charcter designs in period dramas to the point if we see a woman behaving progressively we start thinking it's unrealistic.

I always wanted a period drama where marriages of convenience happen, but instead of raising a mess of unnecessary misunderstanding and drama galore about it, the characters are level headed and respectful to each other while they use the situation to their benefit. I am not at all mad about the addition of Yuanying's role, because honestly in the overall picture of C costume drama land we have too little of sensible non-toxic AND powerful main wife characters.

This has so far been a VERY satisfying experience because this is everything I dreamed of, and you know how exhilarating it is when you get this very specific headcanon for a fanfiction and then you actually DO manage to find a one that is already written? Yeah, exactly like that.

It is so funny that at the beginning I thought "this feels like something I have written, except 10 years ago and more delulu" because my now revised opinion means I can praise myself! 😂 Now I really want to meet and chat with this writer over tea about our shared delulu and also quite good tastes! 🤭😌

Oh and I forgot to add, I really like that Li Wei hesitates a lot about whether to stay or leave, despite her loving Yin Zheng.

This indecisiveness of her wasn't frustrating to me. I completely get it. She respects other people's lifestyles, but she also has boundaries about what works for her. Also she's homesick, she loves her parents and brother and wants to be with them too!

On the other hand I find it unrealistic when a character falls in love they are suddenly willing to leave everything behind just so they can be with this new person. I never understand this (except in cases where that character's past life sucked and family members were toxic so they wanted to leave).

I'm someone who'd be like: If you want me, you'll have to come live at my place🤣

.

Last but not least, New Life Begins did wobble on its feet a lot as there are too many eggs in the bucket from the get go, but no matter how not 100% strong the writing may be, the drama's heart is in the right place and it will not dissapoint you. At first it might feel like it is quite touch-and-go on various worldviews and ideologies, but it is actually very thorough and raises a number of "Why not?" questions. Quite unexpectedly so for a fluffy costume rom-com. I have literally zero complaints about any character. Do give it a chance!

.

More posts by me

[seungwooningforyou]

Hii, can you do a reading on Jooyeon from Xdinary Heroes please? Thank you 💕

Sorry for the late reply, thank you for your ask! Did a bit of research on him and he is SO cool! Would love to be his friend.

Note: This is not only purely for entertainment, I'm very new to tarot! (But not new to spiritualism!) My readings are in a sense open ended and aren't meant to be taken as anything other than me speculating and having fun! :) Requests open btw!

Reading on JooYeon ^^

I love my bands, my pfp is actually from my fave kband so I'm SO HAPPY I got an ask for one! Pulled 5 cards this time as this is an overall reading and I feel like maybe 3 cards wouldn't cover what I want to. Even 5 is iffy but I didn't wanna overdo it. Hope you enjoy!

Nine of Wands Reversed • King of Cups • The Moon • The World • Ace of Pentacles

Nine of Wands Reversed tells me he's an anxious person. He self critical and because of that he's constantly on edge. Pretty typical Virgo behavior. He's hesitant and often times that leads to opportunities slipping away because 'what if this' and 'what if that'. I think especially cause he grew up an only child he isn't always 100% sure where to go or what to do and might look to other people to help on some things, but there's definitely a little bit of fear involved. He doesn't want to be judged and so because of that he might keep to himself.

King of Cups implies he's a kind and warm person. Because I pulled Nine of Wands Rev, I think the cards are telling me that because he in fear of others judging him, he does his outmost best to not judge others. He is a friend that you can count on and a shoulder you can lean on. He's generally well liked and there's a reason for that. Reliable is definitely a word you can use to describe him, any tough moments in life you want advice to get through he is there to help. Even if he hasn't experienced himself he will do his best to think logically in the situation and offer ideas to get you out of any rut your in.

The Moon says he's rather mysterious. His mind races a million miles a minute and he's sometimes unsure of his next move- I think this is hand-in-hand with Nine of Wands Rev. He keeps to himself and he KNOWS one day he's going to implode and something will be let out even if he didn't intend it but he just can't help it. There's a sense of fear in this card. Repressed memories and deep secrets. Something about him isn't what it appears to be. Speculation of course, but considering he's very energetic, maybe he's trying to hide his insecurity in himself? Fake it till you make it? Either way, he's unsure of himself, but once he admits that to himself he will flourish.

The world actually has quite a few meanings, especially taking into account the other cards we pulled. I'm gonna diverge this interpretation into two.

Loyalty is definitely present, strong Leo energy. King of Cups backs this up, he truly is a friend that will be there when you need it. He will always listen to what you have to say and take your feelings into account when talking to you. Gentle with his words and kind at heart. The last thing he would want to do is hurt someone who trusts him. Again, typical Virgo stuff. Second part is success. He realizes that one of his major goals in life has been completed in one way or another. He is incredibly thankful for this and has a strong desire to give back to the community or people who helped him to get where he is. Humble for sure.

Ace of Pentacles tells me that he is goal driven. Goal after goal, nothing will get in his way. Midas touch, he is talented at many things and uses this to the best of his abilities. He knows he's talented (in a non self-centered way) and wants to use this to achieve as much as he can. Rich too? He might have come from a place of privilege or otherwise put himself in a privilege. That doesn't mean just money though! Rich in friends, rich in choices, rich in talents. He is overflowing with one of those!

Overall, in a rather sad turn, I think he really is his own worst enemy. He doubts himself and when he achieves one goal it truly isn't enough. He needs more and more constantly to feel happy with himself. But these traits make him a great friend. He is incredibly loyal and would take a bullet for those he is close with without hesitation. He is filled to the brim with potential but he may hold himself back. Those around him matter most to him and he would truly do anything in a heart beat if asked.

Deck used: The Wooden Tarot Deck

Time and date done: 1/25/2022 5:45AM

[grimalkinmessor]

10+11?

10. Top three favourite fic tropes.

OH BOY *scrubs my grubby paws rogether* Ain't that a fun question? I'm a big fan of AUs—soulmates, hanahaki, A/B/O, you name it, I'm probably in love with it. My all time favorite trope is definitely arranged marriage, though. Or—I guess you could say it's technically dubious consent? Because it's really the power imbalance and the struggle for freedom that I really like about it, it doesn't have to be specifically Arranged Marriage, it could just as well be (and often is) captor/captive. The CODEPENDENCE. The PARASITISM that develops 😩👌✨ They need each other more than air, more than anything but they're killing each other, they're making each other stronger and worse, even if you die you'll never be free of me because a part of you is always in me and a part of me is soldered to you, I wish I could hate you, I wish I could love you, I wish things were different— the GOOD SHIT ✨👌🤌💕💞💖🙏✨❤️‍🔥💯✨⭐🔥🌟

Which sort of leads into my second favorite trope; fantasy AUs!!! Put some magic in that shit!!! Drop down some monarchial or even dictoral intrigue!!! World build!!!! Make that character a dragon!!!!! HELL yeah!!!!!!! Fantasy AUs are always so so so much fun for me and I love them. It's about 🤌🤌 the political/magical/moral intrigue 🤌🤌🤌🤌

Now. I say that vaguely because one of my favorite tropes that is hard as FUCK to find are creature AUs. Selkie and wing AUs specifically. Selkie AUs because they tie back into the above very nicely, but WING AUs always have me by the throat because it's just,,,,,everything to me. I desperately, desperately wanted wings as a kid (and still to this day), so a world where everyone has wings is my ultimate escapism fantasy. Plus the angst that tends to come with it?? Top tier, real shit. Your wings are broken, they're stigmatized, they're useless, they've been taken from you—or, my fucking favorite, they've never been touched :) Never been groomed :)) And the first time someone shows them that sort of intimate yet common affection you just start shaking because it's so overwhelming to feel loved. To be cared for. ESPECIALLY if the wings in question are broken, useless, bad luck. LOVE that shit 💖

11. Three tropes that are fine but overrated.

Tattoo/Flower shop AUs. They're alright but honestly they feel so much like coffee shop AUs to me that I can't really see the difference lmao. Plus it usually comes with too much fluff for me to find it interesting, even as someone who loves flower language and loves tattoos.

Gonna contradict myself with this one, but soulmate AUs. They can be good, but when you don't dive into the inherent darkness of having choice snatched away from you by fate itself and the horror that can come with knowing someone is the other half of you, connected forever with no way out, then what's the point honestly. The whole reason I adore soulmate AUs is because the very premise of it all is so fucked up, dressed up and romanticized as something sweet and wholesome. If you make it something ACTUALLY sweet and wholesome—which many people do—then I think it gets old quick.

Fake Unrequited Love. OH my God this one. It's fine, alright, it's fine but it irritates the shit out of me most of the time. I adore the angst of unrequited love, and to just say "well it only LOOKS unrequited because they didn't COMMUNICATE clearly enough haha the sillies" babe that is just dressed up miscommunication. Guh. Sometimes it doesn't bother me but honestly it's always been overrated to me. ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Bonus one: There Was Only One Bed Trope. It's fine but I have personal issues with it. I like it in theory but it's one of the very few tropes that triggers the hell outta me. I wish I could enjoy it, but since I can't it just feels like it's everywhere, therefore making it overrated to me specifically.

(Hilarious because I keep intending to make use of it in my Matsulight fic but I chickened out the first time lmao)

[bambirex]

your choice of wlw couple Tribbing/making love if you will :)

So, since you didn't specify which fandom, i took some freedom there as well! 💕

Warnings: scissoring/tribbing

**

A gentle touch against her cheek grounded her in the moment, reminding her that she was awake; she was not just dreaming, the warm body beneath her wasn't just a distant fantasy. It was real. Finally real.

"Are you still with me?" Francesca asked, her voice honey-sweet and kind, caressing Fringilla's skin. "You seemed very far away."

"I'm here," Fringilla whispered. She turned her head to press a kiss against Francesca's palm, smiling. "We're both here."

Francesca looked confused for a second, but she didn't press it any further. Instead, she wrapped her arms around Fringilla's neck and pulled her down into a kiss, her lips sweet and supple, yielding against Fringilla's so perfectly.

Of course, Francesca didn't know how long Fringilla has been yearning for her touch, how many times she's cried herself to sleep thinking her feelings would never be reciprocated. She had no idea, how much it meant for Fringilla that they finally laid together.

Fringilla ran a hand over Francesca's body, carefully, tenderly, mapping out the curves and dips of her body. Francesca arched into her touch, her own fingers dancing across Fringilla's back, the teasing touches raising goosebumps on the skin.

A soft gasp left Fringilla's lips as Francesca moved against her, their heated parts colliding. The contact made Fringilla's hips move forward on their own accord, chasing the sensation.

"Do you like this?" Francesca purred. Fringilla nodded, biting her lip when Francesca bucked up again, pushing her swollen clit against Fringilla's.

"Let's make love like this, then. I wanna feel you, too."

Fringilla didn't have to be told twice. She captured Francesca's lips in another kiss as she rolled her hips forward, meeting Francesca halfway.

Little jolts of pleasure danced across her spine as their clits rubbed together, and Fringilla had to bite her lip to not scream out loud in pleasure. She buried her face in Francesca's neck, circling her hips against hers. They were both so wet, it was dripping onto the sheets beneath them.

"Yes," Francesca breathed, "you feel amazing..."

She spread her legs further apart, allowing Fringilla to settle deeper in between them. She lifted her hips off the bed, pushing herself against Fringilla needily.

The bed creaked softly as they moved together, their bodies creating a perfect, beautiful harmony. Fringilla closed her eyes in bliss and littered kisses all over Francesca's neck, panting against her skin as she rubbed herself against her. Her thighs ached, but she couldn't care. She could only bask in the warmth of Francesca's body, the wet heat that radiated from her core. Fringilla wanted to get lost in it.

Francesca gently raked her nails down Fringilla's back before she grabbed her bum and pulled her closer, shoving their hips together and making them both moan out in unison. Francesca trembled in pleasure as Fringilla's swollen clit brushed her hole.

"I love you so much," Fringilla whispered, pulling away from Francesca's neck to look into her eyes. Francesca smiled up at her.

"I love you too."

She hooked a leg over Fringilla's waist, spreading herself apart and welcoming Fringilla in. Fringilla pressed their lips together again, desperately licking into Francesca's mouth as they kept rocking together, falling into rhythm.

Francesca fell over the edge first, digging her heel into Fringilla's back and crying out her name as she trembled through her orgasm, pushing herself as close to Fringilla as she could.

"Are you too sensitive?" Fringilla asked once Francesca came down from her high. She littered kisses all over her face. "Because if you are, I can..."

Francesca silenced her with a deep kiss and by pulling her closer, letting Fringilla rut against her. Fringilla moaned into her mouth as her hips started stuttering, her own completion drawing close.

She came silently, her face hidden in Francesca's neck. Francesca caressed her back and whispered gentle endearments into her ear, holding her close.

Fringilla was unable to stop smiling as she rested against her lover's chest, feeling sated and happier than ever.

[lordbhreanna]

hey! it’s been…years. my mind has been going back to this ship lately and your work continues to devastate in the best ways.

wanted to share something I quickly wrote before bed.

it’s in the same universe with the other drabbles I’ve sent before. this is just after her rescue from Wesker.

OST: https://on.soundcloud.com/zdBbyXCTHRGkKKeB8

—

Nicholai can hear her heart rate beeping on the monitor, even from outside the room. It’s slow, steady. Familiar.

He flips through the pages on her medical file. More tests pending. More surgeries.

He sees them getting closer. Jill and the Mother Hen. Oliveira. They slip into an easy, wordless conversation that makes Nicholai feel small. Feel…wrong.

He sees a calloused hand tuck away stray blonde hairs behind her ear. He sees her half-closed eyes take in their tangled hands on the hospital bed. Her face blank, but she doesn’t move away.

There’s an ease to Carlos’ touch that Jill is more open to.

Nicholai’s not allowed inside the hospital room anymore, on her orders. She doesn’t even acknowledge him at the window.

But looking at this nauseating picture, he sees the truth. This trust…this comfort…would have never been able to come from him.

Nicholai was there alongside Wesker. Alongside Jill. Always with her.

Even if it was all to rescue her, he was a silent witness to her deadly spree. He didn’t care, just as long as she was alive.

Hell he was impressed sometimes. Proud, even.

But she’ll never forgive herself and most of all, she will never forgive him for not doing anything to stop her.

She won’t see him as that comfort anymore. If she ever did.

Nicholai sets the file back down on the counter.

She’s due for another exploratory surgery in the morning. The true extent of Wesker’s influence continues to unravel, to everyone’s quiet horror.

Arms crossed, Nicholai plays with the edges of the large bandage on his arm. He brushes his fingers over the uneven stitches he can feel underneath; his skin pulsing.

This pain he’s familiar with.

Nicholai squeezes tighter.

He’s going to make sure she can’t give up. If that’s all he can be to her, so be it.

She falls asleep clutching Oliveira’s hand, weakly.

He has to make peace with that.

Nicholai’s sinuses and eyes sting for a moment.

She’s alive. She’s alive.

Hearing thunderous booted footfalls, he turns away from the recovery room window, a bored expression slipping over his face. The Redfield Hero rounds the corner.

Ahh time to seek mommy’s attention again. So needy, this one.

Nicholai spares a parting glance to the woman he gave everything for.

He turns and slips away before Oliveira can look up.

I was so so happy to see you again on my inbox!! 🥰 It's funny because they have also been on my mind lately - they weren't really gone ever, but these past weeks I was actually able to sit down and plan some fic stuff.

But!! This drabble is the fuel I need, you managed to capture so many emotions, and you can feel Nicholai's painful pining from afar from each word. Amazing work and thank you for sharing it here with me again, I loved your asks and I'm glad to see them back! 💕(Also I love the nicknames Nicholai gave both Carlos and Chris, they are quite fitting 😆). Beautiful choice for the music as well!

Do you have more ideas planned, now that Jill has decided to distance herself from him after Kijuju? I'd love to read more!

[scottxlogan]

💕 self-love time! talk about which ones of YOUR creations (edits, artworks, fanfics) you like the most then send to other creators to do the same 💕

First of all thank you very much for sending this! It means a lot that you brought this my way! With my works there's a lot of passion that goes into them and I love each one for so many different reasons as once inspiration hits I get caught up in so many ideas and just get lost in them for days/months/etc. That being said I'm going to try to narrow it down to those stories that really stand out to me for reasons that really touch something deep inside of me in their creation. Again, I love them all for the most part, but these few are special for a lot of different reasons:

Damaged (pairing Scott/Logan, Rating E) Logan’s been behaving different lately and no one seems to notice it except for Scott. As Scott finds himself contemplating his colleague’s strange behavior, he finds that the mystery Logan presents turns into an obsession for him. Scott’s convinced something has changed, but when no one else seems to pay attention to Logan’s new habits, Scott takes it upon himself to discover just what has brought about the change in his teammate. Will Scott’s obsession lead to happy endings for these two or more misery down the road as this new world unfolds? This story is special to me in particular because I started it during the pandemic at a time when I was locked away from the world and stuck in this place where my only choice was to lose myself to my writing and explore a darker world that could be after Days of Future Past. This story is a long (and incomplete for now) one, but there's so much here that I would encourage any Scott/Logan fan to check it out. There's so much in it that really helped me grow and evolve in writing and there's been a lot of positive response to it. Under Your Spell (pairing Scott/Logan, Rating E)  While on a mission Logan’s deviation from the objective takes him down a surprising path when he finds himself suddenly overtaken with thoughts of Scott Summers. To this day this one remains a favorite of mine because it was a challenge someone gave me and it was fun, romantic, silly and serious all at once. It's a story that brought Scott/Logan full circle and really challenged me to try something different but man was it fun. I'll always love this story for that.

End of the Line  (pairing Bucky/Tony, Rating E) After an unforeseen disaster shakes up the city and turns Tony Stark’s world upside-down, he steps away from his old life to retreat to isolation. Hiding in the shadows of a city struggling with the aftermath of disaster, Tony crosses paths with a sexy stranger who turns his world around in ways he never knew he wanted or needed in his life.

I wrote this story for a MRBB (marvel reverse big bang) when a piece of art inspired something that I'd never tried before. To this day End of the Line is the BIGGEST story I have ever written and it was in the journey I took writing this that I fell in love with the WinterIron pairing. There have been a lot of ups and downs along the road to being a fan of this duo and along the way I learned a lot about myself as a person and an author. This pairing to me just oozes with so many opportunities for second chances and happiness to be found after a life of misery. I just love them together and this story paved the way to my attachment to them. I'm so blessed/happy that this bang happened because it sparked something in me that I feared was lost a long time ago. Writing WinterIron inspired me and changed my life for the better and I owe it all to this story and the talented artist that i was paired with. Home Again (Bucky/Tony, Rating M) Bucky returns from a grueling mission to his new best friend Alpine. He begins pondering the path he’s been on after facing the reality that some wounds can never truly be healed. In the height of his exhaustion, Bucky comes face to face with the last person that he ever anticipated seeing again in this lifetime or any other. When one of his biggest regrets manifests before him in impossible ways, will Bucky find the strength to make up for the mistakes of the past and find something even more profound along the way? Words cannot express how much I LOVE writing this story. That's probably a part of why it's been a minute since its last update because I want it to be something perfect when readers sit down to take a look at. This journey Bucky and Tony are on together is about second chances, finding your soulmate in a more traditional sense and love overcoming some pretty incredible odds. It's about healing and redemption and second chances and there's so much within this that as I get closer to the end it's hard for me to let go because it means so much. I know that I don't necessarily write WinterIron the way that so many other talented authors do, but this story...this one hits a bunch of checkmarks for me and I hope it does for readers too. I'm very proud of this work and I hope that people feel for it in the ways that I have come to in writing it! There are so many other stories that mean so much but off hand without bombarding everyone with too many those stand out. If anyone is bored and wants to delve into some of my works, I would recommend those as each one has touched me in a personal way through the years and they are so very special in their own way. Again thanks for this message and reminding me again why I love writing. Sometimes in the silence of fandom it's hard to remember why I do this and what matters. In a world where there's so much drama and tension this is a bright spot in my life and writing offers a freedom seldom found in other places. These stories reflect that and I hope if I can bring any joy to others with them then my goal is complete. Thanks again for the ask!

[starriegalaxy]

Helloooo!

I'd like to ask, how do you draw hijab? I've been having trouble drawing hijab, the fabric looks weird and and big around the head. I love how you draw it, it looks so natural and I want to know your secret! If you don't mind indulging...? (No pressure tho!)

Hiya anon!! So sorry this took so long, I've never really done art tutorials before 🥹🙏🏻‼️

I also remember the struggle of trynna understand how to draw hijabs too ackkk but ya hope this'll help somehow!!

Okay so what we're gonna do is know the basics first and foremost! Hope you don't mind me rambling in the first half and making this a sorta impromptu lesson! 🫶🏻 (And remember I'm not a scholar who's certified in educating and am using my own knowledge - Feel free to watch this video and explore!)

Ahem so! In this context and my understanding - In Islam, hijab is like a cover, not only for the eyes but also for the heart, soul and mind. It is a symbol of modesty and also presents itself in action - the way you speak, think, etc.

Women's hijab is typically from the head to toes. Though, there are many variations and sometimes it may be intimidating to fully commit to full coverage (for both reverts and Muslims in general) but it depends on ones comfortability and where they are on their journey. What's important is supporting & encouraging girls who'd like to pursue more coverage and remember, that different hijab styles do exist!

Meanwhile the men's hijab has a similar concept with the women in that they also need to uphold the same state of mind from speech and actions except in physical terms, they have to cover from the bellybutton to below the knees.

Anyways, with a focus on women's hijab, what I do is keep in mind to cover the ears, neck, hair and chest. Imagine a scarf that you wrap around your neck except you cover these important parts! Some hijabis like to put accessories on their hijabs to make them more personal or just as an added cute touch (like me haha) so feel free to put huge bows, clips, earrings (usually the dangly kind or with hooks) and whatnot - taking care to not put other religious symbols, wordings or patterns that may show inappropriate connotations and whatnot.

P/S : There are styles in which we try to mimic twintails or ponytails but we can also use extra clothing that would cover the chest instead! Examples, capes or maybe hoodies / crop hoodies / jackets and such!

Oh and here's a video on how I try to capture the uh shapes for the hijab styles :

P/S : the first hijab is one I referenced from my persona while the others are some that I found online or on Tiktok - OH and I forgot to mention we wear hijab underscarves first and then we put the hijab on - Here are two examples and the references I used!

Rule of thumb : Use shapes or basically remember cloth linings / cloth folds and know that the fabric usually goes downwards (cuz of gravity :P) oh and some artists / stylists favor curvy or they want round ones but I know some style choices in drawing, there are boxy styles too which are fun! Here's your permit to combine some shapes until you get one you like! Some examples of Muslim artists that I recommend for hijab examples are spirited smile , meosei.png , nero_arts.2 , imonielukis , apinnism_studio and hanimism 📝💕

It's also okay to look for references on Pinterest or any image site (beware of AI art though!) and keep in mind the key parts to cover : ears, neck, hair and chest ‼️

[nobodysdaydreams]

GOGH! 🥰

@itsgoghtime

Please know I have read through this around 50x and love your reactions to pieces and am so glad you've enjoyed my fic this much 😍😍😍

I'm glad you've enjoyed the fic. Your original post meant so much to me, and it's been wonderful to go on this journey with you my friend 💕💕💕

I loved writing the out of touch reference and the Benedict siblings dance scenes (which you might notice all involve them dancing oblivious to all on lookers). The three of them might have chosen/been set on very different paths in life, but they are all siblings.

I'm sorry for how I made you feel about SQ. (But at least I gave him his due unlike the show). And I'm happy you enjoy my writing. 🥰

"He’s also convinced the whole family is crazy and in some ways, he’s completely right and it made me laugh how many times he was like “they’re insane and I am not like them” but also how many times it broke my heart for the same reason"

^Right? Because they are his family and in some ways...he is like them (in ways that the readers don't even know at this point, might discuss more later...) I think this is something a lot of kids with problematic parents go through. Because they often do bear a resemblance to their parents, whether in their interests, skills, personality, physical looks, or even just habits they picked up from being raised by them. And they still love their parents, but they recognize that there's a lot about them that's not great, and it's hard to separate the fact that you as their child can be like them in many ways without making the same bad choices that they did.

"Again - I don’t know how you do it, but there’s a level of empathy I have for Nerissa that I still simultaneously just don’t like her - and you’ve weaved everything so well so it’s… it’s just perfect. Empathy for the villain and we still don’t like em 👏 (specifically her entire scene with the villains in her head… crushed me)"

^I'm so glad I struck that balance! And the scene with the villains in her head is one I've had in my own head for a looonnngggg time (since The Oldest Siblings). I'm happy to finally be able to share it with you (and give insight as to why she feels guilt about what happened to her family).

"BECAUSE THEN we get into SQ’s half of this scene and I about DIED - like… heart stopped, tears formed, I was freaking out / lil side note before I continue on that part - my heart continues breaking for SQ, specifically over the stuffed bird, and him realizing he’s been lied to his whole life, and that fake love and affection (that he still turns to later!! GAH)"

^I'm sorry about the death scare. (Don't worry, I wouldn't end it with SQ dying...even I'm not that horrible). As for the fake love and affection, the sad part is there was a degree to which they were real (because Nathaniel is such a complicated confusing traumatized and broken guy), but SQ doesn't know that. He has no idea how much of his father actually loves him, or more importantly, even if his dad does love him, SQ doesn't know if his father is capable of realizing what he did wrong and changing his behavior. We as the reader know Nathaniel is starting to understand that now, but poor SQ has no idea. He thinks his dad is still the patronizing "this is for your own good" type of guy he was before.

"AND his “maybe if they hadn’t been friends with him at all they’d still be alive today” BROKE ME BODS - right in half like a nilla wafer"

^There's some symbolism behind that line that I can't share as of yet, but it's very ironic in that their friendship both doomed the SOS, but in other ways it saved them. It also connects to when Curtain first tells infant SQ that he's better off without him. Ironically, he ends up sort of being right, but he didn't have to be.

"He’s also so empathetic and compassionate and I love that about SQ with my entire soul"

^I know! I love this so much about him. He has every reason to be bitter, due to being used and lied to by almost everyone he's ever met, and yet, he loves and cares for everyone, even his enemies. It's something SQ views as a weakness of his, and yet from an outsiders perspective it's incredibly admirable. Something for us all to strive towards.

"also - like it said, why would there be a keypad inside the room, and what kind of person leaves the password 1234ENTER if you’re keeping a prisoner in there? Lol 😆"

^I've greatly enjoyed your reactions, Gogh. So guess I'll give this one to you. Like Nerissa said, it's not a prison cell. And it was never built to keep someone locked in, at least not initially. It was meant to keep others out. That's why the keypad is on the inside. Sadly, Nerissa didn't think to factor in her young nephew's compassion and poorly developed survival instincts.

"His thoughts of not wanting to die and then thinking about his dad and saying he’s scared absolutely destroyed me / And even then, Nerissa gets back up from her narcoleptic attack and thinks he’s GONE and my heart still breaks for her and for SQ at the same time and I just went through the seven stages of grief. Twice. /And then he’s okay. HES OKAY and I began to breathe again. Wiped my tears and kept reading."

^I'm sorry about that scene. Happy the emotions had an effect on you, but sorry it hurt you so much.

"SQ thinking he’s in heaven was adorable and he wanted to see his dad 🥺 and it brought me joy until she walked back in the room and crushed his hopes / I mean, I wouldn’t quite know what to think either, SQ. We’re in the same boat. / “You’ll be safe in here” - proceeds to shut him in an airtight room"

^In fairness to Nerissa, SQ getting out of his room last time didn't exactly turn out well. She's only thinking about his safety.

"not gonna lie - when this next ABBA song started, I thought it was the end. was relieved for literally .5 seconds"

^Sorry, Gogh. It's not over until the song ends.

Something about SQ using birds to connect to his birth father really speaks to me. You might notice that's a reoccurring theme :)

"false sense of security with more ABBA - I will not see these songs the same way ever again. And I am okay with that. (Cause what better reason than to remember this amazing fic???)"

^Knowing that I have made approximately um...like random 6 people think of my writing whenever they hear ABBA music playing entertains me. I now dream of the day I'm like 70, and this song comes on and someone mutters, "oh this song always makes me sad. Reminds me of a tragic fic I read on AO3 when I young, y'all remember AO3?" And then I freak out as if I've just met a celebrity.

"let me put it this way. when I read “He couldn’t give up now, this couldn’t be the end.” And “It wouldn’t be the end, he told himself.” I knew. I knew I knew I knew and I was still somehow shocked when we get more ABBA and it’s OVER"

^yeah...I put that line in on purpose. Sorry.

"it’s over. I cried. It was beautiful and still left so so many questions."

^I'm glad you loved and don't worry: one way or another, I will give you some answers :)

"Bods, thank you so much for writing SOS - it’s literally one of my favorite fic series I have ever read. Ever. / It’s been such a wild ride - like Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride at Disneyland, absolutely insane and so many plot twists but now that I’m getting off the ride it’s just… / it’s beautiful. so good. I will be rereading it again. /You are so talented and I’ve loved every part of it."

^Thank YOU so much for these reactions. I love every word. I will be rereading them again. And if I did write more in the series, it would take a while, which give you a lot of time to reread it.

"although I can’t say I would complain if we got more to it, but if that isn’t the plan that’s okay too 👀"

^Right now, there is no plan. We shall see what the future holds.

Also, you live reactions, especially the "WHAT" made me laugh so much 😂😂😂

Exactly the reaction I was going for, thank you.

You're the best. 🫶💕🥰

Well TMBS Fandom, It's Finally Finished.

That's right folks. After just over a year, I have finally finished my 350k+ word fanfic. You don't have to worry about seeing it in the tags any longer. My burden can finally be laid to rest in this beautiful, narratively satisfying ending that I'm sure you all will enjoy. And to show my gratitude for all my lovely readers, I even went through the trouble of adding several spoiler memes to this post under the keep reading button. I'm also especially excited about this chapter, because it answers a question that @mvshortcut asked me in one of their comments on my very first "The Oldest Siblings" fic. Sorry it took me so long to answer it, but better late than never.

Also: on the off, random chance that anyone is upset with this ending (no clue why you would be), please know that there is an author's note coming that explains a lot, it's just gonna take some time to write it, but I think you’ll enjoy it, and thank you so much for reading.

Chapter 29 Summary: SQ has a conversation with his aunt and learns new information about his family.

Once again tagging everyone who originally expressed interest in the fic: @sophieswundergarten @myfairkatiecat @kneeslapworthy @serial-serializednovelreader @itsgoghtime @oflightningandstars

Thank you all for reading! 🥰