#and write something down for realsies

[foodtruckery]

(Abo anon) your ideas are making me FERAL I'm so obsessed with how you characterize the brothers and god poor stan has been THROUGH it. But oh?? My gosh??? The imagery of stan working himself through his heat in the basement, fantasizing about stanford YOOOO I'm just imagining him trying to basically fist himself as a makeshift knot and imagining if his hand had just one more finger- and then losing himself a little bit at the thought (which he will then bury deep deep down in the "do not touch" box of his mind)

I wonder if ford questioned what could have caused the damage to his first journal lmfao or if he noticed it at all (I'm sure if stan ever tells him about it hed blue screen over the mental image)

And ofc stan would absolutely try to brush the whole event aside even if the smart thing to do is just stay off supressents (I'm glad you brought up his age because I WAS wondering if him being older would actually affect his likelihood of having heats) stan is gonna crush this all down under gravity falls new fav phrase "never mind all that"

Until ford realizes what stans planning and throws a fit I assume lol bro probably tries to play it off like hes worried for stans health but in reality hes just does NOT want to give up his deepest fantasy come to life

Which reminds me (I would apologize for yapping but I'm just meeting your energy here lmao) the idea of ford putting stan in his place of the hierarchy when he comes back through the portal? I keep thinking about the "what if" of that. Like. Would stans suppressants fail or would he just have to play along and pretend hes an alpha getting bitched? If it's the former I imagine ford (because as smart as he is, hes still an idiot) would somehow assume he MADE stan into an omega right there and then lmfao before stan corrects him ofc

I feel like I should start signing these off with something so I dont have to keep putting abo anon at the top lmfao

hahahaha! by all means, if you wanna have a sign off or an emoji or something, i'm all for it! especially considering at this point you've basically become my primary co-conspirator for this shit -- you know that right??

because, see, YOU GET IT. the way i yelled at the 'trying to fist himself to emulate ford's knot' comment like fuck yeah buddy, absolutely. i like to think that once he had his head on straight again, stan tried really hard to clean the journal up as much as possible, but there's not a ton to do for where it stained, or where pages got, ahem, wet and then dried out of shape. but if he calls it water stains most people aren't gonna look twice (most people will never even SEE this damn book), and honestly he'd be a liiiiittle bit relieved that it gets torched.

but he does probably slip up or get comfortable enough later on, when things are out in the open and a little more relaxed, where he makes a joke about it. spills a little water or coffee or something on whatever new journal ford is maintaining of their seafaring adventures, and laughing it off as "hey, not the worst thing i've ever gotten on one of these things, quit griping, would ya?" and ford's like "what is THAT supposed to mean?" and yeah, absolutely fucking bluescreens when he eventually gets the story out of stan because first of all, how did that even work and second of all, the idea of carrying around his journal knowing it's stained with slick he got out of stan? my mans is a mess.

and yes! i was thinking that the reason stan is still having heats at all at this age is largely due to how badly he fucked over his own cycles for most of his life and then just going cold turkey off all of them cause eh! he doesn't need that shit anymore. like it probably wouldn't actually be that big of a deal if it was just suppressants - lots of people take those! - or just beta or alpha pheremones. but going back and forth between all of them, getting a lot of those drugs from less-than-reputable sources to keep the secret safe, mixing shit he shouldn't have or taking enough expired stuff? frankly he should be less concerned with still getting heats and more concerned with checking his fucking liver or something.

and yeah, the easiest way to deal is definitly just to grab more drugs and nip this shit in the bud the way that's always worked. but ford is Not About That at all. catch his ass upending pills into the ocean if that's what it takes. and of course it's for stan's health, it's clearly not good for him to be on these drugs, and also what is there to worry about if it happens again? ford isn't going anywhere, he can help if stan needs him to, as many times as he needs him to. and stan is the one who said he didn't care about presenting as an omega nowadays, right? why upend all that over something so silly?

(and you know damn well at this point that we're just yappers, keep it coming) cause like I WAS THINKING ABOUT THIS TOO. about if they had gotten into it when ford came back through the portal. like other than some posturing and shit (okay like a LOT of posturing when it comes to some jackasess, cue bud for example), stan probably hasn't been legitimately threatened by an alpha in ages. and back when that did happen more regularly, stan is used to punching above his weight class, and probably hasn't been on the "bitch" end of a bitching in a long fucking time. probably hasn't even been on the receiving end of regular sex in a hot minute, as much for general preference as to keep up appearances.

but even when he has dealt with prick alphas trying to make a point since settling into gravity falls, they definitely weren't as worked up and aggressive as ford is after coming through that portal. and it's absolutely never happeend in the room where he has, in fact, gone into heat at least once. or with, y'know, ford himself. so yeah, it's absolutely possible that it's a perfect storm for triggering a heat. or, if not triggering a full on heat, it may trigger more biological bullshit; producing more slick than he has outside of a heat since he was in his damn 20's. and ford would ABSOLUTELY ASSUME he had done that -- which YEAH okay technically he did, but not because he has a magical dick, ford you moron.

it might actually kill stan to let ford think that bullshit if it means getting to keep up appearanaces for a little longer.

[apollos-boyfriend]

anyways. guess who’s writing again

[the-nerdiest-insanity]

Okay so I'm not saying you have to write this but I wanted to share this little plot bunny in my brain with the first fic writer who showed up in the tags.

(this is not a request I just really really want to talk about this)

Okay so we all agree that the reason 'we literally have the rest of eternity to figure out what the rest of it means' is cause Charles never finished reading the myth, right?

So imagine if Edwin is killed of for realsies, and instead of just out right stating that the reader instead gets to find it out through the means of Charles reading the myth- you know, finishing it.

(the angst potential is twsiting me insides)

I started this at midnight for me, and this wormed it's way into my brain and won't leave. The ask gives away the twist, but I hope I've written this well enough that it doesn't matter

The Song Was Written Long Ago

Title from Road to Hell (reprise), Hadestown

Charles landed on the floor with the dull thumping feeling he has associated with living as a ghost on Earth. Niko and the Night Nurse are staring at him with shocked expressions.

"Charles--" Niko tried to start before he abruptly cut her off with a shake of his head.

"Don't Niko, just don't," he mumbled. Charles sniffled and slammed his fist into the ground. Slowly, he sat up onto his knees.

"Hey, I heard a loud noise," Crystal said as she entered. She took in the somber faces around her. "Did something happen? Where's--"

"Don't," Charles spat out, sharper this time. "Don't fucking say it."

"Charles?" Crystal asked as she took a hesitant step forward.

Charles stood up and plowed his way across the room, uncaring about the voices asking about him or the hands trying to stop him. He leapt into the first mirror he could reach. "Take me home," was his only thought.

Charles landed harshly into thei-- the office. His legs carried him automatically to the bookshelf. It had been so meticulously organized before this whole damned trip. Now, everything was a cluttered mess after searching for the book to save Niko.

A painful voice echoed in his head, "It wouldn't be so messy if you'd just follow my system." Charles bit his lip, attempting to rein in his emotions.

This is like one of those Orpheus and Eurydice moments, yeah?

Charles knew there were many different versions of the story he was searching for, but focused on finding the one he had started all those years ago.

Finally, he pulled out Metamorphoses. He flipped to Book X, finding the line he last read. He had stopped when the pair began to leave the Underworld. He had figured either they made it out and lived a happy life or something terrible happened. And, Charles was fine never knowing what the answer was. Until now.

He read about Orpheus's confidence in getting the pair out. He read out Orpheus's doubt. He read about Orpheus turning around too soon.

Charles slammed the book shut. He didn't need to read about how Orpheus died because he was already dead.

Charles slid slowly down to the ground, crying into the book. He could hear a voice in his head scolding him for not taking care of property. It made Charles hiccup as he sobbed. "I'm so sorry, Edwin. I shouldn't have looked back. I should've lead up out before I talked to you. I'm so sorry. We were supposed to have the rest of eternity. Edwin, please."

The rest of eternity was a very short time, indeed.

Was I listening to the Hadestown soundtrack while listening to this? How could you tell? For real, I hope you all liked this and I made the annon proud.

[three-headed-monster]

https://www.tumblr.com/three-headed-monster/757931492212146176/question-for-the-masses-what-are-our-thoughts-on?source=share

I'm so so curious about this too, I feel like he's been described as smart a fair few times, either by scouts or his brothers etc

There's also one of the Monday question videos (I think it's the "who would you choose to narrate your life" one) where one of the guys says he's really intelligent but I can't tell whether he's being sarcastic or not lol, he doesn't sound sarcastic but still, I feel like you never know with those guys

ANON REVEAL YOURSELF I HAVE MUCH TO SAY ABOUT LUKE HUGHES AND HIM BEING SMART

idk if i've spoken about this before, but i've been writing a luke hughes centric rpf fic and my god, did it make me do a lot of research on like umich as a college and specifically, what luke was doing in college.

on his roster page it says he's an intended sports management major, but he never actually declared, making me think he probably either didn't have the grades to or never finished the pre-reqs. maybe because he knew the nhl was always going to be there for him, he never officially went down that route.

the BETTER explanation for why he never declared is because he wanted to do something else with his degree because would you believe me when i say this guy was taking courses a level above his year of study the entire time? he talks a little bit about some of the courses he took in this athletic interview, history of college athletics and greek history. a quick google of those courses shows that those are very like NICHE history courses, that are not pre-reqs for sports management but are just like mid/upper-year history and classics courses that people take for fun. luke hughes you are not slick, tell us more about your history obsession.

anyways, for realsies, it's all in good fun. i think he's definitely smarter than he gives off, and my least favourite thing is him being characterized as a "dumb himbo" in things. like sorry but who hasn't done the "23nd" thing or forgotten to close their trunk before driving out of their garage at least once. doesn't scream himbo to me, just screams very forgetful human sometimes lmao

[alphabetboyluvr]

bad decisions - jjk | thirteen

When you open your eyes, you avoid looking towards the mirror. You look down, look away. Jungkook notices. He nudges the side of your head with his own. Realigns it. Encourages. "Watch." He speaks quietly, the dulcet tone of his purr just loud enough for you, but untraceable to anyone outside the room. He doesn't want Jimin to hear. Doesn't want Jimin to know. It's not that he was lying when he said Jimin wouldn't care—he genuinely believes it'd be no issue, especially with context provided—it's just that he hasn't figured out how to explain it.   'Oh, the girl you shagged a few months ago? We're friends. Pretty good friends, actually. And I'm touching her boobs to help her get over a fear. Totally normal.'

Bad Decision #13 - Work of Art

warnings: jungkook discovers boobs! we rejoice! wahooo!! okay so this entire chapter is basically titty worship (no titty sucking (sad)). lots of paint. curious art. shower (again) mutual masturbation (for realsies this time) jaykay aka my dream man. the chess plot device is born! the mirror kink is also born! WE THRIVE!!

soundtrack: vibez- zayn

wc: 11.8k

bd total wc: 370k (on-going)

minors dni | wattpad | series masterlist |

"Why did you write it like that?"

"Like what?" you say, coming to sit beside Jungkook at a pair of easels towards the back of the room. The last few tasks were carried out by the pair of you, Jungkook insisting on helping despite the fact he had no clue really what to do. You'd ended up asking him to move a couple of boxes you couldn't reach just to appease his need to lend a hand.

He looks at your bird once more, and holds it open for you to read again. You knock your head to the side and shrug.

"Guess it's just how I feel about it."

"Like screaming?"

"Kind of," you laugh. It's written in just the same way as the last one - full capital letters, zero context, and more exclamation points than any one person should use. "I guess it's like... a big one for me?"

"How big are we talking?" Jungkook asks as he looks at it again. It's just a single word, but he knows there's more to it than meets the eye. There always is with you.

You pull one of your feet up to the chair and wrap your arms around your knee. The apron you'd been wearing earlier is up on a hook, and Jungkook finds the simplicity of your outfit all very intriguing. You're monochromatic, which isn't much of a surprise, in a large white shirt and black slacks. The caps of your hightops peek out from the hem of your trousers, and a satin scrunchie is around your wrist instead of in your hair.

You're lacking a little sparkle. There's still some across your lashline, and little specks on your skin that your makeup remover hadn't managed to get, but what with the paint and the two showers you've had since the paint party, there's really not all that much left.

He wonders if there's any glitter glue in the art supplies. Thinks you should just use that instead. You're really not quite yourself without it.

"My ex was a tittie guy," you say, and Jungkook's eyes widen as if he'd forgotten the topic of conversation. You laugh. "Is it really that much of a surprise? Ass guys are hardly gonna go for me."

"Your ass is fine," Jungkook says. He means it as a compliment, but realises 'fine' isn't the way to ever really describe a woman's assets—and so he corrects himself. "Good, I mean. Your ass is good."

There's a look of disgust on your face as you question why on earth he's been looking at your ass, which causes him to roll his eyes. There really is no winning with you.

"I'm an ass guy," he shrugs.

"Doesn't give you any right to look at it."

"Oh give over," he laughs. "It's literally just a body part. No different to me looking at, I don't know... your wrist. Something like that."

"Well, it depends," you argue back. "Are you into wrists?"

Regretfully, the answer is yes.

"I don't know!" Jungkook protests when you grill him for how the fuck he can be 'into' wrists. "They're just dainty! And pretty! I don't know! It's not my fault."

You narrow your eyes, and hide your exposed wrist behind your knee. He looks at you with a poorly hidden smile, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek. His lip ring always dances along his peachy bottom lip when he does so, and it makes you laugh - but you're still feigning disgust.

In all honestly, you like your wrists. Would put them in your top five for your physical attributes. Completely understand why he would be into wrists, just like you're into forearms. You like arms that feel safe.

Kind of like his.

But still, he's an ass guy.

"See, this is why you and I would never work," you tell him, and nod to the piece of paper he's still holding, adorned with a singular scribble:

!!!!! TITS !!!!!

"We want different things," you clarify. "You're after a good ass, I'm after a guy who knows how to handle a pair of tits."

"Hey! That's not fair. I never said I didn't know how to handle them," he scoffs - although now he comes to think about it, he's not sure he actually does. "Like, sure, maybe my exes have all had great asses, but they all had a pair of tits, too. I'm not opposed to a pair of tits."

"Yeah, but there's a pair of tits, and a pair of tits, yanno?" You say, using your hands to really emphasise the point. "Anyway my ex really liked them."

"So?"

"So, I really liked that he really liked them," you shrug. It's painfully obvious to you, but Jungkook is still a little confused. "I just... The idea of someone else doing what he did to them just... makes me wanna run, yanno?"

"The fuck did he do them?" Jungkook laughs.

"Nothing obscene," you smile, though when you think about it, perhaps 'obscene' is the only way to describe how much he enjoyed them. "I guess it's more so that it was always a part of sex? Most guys I've been with pick and choose whenever they want to deal with them, but with him..."

You don't mean to trail off, but fuck. You're thinking about Seokjin, how his plump lips would trail down your throat. He'd inhale the scent of your perfume and fucking whine, only stopping to latch himself to your nipples. Would spend more time on your tits than he would any other part of your body. Spent so long once that he made you orgasm from the simulation of it all alone.

And so now they're off limits. It doesn't matter who it is. The second someone reaches for your bra, you shake your head, reposition their hands, and pretend you hate your tits being touched. It's not like it's an unreasonable lie. You know it's one of Danbi's least favourite forms of foreplay. If anything, she'd be a good match for Jungkook. In fact, now you come to think about it, she's got a cracking ass from all of her dog-walking.

Maybe you should cool the deal off. It's highly likely they're compatible. Fucking around with Jungkook would only complicate things in the future if they discovered that themselves - but you know Taehyung's interested in her, and Jungkook hasn't given any indication of interest further than friendship with her.

It's not like this is anything beyond friendship, you reason with yourself.

Jungkook stays quiet as you work through your thought process. Assumes you're skimming through traumatic memories. Doesn't realise you're actually playing matchmaker in your head for him and your best friend.

"But with him?" He asks.

You're drawn from your thoughts. Feel a little guilty. Wonder if you should really be doing this - not for your sake, but for his.

"Are you sure about this?" You ask, ignoring his question entirely.

"About?"

"Doing my birds?"

He purses his lips - and now he feels guilty, too. Funny, how you're both more concerned about one another than yourselves.

"It's entirely your choice," he says. Doesn't want you to feel pressured into it - but it just makes you feel like he feels pressured into it.

"No, but, that just feels to me as if you don't want to," you tell him. "And like, that's totally fine, if you don't, but-"

"Byeol," he says all rather plainly. "I'm the one who suggested it. If I didn't want to I wouldn't be here right now, would I? I sought you out. I came here. This is all on me."

The worry on your features softens, and he's pleased to see you smile again no matter how subtle it may be.

"Only thing I will say is that I don't actually know what 'exclamation point, exclamation point, exclamation point, exclamation point, exclamation point, tits, excla'"—

"Kook, you don't have to say every single exclamation point."

"Right," he nods. "Well, that. I don't know what that exactly entails."

And truth be told, nor do you. So you just sigh. Press your lips together a little tighter than usual. Think about it for a moment. Draw a blank. Furrow your brows.

Jungkook looks just as perplexed as you. He's looking away, trying to find inspiration in the room around him—and when his eyes land on the 'gallery' wall where there are imitations of famous works, an idea comes to mind.

"So this is all about separating physical acts from emotional intimacy, right?" He says, and when you nod, he continues. "So what if we do something that involves"— he laughs, because he's a child. —"Touching your tits"—

"Real mature."

"Shut up. We'll do something that involves touching your tits," he has to pause so that he doesn't laugh, but you're grinning too. Just as immature as he is. "But something that isn't sexual at all."

"Alright," you muse. "I'm listening."

"You got any black paint?"

You narrow your eyes. Turn your nose up a little. Question if he's lost all of his brain cells. "Jungkook, this is an art cafe."

"I didn't wanna just assume," he feigns offence. "Are there security cameras in this place?"

"Only by the front entrance. None into the studio area."

"Okay, good. Go get some black paint and I'll get the blinds."

"No blinds," you say, nodding over the windows. "Chiffon curtains. If we turn the main lights off and just keep the lamps on, it should all be obscured. Let's just... not be too close to the windows—and what's the paint for?"

"Will tell you in a bit," he says as he heads to the windows. "Chop, chop, Byeol. We've got a fear to overcome."

You stay as you are for a moment, watching him with unrivalled wonder. There's an enigmatic energy to him that makes it seem as if he's the one constantly covered in glitter, not you. It's quite alarming that this is Jungkook operating at half capacity. His confidence was knocked quite considerably after his heart was broken, and he's yet to recover. You know this. Know that's what his birds are all about. Know that once you've worked through them with him, he'll be an unstoppable force of nature.

In the time you've known him, he's been nothing but an angel. Cocky? Yes. A little petulant? Make that incredibly petulant. And yet he's a joy to be around. Shines without the need for artificial sparkles. You envy it. Wish you could emulate it.

It's as you're getting the paint, and a few extra supplies that you'll figure you'll need - some brushes, some washcloths - that Jungkook begins to explain himself. He's drawing the curtains shut, glancing over at you every few words just to check you're paying attention.

"So I saw a video the other day - something to do with easy Halloween crafts, don't ask - and there are two options for you. One of them is quite literally painting your tits and pressing it against a canvas"—

"You are not painting my tits."

"Noted. The other one was way more family-friendly," he says, before he mulls it over and changes his mind. "Kinda. Maybe. It's a skeleton hand shirt."

"Okay..."

"It's super simple, one person covers their hands in paint and basically just grabs the other persons tits"—

"Does that mean I can grab yours too?"

"I don't have tits, I have incredibly defined pecks," he states rather sharply. "Please rephrase the question, Byeol."

You just grin. "Can I grab your tits?"

"No."

"Boring."

"Look," he smiles as he walks over to the easels where you'd been sat before. He turns the chair and sits on it backwards, arms resting over the back of it. There's a casualness to the way in which he carries himself. One that you quite enjoy. "This is a quick, easy and totally platonic way for you to have your tits touched, and it not be sexual at all."

"It'll just ruin my shirt."

"Or not," he says as he nods up to the wall where canvas sizes are displayed. There's also a plain tote bag and white tee pinned to the wall, still up from a promotion put on during the back-to-school season. It had been Hoseok's job to take them down, but he'd just broken up with his girlfriend at the time and had spent the entire week face down in the back room - getting him to do anything had been impossible - and so they remain as they were. "Would your boss notice if one went missing?"

You shake your head. Your boss really has no clue about the day-to-day goings on.

Still, you're hesitant. "If I get fired"—

"Then I'll fire Yeonjun and you can have his job," Jungkook bullshits. If he was gonna fire anyone, Yeonjun would be the last to go. "C'mon, you gotta stop stressing the small stuff, Byeol."

You're making excuses. You know you are, and so does he.

"Can we at least do it at your place?" You ask. It feels rude to invite yourself to his apartment, but it's honestly probably where you feel most comfortable. It's where the birds are, and it feels like a sanctuary for your fears. When done in the confines of his room, you're able to shut them away and never think about them again - at least not until you return.

Jungkook thinks it over. He's got no problem with it, just isn't sure if Jimin is in. He tells you as such and is met with a shrug.

"If he's in, he's in," you say. "We can just say we're working on planning an event for Tae's exhibition, say that I'm using you for cheap labour."

"Oh shit yeah," Jungkook gasps, suddenly reminded of the fact Taehyung had been here with a purpose. "How did it go? You think your boss will approve."

You nod. "Don't see why not. It's a solid pitch and we haven't held an exhibition in a while. I have some contacts saved up from our last couple of shows so can get together a guest list for the opening night."

It's more than Taehyung would have hoped for. The painting cafe is unassuming, in a way, which makes it a great underdog location for hosting such events.

"Sorry to have sent him here without warning," Jungkook adds. "I wasn't even sure if you did things like that."

"Not often," you admit. "I really enjoy them, though. I'm always keen for more."

The pair of you gather up your things and head back to Jungkook's place, talking about his friends, and their careers. You learn Taehyung is an artist by night, but a teaching assistant by day, which makes his love for arts and crafts all the more sweeter, you decide. Jimin works at a local interior design firm, which suddenly makes so much sense considering the books you remember being on his desk when you were bent over it.

Namjoon works at the local off-branch of the national paper, with a focus on environmental reporting, which is how he'd met Yoongi, who works as a sustainable carpenter, specialising in local woods and materials. Running his own studio, Mins, he'd done a promotional interview a few years back around the time it opened, and had then introduced Namjoon to the rest of the boys.

Their friendships run deep, and it's nice that Jungkook is so willing to share that part of his life with you. The way he sees it, you're well on your way to becoming a part of the group, too.

When you arrive at Jungkook's place, he enters first.

The shower is running, loud enough to obscure any noise of his arrival, so he ushers you in and straight to his room. The sneaking around is getting a little old already, but he figures soon enough it will be commonplace for you to hang out with the both of them.

Jimin isn't naive to your friendship, he just isn't aware quite how friendly you've become.

And so you keep your voices down, even when the pair of you are trying your hardest not to laugh, hands covered in paint, neither of you wanting to be the one who goes first. He's in a black shirt, so your hands are covered in white paint. You're in white, so his hands are coated in a layer of black paint instead.

It's stupid and it's juvenile, but also incredibly sweet. You appreciate how much Jungkook tries to ease you into things. Baby steps.

"No, no," you whisper. "I'll go first. On you. Easier that way."

He knows it will make it no more difficult nor easy no matter who goes when, but he understands what you're saying. It will make you feel more comfortable. Of course, he obliges.

"Stand behind me," he says quietly. "Can you see in the mirror?"

"Not really," you say. His back is broad and he's obviously far taller than you, which pretty much obscures the entire mirror. If you lean around, you can see part of it, but it makes it harder for your to get an equal placement on his chest.

"Okay, just stand straight. I'll guide you."

The way he knocks your hands into position, mostly because his are also covered in paint, is just as gentle as the tone of his voice is.

"Three, two, one," he counts down. "Now press."

You do as you're told and are confronted with potentially the firmest pecks you've ever laid your hands upon. Sure, Seokjin had a body built like a God, but Jungkook? Jesus Christ. He must be something entirely... unhuman.

"Anddd pull away," he whispers. The shirt sticks a little bit, but as your hands peel off, Jungkook smirks. "Your hands are so small."

You take great offence to this for absolutely no reason other than to bicker with him. "Says you!"

"Sorry?"

"You don't exactly have massive hands," you goad him, seeing if you can get a rise out of him, and as if by magic—

"Turn the fuck around, Byeol," he says, almost forgetting the volume control. You do as you're told, grinning like the smug little bitch you are. "Don't have massive hands? I swear you say shit just to piss me off."

"Who me?" You feign innocence. "Never."

"Yes, you," he laughs, but he makes no attempt to reciprocate the shirt creation. Instead, he holds back. Wants to make sure you're okay with it. You tell him you are, but he still doubles down on confirmation. "If it's too much at any point, just say."

You nod. Wonder if he can see the beat of your heart running through your veins. He can't. But he can see your eyes in the mirror, and recognise the trepidation they're drowning in.

"You ready?"

And again, you nod. Exhale. "Ready."

He's tentative in his approach, palms wide, fingers outstretched. He lets his palms rest on the sides of your chest first. You stop breathing for a moment.

"You okay?" He checks, to which you nod. "Okay, Byeol. We're going at your pace. The second it's too much, you let me know, okay?"

He waits for your go-ahead, and then lets his fingers squeeze into the softness of your chest. He sort of assumed he'd eclipse them like he always has done with his former partners, but he doesn't quite manage it with you. It takes him by surprise. Stops him in his tracks. Makes you nervous.

"Kook?"

Whatever trance he's in, he snaps out of it. Realigns his focus. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," you nod. "Are you?"

"Yeah, yeah," he parrots back. "Just being careful."

"It's fine," you smile. "I'm not a porcelain doll—and this is fine, actually."

"It is?"

"Mhmm. This isn't half as bad as I thought it would be."

"You're welcome."

You laugh, and tell him to shut up. He squeezes ever so gently around your chest, and as much as you hate to admit it, a fucking moan is lodged in your throat. You don't let it out. Don't want him to know it feels electric having his hands on you like this. God, it's nice. It's good. Comforting. That's what surprises you the most.

You've spent so long avoiding contact like this, that you had forgotten why you liked it so much in the first place.

In fact, you find yourself pouting ever so slightly when he pulls away, revealing two black handprints cradling your tits. His is the reverse, white paint on a black shirt.

"See," he smiles. "Told you it was cool. When they're dry, we can go in with markers and outline the skeleton shapes."

The pout on your lips as you look at him is sweet, eyes full of wonder. He thinks he's only ever seen you like this when you're drunk. It's all hazy, and it's like the glitter that's normally on your cheeks is in your pupils instead.

Silence resumes in his room, both of you conscious of Jimin milling around in the kitchen. Jungkook tells you to take the shirt off —"be careful, don't let the paint touch anywhere else"— so that it can dry properly.

It's as you're both standing there half-naked with your backs to one another, that he's caught off guard.

"Let's do it."

"Hmm?"

"Let's do it," you repeat. "That first idea. The canvas. I packed one just in case and I... I didn't think we'd need it - but it wasn't entirely horrible, and-I-think-I-wanna-see-if-maybe-"

"Byeol," Jungkook laughs, cutting you off, but doesn't turn around to face you. He's still trying to be as respectful as he can be. "Breathe. If you wanna do it, we can. No biggie on my part."

"It's a biggie on my part," you say quietly.

Jungkook frowns. Doesn't like how vulnerable you sound. "I know. It's okay. We can make it not a biggie."

Your mind races at a mile a minute. You've not let anyone other than Seokjin touch your bare chest in such a long time. The idea of Jungkook doing it now makes you feel nervous, but you're ready for it. Ready to feel renewed. Ready to finally fucking let go.

"How do you want to do this?" You ask, because one decision is enough for you. You'd rather let him be in the driver's seat, now. Leave your destination unknown. Leave it up to him. You're just here for the journey. Here for the ride.

"Can I turn around?"

"Yeah," you say. You don't mind him seeing you like this - you're shirtless, but you still have a bra on. He takes a second to look at your back; how your spine trails down it. Wonders if there are dimples at the bottom of it. They'd be hidden by your trousers now, and he doesn't really remember checking after the paint party.

He shakes his head, ridding himself of the thoughts, as he heads to the curtains and draws one of them shut. The other curtain remains open, but neither of you will be standing in front of it, so he doesn't think it matters all that much.

Jungkook comes to stand behind you, turning you to face the mirror. His hands are on your shoulders, still a little paint-ridden, but nothing that bothers you.

"So I'm thinking," he says quietly, eyes on yours in the reflection as he toys slightly with the bra straps over your shoulders. "That this comes off."

You swallow so hard that Jungkook thinks you might choke. You don't.

But you also nod.

"Is that a yes?" He checks for consent.

"It's a yes."

His hands are slow as they stroke down your back. He's not really thinking. Just working on auto-pilot. This isn't about him. It's all about you. What you need. What you want.

"Then, I think we need more paint," he says, his fingers working to unclasp your bra. You feel the tension ping and release, and you think you might have a heart attack. He notices the change in your breathing. "If you need to stop, you just say, okay? Tell me okay?"

"Okay," you nod, knowing you're in the safest hands you possibly could be.

"What will you say? Give me a word. Something obscure. A safe word."

You shake your head and shrug, trying to think. "I don't know - chess?"

Jungkook laughs, knowing exactly where your eyes must have been focused - on the shelf by his desk, where his chess set sits undisturbed. "Okay. Chess."

"Chess."

"Just say it, and I'll stop."

You're silent as he reaches over for the paint, and tells you to toss your bra on his bed. The click of the acrylic bottle opening and closing beats in time with your heart. Jungkook's warming the paint between his hands, trying to make this as comfortable for you as he possibly can.

You're entirely bare from the waist up, and don't take much comfort in the fact that he is too. It feels a hell of a lot scarier for you, and you both know it.

"I'm gonna touch you now," he says, and waits for you to nod. You close your eyes. Bite on your lip. Wait for the contact—and when his palms softly connect, your brows knit together. Jungkook watches on, apprehensive. It almost looks like you're in pain, but as he begins to spread the paint over your breasts, they ease. "That okay?"

You nod. "It's okay."

When you open your eyes, you avoid looking towards the mirror. You look down, look away - and Jungkook notices. He nudges the side of your head with his own. Realigns it. Encourages. "Watch."

He speaks quietly, the dulcet tone of his purr just loud enough for you, but untraceable to anyone outside the room. He doesn't want Jimin to hear. Doesn't want Jimin to know.

It's not that he was lying when he said Jimin wouldn't care - he genuinely believes it'd be no issue, especially with context provided—it's just that he hasn't figured out how to explain it. The girl you shagged a few months ago? We're friends. Pretty good friends, actually. And I'm touching her boobs to help her get over a fear. Totally normal.

Jimin's fully aware of the friendship. Knows you've been in the apartment a handful of times. Jungkook never hides it from it; just tells him after the occasion. He doesn't mind.

In fact, Jimin quite likes your company whenever he bumps into you. Is quite glad you're not weird around him just because you've had sex. If anything, it gives him high hopes that maybe you'll be up for round two on the nights he can't find anyone else. To be honest, it'd make you the perfect candidate for a friends-with-benefits type situation with him. He hasn't had one of those in a while.

He doesn't share this thought process with Jungkook. Isn't sure how well received it would be. See, Jungkook's been incredibly vocal about how embarking on a friends-with-benefits situation is potentially the stupidest thing a person can do.

He'd lost his best friend—the girl he could have spent his life with—that way. Hasn't spoken to his favourite person in months because her new boyfriend doesn't like her hanging out with people she used to fuck. Makes sense. He can't argue against it.

He can think about it in the quiet hours of the early mornings, though, and weep a little out of frustration with how fucked up the best thing in life became.

There's a naive hope within him now that thinks he's fixing his previous wrongs with you. Doing things he's already done, without taking it too far, this time. A broken heart can't fall in love, after all. It's different.

Your eyes land on his; dark and frightfully deep. He's not sure what you're thinking. Tells himself it's better that way.

"My hands," he corrects. "Eyes on my hands, Byeol. Watch what I'm doing."

It takes you a moment to pull your eyes from his - and when you do, something about it feels catastrophic. Paint covers the skin of your chest; only a few small gaps of exposed skin are still on display. He squeezes. Moves his fingers. Doesn't specifically aim to cover those spots, but know it's the end goal.

There's a muffled moan hiding in your throat; revelations of a lost pleasure that you've refused to let yourself indulge in.

"Kook-" you begin, but he hushes you.

"Just feel it. Watch it."

And so you do. His chin rests on your shoulder, watching your body, keeping an eye on the way your heartbeat begins to calm, yet races all the same. The ink on his hand is hidden by the paint, his forearms just as much of a mess as your chest. You fight your instincts which tell you to close your eyes; to lean into his touch.

The moan that's made it home in your throat decides it's been trapped for too long. It tickles at your lips, vibrates into the room. You catch it with a gasp, and Jungkook can't help but let an airy smirk fall from his lips.

He never thought you were kidding about how much you liked it, but it's different seeing it in the flesh. There's an insolent nature to his teasing, and it makes you want to fucking whine.

"How does it feel, Byeol?"

Your eyes flick up to his, your lips resting ajar. The heaving of your chest is far easier to see when he stops massaging your chest. You smirk back at him. Roll your eyes.

"You don't wanna know," you tell him, because as much as he tried to make out that none of this would be sexual, your body doesn't agree.

And honestly, nor does his.

"No," he says, closing the minuscule gap he's been keeping between his crotch and your ass. The corners of his lips twitch upwards when you feel it—feel him—press against you. "I think I do wanna know."

His smirk is laced in sin, dark eyes hazy, as your chest begins to stutter all over again. You bring your hand to rest over one of his. Encourage his movements. Let your eyes close. Don't hide the moan that travels through you.

"I thought you said this wasn't gonna be sexual," you eventually say a little breathlessly. You encourage his movements still, just to let him know you're not entirely opposed to it.

"It's not," he purrs against your ear, and presses himself against you again, a little firmer this time. His breath is hot against your skin as you lean your head back, a laboured grunt stuck now in his throat. You can feel his heartbeat against your back.

You let your eyes rest on him in the reflection. Take a moment to read his face, and decide you've no idea what this man is thinking.

Truth be told, he's not really having any cognitive thoughts.

"You're hard," you tell him.

His eyes rest shut, a bashful smile on his giddy lips, neck turning ever so slightly to rest his forehead against your hair. And then he whispers, "Don't tell me you're not wet, Byeol."

"Mhhm," you moan with a little humour. "Dry as the Sahara, buddy."

"God, if my hands weren't covered in paint-"

"You'd what?" you interrupt with a sardonic smile. "This isn't sexual, remember?"

He scrunches his face up. Looks at you. Looks at your chest. Looks away from the mirror, and down to watch his movements. He alters his pace, playing with your tits just for the fun of it, seeing how he can toy with them. It might not be what usually gets him keen, but he can see why you attract boob guys; can also understand why your ex would keep coming back if he is a boob guy.

"You ever do this to yourself? Like, for fun?" He asks, ignoring your last question, seemingly hypnotised by the overspill between his fingers, and the way it jiggles for him.

"Like non-sexually?"

"Mhhm," he says as he repositions himself. Cups the undersides of your boobs. Lets his thumbs flick against your nipples. You moan in a way he hasn't heard before. Does it again. Same result.

"Fuck," you hiss. "Yeah, I do it - fuck, Kook - for fun. Not like this though. This is"—

"Just for getting you wet?"

Yes.

"I'm not wet."

"Such a liar, Byeol."

His fingers pinch, gently clasping at your nipples. Has you mewling. Has you amazed you haven't been letting anyone do this during sex. You've been making yourself suffer to solidify your heartbreak. Maybe if you'd have been fucking people how you like to be fucked, instead of using it as a tool of validation, you'd have found the whole thing a bit easier. Or perhaps not. Perhaps you'll never know.

"Are you trying to make me wet?" You challenge, eyes on him, watching the way he's watching himself.

He shakes his head. Nestles it against your hair. Likes the scent of your shampoo. Inhales a little deeper. Is breathless when he rasps, "Just helping out a friend. How your body reacts to me is its own problem."

You scoff. "My body's reaction has got nothing to do with you."

"No?" His grip tightens. You whine.

"Kook-" is all you can manage, chest heaving, heart in your throat. Your back is arching, pushing your chest further into his grasp.

He's about to mock you; about to tease you a little more. Make some dumb remark, you sure, something that will have you fighting back against him—but it's interrupted.

"Hey, Jungkook?" A voice shouts from the living room. "You in?"

The way Jungkook pulls away from you is so abrupt you almost lose balance. He pulls a shirt from his chair, chucks it in your direction without looking back and darts for the door at such speed, you wouldn't be surprised to see him in a comic book like one of his damn figurines.

He opens the door just a crack, keeping you hidden, ignoring the fact his door handle is now slathered in black paint - the corner of his pristine white wall, too.

"Hey," he squeaks as Jimin stops in his tracks. He'd just been about to reach for Jungkook's doorhandle to invite himself in, but the look on Jungkook's face tells him to stay away.

Jimin raises an eyebrow. "This isn't suspicious at all."

Behind Jungkook's head, Jimin can see his bed. It's made, not disturbed in the slightest, but the way Jungkook is guarding the room makes it incredibly clear he was up to no good. It's all very amusing. Just out of his eye line is your bra.

"Was just letting you know I'm off out," he smirks. "But I'll leave you to it. Don't think I'll be back till morning, so stay safe, young padawan."

"Right," Jungkook purses his lips, not wanting to give Jimin the satisfaction of confirming nor denying anything.

Jimin doesn't care to watch Jungkook squirm. Would rather let him get back to whoever it is with him in his room. The kid's been out of action for so long that he's frankly pleased to see him acting so shifty. He's never known anyone who needs to get laid as much as Jungkook does. Hopes this means he's finally over the last girl.

He turns on his heel, but calls back, "Don't forget to wrap it up! Can't be arsed with baby-proofing the apartment."

"Jesus Christ," Jungkook mutters as he closed his door. He rests his head on the frame for a moment, before turning his head to find you in a state of absolute horror.

"Kook!" You whisper, eyes wide, heart thumping into your chest. The shirt he'd thrown at you is still on the floor because it's a white shirt, and you weren't stupid enough to actually pick it up. You kick back across to his chair, hands covering your chest without touching them. You don't want to end up as messy as he is.

Jungkook strides across to you with a scrunched-up face and just moves your arms, laughing to himself slightly as he cups your breasts in his hands. He holds them firmly. Squeezes an apology. Admittedly, you do feel more protected like this.

"Shush, shush," he coos quietly, a stupid smile plastered all over his face. His hands are temperate, but they squeeze at you a little as his shoulders lift ever so slightly. "He's not out the door yet."

There's a pause as you both wait with bated breath. There's a faint click, which Jungkook knows is the front door going, so he nods. A second click follows.

"You're safe," he laughs, and you can't help but laugh, too. Your hands instinctively come up to cover your chest, but his hands are already there, so you drop them again. His forehead rests against yours. His frivolous energy is contagious, the pair of you breathlessly giggling at the weird fucking situation you're in. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," you shake your head, keeping your forehead against his, almost brushing your nose with his. "Not your fault."

"Got a little carried away, though," he whispers, his smile fading as he harshly swallows back. "Should've tapped out. I should have said chess."

You shrug. Whisper, "Takes two to tango."

The moment lingers. Wraps you both up in a ribbon, and ties a bow where his hands meet your chest. Safe and secure. A memory to be tucked away under your list of bad decisions, but for the moment, you'll convince yourself it was a good idea. You're not thinking of Seokjin, at least, and that was the real goal.

"Let's finish this off," he says, nodding over to the canvas. "We need more paint, though. I'm pretty sure I've literally, like, moisturised it into your skin. I don't think that's a good thing."

"It's definitely not a good thing," you cringe, knowing that your pores must be screaming beneath the acrylic. You wait for his grip to leave your chest, but it doesn't. It's only when you raise a brow and shake your head at him that he realises.

"Oh, right, yeah, yeah."

It's a lot more clumsy this time round. Jungkook's second-guessing himself, almost as if he hasn't just spent God knows how long grappling with your tits. He laughs, and so do you, the pair of you finding every little thing hilarious. Perhaps it's nerves, or perhaps you're trying to play this off as something totally normal between friends, but either way, you think you're glad you're with him. Glad he took a chance on your birds.

"How do we even do this?" Jungkook hums in confusion when he holds up the canvas. He puts it in all kinds of positions, but can't seem to figure out the best course of action. You tilt your head and mull it over.

"Gimmie it," you say softly, holding your hands out to retrieve it from him. His palms have left prints on the edges, but it doesn't matter. Turning to the mirror, you can't help but smile at how much of a mess you are. Such a stupid idea, and yet it's worked perfectly. "Okay, stand behind me again - keep your boner away from me this time, though."

"My God, I don't even have one anymore," he whines, and it's true. It's just a semi.

"Sure," you tease, but begin to instruct him further. "Hold them, like, underneath. How you did earlier. Yeah, yeah, that's it," you nod.

His long fingers support the base of your breasts, his thumbs resting on the sides. Chin on the top of your head, it's a lot less intimate than it had been. This, you think, could be argued as non-sexual.

A momentary lapse in judgement is fine, and that's what you'll chalk earlier up to.

It's not like there are set rules to this whole arrangement. Mistakes will be made; bad decisions, too. What matters is that you don't make the same ones twice.

"Okay," you muse quietly, holding the canvas up to your chest, trying to line it up perfectly. "I'm gonna press down. Keep still."

Jungkook doesn't dare move. Too scared you'll notice his semi and tell him off for being a randy bastard. It's circumstantial. He's never spent so long holding a pair of tits. It's just... hormones. Maybe. He isn't really sure.

Pressing the canvas against your poised chest, you apply as much pressure as you can, trying to get the imprint. You're mumbling affirmations of a good job to yourself —"Okay, good. Just a little more. Little more pressure, c'mon."—before pulling it away.

It almost peels, the paint a little tacky, but sure enough, the imprint is there, and pretty damn perfect if you do say so yourself. A pleased, albeit a little surprised, laugh escapes your lips.

"Oh, that's fucking cool," Jungkook beams. "Looks like one of those inkblot tests."

He's not wrong. There are two well-defined black circles, the imprints differing ever so slightly, smudging outwards. To you, it's plainly obvious it's a pair of tits—but then again, they are your tits. It's a lived, breathed experience of yours. Anyone else looking might mistake them for something else.

"Mmm," you agree. "What do you see?"

You're holding it up in front of you, blocking the mirror from your view. Jungkook's head dips to your shoulder, where his pointy chin rests but you don't complain. One of his structured hands eases, slipping to a more natural grasp on your boob, while the other drops. It slinks around the front of your waist, his forearm keeping your back pressed against his chest.

"Big ol' pair of titties," he says in potentially the most childish voice he could have chosen. You pull away from his grasp and give him a look of disgust. "Sorry, I mean... not a pair of tits?"

"You're a fucking child, Jeon," you scold, to which he tells you that he's actually very mature and you're just being a boring old bint. Turning back around to study it a little more, you tilt your head. It's missing something. Jungkook's grasp on you had never fully eased, but both of his hands rest now at the dips of your waist. You pay it no mind. "I think we should add to it."

"Watcha thinking?"

"Not sure," you muse. "It is a little bit too obvious."

"So you're saying it does��look like a big pair of"—

"Oh my God," you groan, walking away from him and to where the paint is sitting pretty. "Lie down."

"Sorry?"

"You heard me. Lie down."

You don't look at him as you say your commands, instead you spend your time picking between the paints. The silver is your favourite, but as much as he likes to wear it in the form of jewellery, you know that gold is his colour. It's the one that suits him best - or at least, suits who he is.

He's hesitant, but he does as you say. He lies on his back horizontally across the bed, like how the pair of you do when you look at the birds, one of his arms resting over his stomach. He looks up to them now, no smile on his lips, but an overwhelming sense of contentedness.

Before you, he used to look at the birds and feel guilt. Was harbouring feelings that he'd told everyone he had let go of. They're still there, but they're diluted. Too much of you filling the empty spaces for him to dwell on the birds made for her instead.

You come to perch next to him on the bed, sitting on your ankles as his gaze falls to yours with great curiosity.

"What are you doing, Byeol?"

With a smile, you say nothing - just uncap the paint lid, and turn it on its end over the top of his chest. He doesn't object. Just watches you quietly. Patiently. Hisses when the chill of the paint comes into contact with his skin, but lets you do as you please.

Capping it shut with a click, you reach over to put the paint on his bedside table. Still shirtless, Jungkook watches the way your tits move, and doesn't even try to hide it.

"Eyes up here," you say as you regain full posture, but he keeps his eyes on your tits.

"Can't. Hypnotised."

You're laughing as you roll your eyes. "Such a liar, Mr 'I'm an Ass Guy'."

He finally looks at you, almost in horror, thanks to the voice you just did impersonate him. "Is that how you think I sound?!"

"It is how you sound," you tell him, knowing that you should have deepened your voice. Instead, you'd deliberately raised it a few octaves. "I'm a voice actress in my spare time," you lie. "I've been told I have perfect pitch on many occasions. That was an exact replica of your voice."

It's said with such a straight face that it would be believable if it wasn't for the fact that Jungkook does have perfect pitch. His music teacher always tried to make him pursue a musical career, but he was fearful of failure. Didn't want to put himself out there just to get rejected.

"I can't believe I'm friends with you," he mutters as your finger begins to draw over his chest with the paint. "Most annoying girl I've ever met—shit"— He winces as you flick his nipple, his hand coming to rub at it almost immediately. "Byeol!"

"Hmm?" you smile. "Sorry were you saying something?"

He says nothing, just narrows his eyes at you as you get back to work, spreading the paint over his chest.

"We've already got an imprint of my tits," you muse, pressing the metallic gold into his muscles, quietly in awe over his physique. "And now I wanna get an imprint of your tits, too. Over the top of mine. I think it'll look cool."

"You mean my pecks?"

"Yeah, sure," you say. "Your tits."

"They're pecks!"

"Okay?"

"One of those birds better have 'fixing my attitude problem' on them," Jungkook huffs, but it's all in good humour. You tell him your attitude is golden—just like his tits are. "They're fucking pecks!"

Reaching over for the canvas, your golden palms are just clumsy as his had been, leaving little marks on the edge of the canvas. Laughter fills his room as you try and decide how to place it, with the pair of your twisting and turning the canvas to try and figure out your best bet. You don't want to obscure your tits entirely, but his chest is broad.

"Don't think you thought this through," Jungkook teases. "You just wanted an excuse to touch my chest."

You flick his nipple again.

"Jesus Christ! One more time and I'll"—

Oh, how you love a threat. Can't wait to see if it's a promise.

And so you flick the other.

"Right, that's it."

It'd be a lie if you said you knew exactly where he flung the canvas - you were too busy trying to avoid his grasp as he got to his feet - but there are only so many places you can run to in his room.

In fact, you only actually get about three steps away by the time his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you into his grasp. The paint on his chest is slick against your back, but he doesn't really think about it as he turns you around, pressing you up against the window that doesn't have the curtain pulled shut.

His large hand clasps both of your wrists, holding them above your head just to keep them away from his damn nipples. The chase was minimal, the catch far too easy - and yet you're both breathless. Chests heaving. Your nipples are gilded in gold. He's far too fucking close.

"Kook"—

"What did I say about flicking my nipples?" He looks down at you, desperately trying not to smirk. The anger he's feigning is convincing, but even if he was furious, he's painted like a chryselephantine statue. In all fairness, he's got the body to match. A Greecian God if you ever did see one.

"Can't help it," you pout. "Your tits are just so perky."

He doesn't even insist on the fact they're pecks this time. Just lets his eyes drop to your tits, then back to your eyes. Repeats this four or five times. Shakes his head.

"If that's the metric we're going with, Byeol, then you're well overdue half a dozen nipple flicks."

"Nooo," you whine, squirming to get out of his grasp. He doesn't let you immediately, but ultimately decides it's for the best. Needs to calm himself down. Can't be having another repeat of the night before.

As soon as his grasp eases, you bolt away from him, and retrieve the canvas from the foot of his bed. He notices the gold on his window, and ignores it. Will deal with it later. It's an easy fix. A logical one.

For now, he's got a half-naked force of a woman in his room that he doesn't know how the fuck to deal with. No logic, no reason, no rhyme seems to help him figure you out.

"Please can we finish the canvas?" you say sweetly, as if you haven't been the one derailing things every single step of the way.

He says nothing. Spread his arms wide. Beckons you forward.

Pressing the canvas to his chest, you throw all of your deliberations out of the window. You don't really care for the outcome, now. Just know that the pair of you need to not be topless anymore.

It's platonic, yeah, but it is tempting.

The canvas peels much like it did when your impression was made, the paint tacky on his skin. The pair of you are dumbfounded as you take in the result for the first time.

It's fucking beautiful.

Metallic gold weaves around the black, overlaying ever so serenely, creating an abstract interaction between the shapes.

"What do you see now?" you ask softly, quietly proud of your creation together.

"I see a masterpiece," he grins, and that arm of his that likes hooking around your waist so much finds its favourite spot once more. His chin is on your head. "And you know what else?"

"What?"

"Look there"— he points to a small 'v' shape, just above the imprint of your chest that's free of gold. "Looks to me like a bird."

"Holy shit."

"A fear set free," he muses.

"Well done us," you beam, holding your hand up for him to high-five. He does so with ease, before reaching for the canvas and propping it up on his desk.

"C'mon," he grips onto your shoulders. Eases you forward and to his bedroom door. Reaching round to open it, he lets his hands fall to your waist, and then back up to cup your tits as you walk together. "Shower."

"Are you ever gonna let go of them now?" You laugh, finally pointing out just how bloody handsy he is.

"Don't think so."

"Brilliant."

He eventually does let them go as you're both washing your hands beneath the tap of his bathroom sink.

"Got a little paint in your hair," Jungkook says as you're drying your hands. He goes to twiddle at it in an attempt the break the dry paint down. It's not a lot, but it does mean you'll need to wash your hair to avoid the bleached strands from staining.

"Shit," you curse, knowing that Jungkook definitely won't have any silver shampoo, nor will he have anything more than a bog-standard conditioner.

"Hold on," he says, moving you to the side to rummage in the cupboard beneath the sink. There's a small clatter of bottles as he pulls a basket from the back of the shelf with a triumphant smile.

It's a grin that's quietly pleased, lips thin, pressed together, lip ring flipping in that way which always makes you smile. The basket itself is just as interesting as Jungkook's face—a myriad of coloured tubes, and lo-and-behold, the same brand of silver shampoo you use.

"Jimin had a phase," he explains. "Well, no actually, he's had a few - but this is from the coloured hair phase. You need the purple shit, right?"

You nod. "The purple shit."

"Take what you need," he says as he gets back to his full posture, leaving the room only to return a moment later with a bottle of conditioner in hand. You know the brand. It's pricey. You only buy it when it's on sale. You furrow your brows, and he just shrugs. "I keep my good towels out of the bathroom, Jimin keeps his good conditioner out of it instead."

It's funny, 'cause you do exactly the same. Danbi has been blessed with hair from the Gods, so never has to pay much attention to what she uses. A string of bad dye jobs and unhealthy heat habits have left you with a deep conditioning complex, and there's nothing worse than going for a shower and realising the conditioner you paid and an arm and a leg for is all gone.

Will this stop you from using Jimin's special conditioner? No, absolutely not. You care more about your hair than you do about his annoyance.

"How are we doing this?" You ask casually as Jungkook starts the shower up.

"Well," he contemplates far too hard for the sentence that follows. "I think we get in the shower, and then I think we... shower?"

"Right," you nod, as he grins, clearly pleased with himself. "Silly me. Of course it's that simple."

"Well it can be," he shrugs. "We both know we didn't really do the shower bird to completion, and aren't we saying 'fuck it', now? So why not?"

He's got a point. You feel far less on edge about the whole showering thing since the last time. It's like you've been working through it in stages, and it's helped.

"So..." you say quietly. "I don't know about you, Kook, but I normally shower naked."

He just shrugs. "Really, Byeol? Do you not think we've already crossed that boundary? I'm quite literally staring at your tits right now."

You look down to your exposed chest, and suppose he's right.

"Just... don't look, okay? You get in the shower first and like, face the wall or something."

As much as he thinks you're being ridiculous and that it really doesn't matter, he agrees. Your birds are, after all, all about you, and what you're comfortable with. Just because he is doesn't mean you will be.

He strips down, and discards his clothes into a pile. He'd be lying if he said he was entirely confident, but he definitely feels the pressure a lot less than you do.

"I'm in," he says encouraging you to follow suit.

Against your better judgement, you do.

You toss your trousers on top of his, panties too, and make your way into his shower. It's warm, just the right temperature, still set to Jimin's preference from earlier.

"Now was that so hard?" Jungkook asks, still facing the wall.

"No," you say airily. "I can see why you're an ass guy."

He turns his head, and sure enough, your eyes are on his ass. "Double standards."

"It's really good," you say, a little in shock at just how toned it is; how you'd kill for yours to be as peachy as his. "But you're right, you're right - I'm sorry."

"Can I at least turn around now?" He asks. "Seeing as you've already broken rule number one."

"What rule?!"

"Looking! You set the bloody rule!"

"Oh yeah," you grimace. Part of you considers turning around, but in all honesty, you don't want his ass-loving eyes to fall on yours and be disappointed. "Um, yeah. Sure. You can turn."

He's cupping his balls as he does so, hiding himself. It's sort of sweet in a way, and matches your own awkward stance.

"C'mon," he says, knocking his head back, encouraging you further into the stream of water. "Need to wash you off."

"You need to?"

"Well, yeah? Only fair. I'm the one who got you like that." He senses your hesitation, and offers you an out. "Or you can do it. I don't mind either way."

And for some reason, you don't actually seem to mind the suggestion. "Go for it."

He steps a little closer. "Say the word and I'll stop."

You reach for his hands. Lift them to your chest. "I don't think I'll say it."

He begins to massage at them, easing the paint off ever so gently, but it's stubborn. "Could do with some shower gel. Scent preference?"

"Hmm, strawberry?"

"Great choice."

You still find the fact he has more than one shower gel on the go hilarious, but you enjoy having a choice. It's one of the fantastic things about Jungkook; you're never backed into a corner. He'll always give you an option. A way out.

And yet as he gets reacquainted with your chest, you don't think you want one. The things that scared you before - forgetting Seokjin, losing his touch - seem like a world away. Yes, it's different with Jungkook, but it doesn't mean that it erases what you had with Seokjin. It also doesn't mean that you have to subject yourself to a life of boring sex just because you're harbouring guilt from a relationship breakdown that really wasn't your fault at all.

Seokjin had strayed, though. Made you feel like there was something wrong with you. Had you questioning the things you thought he'd loved about you - your tits included.

Seeing how Jungkook - a self-professed ass guy - reacts to them has been so validating. So needed. Will do you wonders in the future, you're sure.

It's as he's kneading at your tits that you notice he's becoming a little moany, too. A little unstrained. God, it's so satisfying.

He closes his eyes. Rests his forehead on yours. Squeezes around your tits as he swallows so harshly you think you can almost hear it. Nods, and then says, "Still an ass guy—but fucking hell, Byeol. You might convert me."

You laugh now, and Jungkook is obsessed with the way your boobs slide beneath his fingers, sopping wet and moving in time with your body. He still doesn't open his eyes.

"Fun aren't they?"

Again, he just nods. Doesn't wanna think about anything too hard.

If he does, he knows he'll have to deal with the fact his cock is now hard, too.

He thanks the high heavens that you just aren't mentioning it, because there's no way you haven't noticed.

It's not like he meant for it to happen. One moment he was trying to be respectful, and the next all he could think about it how soft and warm they are in his grasp. Was all beyond his control.

Thing is, Jungkook has no idea how hard it is for you to resist reaching down for it. It feels like second nature; like it's what you should do.

But it's a boundary that's still intact, and you'd like to keep as many of those as possible.

So would he - but he's fucking solid, throbbing, balls tight. Can't remember the last time he got like this. Sure he's been hard. Been horny. But this is on another level.

And so he just says fuck it.

Tells you so.

"Byeol if I don't cum in the next five minutes I think I'm gonna die."

His admission takes you by surprise. You want to laugh, but remain deadly serious as you say, "I think you'll be fine."

"No," he insists. "I will actually die."

"How?"

"Ruptured ballsack?" He grimaces. "I don't know, but I do know that my life is quite literally flashing before my eyes right now."

"Poor baby," you pout, and stroke at his hair just to wind him up a little bit more.

"Don't," he whines. "I'm one more sarcastic comment away from sucking your tits just to shut you up. You know how many pairs of tits I've sucked?" He doesn't wait for an answer. "None. Always thought it was weird. But now? I'm so horny I'm literally delirious. Willing to do anything."

Yeah right, you think.

"That's not very platonic of you," you state, using the exact tone of voice you know is winding him up.

"Byeol, I said one more."

"One more what?"

"God," he lets out a tortured sob. "It's like you want me to suck your tits."

"Me? Want that? Never."

"But it wasn't on the bird," he says, as if the birds really do dictate every single one of his actions. "Can't do it."

"In all fairness, Kook, nor was anything else that happened tonight. It was literally just the word 'tits'."

He tries to think straight, but he really can't. Doesn't know what's come over him. Maybe he's just tired. Maybe he just never knew how much he liked tits. Either way, he's absolutely done for.

He runs his thumbs over your nipples, and—fuck—the way you moan really does have him wanting to take them in his mouth. It's always been a no-go for him. Always thought the concept was a bit weird.

But it's all he can think about, now.

All he wants.

"Oh my god," he whines, again, obviously going through a little inner turmoil. His forehead drops to your shoulder. "Why do I want it? Why do I wanna suck your tits?"

"Mummy issues."

"Byeol! You're not helping."

"Just get yourself off," you laugh. "Once you get the orgasm out of you, you'll be able to think straight."

He nods. Knows you're right. "What about you? Do you need to?"

You've a much better grasp on your desperation than he does. You're a brat through and through, and find it hilarious that men seem to think they 'tame' you. In reality, you're the one who calls the shots. You're always in control. Just let them think they are.

With Jungkook, you've not needed to play up for him, so you don't realise how unaware he is of the fact your inner thighs are coated in your slickness.

"Can do," you shrug.

"That's not a yes."

You roll your eyes. "Look at me."

He does as he's told, and you decide very quickly that he would be so incredibly easy to turn into your bitch if you wanted him to be. It's cute. His lips are parted, brows pushed together, a crease forming above his nose. He really does look like he might die. Poor baby.

Dipping your hands to where your legs part, you run two fingers along your folds, and hold them up for Jungkook to see. You separate your fingers, the clear fluid suspended between the two of them. He whines again. Rests his head on your shoulder.

"The bird," he says. "The bird that we kinda did, but didn't do."

"What of it?" you toy, knowing exactly what he wants.

"Can we?" He rasps, unable to get his sentence out. One of his hands is on your chest, the other pressed flat to the tiles beside your head. His cock is desperate for contact. His hips are pulsing against nothing. If he doesn't grip onto it soon, he's gonna rut too far and end up touching you.

"You wanna get off together?"

He just nods. Mewls. "Please just give me the green light, Byeol. Please."

And as much as you want to keep fucking with him, it feels cruel now. His veins are engorged, flooded with blood, in desperate need of him to do something - anything - to have his heart beating normally again.

"Okay," you whisper. "Get yourself off."

He doesn't waste a second. Has his hand around his cock by the time you've finished the sentence. The change in his breathing is stark. There's a moan caught with every tug on his cock, his hand moving at a speed you didn't was humanely possible.

And it excites you.

Has you clasping the tit that he isn't currently holding onto for dear life, while your other hand sinks to your folds. You're soaked, clit throbbing, begging for even the faintest bit of attention. When Jungkook hears you moan too, he thinks he's done for. Holds his cock so tight he's scared he'll ruin his orgasm.

You know your body though. Know how to get yourself off within a minute when duty calls.

"Keep going," you tell him. "I can get close."

"That quickly?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

"Women are magic," you say between pants, dipping your fingers into your entrance for a little bit of fiction to your g-spot, just enough to really get you there.

"Fucking magic," he husks, his body edging a little closer to yours. You don't mind. In fact, you think you'll prefer it, so you let go of your chest and encourage him to close the gap. Your hand is on his waist, pulling him closer. He looks up. Regrets it, 'cause he never needed to see you looking like this. Doesn't ever wanna fuckin' look away. "Sure?"

"Mhhm," you moan, unable to get a word out because of how close you are—and then you can feel the tip of his cock press against your stomach, just below your ribcage. His movements are frantic.

"I'm not gonna last."

"Then don't."

His forehead rests on yours, the pair of you breathing so heavily that you're basically surviving on one another. Inhale, exhale. You're one and the same.

"Oh, fuck," you mewl, so incredibly close. Your fingers massage at your pussy just how you like it; spank against your clit a little, tease it to the near point of no return. "Kook, I'm about to"—

"Me too," he chokes. "Where?"

"It's fine," you husk, knowing he's asking where to cum. "It's okay. I don't mind."

"Sure?"

"Just fucking cum, Kook. Cum on me."

"Shit."

The release is just as undignified as the build. The pair of you are messes, whining as you come undone together. The voltage runs from the tips of your toes to the tops of your fingers, so intense that they go fucking numb for a moment. You're overstimulated almost as soon as it hits, unable to do anything but pant against his shoulder.

The tip of Jungkook's cock is pressed against your skin, his release painting you in the most glorious sin. He cums, but it feels like it never stops. Every time you think it has, he whines again, wanks a little more, unloads another spurt onto your torso. It trails down your hip, to your thigh and then sinks to the shower floor; washed away like a bad decision never to be repeated.

Breathlessness overcomes the pair of you, remaining as you are for a few moments, until Jungkook finally breaks it.

"I swear I never usually cum that fast."

You just laugh. Pat his head. "Sure."

"Fuck off, I don't," he says, laughing now too. "Christ. What the fuck was that, Byeol?"

He lifts his posture from how it's rested against you, turning to press his shoulders to the tiles beside you. The shower is still running, so he reaches over to turn it off. Neither of you are fully clean yet, but you'll get back to it in a moment. No point in running his water bill up just because he can.

"Well," you exhale. "I think you just discovered boobs."

He laughs. Tilts his head back against the tiles. Bites his lips as he shakes his head. "To be fair, I think you might be right."

You laugh now too, and that's how the evening remains; full of laughter. Jokes about how platonic and totally friendly the entire exchange has been. There's no weirdness, but in all honesty, you never thought there would be.

Jungkook lends you a pair of sweats and one of his shirts after the shower, your hair air drying beautifully thanks to Jimins oh-so-expensive conditioner. You feel a little bad for using it now, but you made him cum once, so you think you're even.

"And when Jimin asks where it's come from?" You question as you watch from Jungkook's sofa while he hangs your artwork up on the wall. It's next to the television. Really fucking hard to miss. Will be the first thing he notices.

"I'll just say it's one of Tae's," Jungkook shrugs.

"And when Tae comes round?"

"I'll... think of another lie?"

"Sounds foolproof," you muse, sipping on your glass of water, thinking that he's possibly the biggest idiot you know.

"Either way, neither of them will know what it is, or who made it. It'll be a mystery. Wait, unless," he stops himself. Furrows his brows together. Tries to join dots in his head. Even uses his hands to help with the mental work. "Would Jimin be able to tell?"

Your lips purse up, forming a thin line between your cheeks. You shake your head.

"No?"

"No," you say. "He never... Well, I meant what I said about them. Keeping them off limits. Or at least, kept."

"Yeah," Jungkook nods, accepting your truth, but thinking of hypotheticals. "Did he not see them, like, at all?"

"Um," you say to buy time, questioning how much you should divulge. "You really wanna know?"

Jungkook shrugs. Nods his head again. Makes no difference to him.

You adjust in your seat, trying to think of how to phrase the events of your night with Jimin, and finally settle on, "Well, I was fully clothed"—

"What?"

—"And we did it from behind." You watch as Jungkook stays silent for a moment. He's doing that thinking face of his again. The hand is moving. Figuring things out. And then you realise what he's doing. "No! Gross! Don't imagine it!"

"I'm just trying to get a visual!" He protests with a small pout. "Just trying to understand how!"

"My god," you cringe, hiding your head in your hands. "Never should have done that bird with you."

Jungkook rolls his eyes as he comes to sit beside you, admiring his handiwork. He actually really likes the painting. Is glad you added him to it, too.

"Yes, you should have," he says. "You admitted it yourself, you kept your tits off-limits, but it's clearly a big part of sex for you, right?"

You nod, not looking at him, but up at the canvas. It really is pretty. "Right."

"If you could do all that with me, you can do it with anyone else. It'll make a huge difference to how satisfying you find casual sex, which is like, the whole goal, right?"

And again, you nod.

"Exactly," he beams. "Now, say 'thank you Jungkook'."

"I'm not saying thank you," you laugh. "You literally got cum on my feet. You should be thanking me."

"Oh my god," he groans. "I'm never showering with you again."

"It wasn't the shower that was the issue!"

The pair of you bicker a little more, until the reality of it being the early hours of the morning kicks in. You're both yawning, hardly able to keep your eyes open. He offers up his bed, but you'd feel guilty taking it two nights in a row, so call for a taxi instead.

You're still in his clothes, but you'll just return them the inevitable next time.

He tells you to let him know when you get home safe, and you do, only for him to reply a few minutes later with a message that makes you consider blocking him.

Jungkook: Still an ass guy, btw.

minors dni | wattpad | series masterlist |

[butwhatifidothis]

1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7 and 12 for rhea? :3

1. Why do you like or dislike this character?

I like Rhea because her story brings with it so many interesting things to think about, and the choices she's made throughout it are also thought-provoking. Yes, she's tried to do the best she could with the options given to her, yes she's tried to do everything in order to bring peace to Fodlan, but that doesn't make her choices any less morally ambiguous or debatable - something she acknowledges, and even wishes to make up for when she's felt she'd made bad choices!

Plus her being fairly shy about mingling with others due to her status making her feel as though she'd bum down the mood gives her a real sweet quality to her lol. Makes me wish even more she was allowed to talk to more characters.

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

That she put her identity out on blast in Shambhala in order to protect everyone. She also does this during the siege on Garreg Mach, but her initial transformation was away from everyone; in the second time she does is in front of everyone, but she cares about saving people more than her own safety at that moment. Considering how long she hid her Nabatean heritage from the world, it feels like a huge step forward for her, Nabateans, and Fodlan as a whole being able to put behind the horrific massacre of the Nabateans. She isn't deemed a monster by anyone, no one tries to kill her in her dragon form; they all just admire that she went so far to keep them safe! It's just a really good moment (that's uh, fucked by either her dying for sure on VW or her randomly going berserk on SS, but still!).

3. Least favorite canon thing about this character?

The above mentioned going berserk thing in SS is easilyyyyyyy my least favorite thing about Rhea's writing (because due to the nature of Rhea's character I don't really find myself outright disliking any aspect of her character). It's stupid, it comes out of nowhere, it makes no sense (even with FEH trying its damndest to throw out a reason), and it just kinda fucks with SS' pacing more than anything. She's only the final boss there because SS needed a unique boss and no other reason and it sucks major ass.

Even the suggestion of her going berserk on VW and Nemesis being the final boss of SS just kinda... moves the problem somewhere else, not actual fix what's wrong with it (the lack of foreshadowing that anything like this would happen, the fact that it doesn't happen on the other route where the exact same thing happens to Rhea but nothing happens to her there, the nonsensical nature of it, etc.). Definitely the weakest part of the writing of her character, imo.

5. What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

Not the song question 😭😭😭 imma be straight up with you I do not think of any song for any character like almost ever sorry for the lame answer but I don't got shit for this question

6. What's something you have in common with this character?

We both love cats!!

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

i like when they write her in character I like when fandom allows for Rhea to genuinely grow close to other characters, rare as it is to see happen. She has such an interesting viewpoint and has a lot of similarities to a lot of characters, so seeing that get expanded on and not just have her be The One True Bad Guy Of 3H For Totes For Realsies Pinky Promise is always nice lol

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

On AM/SS after the war she lets herself openly baby Flayn as her aunt instead of withholding outright doting due to her archbishop position + hiding their familial relation. She gives her gifts and teaches her constellations on her star chart and does up her hair and tells funny story about Seteth that make him look silly - she just gets to be family with her niece!!

[bubblegum-gf]

i got HACKED TO PIECES by KEVIN and then NECROMANCED by DAN and now i have to wander around pretending i didnt come back wrong and also watching this stupid fucked up thing theyve got going on.

i HAVE TO do it bc i dont have free will anymore (which isnt as bad as it sounds btw bc im dead anyway so i dont care about living my life or whatever) and dan keeps using me as his messenger so now i have to go break into kevins house and hang a fuckin dead pigs head from the ceiling so when he comes home in the evening he sees it silhouetted in the dark dripping blood on the kitchen tiles. and i just know kevin is NOT understanding it the way dan is intending it (necromancers are INSANE, i think this is flirting ??).

i wish i could tell him hes a dumbass and should just send him flowers or something normal but, yknow, no free will and all that.

but also if kevin catches me in his house hell probably kill me again. which wont hurt bc im already dead but i also wont bleed, instead this dry dust will pour out of my skull where his axe splits it open and my body will fall apart in all the places he cut me open before

and i just know kevin gets super creeped out when that happens and that means hes gonna kill even more people until he feels better and then dans gonna exhaust himself resurrecting them all, and then to make HIMSELF feel better dans gonna send someone to leave a dead animal in kevins bed (thats what he fantasises about kevin doing for him) and the whole fucking thing starts again bc they are NOT figuring it out.

also dans been practicing controlling living bodies (works the same as reanimating a corpse except its temporary bc the living person eventually breaks free) bc he wants to impress kevin and i just know its not gonna go down well when he forces kevin to dance with the possessed corpse of his girlfriend, who dan is planning to kill bc hes jealous.

its not like kevin even loves her, shes just there to give him alibis and hes fully aware shes cheating on him. but even though he doesnt care about her, its still gonna upset him when dan kills someone close to him bc the whole point of being a serial killer is that HES the one who kills people, HES supposed to be in control. which he wont be when he feels dans rotting, dead magic sucking at his flesh like quicksand and forcing him to move at dans command.

but its not so bad for me bc i have no living soul to resist his magic with and you only really feel it when you resist.

i just wish theyd make out already or at least move in together bc this pig head is really heavy and i have to carry it allll the way across town.

you had me at “dan fantasizes about leaving a dead animal in kevin’s bed” you are the only person who makes them freaky enough

then you had me again at possessed dancing (with a corpse!) I LIVE for that shit. And ROTTING DEAD MAGIC?!?! mwah

just imagined them as love me dead by ludo and now I’m even worse about it

dan for realsies “you and me could write a bad necromance”

dan: whatever. go my reanimated corpse

sorry about your lack of free will but I’ve got my popcorn out now if you have more updates. You can have some popcorn too if you’re able to eat as a reanimated corpse

[e-adlirez]

So the GS movie right

Hello fandom newbies, yes there's a GS film that was announced in 2023

Just thinking about it again because uh, we got ding dang nothing about it besides the teaser poster that was put up when the news came out in the middle of April 2023. No release year, no cast, not even a screenwriter-- we just know from this article on Atlantyca's official website and this English article that Radar references on their website that it's gonna be made by Radar Pictures (the company behind the Jumanji movies), David Soren (the man behind the Captain Underpants movie) is gonna be directing, and we have producers Anthony Tringali, Michael Napoliello and Maria Frisk from Radar. (If ImdB is not screwing with me rn, then I guess they're also working on the Bendy and the Ink Machine film, but take that with a massive grain of salt.)

We don't even know about what artstyle the film is gonna be in :D all we got is this, and while it is very nice and cute, I am lowkey terrified for what G's gonna look like for realsies beneath that extremely conveniently positioned camera :D lord forbid another Sonic trailer situation winds up happening here :D

Atlantyca (GS's copyright holder) is apparently gonna be working with Radar to make this movie happen, so uh no Percy Jackson situation is gonna be happening (thank god), and uh that's it :D

We're gonna have to hold on a little longer, Stilton fandom, but we will be fed 😔✊

Soren is the director so the bar's already pretty high considering the Captain Underpants movie and its success, so I wager that we will be fed well

I just hope the film doesn't come out super-early like, 2025 or something. What is this, Disney and Marvel churning out movies with only two years of development? No thank you to that, please, Wish was disappointing and I don't want lackluster mainstream food that tastes on par with Wish. We have standards, people even though we've barely been fed in the English side of the fandom besides the GS graphic novels with the cute lil' rat man artstyle IT'S GOOD YOU GUYS TRU--

Anyway uh, GS ramble over, time for me to hunker down and wait at least until 2029 or something for the film /pos

(and write SPN)

[blackjackkent]

OK, for realsies this time (maybe?), a few more explorational highlights from the grove area, and then we're off in the direction of the goblin camp, because Rakha craves goblin blood and answers and it seems the most likely place to get both. (After not being able to hurt Mizora, Sceleritas, OR Raphael, she's feeling very pent up and not in the fun way.)

Rescued Mirkon from the harpies on the beach! We didn't do this with Hector last time. In this case, I suspect it was definitely Wyll who originally encouraged Rakha to go down and see if the kid was okay. ("Your favorite drownings all take place in shallow water," the Narrator helpfully informs us. "Just a slice of the ankle tendons...") She also got completely hypnotized by the harpies as well, because it occurred to me that (to her recollection) she has never heard music of any kind before, let alone music that beautiful - and not only that, but it quieted the Urge. Lae'zel (I assume) snaps her out of it. And once Rakha figures out what's going on and that something else was taking control of the inside of her head, she got MAD. This fight didn't go particularly well for anyone except Lae'zel, who rocked an absolutely brutal crit on one of the harpies, but Rakha got to expend some frustration on all of them with some applications of Burning Hands, which made her feel overall a little calmer. We got a Folk Hero inspiration for Wyll for helping the kid out. Gale was also pleased, although I think Rakha cares about that somewhat less.

Hit level 3! Rakha now has more spell slots and can (with sorcery points) cast an action spell as a bonus action. More fire!

Chatted with Volo. Rakha, after her recent interactions with Sceleritas and Raphael, absolutely got jumpscared by him greeting her as "my good friend!" until she realizes Volo is just Like That. She's also utterly baffled when he asks her for information on the goblin battle and then deliberately writes down falsehoods instead. ("A mythweaver," Lae'zel says disdainfully. "This man has no respect for truth.") He does confirm what she's picked up about the presence of the Absolute cult, though - and indicates that the goblins are also part of it, although it's hard to tell whether she should believe him.

Stopped down to see Mol since Mirkon said we should. It was not a particularly exciting conversation, but contact has been made which will be relevant later. Rakha definitely looks at the kids differently than she does the adults in the area, mostly because of Wyll's influence and his story of how he became the Blade of Frontiers.

Checked in with the two tiefling guards in the back corner room, one of whom is threatening to shoot a caged goblin prisoner in revenge for her dead brother. Unsurprisingly, Rakha did nothing to stop this. ("Your mind wanders," points out the Narrator, in the soft, cold drawl she uses for the Dark Urge's specific thoughts. "If the crossbow bolt shot through her mouth, would she taste the metal before she died?") Stand back and admire the guard's overflowing hate. She waits and watches while the guard's crossbow bolt slams directly between the prisoner's eyes. Interestingly - Wyll approved of her choice.

Interacting with the squirrel above the main grove was uh. Sure something.

Narrator: This squirrel might be the single most adorable creature you can recall in all your stunted memory! It would be ever so twee if it were climbing a tree.

And then Rakha got this weird grin on her face and hauled off with a kick; there was an explosion of blood and the squirrel's dead body landed in the upper branches of the tree nearby.

"Terrific," says Lae'zel (presumably while Gale and Wyll look on in complete horror). "If I'm ever harangued by a rodent, I know who to call for."

Narrator: You stare at the body before you. You have no idea what just happened.

Rakha feels the beast in her head settle, its recent frustration soothed by this spilling of an innocent creature's blood. She remembers the deep, crunching impact of her boot and a deep shiver rolls through her whole body.

"My body moved without my command," she mutters hoarsely. "I couldn't control it."

The others don't respond. What is there to say?

Narrator: The swirling bile cauldron of your brain is cooking up a poison stew - served and seasoned by that venomous butler.

[dnangelic]

Get to know the mun ! repost, don’t reblog .

——— BASICS.

[ NAME ] : tsun (short for tsundere)

PRONOUNS : he / him

ZODIAC SIGN : pisces-aries

TAKEN OR SINGLE : single

ANYTHING ELSE ? : my dog is way cuter and more interesting than me

——— THREE SERIOUS FACTS.

you don't have to soften up your muse with me. really. i've written mainly antagonistic/villainous/horror-centric muses in the past so i'd like to at the very last believe i understand at least some of the struggle when it comes to having a muse like that. which isn't to say that daisuke won't still try to appeal to some form of compassion for even the most reprehensible muses because that's just the way that he's built, but nobody has to apologize and worry about hurting me, the mun's feelings for being mean to daisuke. if he wasn't built for helping then he was built for a lil bullying. it's okay. i love to see it <- mean older bro/failboy aficionado syndrome

i don't really do starter calls or memes anymore. the best way to start something with me is to either get at me directly for a thread/plot discussion or if that's too scary just make an ic remark on any random ass post and i'll probably make a new ic post for it. or send me an ask and we can go from there since my askbox is always open. i try to do the occasional inbox call but since i don't like my asks to be overly bland and it takes a whole lotta creativity, i don't do those super often either.

if you don't know something about my muse it's best if you ask. really. seriously. DN 'canon' is scattered in multiple directions and multiple pieces across multiple formats, and most eng speakers have only seen the anime or read the manga, which imo are the two bottom-most "best" formats for grasping what the hell is even going on overall in the series. atp pointing people to either my public vs private knowledge post or my canon divergence post is probably the best i can do to provide a comprehensive list of different 'facts' about how i work my characterization.

——— THREE RANDOM FACTS.

i have in fact been with DN since the early 2000/2010s-ish, around middleschool. i wasn't there when its re-serialization was announced in 2020 or so but the first and second volumes will always be a formative memory for me, and the tokyopop ENG translation set i have (up to book 12) has somehow survived over the course of like at least five different moves. this is also probably why i find sugisaki's original, absolute oldest style the most nostalgic/'best' in a way, if only to me. i've also been a vkei fan since vanan'ice started releasing music, immoral memory lost memory has and always will be my #1 comfort song. no wonder i ended up writing dn charas

i like to cook and bake. baking more than cooking, which is sometimes a problem since i can end up baking more than my family ever eats. i'd love to make DN style parfaits/cake cups sometime, i just don't know who's going to be able to eat all of it laksdjlakgjl. but anything to see icing wiz in a cup for realsies!

my life has been dominated by roguelike/dungeon crawler looter type video games. i've probably got literally like ten billion hours on mabinogi since that was my social system in 2000-2010 range (look i know but it was hot stuff back then ok) and now that elin's been released i've jumped from messing around in elona to there, but put me in front of something in the vein of the whole fate/torchlight series etc and i'm probably clocked out forever

——— EXPERIENCE.

i started a tumblr rp blog as a joke for a friend (now no longer my friend) i'd chat with during ~2015 give or take a year. i didn't even care about the chara at first but i've always loved writing, and i ended up actually getting into said chara and the series they were from to write some more/beyond just sheer crack for my friend. i've never written fic for the same reason that i've never written anything standalone tho, that being i completely lose confidence all the way down to the last drop in my bones

i like deep and firm muse connections. this doesn't necessarily even mean positive ic ones, but i like it best when muses absolutely have something. it doesn't even have to be definite either, like the way satoshi and daisuke's relationship within canon is somehow balancing both a killer rivalry and deep caring friendship and just about everything else they always got goin on in between. it's usually after any sort of dynamic is established that i feel much more comfortable sending unprompted asks too.

i have like 50 tabs open at all times and 600 things in my drafts. i did this to myself. but if i never catch DMs on tumblr it's probably because i never got a notif thanks to the 50 tabs, and if i never catch DMs on discord it's probably because i saw it, got busy, then forgot about it til i checked again and bam it's been like a month and now responding feels too awkward. i'm so bad at personal communication i'm so sorry. use my askbox if it's urgent i swear i've never failed to respond to any of those asap. losing drafts is thanks to the 600 things, but if you want me to dig up something because you miss it and so i can respond to it asap i can always do that too. im literally just too tired to scroll to find shit that isn't my most recent sometimes iawjewahjaiijkrf it's a bad hobby habit i knooooow

——— MUSE PREFERENCE.

i've tried to find the common denominator between all of my muses in the past multiple times and i've never been able to find it. i've written anything and everyone from, like, folklore ocs to meta knight from kirby. in general i like to have a muse that i don't always have to take too seriously though. or that comes off as comedic on the surface but i can still handle in a serious and legitimate/realistic way, ie just like dark and daisuke being clowns and a singular failboy but still just. kids, teenagers grappling with very real uncertainty about themselves and their futures and identities. muses have to have a voice, and i'm very particular about being able to clearly hear my muses in my head and my writing, so if anything that's probably my largest deciding factor.

——— FLUFF / ANGST / SMUT.

FLUFF : yep

ANGST : yep

SMUT : hell no. idk how many times i have to tell people i don't give a shit how hot you think dark is, he's physically 16-17 and is directly linked to daisuke, who's 14-15. these are minors. there's 2892859864 anime charas who are of age for you to smut with, get away from the middleschoolers!!!

——— PLOT / MEMES : see all the way above. i basically live in my activity notes so it's better to grab my attention somehow through that. i get shy about sending memes and also am just..... not around constantly so checking dash can be annoying. if there's a meme you have a really good idea for and you want me to send it specifically i've got no problem doing that though. love u guys

TAGGED BY : @cherriedrage thanks zaggy!!

[lordisitmine]

📚 fic ask :) 📕📘📗

Hi, I am SO sorry it took me so long to answer this- I'm in a play and today was my birthday and I've been busy but I'm so excited to do this! Since you sent me three I'm gonna give you three! They're gonna be from all across the universe of ships, some I've written for before and some I haven't, but I hope you enjoy!

(and for the rest of you- send me book emojis and I'll tell you about a fic I've daydreamed of but never written)

One: WORKING TITLE - and the gentleness that comes (fullmetal alchemist brotherhood, roy/ed)

I've actually been sitting on a complete outline since 2019 and I've written about 15 percent of it, so it's more than a daydream, but I'm gonna talk about it anyway because I want to finish it but I don't know if I ever will lmao.

It's set ten years after the promised day: Ed is 26 and a new professor teaching theoretical alchemy at central university. Roy is a full general and serves directly under Fuhrer Grummand, who is very old and in poor health. Amestris is a semi-democracy now, with an elected senate that in turn elects the Fuhrer every five years.

Roy and Ed meet by chance at a bar, having not seen each other for a decade, and strike up some sort of... friendship??? Anyway, Grummand dies soon after, and Roy is quickly put on the short list to be the next leader of Amestris. Roy and Ed keep running into each other.

But pretty soon, a conspiracy develops that could threaten the entire nation as well as Roy and Ed's lives, and it doesn't help that they're... falling for each other? Even though Roy is still a bastard and Ed was so annoying when he was a kid. They can't possibly be in love, right?

I really do wanna write this some day

Two: Keeper of the Mountain's Heart (the hobbit, thorin/bilbo)

Hobbit fix-it fic. I also have this whole thing outlined and have written the first chapter and several other scenes. This one has been in the works since spring of 2022. I also plan to write it for realsies.

Thorin, Fili and Kili survive the battle of the five armies. Thorin is badly wounded, but makes a slow recovery. Kili is mostly fine, and Fili's injuries leave him paralyzed from the waist down (I am co excited to write wheelchair stuff for this fic). Bilbo decides to stay in Erebor, just until the spring, when it's safer to travel, and besides, Thorin says he needs him to stay.

The big conceit of the fic is that Bilbo confessed his love for Thorin on Ravenhill, when Thorin had been wounded and lost consciousness. Thorin doesn't remember anything Bilbo said. Also, Dain and the Ironhill dwarrows are invoking an old law that would see Bilbo be executed for stealing the Arkenstone. Thinking quickly, Thorin proclaims that no, Bilbo didn't steal it, he gave it to Bilbo as a betrothal gift. Because they're totally engaged. They've been in love this whole time! And since he doesn't want to die, Bilbo has to go along with it. Shenanigans ensue.

So, fake-dating, mutual pining (because Thorin is also in love with Bilbo, secretly), and amnesia, along with a huge helping of cultural differences, courting rituals and sexual tension. Tropey and wonderful and I like to just think about it when I'm falling asleep at night. And I will write it some day I swear.

Three: Scars You Left (DC cinematic universe, bruce/clark)

I ALSO have this one completely outlined and partially written. It's a soul mate AU where you get the scars of your soul mate's injuries, and if they die, you feel it happen and get a mark that corresponds with that event.

Bruce just never had marks ever, so he always assumed he never had a soul mate. It happens sometimes. No big deal. He never wanted that kind of thing anyway. Love just means you have something to lose- he knows that all too well.

Clark never got any marks- obviously. He wasn't born on Earth, and he's impervious to damage, so he never gets injured- why would he feel someone else's wounds? It's difficult to watch his parents, soul mates through and through- but that doesn't mean he'll be alone forever.

Then, the events of Batman V Superman happen, and when Clark dies, Bruce feels it. he has a starburst scar on his chest, where the kryptonite spear went through Clark. It makes no sense, because Clark wasn't even from Earth. But it's undeniable. And it's the worst truth he's ever had to come to terms with.

And then, one night, months later, Clark digs his way out of his grave, throws himself across country and through Bruce's living room window. And maybe there is such a thing as a second chance.

The main plot follows the 2007 animated movie Superman: Doomsday, wherein Lex Luthor creates an evil slave clone of Superman and wreaks havoc on the world about it. Also lots of mutual pining and angst. I really love to pack in the angst before the happy ending.

These were really more WIPs than daydreams, but that's how I daydream- I write an outline and a couple of scenes to get it out of my system so I can focus on my actual real projects, the ones I'm supposed to be working on. Speaking of work, I have to get back at it, bye!

[mortuarywriting]

God one of these days I'm gonna finish writing anything for the sandbox I've been setting up! But I haven't so let's talk monsters

Price I'd love to see as a manticore or some kinda chimera. Something big, intimidating, incredibly poisonous. Keeps everything about it close to his chest, prefers to keep it a bit of a last resort because it generally means either stealth is out the window or they're not taking prisoners. Absolutely would snuggle with a partner in the monstrous form but that is a murder machine of a man. Hell of a purr he's got, though, feel that in your bones no matter which form he's in. Would ramble more but I need to pin down what he is before I can.

Simon is in that fun Limbo of you can play around and try to put labels on him any day of the week. None fit right. He's got so many facets and none of the labels are a 1:1. Makes it a lot easier on his end to make risky moves as nobody can figure out what the hell will actually kill him for realsies. He is smoke he is shadow he can and will just take a 15 minute break when he knows he can get away with it to go shadow walk his broody ass to wherever you are. Just to gently harass and check in on you if he knows your free time windows are lining up. Tries to keep the visits light, just some touchstones to make sure to everything in his being that you're still safe, you're still alright. He'll also fuck off to get you Somewhere Safe Right Now Immediately if he has a Bad Feeling at the drop of a hat. Price knows he can't stop Simon from doing this if he tried, but if it's for a Bad Feeling Price is usually getting the lads together asap when Ghost pops back in not three minutes later. He always explains when he's back in one piece why he yoinked you from the Grocery Store to an Undisclosed Location for an Indeterminate Period of Time but you're safe and that's the goal.

Gaz on paper is a seer. In actuality he's a few things playing well together that it's easier and nicer to put seer on paperwork 'cause he sees and can do a hell of a lot more than whatever paperwork implies. Like yes, he can do limited spellwork but what he sees? Fae, ghosts, connections between people, brief glimpses into the history of whatever he's focusing on in a pinch, probably the lotto if he tried really hard (again that is. He hasn't tried since he was a lot younger- it didn't go well to say the least). He likes looking at the connections he's formed with you when he has some down time, cords that always point him in the direction of you. He will use these to make sure the relationship is in healthier spots, he knows if things start unraveling. It can and will get irksome because he very much wants to help fix what's wrong even if you're not ready to talk about it yet, but he will respect boundaries once set. Doesn't mean he won't keep prodding the line now and again to try to get you to talk about it but he's usually pretty good about not being overt about it unless it's Dire.

Soap I have. Mixed feeling on. Mostly because he can be so interesting and can easily fit into many different slices of beastie! Vamp, werewolf, selkie... but for the sake of keeping it interesting and one i havent seen played with as much, for arguments sake let's say he's a very interesting kelpie. Like obviously man has so thoroughly detached himself from a specific body of water, but I feel like their main base statistically would have some kinda pond he usually is happy to just call dibs on. He sometimes shares but largely people just use a pool instead. Man definitely leans into the carnivore and likes his food a bit more on the raw side if possible. No he does not spook but he does have one hell of a kick. He will bite if he needs to and you really don't want him to need to. Views his horse form as just another tool but largely avoids it for work reasons- namely lack of thumbs or body armor. He will get twitchy around bridles, but otherwise so long as you're his squad or his partner he's fine with giving people a lift in a pinch! Promises he won't drag you into the water to drown you! He will drag you into the water though. That is very much a thing that will happen. He likes it when you spend time with him like this. He likes getting you nice and wet and especially when you ride him :))

[hostilemuppet]

i can totally see clay making a fanganronpa or a danganronpa oc/villain

clays the kind of guy to say "danganronpa sucks, i could make a way better danganronpa game" so he starts drafting his ideas, and then starts developing characters, and then thinks "wait i could actually do something with this" so he starts making the game for realsies, its a visual novel it cant be that hard! and he writes the entire story, and gets his friends to voice act, he teaches himself to draw to make his own sprites (they are still extremely amateurish bc hes only been practising for a few months and hes studying the danganronpa art style of all things but it adds charm!), but the project shuts down after 17 months of development bc he realised he doesnt actually like danganronpa

[blueberry-gills]

//howdy! So! I wanted to do a kind of event sometime (possibly for like a for-realsies follower event? because I never did an 'official' fifty follower thing! So...yeah yeah) but I have a lot of ideas. So funny poll time hehe

PROS FOR EACH OPTION:

Gill's Friend- tbh I really like the concept I came up for him. He'd just hang around and be goofy, and offer some insight into what Gill's like outside of Rotomblr? I dunno

Gill's Sister- Just...plenty of angst potential I guess agdflagdl You'd get to maybe learn about why Gill puts himself down all the time. You can also see me floundering to try and write a character who's good at competitive battling (who is also kinda mean 😎👍)

Funny dishwasher- I think of something horrible and it happens to her. Injury. Emotional damage. The works. She gets put in the dishwasher. I'd just be furthering the idea that everything bad happens to bb students. I think it'd be cool. I alreayd have a plot figured out...so... ALSO by nature it'd probably last longer, too! More than one day at least.

Apology Form- ngl I'll probably post this one regardless, even if it's no longer funny

AU shenanigans- I had the idea of a protagonist Gill and that's about it shgdaj but itd be another takeover event! It would probably also be better than some stranger taking over the blog (aka his sister/friend) because I see a lot of those events lose steam really quickly and I am bad at things like that ✨️

Not sure when I'd do this...maybe this week? Eventually? . Yeah yeah

[griefabyss69]

gotta go with '07 nailbat for realsies'

Oooh this is an older one!!! From like the summer I think?

It's Stonathan, rated PG for now, and I'm posting the whole thing (it's not very long) because it was supposed to be for an event that I didn't have enough time to join! I'd like to finish it ~one day~ but it's also... a part of a bunch of WIPs that are going to be finished purely based on vibes mostly, like if I get the actual inspiration to finish it! It's not abandoned though because I do actually like the idea!!! I haven't gotten to the proper reason why I started writing it (something about Jonathan being the original maker of the nailbat and giving it to Steve when his life took a nosedive and Steve using it to protect them both and all of the symbolism etc), though it does start a little bit at the end Thanks for asking!!! <3 <3 <3

Honestly, living with Jonathan Byers should be like, fucking weird.

But it's not.

It's like, the guy wasn't necessary a thorn in his side but certainly was half of the center of some of the biggest hurt he's ever felt, but also, that was ages ago.

Years.

Steve hands him the joint, watching his lazy smile as their fingers brush. He's getting pretty high, the stuff that Argyle brings with him when he comes down from California is intense, but tonight he doesn't mind.

The thing is, he'd wanted to move in with Robin when she went off to university, but that didn't work out because she had gotten a girlfriend six months before she left and well. He wasn't about to third wheel or anything.

He wasn't gonna cockblock a couple of a lesbians after they'd spent their whole lives living in the heterosexual world of Hawkins.

So he and Robin had cried about it and then made different plans, something that would get Steve out from under his parent's thumb once and for all, but not leave him burdened with either the cost of living alone in a big new city or figuring out how to live with a complete stranger.

And here he is, smoking weed on his little balcony with Jonathan, who was attending the same school as Robin but apparently fucking hated living in the dorms.

He was of course worried about it all, about how fucking quickly he could tank this tentative friendship and blow up another home life, but so far it's been alright.

They even made it through their first fight about both of them being forgetful dickheads, and like, came to a solution and everything. Turns out you don't forget if it's your week for dishes or laundry if one guy does laundry and one guy does dishes. Groceries and garbage are less scheduled, but they're also easier to remember, and even if Steve forgets that Jonathan asked him to take out the garbage, he can do it in like two minutes tops.

They get along sober of course, had to have been through the whole getting an apartment and moving and driving around and going to school or work thing, but when they both have downtime in the evening and Jonathan's brain power isn't chained to any coursework, they smoke each other under the table.

Do they smoke too much weed?

Probably most definitely.

But it helps, with like everything they don't talk about. The shit that Jonathan tells him is because of trauma and the shit that the doctors tell him is because of brain injury. It's better than painkillers, and a world better than when he used alcohol to keep his head above water, so he's not worried for now.

Sometimes, though.

It's not enough.

--

There's a sound, he can't even remember what. A thud, or a crash, or a yell, maybe just a whisper, and he's up, on his feet, nailbat in hand before he even thinks to grab it.

He's silent, all of those years of sneaking past his parents and past other people's parents training him into memorizing the creaky places in the floor, how to open his door without disturbing the air too much.

The entrance to the kitchen is just out of reach, and he's ready to grab the archway there and pull himself in, swinging, when someone hisses out a curse.

"Shit."

It's Jonathan, his voice disembodied and in the dark.

Steve lurches forward before he gets scared, wanting to make sure he's not mistaken, and slaps his hand on the light switch, illuminating the kitchen.

Jonathan yells, flinching back into a fighting stance, eyes wide and round as he looks up where Steve is standing a few feet away.

"What're you doing?" Steve asks, squinting at the bright light. His eyes take too long to adjust these days.

"Uh, milk?" Jonathan asks, gesturing at the carton that lays on the floor, the milk spilled all over the tile. "Or, trying to?"

Steve sighs, forcing himself to put the bat down, leaning it against the wall.

"I'll get a towel."

--

They're at the kitchen table, Jonathan eating a bowl of cereal while Steve eats some cookies, even though it's like 4am, fuck it, because Steve's feeling restless and knows he won't sleep again tonight.

He assumes Jonathan is here for the same reason, since they've both cleaned up and he apologized for waking Steve even though like, he didn't have to be sorry.

It was kind of tense, Steve starting to feel less like he needed to square up with an invisible enemy but still on edge. He just watches Jonathan out of the corner of his eye, not wanting to fully look away because he wants to know he's safe.

[lacewise]

Huh… never mind, I guess…? As I said aemilia aers [punto in aria/aemilia aers naming conventions discussed in a previous post] and Burano have a ton of overlap [brought back for realsies within a couple decades of each other though from my understanding geometric lace never completely went away] so maybe I was right the first time. Okay but if they had access to multiple Italian pieces why doesn’t it list which ones…? Did no one WRITE THAT DOWN?

Oh the lace gods you desire my suffering

Anyway don’t get into needle lace research unless you’re okay with something like this happening to you at least once a month.