#asdfghjkl I'm so fucking tired

[oculusxcaro]

Personality Style Test

Your personality style is: Depressive

Your test scores suggest that your personality style entails: That without necessarily suffering from clinical depression, you are nevertheless glum and pessimistic at heart, experiencing little joy in life. Due to the stifling and dark character of your thoughts, you may at times experience psychomotorial retardation (i.e. your thoughts slowing almost to a standstill) and you may be wholly unable to experience pleasure during such bouts of melancholy and dejection. When you try to pull yourself together, there is an overpowering sense of giving up; a sense that "life is over" and that it's no use trying to fight to regain joy and a better standing in life.

Tagged by: @gnarledbite (♡) Tagging: Whoever would like to do it?

[chiropterx]

Cross off the ones you’ve done (IC)

1. HAD SEX 2. BOUGHT CONDOMS 3. GOTTEN PREGNANT (as far as he’s aware) 4. FAILED A CLASS 5. KISSED A BOY 6. KISSED A GIRL 7. USED A LITTLE PAPER BAG FOR LUNCH 8. HAD A JOB 9. MISSED THE SCHOOL BUS 11. LEFT THE HOUSE WITHOUT YOUR WALLET/PURSE 12. BULLIED SOMEONE ON THE INTERNET 13. SEXTED 14. HAD SEX IN PUBLIC 15. PLAYED ON A SPORTS TEAM 16. SMOKED WEED 17. SMOKED CIGARETTES 18. SMOKED A CIGAR 19. DRANK ALCOHOL 20. WATCHED “THE BREAKFAST CLUB” 21. BEEN OVERWEIGHT 22. BEEN UNDERWEIGHT 23. HAD AN EATING DISORDER 24. BEEN TO A WEDDING 25. MADE FUN OF SOMEONE FOR BEING FAT 26. BEEN ON THE COMPUTER FOR 5 HOURS STRAIGHT 27. WATCHED TV FOR 5 HOURS STRAIGHT 28. BEEN LATE FOR WORK 29. BEEN LATE FOR SCHOOL 30. KISSED SOMEONE IN THE RAIN 31. SHOWERED WITH SOMEONE ELSE 32. FAILED MY DRIVERS TEST 33. RAN A MILE IN LESS THAN 10 MINUTES 34. BEEN OUTSIDE MY HOME COUNTRY 35. BEEN ON A ROAD TRIP LONGER THAN 5 HOURS 36. GOTTEN MY HEART BROKEN 37. HAD A CREDIT CARD 38. BEEN TO A PROFESSIONAL SPORTS GAME 39. BROKEN A BONE 40. BEEN UNHAPPY ABOUT YOUR WEIGHT 41. WON A TROPHY 42. CUT MYSELF 43. HAD AN STD 44. GOT ENGAGED 45. BEEN ON A DIET 46. TRIED OUT TO BE ON A TV SHOW 47. RODE IN A TAXI 48. BEEN TO PROM 49. PLAYED IN A DRINKING GAME 50. STAYED UP FOR 24 HOURS OR MORE 51. BEEN TO A CONCERT 52. HAD A THREE-SOME 53. HAD A CRUSH ON SOMEONE OF THE SAME SEX 54. BEEN IN A CAR ACCIDENT 55. HAD BRACES 56. LEARNED ANOTHER LANGUAGE 57. KILLED A BUG 58. BEEN AT A YARD SALE 59. BEEN TO A JAPANESE STEAKHOUSE 60. WORE MAKE UP 61. TALKED TO SOMEONE VIA WEBCAM 62. LOST MY VIRGINITY BEFORE I WAS 16 63. HAD MY WISDOM TEETH TAKEN OUT 64. KISSED SOMEONE A DIFFERENT RACE THAN MYSELF 65. SNUCK OUT OF THE HOUSE 66. BOUGHT PORN 67. HAD A VIRUS ON MY COMPUTER 68. HAD ORAL SEX 69. DYED MY HAIR 71. GRADUATED FROM COLLEGE 72. WORE SOMEONE ELSE’S CLOTHES 73. VOTED IN AN ELECTION 74. RODE IN AN AMBULANCE 75. RODE IN A HELICOPTER 76. CAUGHT THE STOVE ON FIRE 77. GOT IN A FIGHT 78. BEEN ON VACATION 79. BEEN IN AN AIRPLANE 80. BEEN ON A BOAT 81. HAD SURGERY 82. BEAT A VIDEO GAME 83. FOUND SOMETHING VALUABLE ON THE GROUND 84. MADE A SURVEY 85. STALKED SOMEONE ON FACEBOOK/MYSPACE 86. PRANK CALLED SOMEONE 87. BEEN TO A LIBRARY OUTSIDE OF SCHOOL 88. SPENT OVER $100 SHOPPING IN ONE DAY 89. CUT YOUR HAIR AND HATED IT 90. PEED OUTSIDE91. WENT FISHING 92. HELPED WITH CHARITY 93. TAKEN A PREGNANCY TEST 95. BEEN REJECTED BY A CRUSH 96. BEEN SUSPENDED FROM SCHOOL 97. BROKEN A MIRROR 98. FAKED SICK FROM SCHOOL 99. OWNED A PET 100. BEEN TO SIX FLAGS

Tagged byStolen from;; Another blog! Tagging: Whoever would like to do it?

[vasira96]

thinking about how good the magic options are in elden ring and how fucking badly i wanna play a LoZ starring Zelda made by fromsoftware like, i wanna be able to play as a godlike magic wielding Zelda, please, it's what she deserves!! it's what i need!! also, the lore of the hero of time would make such a good souls-like. i want it so bad i'm chewing on my floorboards!!

genuinely i know it won't ever happen but my perfect Zelda game would be a souls-like made by hidetaka miyazaki et al. It fits so perfectly T-T the triforce trio and the goddess hylia are exactly the perfect "our old god has abandoned us and cursed us to an infinite cycle of death and rebirth in this old, tired world and it's time for the hero to end the cycle" souls like storytelling archetype!! oh and instead of the final boss being Ganon it should be Hylia asdfghjkl like GIMME GIMME PLEASEEEE

plus like, how absolutely delicious would it be for the zelda timeline to be begin with Skyward Sword (the easiest most hand-holdy of the series some might argue) and end with a goddamn fromsoftware souls-like??

[angel-of-the-moons]

pavitr who can reads minds and he accidentally reads reader mind and it's just full of horny thoughts abt him ngl

Okay okay this one is like such a neat idea because I remember in the comics (I haven't read in forever) that Miguel could do this! So... Omfg poor Pavitr!!!

Intrusive Thoughts

Pavitr Prabhakar x Spider-Person!Reader

Because I'm tired of repeating myself: PAVITR IS AGED UP IN THIS FIC

TW/CW: Horny thoughts, NSFW, bit of smut, our poor boy was not prepared.

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: This is shorter than my usual fics, but like asdfghjkl omfg it was fun.

🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷

He wasn't sure why he developed this power. Miguel seemed at a loss and told him maybe it was a delayed mutation brought on by his spider bite.

Miguel had been coaching him on how to control the influx of thoughts that bombarded him, how to tune them out, how to focus on specific thoughts in particular. It honestly made it easier in some ways to fight, not just relying on his Spidey senses.

But... He couldn't help but be curious... He wanted to know what you, his partner (in every sense of the word) thought of him.

Pavitr was not prepared for that.

Your brain was...

He expected the innocent thoughts, how you thought his smile was cute, what were you going to make for dinner, etcetera...

But what he didn't expect to hear or see?

The thoughts swirling through your brain about him and you, naked. Doing... All sorts of things. Together or alone.

The thoughts of him pressing you down into your bed, fucking you relentlessly from behind as he kissed your shoulder.

You on top, riding him like your life depended on it.

In the backseat of your car, you grinding your hips down on his, feeling him twitch inside of you as your muscles squeezed him like a vice.

On the couch, biting into the cushions to stifle your moans and cries as he fucked you.

Him laying you on the table, on his knees, using his mouth and tongue on you until your brain couldn't work and your vision blanked out on you.

In the shower, pinning you to the wall as he slides in and out of you, the hot water slicking your skin and helping him glide in and out of your greedy hole.

The sweet, charming things he'd moan and hiss through his teeth and into your ear.

Pavitr Prabhakar was not prepared. He was thankful he was wearing his mask, otherwise he was positive someone would have taken notice of the bright red pigment that had taken over his tanned skin.

You were sitting in the cafeteria of HQ, eating your lunch, pretending to read the book in your hand, looking so innocent despite the impure thoughts that were at the forefront of your mind.

He almost jumped out of his skin when Miguel tapped on his shoulder.

"Yeah, that's why I don't read minds unless it's necessary." He said, leaning down to Pavitr's level to talk quietly to him.

"I--I can't even--" Pavitr sputtered. "How did you--?!"

"You've been standing there, ramrod straight for almost ten minutes. I can hear your heart rate up." Miguel sighed, standing up straight and crossing his arms. He didn't seem too uncomfortable by the subject. Just how many times as he heard thoughts like these from other people?

"And yeah, lesson for the future, don't read your lover's mind in public. Things are going to shock you." He patted Pavitr on the shoulder, a bored expression on his face before he walked away.

When Pavitr looked back at you, you were staring at him. Oh, so innocent-looking.

When you'd disposed of the rubbish of your meal, Pavitr whisked you away to speak to you privately.

"Pav? What's wrong?" You asked curiously.

He checked the area, making sure nobody was listening; before gripping your shoulders and giving you a light shake, his voice sounding almost traumatized and shell-shocked:

"WHY ARE YOU SO VILLAINOUSLY HORNY?!"

[one-vivid-judgment]

ASDFGHJKL! Thanks for doing that last ask! I still feel ashamed but I'm in need of part 2: what if it's the guys (Sawashiro, Takabe, Yamai, Tomizawa, Ebina) who walked in on their s/o touching herself and moaning their names? (>/////<) Many thanks!

Listen, I have so many requests but I'm back on this series so soon because IT'S HOT OKAY 😭😭 Yamai and Tomi specifically, I need you carnally. Y'all are valid as fuck, I know I've said this before but I wanted to remind you anyway.

Jo Sawashiro

Sawashiro didn’t expect to one day be leaving the yakuza, much less with only one eye left. He also didn’t expect you to manage to talk him into going to an actual doctor to check his wounds—but oh well, he likes headstrong women, so really, that’s only another point in your favor.

With his constant hospital visits though, that means Jo sometimes isn’t home for hours at a time. It doesn’t surprise you; his wounds were severe, Ebina really fucked him up and you hope the bastard rots. In any case, him leaving you alone for so long means that, sometimes, you get needy when he’s not around. Meaning that, since he’ll probably be tired when he comes back, you need to take care of yourself. You wouldn’t want Jo to overexert himself just to make you come, after all.

It’s when you’re lying in bed, having fished your old vibrator from the nightstand and slamming it inside, moaning shamelessly and all but screaming Jo’s name so loud the neighbors surely heard you. You peek at the doorway upon hearing something like a floorboard creaking under someone’s weight—and see, it’s not common to see Jo Sawashiro completely speechless, but you may have found just the way.

“Fuck, would you... I can help you with that—Let me help you with that.”

Mamoru Takabe

You knew Takabe was dedicated to his job when you started dating him. In fact, that’s kinda what attracted you to him at first: devoted, attentive man like him? You didn’t stand a chance. But, as it were, that trait of his can also be a flaw sometimes; mainly, when Takabe stays at Seiryu HQ way past midnight to get work done or help his boys with whatever business they are up to. Thankfully, that doesn’t happen too often. When it does though, Takabe’s absence is very noticeable.

Tonight is one of those nights where Takabe stays at HQ till the wee hours and comes home late. Of course it had to be today, when you’ve been horny out of your mind since you woke up. A quickie in the morning wouldn’t have solved that, you know it wouldn’t have, that’s why you didn’t ask for one before he left. You kind of regret that when the clock strikes twelve and Mamoru still isn’t home. Well, time for plan B: taking matters into your own hands.

You leave the bedroom door wide open, in case Takabe comes home. Might as well give him a show—you haven’t had sex in how long now? All because of his stupid job... But now it’s not the time for that. Now it’s time to let your imagination run wild, maybe think about everything you know Takabe would do to you if he were home—scenarios that might come true sooner rather than later, you realize when his name spills from your lips and you hear someone chuckling from the other side of the room.

“I’ve neglected you lately, haven’t I? I’m sorry, that was rude of me. Let me make it up to you, yeah?”

Yutaka Yamai

Yamai is a lot of things. A selfish lover is definitely not one of those. You can have the highest sex drive in the world and he’ll be more than happy to give you what you want. He gets a kick out of indulging you, in a way. Still, he’s the leader of his own syndicate; he can’t just let his guys run amok, can he? There’s got to be some order. Meaning he can’t always indulge you, even if he wants to.

Today has been a long day. Work fucking sucked, the food sucked, everything sucked and all you need is Yamai to fuck your brains out until you don’t know your name anymore. Which fucking sucks again, since he’s been dragged into some other mess on the other side of town and God knows when he’ll come back. The pillow still kinda smells like him though...

Humping the pillow is not usually your go to, but fuck, does it smell like Yamai. Just as cold as he is, too. No wonder you start moaning his name sooner rather than later. You can almost picture him just standing there, watching in amusement as you desperately breathe in his scent straight from the pillow you’re humping—maybe because he is there. Standing there, watching in amusement as you desperately breathe in his scent straight from the pillow you’re humping.

“Well, shit, ain’t you a pretty sight. You don’t mind if I stay and watch the rest of the show, do you?”

Eric Tomizawa

Tomi is a taxi driver. Meaning that, again, he’s out and about more than he’d probably like. You understand though—a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do to put food on the table. He wants a family, after all, and money’s not gonna materialize out of thin air, is it? Oh, and also, when he comes home with all the pent up stress, he fucks you hard, says the filthiest shit, too.

Honestly though, he’s given you way too much material to fantasize about when you are all alone. Like that one time he went off about how he’d keep you as his personal cockwarmer during work hours, pushing your head down as far as it’d go and making you choke on his cock. And yeah, the thought sounds hotter than it has any right to be—and it’s all Tomi’s fault for getting those ideas into your head, cause now you’re all hot and bothered and he’s not there to do anything about it.

So, you’re going at it, one of Tomi’s shirts that you’ve fished from the closet pressed to your nose and so so close. And you moan his name, and that’s when you hear something drop and stop. And poor Tomi looks so flustered, so confused but also so into what he sees, you kinda want to jump him and eat him right up.

“Oooh shit. You can’t—You can’t do this to me, I’m not that strong, I... God, you’re so fucking wet. Did I do that?”

Masataka Ebina

Ebina does what he wants, when he wants. If you want to have sex while he’s busy at the office, he’ll skip out of work for an hour or two to go take care of you. If you are his girl, he’s spoiling you rotten, with gifts and with actions.

Thing is, you do find it amusing to be bratty every once in a while. He doesn’t like disobedience, and if you are, he’ll teach you a proper lesson. That’s what makes it so much fun to tease him. You don’t have to masturbate if you’re with him, but you still do—mostly because you want him to catch you and punish you. It’s all very deliberate, really.

He knows how much of a brat you are. That’s why it doesn’t faze him when he finds the bedroom door wide open, your legs spread wide in the bed, naked and moaning his name like your life depends on it. Which, maybe it does—he’ll have to bend you over his knee first.

“Whoever would’ve guessed my darling was such a slut. Was waiting five minutes really too much for you? Desperate little whore...”

[favvnsongs]

@fischiee @khimkito

lmao im making a separate post rather than tacking it onto the orig bc I don't wanna flood notifications every time I have big feelings about this but. yeah???

literally everything about those two make me so unwell. I'm never not thinking about it. bc the whole. not just having to second hand (or.. third? alpha then epsilon Then wash).. okay so third, I guess. anyways. being essentially subject to the same sort of torture and psychological abuse that alpha was via epsilon? and that on top of the directors original distress over allison? epsilon trying to kill himself inside his head! what tf does that even. bc they really only sort of handwave talk about it. what in the fuck does it actually Mean for an ai implanted in your brain to try and kill itself. and having to keep all of it a secret. for months if not years. the not being able to tell anyone?

(there's a weird sort of somber acknowledgment and tender empathy when it comes to wash and alpha too. bc wash Knows. he knows all of it?? even if alpha doesnt? the distress and insistence and confusion and loss that comes with tex not being at valhalla? 'I know all about her, church' even if church doesnt! even if He doesn't remember, wash does? what a burden that must be. that wash was the last of the team to actually see and speak to and be with church before he and all of the other fragments were erased? what sort of! and there's no justice in it! he gets his ass thrown into prison and then he has to work with whatever tf is left of maine in the Maybe hopes of getting his slate wiped clean.)

the odd fucking bizarre. wash and lina and epsilon and tucker (and caboose but he's a whole other.. im not awake enough to be able to talk about my feelings when it comes to caboose lmao)

but wash was the last person to see alpha. and then epsilon comes back and has no idea who tf tucker is bc caboose just didn't feel the need to. like? in a weird ass roundabout way, wash killed alpha and epsilon got cozy and familial with lina and both wash and tucker are left sorta stranded lmfao.

(and the behind the scenes lina&epsilon dynamic too. we really don't get to see the process of them becoming actually super fond and siblingy with one another but they are?? they went on a quest so lina could kill the director but nope leonard is just a lost defeated broken hearted wreck and that's her Father, at that point. pathetic and hopeless and so so tired. the grief and resignation and acceptance in leaving him to kill himself. epsilon and his bewildered righteous rage. they had that one chat about allison at the end of s10 but obviously there must have been more bc epsilon mentions allison a few times throughout chorus! do they talk about their feelings? does carolina ever get to properly acknowledge and process all her grief?)

like carolina is So Close to epsilon and that has to be so.. disconcerting at times for wash. bc he tried to kill himself while fucking! implanted into his brain! (and ive always figured that there's things wash must Know about carolina and all of her family drama. just as product of epsilon being alpha being leonard. yknow? but it'd also stand to assume that epsilon (and lina, maybe)) Know Things about wash. what sort of secrets do they keep for the sake of maintaining that illusion of privacy and boundaries.

I have stuff to say about tucker too but that might need to wait until after I have a sleep bc asdfghjkl.

[mismatched-sockss]

y'all are getting some thoughts on the new episode this week!

okay, but why is Emily sitting in the back of a cop car kind of hot....??

JJ looks so tired and broken.... i'm about to cry

Emily is gonna explode soon uff...

fucking Tyler, couldn't he have like, come in an hour later or so? it wasn't "urgent" enough for him before, let my girls talk

i can get that he is in fact worried about his daughter, but did Voit really, really, think his wife would change her mind by threatening her????

coincidence my ass, twice is a coincidence, three times is a pattern.. how fucking big is this whole gold star thing..??

i love Garcia, from keyboard to server room 😂

that thing didn't look like an official tattoo needle to me, but okay. either way bat shit crazy to use that thing for the eyes. Tara's reason why the needle points to the Unsub being a woman doesn't make sense to me tbh

yeah not gold star, but like i said, three times is a pattern. you can't tell me all these similarities are just a coincidence

"Emily are you alright?" lmao, Brian. and fucking listen to Emily man!

a program????

"I can't believe how big you gotten" dude, it's been two weeks

omg, i thought she had pepper spray!

is it bad that i kind of feel bad for Voit?

Luke, baby, i don't think taunting him is such a good idea rn

why the hell did Holly think it would make her mother feel better when she killed her father and went to prison herself?? as if that wouldn't make it worse on Sydney?

"[...] you want me to lie and say i'm Sicarius [...]?" i thought we were past denying it?

oh he's so worried about her.... bet he is comparing himself to his uncle by now because of it...

now i'm really crying... "It's not important" honey, yes it is!

you get five seconds, not one more

fuck, don't make me like you...

when will Rossi finally talk about his hallucinations, that's gonna end bad...

Gold Star - Eyes only.... aaah, goosebumps. i need to know what else Garcia found!

uuuuh...... what?

asdfghjkl fuck!! pattern! told ya it's a pattern!

reminds me of what Antonia Slade said "oh, this is exciting. it feels like i'm one of the team"

why do i feel like Voit is going to try and run while he's at Quantico?

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Tag Game Thing

ayyyye another one (but not one from when I was drifting in the timeless void of Conceptually Tuesday), got tagged by @chthonicsiren , gonna tag @melthedwarf because I can >:) (edit: tagged the wrong person first cuz tumblr autofilled the url, sorry!)

1: Are you named after anyone? Yes! My birth name/not-quite-deadname is a tribute to my ma's maiden name. Without saying what either are, I'll just say that her maiden name followed a patronymic format (ex: Johnson), and my birth name is one of the feminine variants/related named (ex: Johanna?). My chosen name, Jordan Van Daalen, is a fun one! My friend and I were in drama class together, and were paired up for an assignment where we had to write a short script (we were given random phrases to start and end the scene with). We're both Huge Fucking Nerds, so we went Overboard, basically fleshing out both of our characters (and then we napped on each other). Jordan Van Daalen was what a random name generator gave me for my character. Less than a year later I realized I am some sort of non-binary, and decided to use that lil name as my future name, as well as eventual pen name :D

2: When was the last time you cried? Uh. Okay, so, like... sometimes when I'm really tired but can't sleep, I'll start improvising a little song? Just, like, whisper singing to myself? And it usually ends up being an emotional ballad about old traumas (or, you know, stuff from whatever media I've been binging)? also when I yawn my eyes water a tiny bit? so what I'm saying is that every time I can't sleep and end up singing dumb little songs, I end up crying. how often does that happen, you ask? well, buddy, I picked this url for a good reason. (it was probably yesterday)

3:Do you have kids? Does being the oldest in the friend group (and also being the dad friend) count? because I am the Father of some of these gremlins. no? oh. well, I am going to an auncle/ent soon, so that's close enough :D

4: Do you use sarcasm a lot? Depends on my mood? I'm less sarcastic than my brother, but definitely more sarcastic than either of my parents. I know that means nothing to any of you, but hey, that's my answer.

5: What's the first thing you notice about people? Uhhhhhhh if they give off gay vibes asdfghjkl; Honestly it varies, which I feel like is a given? I look for things that stand out- colored hair, piercings, if they have any jewelry, etc.

6: What color are your eyes? Okay, well, my ID says hazel, I used to describe it as "hazel green/green hazel", and I think a poet might describe my eyes as something like "sea foam green around sandy brown". However, a Certified Dick could just as easily call my eyes "snot green with a pinch of yellow". Could also just shrug and go "muddy green?". except in some lightings the "green" part seems like it might be vaguely blue, and I have been slowly driving myself insane trying to figure out a consistent color palette I can use when drawing self portraits/inserts because I can't get a decent pic of my eye to use a reference and I'm too awkward to ask someone (with less shaky hands) to do it for me. anyway, I spent ten minutes drawing what is arguably the best attempt I've ever made at making an accurate portrayal of my eye color:

7: Scary movies or happy endings? Generally speaking I prefer happy endings, but it feels weird to separate that from scary movies. However, I don't tend to watch many genuinely scary movies? I like horror comedies. I also very much enjoy watching shitty/low quality horror movies and roasting the fuck out of 'em. Humor is part of how I cope with actual scary movies/games too, though. That and pretending to try and scare the monsters :3 running through the scary dark hallway going "a-boogily-boogily-boo!" and rapidly snapping the camera from side to side like I'm jumping out at people. the monster goes rawr? I SAY IT LOUDER

8: Any special talents? I mean, I think most folks who follow me on here know that I've got a bit of talent in several types of art/creativity (music and writing are probably my big two)? But I can also beatbox a little, my arms are weirdly flexible (possible double-jointed at the shoulders?), and I am surprisingly good at picking things up/throwing them with my feet. That last one is 50% for throwing dog toys and 50% for picking up small things I dropped when I don't want to bend over. Weird? Yes. A talent? Probably not.

9: Where were you born? I think I was born in Seattle, WA, USA. It was definitely in the Seattle area, it just might have technically been a neighboring city.

10: What are your hobbies? Other than the aforementioned artsy shit, I play a lot of video games, in a variety of genres. My favorites are probably the Mass Effect series, Fallout: New Vegas, Persona 5: Royal, Horizon: Zero Dawn, and Spider-Man PS4. I need you to know how difficult it was for me to not list over a dozen games. Please understand. THERE ARE SO MANY GOOD GAMES FUCK. Also, idk if it super counts as a hobby in other people's minds, but I love LEGOs! My room is filled with them :D

11: Have you any pets? None that are, like, fully legally mine. My household has a dog, Bella, but I am unfortunately her least favorite. She loves letting me give her chin scritches first thing in the morning though :')

12: What sports do you play/have you played? KENDO, BITCHES. GET SMACKED WITH BAMBOO

13: How tall are you? Soooooo tall. Massive. Giant. A true, genuine image of a Viking Warrior.. ... ..... in other words I'm 5 feet and 3.5 inches. the .5 is incredibly important to me. On a good day with boots I can almost pass off as 5'5" tho, soooooo. I'm also built like a shit brickhouse (yes I know that's not the correct saying), so at least tall people can't throw me (I throw them)

14: Favorite subject in school? Three-way tie between English/Language Arts, Drama/Theatre, and Art class!

15: Dream job? Writer, artist, all around generally a Professional Nuisance. Maybe taking the place of a forgotten, half-dead God at a lonely shrine, slowly restoring it until it's something worth remembering, eagerly having unforgettable conversations with the rare passerby, never gaining enough fame or worship to have any real power over the world. Just enough to be a face that lingers in your memories, in your dreams, the little voice you hear when you need it most.

[withleeknow]

but the microwave is so much more fun and chaotic this way bc we're constantly being fed (😇) and isn't he just asdfghjkl + I've never come across a sandwich I'd want to be a part of more than this one: https://tinyurl.com/ydt9jp4k - this heejay hug wld heal my soul ♡

nah idk why but airport scenes are superior - a tired mimo in his comfy fit and just wanting to envelop himself in your arms after a. a long-ass flight and b. being away from you for toooo long so c. you get to gently pull down his mask (ofc he's pouting) then d. push his cap back to reward him with long overdue kisses:') SO I SEE YOUR VISION and wdyfm they haven't entered their angsty era yet YOU'RE KILLING US ALREADY JUST WEDGE THE KNIFE DEEPER WON'T YOU “the kids miss you” jesus fucking christ woman- thank you for the snippet 😭

sorry for unchartered spam but my heart is v v v full today (:3) bc wayv to me are what txt are to you - they're my babies and basically they had their first ever win today since debut (2019) so us nctzens/wayzennies are all in our feels I genuinely teared up at work lmao https://tinyurl.com/bdcsvx5n = maknae line showering their hyungs with all the love

tldr; WHAT A LOVELY PRECURSOR BC I HAVE THIS AAAANNNDD OT7 HOURS ARE SO CLOSE OML THE TEARS ARE ALREADY FLOWING AT THE THOUGHT + as for my roster: https://we.tl/t-GtPg9mHLNA - a v cute poodle in a market thought my koya keychain was his own chew toy so he's now a traumatised koya (no permanent injuries sustained) and as a dec baby, my bsf gifted me this winterfied baby RJ 🥹

nah wtf that's the cutest thing ever, it's truly giving papa jin 🥺 + I think one thing we do right as army is the dedicated fanart e.g. THE WAY THIS IS A WHOLE-ASS CAKE https://tinyurl.com/3sf8w94s 💜💜

oh this sandwich is... interesting 😳 i've never thought about a heejay sandwich before... i'll have to let this one rotate some more...

no fr some of my favorite mimo looks have been airport looks. some airport looks exude peak domestic boyfriend/husband vibes that tickle my brain so nicely 😔 BUT THE WT PEOPLE HAVEN'T ENTERED THEIR ANGSTY YET 😭 i'm trying to make wt7 as stabby as possible, i want them to suffer first !!!!!!! spoiler: the gorls are fighting

congratulations to your children !! idk much about them but i'm sure it was well deserved! i hope you're having fun celebrating with the nation over there hehheheh. here's to more wins in the future :')

KOYA AND RJ 😭 my god those are adorable, now you're making me wanna start getting bt21 plushies. imagine rj with jiniret and cooky with leebit !! your rj is absolutely adorable he looks like the best thing to snuggle up to :(((

ugh holy shit we're just hours away. i'll wake up tomorrow and get ready for works in tears when the pics drop. our seven reunited for the first time in ages my god. it feels like just the other day i was full on weeping when jin left lmao and now he's already coming home. and we're gonna see yoongi tomorrow he'll finally be out of hiding for a day 😭

[jenny-from-the-bau]

You're not boomer coded at all. I will fight the other anon I used to train MMA 💪 But seriously sometimes you talk about being tired early so maybe that was it? But like same. There is so fucking much happening I'm just sleeping and taking naps when I can. You have such good vibes and I love your writing. I'm sorry anons can be dumb 😎

I'm not boomer-coded, I'm chronic-illness-coded hahahaha disability-coded asdfghjkl

I'm still holding out for a response that they were joking lol I hate assuming people are being rude

[jadeyharls]

D --> I'm not sure how easily one's feelings for you can be captured, you are sweet and gentle and utterly adorable when you allow yourself to be, yet so skittish and afraid of being seen that way D --> I treasure the moments where you allow yourself to be you in the most pure of ways, or perhaps rather when you allow me to see you being you D --> I never grow tired of it, I am always greedy for more D --> I don't mind being patient, letting you decide how much to give and when D --> The waiting is always worth it when it's for you D --> I just hope you will continue to allow me to be so close, to honor me with your aff%ion D --> I desire nothing more than to be tr001y worthy of it

hey equius what the fuck

im

asdfghjkl!?!?

[eoieopda]

it’s like you knew i was craving multi-part jungkook, or something? witch 👀

anyways, i’m gonna screech below the cut. wheeeeeee ✨

Like fireflies, you’d once told Yoongi. He hadn’t found it cute to be compared to a bug.  “If I���m a firefly, then you’re a fucking fish,” he’d teased.

so, immediately, i am obsessed with this dynamic. the “kid”? the interlocked pinkies? bury me. i’m dead.

hi, the timeline counting is making me nervous 👀

oh, okay, so we’re now going to commit this absolute crime against jade:

“I’m tired of this, Grandpa.”  “WELL, THAT’S TOO DAMN BAD!”

i love you but…….. straight to jail for that 👆🏻, girlypop.

HOBIIIIIIII

Everywhere he goes, he carries the smell of spring with him - cherry blossoms and morning dew that makes newly-grown pieces of grass stick wet against ankles.

no, he really is spring 🤧 light of my life, UGH. also, you cannot tell me that IRL hobi has not told his commanding officer, “let him rest! all we ever do is practice fighting!” because that’s the most mother hobi shit of all time.

i’m dead once again at:

“Boy Scouts” is what Yoongi offered when you asked how he knew so much about surviving in nature.

but also — a bulletproof shield, you say?? hmmmmmmmmmm 👀

okay, so you just did something that squeezed my heart so hard it kinda broke a lil bit. reader says that korea isn’t her home country, and then follows up with:

“It is easier to mourn the loss of something you never knew.”

and now i’m 🫠 because that’s not something i expected to relate to so specifically. idk. you just… really hit the nail on the head. it’s not my home country either, even though i was born there, and i don’t know it — but i do mourn it, kinda. so… thank you for this unintentional representation of this very niche feeling. 💕

the fact that jungkook has a knife strapped to his thigh is doing something unspeakable to my brain rot. he keeps that mf thang on him 😵‍💫

OH! this:

Self-defense protects the body in the moment, but harms the mind and heart long-term.

jesus. sorry. *jai. this gospel hits, homie. really hard!!

asdfghjkl "beep beep boop beeping all over the fucking place" you did NOT. i'm snorting. omfg. i just met her and i would already kill and/or die for jessi.

NOT TIKTOK ☠️

So you do what you’ve always done best: you repress.

i'm in this photo and i don't like it :')

also, ALSO!! "It feels nice. We don't touch" is knocking me onto my ass. ughhhhghghghghghg touch-starved jungkook gettin a lil haircut, as a treat. he DESERVES IT.

look, it's jungkook:

the back and forth between the five of them about who is/isn't stupid enough to be a fed has me rolling, lmaoooo.

in conclusion: i love this so far, and i'm so excited to get my shit wrecked in part two :')

what the fire gave us (1) | jjk

You were born with a Gift that the world wanted to turn into a weapon. All Jungkook wanted to do was show you that you could find love, even in the dark.

🔥 pairing: shadow elemental!jungkook x water elemental!(f)reader

🔥 rating/genre: BTS | 18+ | dystopian | supernatural | friends to lovers | angst | smut | fluff

🔥 part of a spring offering collab

🔥 wc/date: 9.7k | june 2023

🔥 warnings: major character death (doesn't occur until part 2 but i'm being nice by warning you now; not jk or reader), minor character death, referenced past murder, smut (doesn't occur until part 2), unrequited love (not between reader & jk), reference to human experimentation (nothing is described in detail), persecution of supernatural people, mentions past war, blood, injuries/violence, they all definitely have ptsd, jungkook is a precious baby boy but he'll also kick your ass, JESSI !!!!!! JESSI STANS RISE UP !! JESSI IS THE COMEDIC RELIEF !!! (at least, i find her funny)

🔥 notes: PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD READ THE WARNINGS. there is heavy angst, particularly in part 2. i hope that you enjoy this story, even with its cuts and bruises. think of it as stranger things meets avatar the last airbender 😂

🔥 more notes: i was supposed to finish this fic in may lmfao but y'all should know by now that there's no point in trusting me to do what i'm supposed to do. i'm sorry but i will probably never change 😭 ANYWAY. this fic is gonna be over 20k, so i decided to upload it in two parts in an attempt to maintain my sanity cuz this website is trash about handling long posts. i'm almost done with part 2, so it should be uploaded within a week (i swear to GOD i mean it). also, if you follow me on AO3 you'll see that i'm posting this fic in multiple chapters. that's cuz i like the formatting of AO3 chapters better than tumblr. the formatting fits the story better, too.

🔥 main masterlist / part two

🔥 what was jai listening to? cyberpunk - ateez

3 MONTHS

Lookout duty is hard on you. When it’s your turn to camp out on the roof and watch for potential threats, you complain that staying awake all night is hard. Most of the other runaways are night owls, but you aren’t. You need your beauty sleep, you joke. You can’t get comfortable on the roof, even if there’s a flat landing with pillows and blankets to keep you warm. 

These are a few of your excuses, but you can’t bring yourself to tell the others the truth: you are scared. 

It’s close to midnight when you hear the creak of the trapdoor opening. The likelihood of it being anyone other than the group of Gifted runaways you live with is low, but you can’t trust that the impossible wouldn’t happen. You’ve seen the impossible happen far too often.  

Hopping down from the old milk crate you’d been sitting on, you crouch behind a giant bean bag with your bow and arrow ready. The harness you wear strapped around your torso holds your spare arrows. It digs hard enough into your shoulder that you form blisters if you don’t wear a thick enough shirt. 

The fluffy pink hair poking out of the trapdoor makes you sigh in relief. 

“Hey, kid,” the pink-haired man whispers. 

He gently closes the trapdoor and walks with a hunched back toward you, careful not to expose too much of his body beyond the roof’s railing. The abandoned warehouse you live in is on the city's outskirts, with nothing for miles but empty concrete parking lots and overgrown plots of land. 

Still, you never know who might be out there. Although the Red Pins have only inflicted pain from within their research facilities, all the runaway Gifteds know that the government employs more than one type of evil to hunt them down. 

You try not to think about them, those scientists in long white coats that fall to their thighs and blood-red nametags pinned to their labels with names you often see painted on the walls of your nightmares. Lately, the frequency of the nightmares has lessened. It doesn’t feel like it, though, when you often wake in the middle of the night to your friends screaming in their sleep while they suffer through their own trauma. You wish the knowledge that the pain of being government lab rats is something you all share could be comforting. But, instead, it only makes you hurt more.  

“Yoongi,” you huff, returning to your perch on the milk crate. Now your hands are all sweaty. “You should be sleeping.” 

“Hi, Yoongi; nice to see you too! Thanks for coming to hang out with me!” Yoongi mocks your voice, clearly stating what he thinks you should have said. “Oh, no problem, Y/N. I just wanted to see how you were doing and hang out with my favorite kiddo.” 

You scrunch your nose at kiddo. 

“I’m not a kid.” 

Yoongi leans over to rub his knuckles into your head. “Nah, you definitely are.” 

Despite the lack of lighting outside, Yoongi practically glows. That’s always how it is with fire elementals. It’s like they absorb all the light and let it buzz inside them. Like fireflies, you’d once told Yoongi. He hadn’t found it cute to be compared to a bug. 

“If I’m a firefly, then you’re a fucking fish,” he’d teased. You’d promptly summoned water from a nearby puddle to throw in his face. 

For as long as you can remember, that’s how it has been between the two of you: fire and water. A push and pull. So different that you need each other to be whole. 

You watch Yoongi get comfortable in the bean bag, his skinny limbs spreading like a starfish and his eyes lifting to the sky. In quiet moments like this, you would give anything to hold him. And not out of fear like you had when the scary men came to take you away from your parents. And not out of anger like you had to when you stopped him from blowing up the research facility they’d held you in. 

No, you want to hold him and for it to be gentle, soft, and peaceful. 

Like now, when the world is silent except for the crickets calling to each other in the weeds and the rustle of wind in the trees. 

But he thinks you’re just a kid. 

You’re not that much younger than him. But, if you put in the effort to look at your relationship objectively, you’d see that Yoongi’s paternal nature comes out with you and the other runaway Gifteds. He cares for you as an older brother would. 

It’s not enough for you, though. It will never be enough.  

“Is everyone else asleep?” You rest your elbows on your knees and hold your chin in your hand. When you speak, you look out at the empty field. 

“Hobi sneezed and blasted a hole through the bathroom wall,” Yoongi says with a low chuckle. “So me and Joon found some supplies to patch it up the best we could. I think they’re all asleep now, though.” 

“How is it Hobi’s the one breaking shit and Namjoon’s fixing it?” You press your hand against your mouth to muffle the ugly snort bursting from you. There’s very little to find funny in this life, so you cherish how your chest burns with fond warmth. 

“The world’s all backwards.” Yoongi’s gummy smile lights up the night and tears into your heart. 

The two of you fall silent once again. Moving slowly, you reach out to hook your pinky finger with Yoongi’s, a small smile forming when you feel his pinky wrap tightly around yours. 

“Where are we gonna go, Yoong?” 

He watches you with eyes heavy with sleep, determined to stay up with you even though he doesn’t need to. Initially, you thought it was because he wanted to keep you company. Now, you often wonder if it’s because Yoongi is afraid to sleep, too. He never speaks about his experience at the Labs; the other runaways have learned the hard way not to ask. Singed eyebrows don’t look good on anyone. 

“I don’t know.” 

You already knew this would be the answer, but it scares you anyway. Yoongi always knows everything. 

Yoongi lets go of your hand to sit up in the bean bag. 

“Hey, kid,” he whispers. He gently presses his palm to your jaw, cupping your face. You hope he doesn’t hear your breath hitch in your throat. “As long as we’re together, you don’t gotta worry about anything, okay?” 

You stare at him for a long time, searching the bags under his eyes and the worry lines on his forehead. 

“You promise?” 

“I promise.” 

3 MONTHS, 1 WEEK

There’s a stream that cuts through the overgrown fields behind the warehouse. It’s man-made, flowing from a sewer tunnel beneath the cracked parking lot - and likely from somewhere else, perhaps connected to a lake beyond the woods at the property's edge. The separation between industrialization and the natural world of the unknown hurts your heart. You’d never felt longing until you found yourself inside a cage of cinderblock walls and concrete floors. 

A rope of water whips across your face, drawing you from your thoughts of the woods. It’s muddy and makes your skin and clothes smell sour. 

Though the air is still crisp and bites at the tip of your nose, spring came early this year. It takes minimal effort for Namjoon to draw more water from the soiled stream as it’s not frozen over like it should be. With a flick of his wrist, another rope of water hits you, this time across your chest. 

“Aghh!” 

“Pay attention.” 

You lift your arm in enough time to block his next assault. The liquid rope freezes in the air before shattering into a thousand glimmering pieces, scattering jagged ice across the pale yellow grass. 

“I’m tired of this, Grandpa.” 

Namjoon rolls his eyes at the pop culture reference; you’re pleased he understood. Posed to speak, mouth already opening, he barely gets a sound out before another voice bellows across the field. 

“WELL, THAT’S TOO DAMN BAD!” 

Hoseok isn’t afraid to be loud. He smiles, all teeth and pink tongue, and throws his head back as he cackles. Everywhere he goes, he carries the smell of spring with him - cherry blossoms and morning dew that makes newly-grown pieces of grass stick wet against ankles. 

You close your eyes and let spring overpower the sour smell of sewer water Namjoon has thrown at you for the past hour. It lets you forget how your skin aches with welts and bruises. 

As Hoseok bounds toward you and Namjoon, a dark tornado spins beside him. When he gets closer, you can see Hoseok occasionally blowing a small gust of air toward the tornado. It appears to be made of smoke, a gradient of grays and blacks. 

“Look at this,” your friend announces with a mischievous grin. “Me and JK learned a new trick.” 

With a quick snap of Hoseok’s fingers, you and Namjoon watch in patient silence as the tornado begins to slow its speed. Almost gently, the smoke curls tighter and tighter until the darkness turns into a solid mass. 

Jungkook stumbles a few times as he attempts to get his footing. His limbs continue to propel his body into a small spin. 

Hoseok quickly reaches out to grab the younger man. Secure hands squeeze his shoulders, and then it’s only Jungkook’s head lolling about. 

“Cool, right?” Jungkook’s voice is gruff, but his lips curl into a weak smile. 

Namjoon lets out a long sigh. “You look like you’re going to be sick.” 

Although Namjoon is right, Jungkook does look like the effort of his little party trick took a toll on his body; you can’t help but match his smile. Especially when his eyes flick toward yours. You told his gaze for half a second before Jungkook quickly looks away. His cheeks flush pink, but you’re sure it’s from the exertion of all that spinning. 

“I think it’s really cool,” you praise the two while elbowing Namjoon in the ribs. With a grumble, your sparring partner returns to his previous stance a few feet away. 

“We should go again. Just for a little while longer.” 

Every muscle in your body feels stiff when you turn away from Hoseok and Jungkook. 

“I hurt all over, Joonie.” 

“Let her rest!” Hoseok adds to your whining. “All we ever do is practice fighting.” 

“Sparring.” 

Hoseok waves a dismissive hand at the younger man. “Whatever you want to call it. I find it to be fri-” 

You stifle a laugh by pressing the back of your hand to your mouth as Hoseok is tackled to the ground by Jungkook. The two men roll around, all arms and legs, kicking up dead grass and dirt. A lot of howling and teasing laughter rings through the open air. 

It isn’t until Jungkook is launched into the sky by a gust of wind you know comes from Hoseok, and lands roughly on his back, that the playful fight ceases. How Jungkook lands knocks all the air out of his chest, but he laughs once his lungs start working again. 

“Ridiculous, all of you.” Hoseok brushes grass from his clothes. It’s futile; they’re dirty and ragged anyway. Try as you and Namjoon might to use your Gifts to clean the clothes; water does little when there’s no soap. 

“I let you win,” Jungkook teases.

Still, he stands a bit further from Hoseok than he had previously. Not far enough for anyone to notice, aside from you. You notice although you don’t mean to. It’s hard not to when Jungkook keeps stealing glances, only to look away when you try to return his gaze. 

“You did not.” 

“Did, too.” His insistence makes you giggle. 

“And how did that work out for you? Hmm? How does your back feel? I know you landed on that rock.” 

“I-It, it doesn’t hurt.” Jungkook glances your way. His cheeks are still pink. “Would take more than that to hurt me.” 

“Jungkook is impossible to beat.” 

You startle at the gentle voice, spinning on your heels to see Yoongi approaching the group. He’s got a leather satchel strapped across his chest and resting at his hip. It bulges with what you assume are plants and fruits scavenged from the woods. 

“Boy Scouts” is what Yoongi offered when you asked how he knew so much about surviving in nature. It was peculiar; nothing about Yoongi seemed like the type. He’s tougher, more steel than wood or earth. A bulletproof shield, you think. Broad and strong. 

“Impossible?” 

Your question is meant to be a tease, but Yoongi’s face remains stoic. Such a severe look only reveals itself when he assumes his position as your misfit group’s leader. It would be extremely attractive if it didn’t scare you.   

“How can you fight shadows?” Yoongi deadpans. He stares into your eyes long enough to make your face feel hot, but you don’t look away. 

“I…” 

Yoongi hums at your lack of an answer. Suddenly, you feel unbelievably small. 

“It’s not impossible,” Jungkook whispers. His head hangs low, long bangs hiding his face. The rest of his hair is tied into a bun at the nape of his neck. “I’m just as beatable as you, hyung.” 

Something about Yoongi’s expression softens at the honorific. Formalities died long ago, along with many other traditions that once made Korea what it was. So many things died during the war - tangible and cultural - lives and ways of being. Now, the Republic is something you know your friends no longer recognize. Although it is not your home country, your heart aches for what it once was - something you will never have the privilege to experience because you arrived during the Restoration of the Republic - a fallacy of an era since the country was never restored to how it was. 

That may be best. It is easier to mourn the loss of something you never knew.

In moments like this, you feel terribly inadequate - when you speak with broken Korean or struggle to understand the foreign politics behind why Gifteds are hunted, no matter how many times Namjoon patiently attempts to teach you. All you know is that, at least here, to be Gifted is not a death sentence, per se. Other countries’ governments have been far less lenient with their mutant population. 

You’re simply seen as a science experiment to be tested on, poked and prodded, pushed until you’re driven mad, and then warped into whatever shape the government has the need for. 

“You have no match,” Yoongi smiles softly at Jungkook with a shake of his head. “I do.” 

Holding out his hand, a small flame appears in the center of Yoongi’s palm. It floats just above the skin, though he isn’t burned. You’ve seen Yoongi summon fire a million times from the heat of the air around him, and he never ceases to amaze you.

With a nod in Namjoon’s direction, Yoongi waits for a small rope of dirty water to splash against his hand. Namjoon is much kinder in his attack against Yoongi, only summoning enough water to extinguish the flame. 

“Water will always win against me,” Yoongi admits. This time, he holds your gaze when he speaks. “It is my match.” 

You feel something stir in your belly that migrates up your chest until it eventually threatens to suffocate you, nearly getting lodged in your throat. 

“You would do well to continue sparring with Namjoon,” he says after a moment before turning to Hoseok and Jungkook, who have otherwise been silent. 

It’s an order, even if Yoongi is gentle with his words. 

With a sigh, you turn back to Namjoon. It’s difficult to stamp down the heat Yoongi always manages to trigger inside of you. You would compare him to fire even if it didn’t already run in his veins. 

Drawing from the murky stream, you weave a ball of water between your palms.

“Let’s go again.” 

While you spar with Namjoon, Yoongi leads Hoseok and Jungkook to the other end of the field.

You and Namjoon spar as though you are dancing. It’s a push and pull, your rhythms falling into harmony, even when one of you performs a surprise attack or a new move that hasn’t been practiced before. Perhaps it is because you both fight with water. There is a fluidity to it that the others don’t possess. 

Occasionally, your eyes stray to where Yoongi, Hoseok, and Jungkook have begun to spar. The three men do not dance. Instead, they are a fury of elements intertwining in chaos. The wind snuffs fire, Yoongi and Hoseok blasting each other incessantly. Shadows allow Jungkook to disappear before being hit by an attack, only to reappear right behind his opponent to go in for the kill. 

And it would be a kill if this was real. You know Jungkook keeps a rather terrifying knife strapped to his thigh. You all carry weapons, though you don’t really need them. Even Jungkook, with a Gift that’s misunderstood and exceptionally rare, is never found without his weapon. 

Out of all the Gifteds you’ve met on your way to safety, you have never encountered another who can manipulate shadows. So, there is truth to Yoongi’s statement. 

Jungkook is terrifying, even with the wide, starry eyes he always seems to stare at you with. He’s quiet and shy, typically sticking to Hoseok. You assume it’s likely because you found the two of them together. Both were kept in the same room at the research facility in Busan. As unassuming as Jungkook may be, you’ve seen him manipulate shadows to wrap around a Red Pin’s neck. Those shadows twisted and tightened until the man crumpled. 

You didn’t need to have the Gift of blood manipulation to know when his heart stopped. 

It was one of the scariest moments of your life, even beyond the suffering you’d endured having lived in the research facilities since you were a teen. Before then, you’d never seen someone die. Even when Yoongi and Namjoon helped you escape, they shielded you from the worst of it. It wasn’t until the three of you came upon the newest facility that such horrors were unleashed. 

Jungkook hates himself for it. You know he does; you typically make your bed beside his, and he cries in his sleep. Self-defense protects the body in the moment, but harms the mind and heart long-term. 

You probably would have done the same. 

For as tragic as his story is - or what little you know of it - Jungkook has an undeniably beautiful soul. Those horrors have yet to turn him cruel or his heart black. Even when he spars, you can tell that he’s being gentle. He holds back and doesn’t reach his full potential out of fear of hurting others, you’re sure. You can see it in how he bounces on the balls of his feet to keep his movements light and how his back muscles ripple beneath his shirt as it clings to his skin. A bead of sweat runs along his neck, over the vein that bulges from his exerting effort. 

Something prickles under your skin. When you look up, it’s into those wide eyes full of galaxies you’ll never understand, are somehow okay with not understanding if it means you can continue to gaze upon them. 

A small smile pulls the corners of Jungkook’s mouth up. His expression is short-lived, though, quickly falling as a bright orange flame licks at his ankles. 

“Don’t let my words get to your head, Jeon,” Yoongi teases. “Impossible to beat, but easy to hurt.” 

This time, you catch Yoongi’s eye. You duck your head when he winks at you, just in time to block another blast of water from Namjoon. 

“Why is everyone so off today?” Namjoon grumbles to himself. You haven’t managed to successfully hit him even once. 

“I’m tired,” you whine again, dropping a ball of water to the ground. Dead grass quickly soaks it up once it splashes. “We should check on Jessi.” 

Your group's sixth and final member is tucked away in the corner of the warehouse on the top floor. It’s dark up there, though Yoongi’s everlasting fire, paired with the windows Jessi managed to open, gives enough light for her to work. 

She has black grease smudged on her left cheek and across her forehead. Her long, thick hair is tied back into a ponytail, though strands have fallen out to frame her face. When you step closer, you hear her muttering, but you can’t make out what she’s saying. It’s not for you. She speaks, facing the black box placed in front of where she kneels on the floor. The floor can’t feel good on her knees with its bits of broken concrete and dirt. Everything hurts in this life; it hardly matters as long as you’re here and not there. 

“This piece of shit,” Jessi hisses, running her hands across her face. It smears more grease onto her skin, but she doesn’t care. 

“Not working?” 

“Beep beep boop beeping all over the fucking place, then static. White noise and shit. Like it’s telling me to fuck off even though I’m the one fixing it.” 

You hum, crouching down to stare at the box. It’s an old radio meant to transport messages back and forth. Perhaps left behind by the military after it had occupied this land while it bulldozed the vigilantes seeking to save Gifteds from the fate you all ended up sharing anyway. 

Jessi tweaks a few exposed wires. Every time they spark, you flinch. Mini white lightning, it’s deadly for anyone but Jessi. She grumbles and continues her work with deft fingers calloused from toiling away at the stupid thing for months. 

“I’m normally so fucking good at this, I swear to God.” 

Frustration colors her tone, even if her expression and cursing didn’t already give her feelings away. 

You don’t doubt her, though, and you tell her as much. Still, you know firsthand that it sucks when your powers don’t work how you want them to. As a technopath, fixing the radio should be easy work for her.

“There must be something wrong with it… Maybe the Red Pins did something to it?” 

You don’t know anything about technology. Even with the phone you’d stolen off one of the Red Pins, all you’d gotten to do was look at TikTok and try to find out where your parents were before Yoongi made you destroy the device. The government had ways to track you. Technology was as much your friend as a stranger on the street. 

With a sigh, Jessi leans back until she’s sitting flat on the grimy floor. 

“Maybe? Fuck if I know. I think I’m getting close, though. I’m getting some frequency when I concentrate really hard, but I wanna fix it so it’ll work even without me.” 

Your friend whispers the end of her statement. It goes without saying; each one of you knows the fragility of life on the run. 

“Thank you for working so hard.” Even in the dim lighting, you can see her watery eyes shine. It hurts your heart, but all you can offer is a light squeeze of her shoulder. 

Jessi shrugs. “It’s as much for me as it is for you.” 

You watch her stand and brush the dirt from her butt, her joints cracking from sitting down too long. When you first joined this mutant crew, you would have followed behind Jessi to comfort her. But, after months of running and fighting, you’ve learned that sometimes solitude is the best healing method. 

4 MONTHS, 2 DAYS

“What makes you think you’re ready? That any of us are ready?” 

Yoongi watches you with catlike eyes from where he sits at the kitchen table. The chairs circled around the battered wooden table are mismatched and in varying stages of deterioration from being abandoned for so long. The one Yoongi sits in is metal, and he leans on its two back legs, his right foot pressed to the floor to keep himself steady and his arms crossed against his chest. 

Although Yoongi isn’t raising his voice - he never does - you still feel like you’re being scolded. 

“I know we are,” you challenge him. Your voice is steady even as your fingers tremble. To stop them from shaking, you squeeze your hands into a fist, nails biting at the skin of your palms. 

You should sit down, but holding your energy in is hard. Instead, you pace the kitchen while Yoongi’s cat eyes and Jessi’s wide ones follow you. You feel like a lion looping its cage, the desire to run restricted and confined. 

“How?” 

“We can’t stay here, Yoong! We can’t. I can’t.” 

The front legs of Yoongi’s chair slam into the concrete floor. He allows the momentum to pull him forward, landing his elbows on the table’s surface. 

Looking at Yoongi hurts. You can tell from his face that the next thing he says won’t be pleasant. His lips are pressed into a fine line that curves downward slightly. It’s cute how he can pull off a straight-lipped frown, but not when it’s directed at you. 

It’s been at least an hour of back and forth between the three of you. Jessi tapped out a long time ago, resolved to watch the tennis match of an argument between you and Yoongi rather than exert energy on a fight she isn’t committed to. Yoongi and Jessi have the final say in all group decisions as the group's elders. It’s another reminder of how you think Yoongi sees you as someone to take care of rather than an equal. 

“Have you ever killed someone before, Y/N?” 

You pause your pacing to stand in front of the table. Yoongi is an exceptional cook, managing to create delicious meals out of what little you all have to work with from the forest. But now, at this moment, you feel like you’re going to be sick from the food churning in your stomach. 

“No.”  

“No,” Yoongi repeats. He speaks slowly, like he’s mulling your answer over, letting it twist around his tongue until he’s satisfied enough with its taste to swallow it down. 

Leaning forward, Yoongi presses his palms against the table’s surface. He spreads his fingers and stares at them. The two of you seem to trace over the scars that line his skin, little nicks, and slices that healed light pink or blazing white. You’ve never seen Yoongi naked, but you have seen a good expanse of his body when you’ve used your Gift to help the others get clean. From what you’ve seen, you know Yoongi’s entire body is littered with battle scars. 

“I have,” he admits what you already knew, and the gravelly sound of his voice makes you shudder. “Jungkook has.” 

You wince at the mention of the younger man, but Yoongi doesn’t give you a chance to speak. 

“Do you want to ask him what it’s like to squeeze the life out of another man? He may have done it with shadows, but I guarantee he still felt it in his hands.” 

Yoongi lifts his eyes to yours when the first tear rolls down your cheek. Concern wrinkles his forehead. 

“Yoongi,” you start, but the pink-haired man shakes his head. 

“I don’t mean to upset you, kiddo.” The pet name twists your gut tighter with frustration - even though Yoongi’s voice is filled with gentle adoration when he calls out to you. “But I’ll be damned if I let us walk into that forest without knowing where we’re going or whose claws we’re running into. The Gifted Commune is, at best, a rumor. At worst - a trap.”

You want to tell him that falling for a rumor or getting caught by the government is better than sitting in a concrete cage. The prospect of finding a community of other Gifted runaways who have managed to create a society safe from the evils you’ve grown up with means more to you than the fear of the unknown. 

There’s no use, though. Jessi is nodding along to Yoongi’s words; the blank expression she wears when she’s upset already masks her face.

“I will not put you in a situation where you must kill or be killed, Y/N. I won’t fucking do it.” Yoongi clears his throat suddenly, and he looks away from you. You’re unsure, but think he might be blinking back unshed tears.

You’re still pissed, but now your anger is mixed quite prettily with debilitating guilt. You’ve never seen Yoongi cry, and you realize with a sinking feeling that you really don’t want to. 

“It’s too fucking risky,” Jessi finally speaks. She presses her fingers against her forehead, massaging it slowly as she, too, looks for words. “The radio is almost fixed; I can feel that it’s close. Then we will have a clearer line of communication with the Commune. It doesn’t guarantee anything, obviously, but it’s better than going in without fucking knowing anything.” 

There’s nothing else to say. Yoongi doesn’t look at you or Jessi, instead staring at something in the opposite corner of the room.

Jessi gives you what you think is a smile laced with pity - or at least an apology. 

How can everyone be so content to stay in the warehouse? You’re a bunch of sitting ducks, hiding out in the same location for months, practically waiting for the government to send their agents to either corral you into laboratories again or exterminate you. You don’t understand how becoming a moving target is a bad thing. 

But, ultimately, you don’t understand why Yoongi can’t just trust you. 

With a frustrated huff, you twist around to hurry out of the kitchen. As you cross the threshold, Namjoon appears in the doorway. 

“Oh, I need to ask you-” 

You don’t mean to shove Namjoon with your shoulder as hard as you do, but you don’t have the patience to comply with whatever he expects you to do for him. Probably more sparring and training. 

On the one hand, sharing your identity as a water elemental with someone else in the group is an affirming experience. On the other, it’s infuriating because Namjoon sees your potential and pushes you toward it - even when you fight against him. 

Namjoon sputters something, and you hear Jessi convince him to drop it. Whatever else they have to say is lost on you; you’re no longer interested in entertaining the conversations of the “leaders” of the group. Part of you wants to find Hoseok or Jungkook to force them to commiserate with you, but something about dumping your sludge of emotions onto them feels wrong. 

So you do what you’ve always done best: you repress. 

It isn’t until a few hours later when you’re lounging on your makeshift bed with the only tattered book you kept from your facility (Fahrenheit 451, how fitting), that you give yourself over to the gnawing need to interact with other humans. 

Jungkook bounces on the balls of his feet, items that you can’t make out pressed against his chest. 

“Will you cut my hair for me, noona?” 

The out-of-use honorific flusters you, making your face burn under Jungkook’s attentive gaze. 

“You don’t have to be so formal with me,” you insist, embarrassment ravaging your twisted stomach and fluttering chest. Something about the attention Jungkook gives you makes you feel nervous and giddy. 

“It’s not very formal, really. It’s… respectful? I just… You are, it means,” Jungkook lets out a huff. He blows his bangs out of his face as his cheeks turn pink. “You are special to me.” 

You duck your head, shocked by Jungkook’s honesty. It warms you in a way you’re not sure you understand, letting the feeling sit inside your chest rather than exploring it any further. 

“Where I come from, we don’t have words like that.” 

Jungkook gives you a shrug. Neither of you mentions that in Korea, those words don’t really exist anymore, either. 

“But, okay,” you relent softly. 

Jungkook stands beside the mess of blankets that make up your bed, holding a pair of scissors and electric clippers Jessi enhanced to operate on their own. Jungkook nicked them from a Red Pin on their way out of the research facility he’d grown up in. Hairstyling tools didn’t seem high on your list of items to steal, but they’d come in handy. Like now, with Jungkook’s bangs falling entirely into his eyes and his hair sweeping across his shoulders. 

The pout Jungkook wears lessens slightly. He holds out the tools with an expectant look on his face. It’s cute how his bottom lip juts out, pink and chapped from nervously chewing on it. You’d overheard Namjoon scolding him for something earlier that morning before you went outside to patrol the grounds with Hoseok and Jessi.

Taking the items from Jungkook, you lead him out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. The lights sputter briefly before they fully brighten the small room. Jessi was excited to learn that her Gift extended to electricity as a whole, not just that within technology like computers and radios. With all your Gifts combined, the warehouse is liveable, almost comfortable. 

Jungkook sits on the closed lid of the toilet, making you tower over him. He parts his legs slightly so you can stand between them as you run your fingers through his hair. 

You spread your fingers and sweep his bangs up, exposing his forehead. It opens up his face more and makes him look older. Jungkook is handsome; there’s no denying that. You’re sure in another life, he could have been a regular college kid with a sweet girlfriend and a bright future. 

“What would you like me to do?” 

“Hmm?” Jungkook hums with his eyes closed, and his head tilted back slightly. 

You don’t miss how he leans into your touch, completely pliable in your hands, as you massage his scalp and continue to play with his hair. It’s thick and soft, even without the proper haircare products to maintain the health of the follicles. 

“How do you want me to cut it, silly?” 

You reach for the hairbrush you keep tucked away in the bathroom cabinet. It takes a few more moments of silence while you brush out Jungkook’s waves before he finally speaks. 

“Short. Cut it all off, please? It’s too hard to take care of now, and it gets in my face.” 

“Don’t get mad at me if it comes out bad.” 

Jungkook lets out a frustrated sound. “You always do a great job. You gave Yoongi hyung an undercut. It looks so good!” 

At the mention of Yoongi, you feel your heart drop. Somehow you know Jungkook is here to make you feel better even if he hasn’t said anything about the argument, and he’s the one seeking your help, not the other way around. He’s a distraction - one you wonder if Yoongi sent himself. 

It isn’t that Yoongi won’t apologize; you just never give him a chance to before you run off to lick your wounds on your own. 

It’s the healing quality of solitude, you think as you prepare to cut Jungkook’s hair. However, this time, you’re not alone. 

You can’t help but smile when Jungkook starts singing a song of his own creation as chunks of his hair fall to the floor. His song drowns out the static that buzzes in your brain like the fuzziness Jessi’s broken radio emits when anyone but her fiddles with it. 

“This way,” you speak softly, not wanting to disrupt his singing as you press your fingertips against his jaw and under his chin to lift his face toward you. Your finger presses against the little mole just below Jungkook’s bottom lip. The angle gives you a better view of your work so far. 

A small smile flickers on Jungkook’s face as though he’s trying to keep it down, but the corners of his mouth won’t listen to him. 

“It feels nice. We don’t touch.”

You hum and nod your head, but Jungkook’s eyes are still closed. It’s true; kind touches are rare. Hoseok is really the only one who gives out hugs. Everything is tough all the time. There’s little room for gentleness, even amongst friends. 

So you understand when Jungkook’s smile wins out, and he finally surrenders to the happiness your light touches along his jaw bring him. 

4 MONTHS, 5 DAYS

It takes Yoongi three days to apologize. 

Perhaps you should have apologized first, but you struggle to see how you could have done anything that warrants an apology. Yes, you feel bad for upsetting Yoongi, but his attitude toward you lately has rubbed you the wrong way. 

During the three days it takes him to apologize to you, he seems to do his best to avoid you. 

On the days you’re assigned to go on patrol with Yoongi, Jungkook accompanies you instead. You don’t mind having Jungkook by your side, you discover, even though you’re upset that Yoongi is behaving so childishly. 

Neither Jungkook nor Yoongi talks much, but you learn that their silence feels different. Whereas Yoongi’s silence stems from feeling confident and content with not needing to fill the air with incessant babbling, Jungkook’s silence is awkward and heavy. He fiddles with the loose strings of his shirt, his reddened cuticles, and everything else. You don’t mind the awkwardness, though. It’s nice to comb through the woods with someone as powerful as Jungkook; you know there’s nothing to fear with him around. 

The only weapon Jungkook carries is the knife strapped to his thigh. You, on the other hand, stay heavily armed. Your fingers tighten around your bow. When you twist your torso, the harness that holds your arrows digs into your shoulder. You also have a knife, though you are honestly afraid of close combat. A gun would be even better, but ammo is difficult to come by. It’s easier to collect your arrows after you’ve shot them, although you haven’t needed to yet. Since finding refuge at the warehouse, no one has discovered your group. 

Apparently, all your friends are willing to keep testing fate. You aren’t interested in pushing your luck. Jungkook doesn’t comment on the group’s plans for moving forward - or lack thereof. Something tells you that he’ll do whatever Yoongi and Jessi tell him to do. 

Still, going on patrol with Jungkook does a decent job of preventing your thoughts from straying toward your argument with Yoongi. Your hands brushed together a few times as you walked side by side, and you could practically feel Jungkook’s brain shortcircuit from the contact. 

Part of you thinks he has a crush on you, but the more logical part of you knows he’s probably shy. The kid has gone through a lot in life. Not everything is always about you; you try to remind yourself. Yoongi doesn’t even want you. Why would Jungkook?

On the third day, bright doe eyes don’t greet you at the edge of the woods, just as the sun is kissing the sky for the first time. Instead, sharp cat eyes hold your gaze when you lightly jog over. 

“Good morning, kiddo.” 

Yoongi wears dark shorts with tattered edges cut from a pair of old jeans and a plain t-shirt the color of the forest in spring. It’s not warm enough to wear what he’s wearing, but fire elementals run hot like you run cold. 

“Hi,” you say, voice a bit stunted as you hold your jacket tighter to your body. 

You’ve foregone your bow and arrows today; you may or may not have snapped your bow in a fit of frustration that may or may not have anything to do with Yoongi ignoring you at dinner the night before. A knife and your Gift will have to do, but you feel it is enough. Namjoon insists on learning how to use your Gifts and weapons in tandem. For double the defense, or so he says. 

Carrying a knife seems ridiculous when you know how to choke someone with their own spit without touching them. 

Once you’re within arm’s reach, Yoongi offers his hand to you. He holds it as though he’s going in for a handshake. Yellow-orange fire licks at his palm and swirls in tendrils around his fingers and wrist. 

After a few seconds of silence, he makes a slight grunting sound and wiggles his fingers, beckoning you. 

It’s impossible not to cave. A prickly feeling tingles down your arm, beginning somewhere in your chest and eventually settling in your fingertips. A tiny hurricane of water stolen from the moisture in the air circles around your hand just as the fire does Yoongi’s. 

He lets out a pleased sound when your palms glide across each other. You hook your thumbs together, using the momentum to spin your hands around until your fingers are interlaced and pressed into your palms. You both squeeze your hands once, twice, three times in a heartbeat before pulling away. By the end, the fire and water have disappeared. 

When you meet Yoongi’s eyes, the warmth of the fire in his palm has transferred to his gaze. There is an apology in how you release each other’s hands. The handshake holds secret words of friendship and reassurance between you. 

The two of you stand in silence for a bit until Yoongi tilts his head in the direction of the woods. You nod in response and follow Yoongi along one of the many patrol paths your group has established. 

There’s never anything in the woods besides small animals like squirrels and rabbits, but everyone feels better knowing there is a consistent patrol of the area, just in case. 

“So,” When you look at Yoongi, his lips twist into a light smirk you absolutely do not like. “You and Jungkook.” 

“Me and Jungkook what?” 

Yoongi shrugs. “Just seems like you two been hanging out a lot.” 

“Yeah, because you were fucking ignoring me all week.” 

His smirk drops into a stern frown, but Yoongi continues following the path. He walks slightly ahead of you with his hands clasped behind his back. It feels like he’s taking a leisurely stroll through a garden rather than going on patrol in the woods for government assassins. 

“It was immature and irresponsible of me, and I’m sorry for that.” 

Forgiving Yoongi is too easy. It’s the way the morning sun shines through the canopy of trees above you, casting streaks of light against his fading pink hair. The way he carries himself with confidence is gentle and comforting rather than arrogant or misplaced. It’s how he looks at you; you know he would do anything for you.

“It’s okay,” you finally concede. You scramble a bit to fall in line with Yoongi again. “I was being dramatic.” 

“Life is one big drama, isn’t it?” Yoongi muses with a chuckle. It’s a question he doesn’t expect an answer to, which is good, considering you’ve got something else buzzing around in your head. 

Well, fuck it. You’re just gonna say it.  

Heart pounding, you eventually find it in you to say, “I still think you’re wrong.” 

After a moment, Yoongi hums in acknowledgment of your admission but doesn’t offer anything else. It’s better than nothing, so you tell yourself to be content with all that he offers. 

“Anyway…” You don’t want to drop the subject, but Yoongi’s question is nagging in the back of your brain now - a nagging question you now have a gnawing desire to know the meaning behind. “Me and Jungkook can hang out without it meaning-” 

Before you can finish your statement, Yoongi slaps his hand against your mouth. The calluses on his palms are rough against your chapped lips, and his skin is sweaty. His free arm comes around to the front of your chest near your collarbones. He draws you against his chest so tightly you can’t move. 

“Don’t talk.” His breath is hot against your face, and his voice is almost indiscernible. 

You give a tiny nod before locking your body completely still. You hold your breath, straining to hear what Yoongi might hear or see what he might see. There’s nothing, just the usual sound of life in the woods - birds chirping, small animals scurrying in the brush. You don’t see anything either. 

You can only focus on the frantic pounding of your heart and the calm beat of Yoongi’s against your back. How he can be so relaxed when he thinks there might be danger in the woods that you can’t even see is unreal.

Slowly, Yoongi takes a step back away from you. He holds a finger to his lips and silently mouths for you to stay where you are. Everything inside you screams to disobey as you watch Yoongi disappear further into the woods, the thick trees swallowing him whole. 

But you don’t. You stay put, fear rooting you to the ground even though your body desperately wants to follow. 

What lies beyond the thicket of trees? What is dangerous enough that Yoongi wants you to stay put but not so dangerous that he believes he can take it on alone? 

Just when your resolve is about to crumble, something catches your attention out of the corner of your eye. Barely breathing, you turn your head to watch a dark spot glide across the forest floor. It’s two-dimensional, not an object but a presence creeping along the ground.

Suddenly, the spot grows. It spreads, turning its shape from a flat, uneven circle to a thing with tendrils sticking out of it, each new tendril moving independently. You gasp when one of the tendrils creeps up your leg. Despite being two-dimensional, you can feel the darkness. It’s firm and cold, like a snake slithering up your body. 

Every inch of you trembles as the strange darkness slowly spreads across your body. You squeeze your eyes and hold your breath. Perhaps this is the thing that Yoongi saw, a phantom stalking the trees. But now you’re left behind to be absorbed into its darkness, eaten alive. 

You’re startled when the cold disappears; instead, strong arms pull you against a firm chest. Warmth envelopes you, and when you open your eyes, you see familiar ones looking back at you.

“I got you,” Jungkook murmurs. He has you tucked under his chin, and he tilts his head down when he speaks to you. You shiver as his lips lightly brush against your forehead. 

“Where did you-”  

“Shhh.” 

Jungkook’s heart isn’t steady like Yoongi’s had been. On the contrary, it’s beating rather furiously. You can hear him attempting to regulate his emotions, taking in mindful breaths and exhaling in a way that tickles your skin.

You don’t know how long you stand there pulled against Jungkook’s chest. After a while, your breathing matches his until you fall into a gentle rhythm that makes you sleepy. The adrenaline is making you crash, your body hardly strong enough to hold yourself up after panicking so severely - still panicking. Luckily, when you lean into Jungkook, his hold on you tightens. 

In another situation, pressing your fronts together would have flooded your body with heat. You can feel all of Jungkook like this, from the bulging muscles of his chest to his thigh pressed slightly between your legs from how he holds you up. But fear of the unknown and Jungkook’s clearly distressed state prevent those other thoughts from materializing. 

Jungkook’s body doesn’t relax until Yoongi appears around the corner of a large tree. He keeps his arms wrapped around you, and for a second, Yoongi looks around at the clearing you're in as though he can’t see you. 

It isn’t until Jungkook lets go of you that recognition flashes in Yoongi’s eyes. 

“There you are,” Yoongi murmurs to the two of you. He looks like he rolled around on the ground, little pieces of leaves and sticks caught in his hair and stuck to his clothes. His left knee is bleeding from a few superficial scrapes. 

“What the fuck happened to you?” 

Yoongi looks at Jungkook before he answers your question, which irritates you. “I tripped when I rushed in, but it was nothing. Just a large fox I heard making noise back there.” 

A fox is likely the largest animal in the woods, with no bears or wolves in the area. Still, you don’t trust Yoongi. You can pick up on the charred smell coming off of him. He smells like a barbecue, which means only one thing… 

“Have you been practicing turning yourself invisible?” 

Jungkook ducks his head down but no longer has long bangs to hide his face. It takes a second for your brain to process Yoongi’s question - and the change in the topic - but Jungkook is already answering him by the time you figure it out. 

“It’s not really invisibility,” he says softly. “It’s more like… an illusion.”

Yoongi hums and motions for the two of you to start walking. You’re returning to the warehouse, you realize, even though you only just started the patrol route. 

“Yeah, I can… adjust the lighting, I guess? To make it seem like you can’t see me. Or, us, this time.” 

Jungkook gives you a small smile when you whip around to look at him.

“I didn’t know you could do that.” 

“Yeah,” Jungkook repeats. He draws his bottom lip between his teeth and wiggles it like he has more to say but doesn’t want to let it out just yet. 

The three of you walk in silence until you reach the warehouse. When Yoongi walks ahead of you, you can tell he’s limping, even as he does his best to walk normally. 

“He’s okay.” 

Jungkook stands beside you in the field behind the warehouse, watching Yoongi reach the backdoor. 

“He’s bleeding.” 

Jungkook’s ears are pink when he responds, “He’ll be okay.”

“He’s lying to us.” 

Jungkook absentmindedly runs his fingers along his bottom lip. It droops as he speaks through a pout. “Maybe. But I trust him, even if he is.” 

It’s a strange thing to trust someone who is lying. 

All you can do is nod. All you can do is accept that the people around you are doing what’s right because, aside from them, there is no one and nothing you can trust in the world. 

As you approach the warehouse, Jungkook curls his fingers around your wrist to stop you. He watches you with the same wide-eyed look he gives everyone, though something about this time feels different. His expression is more open and vulnerable. He looks at you like he’s waiting for you to hurt him. 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he apologizes softly. 

“But you didn’t?” 

Your eyebrows crease your forehead, trying to recall what you may have done to make Jungkook feel like you feared him. Sure, his sudden appearance in the woods was startling, but he’d brought you a feeling of comfort and safety - not fear. 

Jungkook doesn’t correct you. Instead, he lets go of your wrist as shame warms his cheeks, but he doesn’t look away from you. The timidness is still there. You can see it in how he chews on his bottom lip. Still, his eyes take on a more guarded, hardened expression for a split second, and then… 

He’s gone. 

“What the fuck?” You mutter to yourself. 

Now that you’ve seen the darkness before, your eyes quickly notice the spot on the ground that creeps and grows into odd shapes, slinking along the grass before taking form up your legs, curling around your arms. 

It’s Jungkook. You knew it in the woods, somewhere deep down. Your fear for Yoongi’s safety - and your own - prevented you from processing the situation. But now, as the darkness envelopes you again, you know what to expect when you close your eyes and open them to see Jungkook’s broad chest as he crushes you against him. 

“You never showed me before.” 

Maybe it’s weird that you’re still clinging to each other, but Jungkook is warm and solid, and his heartbeat guides yours into a slower rhythm. 

“That’s because it’s creepy.” 

“Well, I think it’s cool. Even though, yeah, you kinda scared the shit outta me.” 

Jungkook lets out an embarrassed whine and squeezes you tighter. You knew he could command shadows but hadn’t realized he could become one or move within them. Sure, the tornado trick he’d done a few times with Hoseok had been cool, but you’d always thought he was merely swirling the darkness around himself. You hadn’t realized he was the darkness. 

Honestly, it made him all the more terrifying and equally as endearing. 

“I just had this… feeling something bad was happening…” Jungkook whispers into your hair. “I needed to check.”

“Good thing it was only a fox.”

Jungkook nods in agreement; you know he believes it more than you do. 

“I’m just happy you’re safe.” You can feel his cheek press against the top of your head for a moment before he finally releases you. 

There’s a feeling there as Jungkook leads you to the warehouse. He laces his fingers with yours, and you can’t help but hear Yoongi’s question on a loop in your head. 

You and Jungkook? 

4 MONTHS, 3 WEEKS

“What if they think we’re the feds and feed us false information?” 

“We’re too stupid to be the feds. It would be obvious.”

“I don’t know… we all escaped the government, so they must be pretty stupid.” 

“What if they’re the feds?” 

“Shit, I never thought about that.”

“They’re not the fucking feds.” 

“How do you know that?!” 

“Can all of you please just shut the fuck up?” 

The six of you crowd around the radio on the kitchen table. Jessi shows you how to operate it, which flip to switch to activate the microphone, and how to adjust the volume. You’re all muted for now. When Hoseok goes to flip the switch, Jessi smacks his hand out of the way. 

“Listen to me,” she says sternly, turning in her seat to get a good look at all of you. “No one talks.” 

“But-” 

“No one talks.” 

Five heads nod at her command, including Yoongi, which feels very satisfying to you for some reason. 

Details of the Gifted Commune somewhere beyond the woods traveled by word of mouth. Coordinates and radio frequencies were exchanged in hushed tones between the Gifteds who dared dream of a life beyond the Labs. You’re sad to admit that you were never one of those Gifteds. It wasn’t until Yoongi helped you escape that you even realized escaping was an option, so brainwashed into thinking the Labs were all you had. You were in a new country, stumbling through an unfamiliar language, taken from your family. Sure, you’d learned enough to get by over time - but missing your adolescent years made you feel hopeless. 

Jessi is the only one who had communicated with the Commune leaders in the past when she and another Gifted managed to break into a control room in the Labs she came from. 

That’s why she’s the one to speak into the radio that you find operates much like a long-distance walkie-talkie. You’re glad it’s not you. She introduces herself, her whereabouts, and her credentials with an even voice you know you could never replicate. 

Despite the distrust you’re all afraid of, Jessi’s previous connection to the Commune makes it easy for her to request to speak to the Commune leader, a healer named Kim Taehyung. 

Sitting with your fingers gripping the edge of the table so tightly your knuckles are beginning to ache, you lean forward as though you can get closer to the gentle voice that floats from the radio’s speakers. 

Taehyung doesn’t sound anything like you’d imagined, though you aren’t sure what you were expecting, to be honest. Maybe someone with a rougher voice made harsh by the trials of life as a fugitive of the Republic. Instead, he’s soft as he asks Jessi how many there are of you and what your coordinates are. This man, already larger than life even though none of you knows what he looks like, is patient as he gives Jessi instructions on how to reach the Commune. 

“I can assure you,” Taehyung speaks, and you don’t know what he’s about to say, but you find yourself already believing him, “You will be safe here. It won’t be a short trip.” That makes your gut twist, but you focus on his following words. “But there are abandoned shelters along the route to find refuge in. The nights get terribly cold.” 

Namjoon scribbles some notes down on a worn piece of paper. It’s been written on and erased to add more notes over the months you’ve been at the warehouse since there are only a few pieces of paper between the six of you. There’s a small hole in the middle of the page where someone erased too hard - or too many times, you suppose. 

“Thank you, Taehyung-ssi.” 

The line is quiet for a moment. Jessi’s gaze shoots up to glare at Jungkook’s interruption, but Taehyung speaks before she can chastise the younger man. 

“Anything for my dongsaeng,” the man on the other side of the radio states. 

You don’t know him, so there is no way to tell if the subtle lilt to his voice indicates affection, but it seems like it as the two men use polite terms no one ever uses anymore. It’s old-fashioned and reminiscent of a time lost to all of you. 

Jessi steers the conversation back to planning the group’s journey to the Commune. Excitement makes you jittery as you skip out of the kitchen, the men - aside from Yoongi - following after you. The boring stuff is what follows, and you’re all content to let the leaders discuss that stuff. 

“Do you think we’ll be able to do it?” Hoseok clasps his hands together, occasionally squeezing them. When he speaks, he keeps his eyes on the closed kitchen door. 

Namjoon shrugs at the same time you respond, “We have to.” 

PART ONE - PART TWO

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do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

[angel-of-the-moons]

Can you do pavitr sex pollen smut😩

Gonna combine this ask:

Because ommmgg? Asdfghjkl I haven't actually come close to writing any sex pollen tropes and I fucking need to!

Hazy

Pavitr Prabhakar x Fem!Reader

Because I'm tired of repeating myself: PAVITR IS AGED UP IN THIS FIC

TW/CW: Smut. Straight up smut. Unprotected sex, PiV sex, NSFW, creampie, sex pollen trope, no refractory period, oversensitivity

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: I really need to do this trope with other characters.

🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷

It was a typical day for you. You finished your course papers for the day, submitted them in an email to your professor, and decided to brush up on some spring cleaning.

You'd opened the glass doors to your tiny apartment balcony, allowing the evening breeze to blow inwards, your curtain billowing about as it was blown around.

You turned on some tunes and set yourself to task; knowing your boyfriend would be home soon. You didn't cook dinner because the two of your decided to order out tonight to save on an extra load of dishes, and it honestly made your night much easier.

You were so consumed with your chores and your music that you failed to notice the man dropping onto your balcony, his body tense, his hands trembling; the multi-colored suit he wore covered in something light and powdery.

He dragged one foot at a time into your apartment, spotting you in the tiny kitchen, his chest heaving with each breath he took.

He barely managed to rip his mask off before he slipped his arms around your waist.

You gasped and spun around in his arms, blinking up at him, taking in his blown pupils and flushed face.

"P-Pavitr!" You gasped.

"What--"

He cut you off by crashing his mouth into yours, taking your off-guard moment to slip his tongue into your mouth, greedily twining with yours.

You could feel the strange powdery substance on his suit, the small flecks falling from his hair to breathe it in.

And it was... Strange. Your head started to feel funny, giddy, almost drunk. You didn't even retort when Pavitr's hand slipped around you to grip at your ass, pulling you so you were pressed against him.

You hiccuped for some air, briefly getting a respite before he kisses you again, his mouth hungry and desperate.

He was hard. Painfully hard.

Just feeling him press against you through his suit and your skirt, made you take another deep breath.

With every drag of your lungs, that weird feeling got heavier, with heat pooling low in your belly and dripping down your thighs, your underwear soaked clean through already.

What had Pavitr gotten into?

"Need you." His usually sweet and peppy voice croaked out.

Your mind was foggy and all you could do was crash your mouth to his again, biting at his bottom lip.

He groaned and all but ripped your skirt down, sinking to his knees in front of you before burying his face between your legs, licking a broad stripe up your weeping sex before his lips wrapped around your clit, his free hand gripping at his cock through his suit, desperate for some friction.

The moment he thrust his fingers inside of you, you tipped your head back and moaned wantonly, your hands gripping the edge of the counter for dear life, riding his face and fingers like it was the only thing keeping you alive.

Pavitr pulled his mouth off of you to bite at your thighs, curling and thrusting his fingers as fast as he could as he licked a rivulet of your slick back up to your lips, hungrily lapping at you like a man parched.

You spared a glance down and you saw him, his hair messy, the black strands dusted with the orange substance; his eyes were closed and he had this expression in a mix of bliss and hunger, like it was too much and not enough at the same time.

One of your hands flew down to grip at his hair, your teeth gritting tightly as you feel your orgasm start to wash over you, your blood boiling to the point sweat was rolling down your brow, your throat, and into the valley between your breasts.

When you cum, you do it with a broken whine and heavy breath, breasts heaving as Pavitr thrusts his tongue inside, drinking you up even more than before, nudging your clit with his nose as he does.

"Pavitr...." You moan as he pulls away, his jaw slack, the glossy sticky webs of your slick connecting him still, snapping like tension wires as he pulls far enough away.

He wipes his face on the back of his hand and shoots back to his feet, kissing you again, all teeth and tongue, robbing you of your breath that you managed to claw for.

It wasn't enough. It wasn't enough, you needed more. You needed all of him. You needed him inside you, and you needed him now.

It was like he could read your mind.

Pavitr buried his face in your neck, and you just barely heard him whine as he desperately rutted his clothed cock against your thigh.

"Need you." He whimpered.

You groan, feeling more heat gush out of you, your pussy clenching around nothing in anticipation of being filled.

"I'm yours." You gasped when he bit down on your neck.

In a flash you were spun around, your hands gripping the edge of the counter as he bends you over, gripping your hips in his hand as he shoved the bottom half of his suit down in one swift motion, his cock finally springing free, the tip leaking and obscene amount of precum from it.

You made a hefty groan when all at once he thrust into you, his cock bottoming out and stretching you full.

Pavitr let out a shaky breath, his body trembling as he gave himself a few seconds to catch his breath, before he started slamming into you like a man possessed, small whimpers and weak grunts coming from him as he roughly fucked into you, burying his face into your hair and breathing deeply.

You keened loudly, Pavitr's thrusts punching the air out of your lungs so harshly it felt like your guts were being rearranged.

Your skin was burning, his every touch feeling like it was turning the blood in your veins to molten lava.

You let out a yelp when he pulled your shirt, ripping the buttons open and your bra down so your breasts could bounce free, one of his hands gripping and fondling you as if it were the only way to pull you back down onto him

You bite your lip and choke back a sob as your hand slides between your legs of its own accord, your fingertips brushing where his cock pistoned in and and out of you before moving back up to furiously roll your clit, working you back up to that peak where your second orgasm was waiting to pull you over the edge.

Pavitr made another pathetic whimper as he slapped his hips into yours, fucking you full as he pumped a hot, thick load into you, rutting into you as hard as he could, his cum dribbling out of you and dripping down your thighs, onto the floor as he kept fucking you.

You let out a high-pitched wail as you cum, gushing around his cock as he rode out his high.

The two of you slipped in your shared mess. And without even dislodging his cock from you, Pavitr reached out and caught you both, his arm wrapped around your chest as his other palm slammed onto the floor.

He rolled his hips desperately into yours, his still-hard cock slamming into your spongy walls.

"P-Pav--" You groaned deeply as he pinned you to your kitchen floor with his hips.

"I'm sorry, sorry, sorry--" He grunted into your hair.

"Need more. Need all of you." Pavitr groaned, pulling back to grip at your hips, pulling you back against him as he split you open with his cock.

"I... I need more."

[mttshapedheart]

This was just a doodle page of me trying to figure out my spam/sneo/ad spam designs but I got carried away because I love him actually and it was bound to happen

[nyxqueenofshadows]

Writer’s Month 2020 - Day 31

for the ‘there was only one bed!’ prompt

guys it’s the last day holy

fandom: bts

pairing: 🤷‍♀️ platonic ot7

length: 2.1k words

summary: this one’s fairly self-explanatory tbh. some humour, smth that might constitute flirting, who knows (not me). feat rock paper scissors, cos ofc

putting under a cut!

*

Namjoon's expression was fixed into a bland smile.

"I'm sorry, what?"

The manager winced. "There was only one room free. If we stay here, all of you will have to share." A brief pause. "I'm sorry, Namjoon, we-"

"No!" He waved away the apologies, mind already focused on what they could do. "It's not your fault, hyung-nim. It's fine."

Both of them turned to watch the other six members, who were standing and talking near the entrance to the motel, off to the side so they wouldn't be in the way.

Jeongguk barked a loud laugh at something one of the others had said, likely Seokjin judging by his proud smirk. Yoongi just looked to be on the verge of pretending he didn't know them, though the way his hand was tightly linked with Hoseok told a very different story. Bored, Taehyung and Jimin were playing catch with a water bottle they'd snagged from the car.

"Book the room, hyung-nim. We'll be alright." Namjoon shrugged, a wry smile flicking at the corner of his mouth. "It's not like there's any other options, right?"

On their way to the next concert, a sudden storm had grounded the last flight of the night, leaving the group and their small entourage stranded. Most of the staff had already made an earlier flight, so it was just the seven of them, their manager, and two bodyguards, one for each of the cars.

With no other immediate options, and a time limit to make it to the next city as fast as possible, they'd agreed to drive as far as they could in the night, and then approach the worst leg of the journey the next morning. If they were lucky, they might be able to squeeze their way onto a private plane at a smaller airfield that was in the direction they were headed, according to the map.

Unfortunately, they hadn't been able to drive that far, and once they realised they couldn't go any further without all being too tired to drive, the only option for an overnight stay was this slightly seedy motel.

As far as days went, this one had been something of a disaster.

The manager studied him for a moment longer. Then, apparently finding what he was looking for, he bowed his head and jogged back into the motel.

Ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach, Namjoon started to move back to his group.

He did so love being the bearer of bad news.

*

"Wait, he's coming back!"

Everyone's attention turned to where Namjoon was approaching, a slightly strained expression on his face.

"He was gone a while," Taehyung muttered. "Maybe something's-"

Jimin shushed him. "We don't know that!"

"Namjoonie!" Hoseok waved at him, smiling brightly. "Is the motel okay with us staying?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"Oh, thank fuck," Seokjin said, visibly relieved. "I'm not getting back in that car, not even if you force me. There's only so much cramp my poor legs can take."

At that, Jeongguk coughed something that sounded suspiciously like 'old man' but no one seemed to pick up on it. Either that or they were just used to it at this point.

If possible, Namjoon's expression became even more pained. Narrowing his eyes, Yoongi easily noticed.

"And the bad news?"

A pause.

"There's only one room," Namjoon said, all in a rush.

Though it was a warm summer night, the temperature around the seven of them seemed a few degrees colder for a moment.

"Well, two beds is better than-"

"It's a single." Namjoon's mouth was doing the exact same thing it did whenever he ate particularly spicy food. "One bed."

At the back of the group, Taehyung cast his eyes skyward.

"Knew it."

Before Namjoon could start fielding complaints, however, the manger reappeared behind him, two keys swinging from his fingers.

"We've booked it," he explained. "Someone's just checked out, so there's actually two rooms free. How do you want to split up?"

Ever polite when speaking with staff, Jeongguk raised a hand.

"But where are you staying?"

The manager paused. Glanced between himself, the two bodyguards, and the two cars.

"We'll work it out?" He couldn't have sounded any less sure of himself if he'd tried.

Shaking his head, Namjoon took one of the keys and pressed the other one back into the manager's palm.

"You three take that room, hyung-nim," he said, tone leaving no room for argument. "It's not perfect, but it's better than the car. We can ask the motel staff for extra pillows and stuff."

For a second, it looked as if the manager would argue, then he sighed, eyes closing.

"Thanks, Namjoon-ah." Briefly, he patted him on the shoulder. "You go get yourselves settled in. I'll call the others and tell them where we are and then come back with a plan for tomorrow, okay?"
 They all chorused their agreement and watched the manager leave, his phone already pressed against his ear. Just before he rounded the corner, he must've gotten through and began speaking rapidly in Korean, indistinct from this distance, and visibly surprising a patron of the motel who was sitting outside.

Now alone - aside from their two bodyguards, of course - the seven of them stood there. For the first time in a long, long while, they actually felt somewhat uncomfortable in each other's presence.

"Come on, guys," Hoseok began, trying to lighten the mood, "it can't be that bad, right?"

*

"Yep." Yoongi was standing, arms folded, in front of the worryingly tiny bed. For a single bed it was actually quite large, but it clearly wasn't designed for as many as them to sleep on. "It's that bad."

Upon seeing the bed, Namjoon had immediately turned on his heel and marched down to the front desk, announcing that he was going to try and get some more pillows and duvets, or at least a blanket. It had been a good plan, but he'd been gone for long enough that some of the other members were losing hope.

Taehyung and Jimin had gone to shower, choosing to share and save water and time rather than squash all seven of them - who were bordering on exhausted by now, thanks to the concert and long drive - into the time frame they had. Also desperate to be clean, Jeongguk had trailed after them, though the shower was barely big enough for one.

Judging by the giggles and frequent knocks against the wall, they seemed to be managing just fine.

This just left Yoongi, Hoseok, and Seokjin all staring at the bed.

"How many can we fit on, do you think?"

"Four, maybe." Seokjin hummed. "Rock paper scissors?"

Yoongi made a face. "Better hope Namjoon-ah has some fucking pillows then."

The idea of doing a full show with backs and necks aching a lot more than normal thanks to a night on the floor made all of them wince.

A pre-arranged knock - to avoid any fans who might come across them - came at the door, and Hoseok turned to let Namjoon in.

"Any luck?"

Empty-handed, except for two lone pillows, Namjoon's expression said it all.

"Well, shit." He glanced back at the bed. "We can't all fit on there, can we?"

Yoongi tapped his chin thoughtfully. "What if we take the duvet off the bed and fold that on the floor with those pillows-" He pointed at the ones Namjoon was holding. "-and leave the rest on the bed? It's hot as fuck, I know I won't need to be covered up."

There was a slight pause as the other three mentally constructed this.

"That could work." Namjoon frowned. "How do we decide who takes the floor?"

Immediately, Seokjin's whole expression lit up.

"Rock paper scissors?"

"You really like that, huh hyung."

"What can I say?" He tilted his chin smugly. "Team Kim Seokjin always wins."

When Taehyung, Jimin, and Jeongguk all returned from their shower, they discussed the idea and agreed to try it. However, when they laid the duvet out on the floor, folded to offer as much comfort as possible, one thing became clear incredibly quickly.

"There's more room on the floor."

"Yeah." Jimin squinted. "Small ones on the bed, big ones on the floor?"

Jeongguk snorted. "At least you admit you're small, hyung."

"Not the time, Jeonggukkie." Groaning, Namjoon pinched his nose. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think the rock paper scissors is a good idea. Then it's fair."

Not childishly at all, Seokjin cheered and stuck his hand behind his back in preparation.

Though he rolled his eyes, Yoongi clearly didn't have a better idea. No one did, really.

"So how does this work?"

With some planning, they decided that there would potentially be multiple rounds.

The first would give an initial number of winners - who would take the bed - and losers - who would take the floor. If there weren't three winners and four losers, they would move on to the next rounds until the numbers matched up.

Three unnecessarily exciting rounds of rock paper scissors later, the groups had been decided: Seokjin, Yoongi and Taehyung would be taking the bed, while the others would be taking the floor.

"See?" Seokjin was sitting in the centre of the bed, Yoongi under one arm and Taehyung clinging tightly onto the other to avoid falling off. It seemed the estimate of room for four had been a little generous. "Team Kim Seokjin always wins."

Sprawled out across the makeshift mattress on the floor, but no more or less comfortable, Namjoon, Hoseok, Jimin and Jeongguk just shrugged in sync.

"Somebody had to make the sacrifice."

Jimin and Taehyung locked eyes. Dramatically, they each raised a hand as if reaching for the other, Taehyung even managing to summon a fake tear.

"Though an ocean divides us-"

"-our hearts will always be together!"

Making a face, Yoongi none-too-gracefully slid off the bed and began traipsing towards the bathroom.

"Shower," he mumbled. The late night and lack of sleep finally seemed to be having an impact.

Seokjin jumped up behind him. "Room for one more?"

"No."

Even as Seokjin draped himself over Yoongi's back, waxing poetic about how it makes sense for the biggest to go with the smallest, Yoongi-yah! he made no effort to push him off. Mostly because he was too tired to spare the effort and also partly because he really didn't mind all that much.

It was a testament to the all-encompassing power of rock paper scissors that none of the four on the floor jumped up to steal their place on the bed.

While they were gone, the manager came back to discuss their plan for the next day, and warned them that they would probably have to get up early. Agreeing on a time and setting an alarm, he left again, wishing them a good night.

When they came back, Yoongi distinctly redder than he normally was after a shower though the reason was unclear, Hoseok stood, one hand outstretched towards Namjoon.

"Come on, leader," he teased. "Our turn."

With hardly a complaint, Namjoon took his hand and followed.

All those years of sharing showers had apparently been helpful in some ways, though a scenario like this had hardly even crossed their minds. Still, no matter how rich and famous you were, it didn't hurt to be reminded how far you'd come sometimes.

Or at least one of them would have thought that, if he was awake enough to think coherently.

By the time Namjoon and Hoseok came back, the three on the bed were already fast falling asleep, while Jeongguk and Jimin mumbled slurred conversation.

Smiling fondly, Namjoon flicked off the light. The room was plunged into instant darkness, but as his eyes adjusted, he realised that it wasn't as dark as it had first seemed, thanks to the neon sign on the front of the motel.

It was just as Namjoon had gotten comfortable - or as comfortable as he could get, on the unforgiving floor of a motel with only a thin duvet as protection - that Taehyung piped up.

"Hey." Yoongi grunted in response. "If it's like this for us, what about manager-hyung-nim?"

*

Next door but one, said manager was lying on his back in the dark, eyes watching the ceiling fan slowly turn in the strange neon light of the sign. On either side of him, the two bodyguards were curled inwards, to avoid falling off the sides of the bed.

Blink.

There was a long pause.

Blink.

"Yeah," the manager whispered, "I think I'll take the floor."

*

The sound of their hysterical, exhausted laughter went on for a lot longer than it should have done.

Still. As far as an end to the day could have been, it wasn't bad.

Not bad at all.

[delusion-of-negation]

so this asshole pulled the ol' reblog and block, which usually I will simply ignore and go about my day, but this cunt, this utter waste of an internet connection, decided to say that I, an autistic person, was calling them "retarded" above. can you point to where in my post I say the word retarded? this fuck cannot read omfg.

fuck it, let's break this down bit by bit, so you can waste even more people's time with your complete lack of grey matter.

"you could like, bother to ask instead of accusing and going off the rails like a wildcat in heat."

I literally said "I'm being melodramatic for comedic effect but dear fucking god." right there in my reblog. the "wildcat in heat" aspect was a joke. what wasn't a joke was being tired of people refusing to understand my posts then co-opting them for their bullshit. I linked you to posts explaining this and more of my beliefs.

"people believe that suffering is a good thing. people believe that suffering is deserved, and that anyone who circumvents this is a horrible person. people are supposed to suffer. this is a cultural norm: literally, suffering makes you a better person."

crying and screaming and punching walls. my dude. I explained things to you. take a step back. what puts ideas like that in their heads? what manipulates people into accepting the suffering it bestows upon them? why do you keep individualising systemic issues? oh right it's because the system tells you to.

this is fucking stupid. you're stupid. you see people being told they deserve to suffer, then being made to suffer, and then you go "it's their fault they're suffering. they should fix it themselves."

again, you said "they're voluntarily choosing to suffer". my dude.

"you are engaging in it right now, flinging all kinds of filth here and going off the rails instead of bothering to USE YOUR BRAIN, as you say."

"flinging filth"? the jokes. the jokes I said were jokes. born out of frustration because people keep saying dumb shit on my posts?

also, calling a mentally ill person "off the rails" right before...

"would you like to clarify why you think stupidity, retardation, is a good insult on a post about disability?"

would you like to explain why you said kanye was right? I can't believe you said kanye was right on my post. disgusting. lmao.

this is literally a "when did you stop beating your wife?"

"why you can't control yourself, and feel the need to act like this? why you expect your violence to have a good effect---"

VIOLENCE?? ASDFGHJKL

god you're so fucking stu- sorry. I forgot, you think autistic people are stupid. you're so fucking poo poo head.

also, violence is pretty effective. like, dislike it all you want but if you'd been punched in the face every time you looked at my blog you'd be out of my hair by now.

why is insulting you indication that somebody's capacity is at all diminished from its usual level? maybe I just think you're a cunt.

"oh, it's because people believe suffering makes you a better person. violence is good."

violence is great lmao. I love pub fights. you don't seem to know much about me so here's the thing, I've got many posts about it being fucking idiotic to have black and white morality that sees violence as a conversation-ender. sometimes a bitch won't leave you alone in the pub so you slap him. but it's even more idiotic to perceive it like that when you think "learn to read" is violence.

also I've never said suffering makes you better. for example, it is morally wrong by every standard worth its salt that I must suffer through reading your bullshit. I'm doing it because it's fun.

anyway, stop projecting shit on me, especially weird moralising bullshit that I clearly don't think, to suit your dumb narrative.

"why does joe shmuck think he needs to blame the disabled people, instead of realizing that they can't stand in line?"

because they're a visible display of someone getting what he-

"because suffering is good, and if you can't tolerate the suffering, you should not be able to get the thing you want. only the good people who come out of the suffering as morally better deserve to be rewarded. can't get something for nothing, yeah?"

okay there freud let's tone this down like a lot.

"for some weird reason you don't think joe schmuck should have to use his brain?"

learn. to. read.

"he's not the worst person ever for following exactly what he's told and telling you you're a vile evil miscreant worthy of death?"

jesus fucking christ, now you're putting words in an imaginary man's mouth I can't. I actually don't know how you're this far gone.

"is it that you think he's too stupid to understand any of this? that's incredibly hateful of you to think about literally everyone in the world."

if literally everyone in the world is telling you that you're a vile evil miscreant worthy of death, maybe it's your toxic personality? I can't tell if you genuinely think you're saying something worth hearing but, if you think it is, at least proof read it before you hit send, because errors like that are pretty avoidable. it's a sentence apart, dude. it characterised what joe schmuck thinks as "you're a vile evil miscreant worthy of death" and then followed it up by asserting everyone on earth is joe schmuck. oh my god.

"nobody can possibly understand you or think about other people because they're being told to think something else? they don't have thoughts and beliefs of their own, they're just drones following "corporations"? there's no overarching system telling people why all this has to be the way it is?"

"it's systemic. it's systems. it's corporations. stop blaming fucking individuals. you sound like the idiots who talk about fucking carbon footprints." literally the first paragraph of my reply dude.

also, nice job displaying your bias against me. when I say "this is systemic" that's me saying "nobody can think for themselves", if I explain one system, capital, that's me saying people are drones following corporations, but you then say immediately that there's systems. again, these are one sentence apart. proof read your shit.

"puritanism and calvinism, the basis of most modern christianity, DO NOT EXIST???"

yeah, I'm sure the concert venue doesn't build more entrances because they think god wants people to wait in line outside, and definitely not because doing so and hiring the staff and security would cost money. you sure cracked this mystery.

"fundyism is not a thing worldwide in any religion whatsoever? MAN that's the world i want to live in"

quick question: does your government have separation of chruch and state? mine doesn't.

"nah, people don't ever think that suffering makes you a better person or that demand you should stop crying before i give you a reason to cry."

this pisses me off because I've talked at length on my blog about being an abuse survivor; you coming and parroting common shit abusers say at random people, while falsely accusing them of saying shit they never said, and generally being a cunt, is not- you know that's not okay, right? like, you know you're a cunt?

"nobody ever in the history of the world has grown up in a culture that normalizes abuse, normalizes suffering, as something to be proud of. nobody one ups each other with how terrible their lives are, how much sleep they haven't gotten! that would be fuckin WEIRD, imagine living like that! braggin about how much you've worked this week? how many meals you had to skip?"

and your decision is to blame the people victimised by that kind of system for having the thoughts it implants in their brains, and for being too immobilised by it to repair it single-handedly.

"how you're too proud to apply for welfare and won't use SNAP because that's for grubby leeches? WILD."

I'm on benefits. I know clarifying the joke apparently doesn't work on you, but this is a play on your blog title being general you btw.

"disabled people aren't ever told that their suffering is for a greater purpose or that they aren't suffering enough to be allowed accommodations. NEVER."

I have talked about the issue of means testing in multiple threads, in fact one I linked you to above was specifically about that.

"i'm not shocked you're so free with insulting people who have trouble reading. is this like a thing with you? disabled people are funny? illiteracy and people who are denied those opportunities are funny?"

you know that I know you're not actually illiterate, right? because of the whole "we're talking by writing and reading" thing? the reason it's a funny insult is because you can't grasp the simple ideas being conveyed to you, and because you're an asshole. and I don't feel guilty about using it as one because I know for sure the illiterate people aren't reading this to be upset by it anyway.

"insulting people is great praxis because comparing them to the unwashed masses shows how pure your blue blood is?"

I'm not draco malfoy, I'm not american, I've never even been to america, and I don't insult people as "praxis", I insult them if they piss me off personally. you're annoying, you're a cunt, you suck. nothing about that is activism, I don't do everything I do with a moralising equation in the back of my mind. sometimes you're actually just being a cunt and somebody will tell you as much. I genuinely don't know why you're trying to imply I'm well off and looking down upon the poor, considering I've linked you to crap about applying for and being on benefits - then again, I can tell you're too lazy to read that, because otherwise you'd know that I don't live in america given details therein.

"are you doing this because you always act like this and call it social commentary or is it because you're not slamming your head hard enough to get back to a clean slate where you can install some praxis that doesn't focus on hatewhoring?"

woah woah woah. I have amnesia. and some people have head injuries. are you making fun of that? good sir. how dare. shocked and, frankly, horrified that you would do this.

again, it's not praxis, it's just that you suck.

"with all due respect i did not think i needed to explain what an "example" is, but if you truly do not understand please ask."

are you making fun of stupid, or as you call them "retarded", people?

"i do think you're just reaching here to say nasty things, because again, making people suffer makes them better."

no, it's because you said dumb shit on my post. I was joking about in my frustration at that. if it made you suffer... that's wild. not my intent, but I can't say I'm disappointed. but was it praxis or was it vindictive? can you get your story straight? for me, it was neither. you annoyed me so I jokingly casually lightly insulted you, I've been consistent about my motive from the start lmao. you making it some weird personal bid to make you a better person or some shit is... kinda creepy? like, idk how to tell you that you are a stranger and I am not personally involved with you or invested in you. you pissed me off with some dumb shit, that's all. I made a few jokes at your expense as a result - that's literally it.

"it's why hateful content drives engagement so much more and why you chose to focus on hate yourself here instead of actual substance."

no, I linked to substance. bags and bags of substance. I said you suck because you suck.

"being upset at an example is like complaining that i'm "going off topic" when i use a metaphor to explain a point."

it's amazing. I'm communicating with an illiterate person via writing. they said it couldn't be done.

"i truly did think everyone would be familiar with the concept of glorifying suffering, i guess that's my bad for overestimating the company here."

you also suck at insults. and it's funny because you spent so long up there condemning the very implications you proceed to make. was that projection all along? you're ableist? like, I was joking when I said that you thought autistic people were stupid, but you actually do. and you're actually trying to call me autistic here, which I am. like, was that why you jumped on my post in the first place? to annoy autisic people? maybe this is why everyone hates you.

"failing familiarity, i did at least believe people would have the common courtesy to ASK instead of going off on batshit asshole rants of accusation."

pot, this is kettle. at least mine was a joke.

"you're behaving exactly like fanatic christian preachers, seeing demons everywhere and frothing at the mouth like people did to that "couch guy" who was surprise visited by his girlfriend and still gets harassed to this day by strangers."

me? seeing demons? I said a venue wasn't building more ways in because of money. you said everyone in the queue wants you to suffer and glorifies suffering and chooses to keep the queue as a thing so that they can suffer and wants you to suffer with them. which, of those two options, is really seeing demons?

"has it occurred to you that you treat people the exact same way that you complain about in your op?"

no, because I don't lmao. you're just reaching to pretend that some stranger online insulting you in response to you being a dick (in that characterising everyone how you did and blaming people for their own suffering and talking to me how you did are all peak dick behaviours) is the same as that dickish caricature you wrongly described others as. you projecting that onto me, after I dare tell you that projecting it onto others is also incorrect and cruel, neither surprises me nor makes me at all inclined to believe your absurdity. I talked about improving the system. I want to improve the system. I am not the system. nowhere on my post did I say we should hold it over individual people's heads that they're ultimately flawed or snide or whatever - it's YOU who believes that shit, it's you who twists any flaw or pain or rude action into this absurd freudian nonsense about people wanting to suffer and inflict suffering (which you believe because you massively stretch the fact that the system coerces people into glorifying and seeing virtue in the suffering it inflicts), and now you see that demon everywhere. it just shows that I was right, you didn't understand my post and you refuse to actually think deeper than "bad people". a mentally and physically disabled person telling you that you weren't characterising their post correctly, and making a few jokes that they said were jokes along the way, gets called ableist because you say autistic people are stupid with zero self-awareness and then project that onto me, in an attempt to frame me maliciously and discredit me, and so it doesn't surprise me that you squash me into your absurd worldview even when it so clearly doesn't fit. the reach here relies on assuming that I said what I said with a desire to make you suffer - an allegation that should obviously be incorrect if you were capable of thinking in anything but the demonisation of individual people. or even, simply, capable of reading.

"worse, really, based on all this, and it's clearly not a fluke from your proud links up there. just, ew. my mistake assuming you were a better person than you clearly are. i imagine you'll be glad to have thoroughly corrected my view of you."

you didn't read the links then. most were perfectly amicable. one was somebody also not understanding what you refuse to think critically about, and arguing with me. one was a long thing about why means testing is dangerous. but I suppose it's easier to not read and/or to lie about the content therein, huh?

but here you are again, moralising. the goodness of a person is determined by how politely they engage on tumblr. their value is mathematical and found by how nice they are to you. obscene.

I'm a cunt. I'm kind, but I'm not nice. I fight, I drink, I curse, and I insult pricks like you, because I'm human. you're a wokescold. a tone-policing obsessed asshole, who views the world as baddies doing battle with goodies, and the issues therein are the result simply of the baddies, and all trapped within the system who haven't kissed your boots are the baddies. I was right about you.

every time I get to skip a queue because I'm disabled, I think back to my one guardian using that as one example of how actually it's marginalised people who are privileged. ma'am, it's because I can't stand up for that long. and it's trans privilege that I once got given vip passes, as the only working gender neutral toilet was in the vip area of the club. ma'am, it's so that I didn't get beaten up. ma'am, it's not a privilege for somebody to do something nice for you that is aiming to circumvent a danger you're subjected to. I can't skip a queue now without thinking "I wonder how many people are bitter that I can do this because they're standing in the cold for an hour", and then I think that the solution to these situations should never be to harm me, it would be to improve the venue's entrance (more metal detectors, etc) and waiting area (cover, places to sit, etc) so that the waiting experience doesn't suck enough to make anybody feel bitter upon seeing someone skip it for the sake of their health. and I don't even ask to skip btw, it's just protocol in a lot of places, and they let those with you skip it too so that you're not separated.