#but i try to recognize and work around that bias

[hippo-pot]

Btw, re: my opinion that computers are not gonna be able to translate sign languages in our lifetime, it's not that sign languages are necessarily More complicated than spoken/written languages (I truly don't know how you'd measure that but I'd assume they're equally complicated). But video is, in terms of sheer data, much bigger and presumably harder to process than audio. I cannot imagine this happening without *astounding* computational resources which would take far more energy, water, and money than a human interpreter (and, more importantly, wouldn't work as well, at least for the foreseeable future). I assume the computation would happen off site in most cases if it did work, meaning the Internet connection is gonna need to be phenomenal (there is already widespread dissatisfaction with VRS human interpreters used in medical settings because half the time the connection drops). Speech to text, with all the issues it still has, seems like a breeze in comparison to 'understanding' a video.

I also cannot wrap my mind around how a machine would handle depictions. Like, with some practice behind me, my human mind is now able to understand (some) depictions I've never seen before (thank goodness, because there will ALWAYS be new depictions I haven't seen before, bc Deaf people are resourceful and creative), but I don't see how a machine would. That's pure sci fi to me. I also wouldn't expect a machine to do a good job translating stuff it's never heard before in a spoken language (e.g. wordplay, or the way you can sometimes tell the meaning of a new slang word from context, or an uncommon name even), but the thing is I think depiction is a much bigger part of daily life than wordplay is?

[toytulini]

terfs go climb into a hole and start rotting. animals cannot inherently tell your "biological sex" you are all so fucking stupid. All this post is saying is that animals are not infallible judges of character and some of them make really stupid vibe checks and that people should try not to take it personally. Unless youre a terf in which case they know and they hate you and you should take it personally

re that one post tbh i do want to stress i dont think animals are like magically psychic at knowing your True Gender tbh i think ppl definitely get way too weird about Animal's judgement of ppl.

Sometimes a dog will vibe check a man and the dog will be right and you should listen. but sometimes the dog will vibe check someone for no good reason. sometimes dogs have wack judgement. sometimes dogs have biases influenced by their owners or previous owners. like. there are Racist Dogs. its not the dogs fault, but that doesnt make the bias theyve developed less real, or less potentially hurtful. i dont think we need to like, Cancel Dogs Bc Sometimes Ppl Can Train Them To Be Racist, but we do need to stop perpetuating the idea that a dog's judgement of someone is infallible. theyre not responsible for it and its not their fault its developed, theyre just dogs, they didnt choose it, but that doesnt mean theyre RIGHT lmao. i think its important to stress this for many reasons but in regard to that last post specifically, if youve ever been vibe checked as a gender you arent by a judgy dog its literally not your fault. might not even be the owners fault. not the dogs fault cos like. its a fucking dog. you do kinda have to be the bigger person in that scenario cos the other person is. A Dog.

[ataraxiaspainting]

There is an Uproar.

Yan Gojo x F Reader.

Synopsis: Satoru thinks you simply haven’t come around yet.

Warnings: Yandere themes, stalking, threats of kidnapping, delusional Gojo, and manipulation.

Word Count: 3.2k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Six Forty Seven by Instupendo

Money, Money, Money by ABBA

Choke - Acoustic by I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

Me and the Devil by Soap&Skin

Breezeblocks by alt-J

Feeling Good by Micheal Bublé

Claus by Los Tres

Bleed Magic by I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

This Could Be Us by Rae Sremmurd 

Do I Wanna Know? by Arctic Monkeys

“You're like a half-tamed creature, still shy of the bridle. 'Except you enthrall me, never shall be free.' But freedom is an illusion, anyway.” – Nenia Campbell, Fearscape

*~*~*~*

Satoru came to your door with gifts again; mochi, bubble tea, bouquets of roses, keychains, jewelry, books… everything you could ever ask for he either had in his hands or would quickly get for you by whatever means necessary.

It’s a shame really that you refuse to show your true feelings for him, especially after all he has done to make you happy. But he can be patient when he wants to be, and so with a not-yet-broken heart, at least fifteen gift bags wrapped around both his clenched hands, and a chuckle he rings your doorbell twice. He could hear some shuffling from inside and a shout of coming.

The voice was high-pitched and cheery from the sound of it. His eyes lit up then as he smiled widely. But as soon as the door opened, his smile slightly faltered as his gaze met eyes he had never seen before.

The woman in front of him was not you. What was she doing in your apartment?

His first thought was to assume she was an intruder, someone who broke into your home, stole your belongings and money, hid you in a closet or under cement, and is pretending to be you for the time being. Well, he can’t be fooled so easily if that was the case. But he then chose to let the woman speak before coming to conclusions. Though she was wearing your cute Hello Kitty hoodie and utterly adorable My Melody headband and had one of your pore strips on her nose. She obviously knew you in some way, and so he in turn needed to know her.

The woman waved at him and slowly looked down from his face to the many presents in his hands. Her head turned then, a huh accidentally coming from her lips.

“Hello miss,” Satoru tries his best to be polite and not have any bias towards her, but it is indeed hard to do so. It is hard to not have any bias and not entertain the idea of snapping her neck, because he does not know her and she is not you. He does not recognize her from any of your friend groups, and it took everything in him to not sneer and glare at her and demand to know where you were.

“Hey,” She seems to try her best to be polite too, trying to hide her confusion behind a small smile. “Can I help you?”

Satoru nods, trying to put on an eager and friendly front. He then gestures towards the gifts in his hands and chuckles. He fakes almost dropping one for dramatic effect. It seemed like it worked because the woman gasped and then sighed in relief as Satoru caught it in time before it could fall on the floor.

“I am looking for [First], I thought she would be here.” The stranger nods, her smile becoming more prominent. As a result, his own became more prominent too, though his was fake. “I’m her boyfriend. Wanted to surprise her, you know?” 

He is technically not lying. He’s right if anything. Once you stop playing hard to get and fall into his arms, he’ll officially be known as such. He’s right, if only you stopped pretending to be so disinterested.

“Ah, I see!” The woman answers, her eyes inviting and curious. He sighs, faking a small sob and groan. She looked concerned then.

“If only she was here, I always love seeing her smile!” He closes his eyes, trying his best to look sadder than a kicked puppy. “I suppose she’s not here right now…”

With how the girl steps to the side, her hand gesturing towards the apartment hallway, Satoru knows that his plan worked.

*~*~*~*

“I’m Eve, her roommate, nice to meet you!”

“The same to you.”

“So how long have you two been together?”

“A long time, we’ve been together since our high school days!”

“She sure is lucky to have such a devoted boyfriend, huh?”

He laughs at the compliment, his back crouched a bit downward at an angle so he could be more comfortable walking about. Eve chuckles at his casualness.

“You sure got her a lot,” Her tone is sweet, another piece of proof to reassure Satoru that she trusts him fully. Until you eventually show up from wherever you have gone and start spewing lies, she will continue to be that way. You seem to not have good taste in roommates, it seems because Eve is far too naive for your safety. “Like a lot. Do you come here often? I just moved in so…”

Satoru doesn’t pay attention to her questions as he fantasizes about the day when you move into his place and you sleep next to him and wake him up with good morning kisses. A beautiful ring will adorn your finger one day, and you will enthusiastically anticipate his arrival from work while adorning the makeup he favors and styling your hair to his liking.

It was a small, cramped apartment, one definitely not worth how much money you rent it for. “I never get tired of how cute [First] makes this place. With both her presence and how she decorates everything. She has good taste.” He goes into the kitchen area, still having his arms hooked by the strings of the many gift bags, and looks around at the scented candles, dried flowers, and baked cookies on the table. “[First] made these, right?”

“Yeah,” Eve really is stupid, isn’t she? If he were a burglar she would be dead on the spot. How could she possibly protect you from any danger? He would obviously be a better housemate than her. 

Satoru leans towards the kitchen table and snatches a cookie from the cooled baking sheet, biting into it and chewing loudly. 

“Delicious, right?” Eve asks, giggling. She does not seem scared at all and seems to have no boundaries whatsoever.

He agrees, quickly devouring the entire confection and licking his fingers clean. “She’s always been a good baker. There’s a good recipe she knows for pie too. Maybe I’ll ask her to make it for me sometime…” He hums as he sets all the gifts down on the back coffee table. “She sure is a catch, wouldn’t you say? Her baking is one of the reasons I was so attracted to her in the first place.”

Your roommate nods. Satoru considers taking his leave now, but he has never been in your apartment during the day before. 

He may as well stay a while. It will be fun, he tells himself.

So, he walks into the living room and starts reading the titles of books on the shelving next to your writing desk. A lot of horror and romance books from the looks of it. Classic little you.

He then looks over to your computer. 

“So sweet, like a cupcake,” He touches the top of the laptop, his fingertips tracing the many rainbow stickers that cover it. You really are just the best, aren’t you?

Before he could open it though, he could hear keys jingling. You’re here.

“I’m back–” As if you were a sort of lightbulb running out of power, your cheerfulness declines smoothly and steadily, being quickly replaced by a cute sneer.

Satoru lets out a loud laugh. He adjusts his stance, placing a hand on his waist.

“Ah, [First], honey! Welcome back, I brought you some gifts!”

Instead of responding, you turn to Eve, your scowl turning into a simple frown. Advancing swiftly, you approach her, closing the distance with eyebrows ascending in sudden understanding. Eve, on the other hand, responds by tilting her head to the side, resembling a perplexed canine, in clear bewilderment of your abrupt outburst.

Gently, you grasp her hands within your own.

“Eve, I forgot to tell you something important.” You point at Satoru with a shaky finger. He simply chuckles in response, amused with how quick you are to hide your excitement. “Whatever you do, don’t let him in.”

Eve lets out a sound of surprise. “Huh, what, why?”

Your gaze meets Satoru’s and you look like you could hardly breathe.

“He is a stalker; he is always lying to people and saying that we are dating and are head over heels in love, but don’t believe him one bit.”

His eyes dart across the room as he loses eye contact with you and Eve. All the while, as his head darts from side to side, he pouts, puffs up his cheeks childishly, and leans back slightly against the wall, not too oblivious but subtle to his amusement. His face is a mask of innocence and confusion, trying to appear like he is not aware of what is going on–when he is very much aware of it and is silently enjoying it.

He loudly sighs and rolls his eyes, his hands sliding to his face as he brings them up to cover his sunglasses and mouth. He is trying to hide a smile, the act of which is just too much for his face to handle. He keeps shaking his head in dramatic disbelief and he turns to the side to lean against the wall harder as he puts his head down, shaking his head in exaggerated betrayal. 

Satoru tries his best to not laugh again, it would ruin his marvelous performance.

He is the most captivating person in this room, you and Eve must be hung up on his every action and word, you two cannot look past his incredible acting.

Nobody is capable of acting to the degree that he is, his performances are legendary and his acting skills are unparalleled.

He is simply the best there is and ever will be. If there were a competition in this room to win an Oscar for best acting, he is certain that he would be taking that home. There is nothing on God’s green earth that can get in the way of him delivering these lines and excellent movements. He is so talented and so experienced, who could ever deny his skills?

“Gojo,” You say coldly. “Get out.”

He expects you to see the gifts, how heartbroken he is, and finally admit that you are just as much in love with him as he is with you. Instead, he could swear for a moment that he could hear crickets, before realizing that it is the wick of the candle on your kitchen table burning. As he surveys you and Eve he notices that he is getting no reaction.

“Babe.” When you don’t respond to the nickname, he snuffs a huff. “Stop pretending, okay?”

He thought that he was killing that acting.

He can’t believe that no one is buying his performance. He’s got the attitude, he’s got the swagger, he’s got it all, but neither of you are falling for it. This is just insulting. He knows he’s great, he knows he is delivering the performance of his life but for some reason, neither you nor Eve can see it! He is in absolute shock.

So, Satoru walks up to you and grabs your face.

He looks at Eve and she doesn’t look at him, she looks at you. That is fine, as long as he can still talk to her and you everything will be alright in the long run. Everything is going to be okay, he tells himself.

“Eve, can [First] and I have a few minutes alone?” Her eyes race to every corner of the room and slowly but surely make their way to the gold coins in his free hand. Multiple emotions spread across her face; confusion, greed… consideration. “It will only be for a sec, okay?” 

With a measured pace, Eve approaches his outstretched palm, her eyes fixated on the glistening gold. Her gaze mirrors that of a ravenous crow or a parched man deprived of water for days, or sustenance for weeks. Quivering hands accept the money, and in silence, she retreats to her room, closing the door behind her.

“Come on, drop the funny games,” Instead of directing your gaze towards him, your eyes fixate on the entrance of Eve's bedroom. The door is adorned with a vibrant pink poster of a popular musician, adorned with splashes of colorful paint. Inwardly, he reassures himself that this situation is acceptable. After all, the two of you are now in a private and secluded space. 

There is no longer anyone to hinder you from expressing your genuine emotions towards him. Surely you will finally admit them. Then you will eventually move to his place and stay there, happy and loving towards him at long last. All in due time, because Satoru can be patient when he wants to be.

“Get the fuck out. You sick–”

But now he does not want to be patient. He just wants to hear those words leave your pretty lips.

“Ah, ah, ah, watch your language, sweetie.” He interrupts you, placing a finger on your mouth. 

The mere expression on his countenance carries ample weight to silence your profanity-laden tirade.

He only perceives the captivating, extraordinary, flawless woman whom he is obligated to assist. You possess an excessive amount of independence - too unbound, unwilling to embrace his assistance, his presents, his finances - there exists a rationale why partners watch out for one another. Are you not aware of that? 

“That’s better.” He smiles and you start faking a shiver. “You really can listen when I finally put my foot down, huh? You can be stubborn with other people, you know, just not with me.”

He possesses strength - you lack it. You are so small compared to him. 

He possesses a keen understanding of the streets, while you lack that astuteness. The dress you have chosen to wear is excessively revealing. 

“Now, now, don’t cry. Shh, shh, shh. It was the only way I could see you, with how much you love to play hard to get.”

One can only imagine the number of individuals whom you captivated during the brief period you ventured outside today.

He possesses intelligence, while you lack it. You may believe otherwise, and you indeed excel in certain areas, such as your meticulousness in personal hygiene, which he acknowledges with humility, and your skill in baking, as well as your expertise in creating a cozy and plush bed. However, numerous matters elude your knowledge, such as selecting the right candidate in the upcoming election, performing a tire replacement, or operating a debit card. He is strong, while you are not. He is drawn to you for not being - captivated by your feminine allure; the way your body gently curves, your delicate touch, the fragrance that surrounds you, the melodic tone of your voice, and above all, your complete vulnerability when confronted with danger.

“Now, open your gifts. I did carry them all the way here after all.”

When you finally surrender, he will assume control over every decision you make. 

From selecting your attire to choosing items at the grocery store, he will dictate how you interact with other men and even how you smile. He believes you are incapable of handling even the simplest tasks. Additionally, he takes pleasure in instructing you on matters you are expected to be ignorant about. It's quite endearing, isn't it? 

He views you as his possession and will never, under any circumstances, let you slip away.

At his place, he has so many pretty outfits for you to choose from. A lot of aprons and cute dresses. All the while he downs a beer or seven with his friends and jokes about how nice you look cleaning. You'll listen to him rant about anything that comes into his mind, taking it all with a smile. It is not unusual for him to lay awake at night imagining what life would be like with you as his wife. First, he needs to show you your position as his wife and get rid of this misguided sense of independence you seem to be clinging to. What a dumb girl you are. It was meant to be, wasn't it? You are meant to be his girlfriend and eventually his wife, and you will by any means Satoru has to take.

He does not care what he has to do as long as the result is you finally giving in and loving your place in his arms. It is what you were made for. It is what he was made for.

So pretty. So stupid.

“Now, now. Stop crying, you’ll only ruin your makeup.”

*~*~*~*

On that particular evening, Satoru once again paid a visit to your apartment. However, instead of observing from a distance, he ventured further into the room and settled beside you as you lay in bed, rousing you from your slumber. The bed groaned as it shifted under his weight, and he swiftly covered your mouth to prevent any outcry.

Without hesitation, he gently hushed you, his other hand tracing the contours of your cheek and collarbone with his lengthy fingers. As he did so, he rhythmically caressed your neck, humming a tune that only he knew. In response, tears welled up in your eyes, but he promptly brushed them away. His initial hand soon abandoned its position on your mouth, ascending to tenderly stroke your hair.

"Don’t touch me," You rasped, observing how the moonlight cast an ethereal glow on his body and hair while obscuring his face in darkness.

He simply shushed you again and you could hear him breathing deeply through his nose and mouth.

He sat on his knees beside you. You could hear murmurs from him about how pretty you were, and you didn't know whether he was telling you or telling himself. Your hands clench the sheets in fistfuls. You let out a whimper. You close your eyes and grit your teeth, hoping this is just another bad dream.

He keeps murmuring fantasies. You don't open your eyes. You breathe through your mouth because you can smell his cologne with your nose. It is so strong, suffocating.

You eventually open them when the anxiety is too much, and you stare at him, wide-eyed, at the ceiling above his shoulders and head, at your cute vanity and glittering gold and silver jewelry and pastel clothes. Was that why he liked you so much because you were feminine and utterly defenseless in the face of a real threat? You think of an escape plan, of running to the bathroom grabbing your razor, and screaming at the top of your lungs.

“Such a beauty you are,” He whispered in your ear, his voice still so sticky. “So cute. A doll that only belongs to me. All that’s left is for you to finally accept because I know you want to, don’t you?”

You can’t stop him.

As the silence lingers, you find yourself yielding to the role of his girlfriend. Tear stains dot your pillow and mattress, remnants of your emotional turmoil. Satoru's praises now echo within you, as you surrender to his caresses. Your gaze shifts towards the window, where a few distant stars twinkle in the sky, veiled by a cloud that drapes the crescent moon like a bridal veil.

“So good. I just knew I wouldn’t have to take more… drastic measures.”

He snaps a picture on his phone for later.

[wingzie]

Speaking to the media as a UK Army

Earlier in the week I mentioned in a local group chat that the UK’s attitude towards BTS and KPOP overall had changed. It felt like everyone was excited during Dynamite and then interest was quickly lost. Things got worse after the Festa Dinner. Because of previous experiences with a certain boy group, it was reported that the members would never return. These stories were soon edited, but it was obvious that there was a certain bias against the members now. The previous hype posts for them and their new releases were less present. Instead, we have gone back to having to do everything ourselves during chapter 2. 

As I am sure many of you are aware, it has already been a tough week for UK Army. We found out that MUSE had inclusions, making it harder to chart. We got backlash from solos for something that wasn’t our fault and the emails we sent were ignored or received weird responses. We are a resilient bunch though and we continued to promote and gain more funds. I figured that things for us couldn’t get any worse. I was wrong. On Sunday I was sent an article from the BBC by a friend. They asked my thoughts on it and I quickly understood why. Something else worried me though. I recognized the journalist. He is someone that we have history with. He kindly wrote about Persona and Wembley in 2019, but he also sneaked in a line that he thought that the members were miming through the concert. At the time, a few Army tried talking to him about it on Twitter and he was receptive to the feedback. I decided to try and do the same and to do it privately in the DM’s. Something which he told me himself that he appreciated. I spent a good amount of time drafting my message. I made sure that it was polite, but also included the reasons why a certain part of the article was troublesome. During this, a friend of mine also made a detailed thread correcting the misinformation. Once the message was sent, I went on with my day and waited to see if I would get a reply. Much to my surprise, I did indeed get a reply. I don’t have consent to share our messages, but we replied back and forth a few times and he said that he would look into changing the wording. I quoted my friend's thread, explaining that I messaged him privately and that he was working on it. As someone who posts about Jikook on a regular basis, you could say that I am used to getting unnecessary abuse. However, I was not fully prepared for the response to this. As more hours passed and there weren't any changes made, the more anger and hate I received. This greatly confused me, as I wasn’t the one who wrote the article itself. I just wanted to try and help and we had to be patient. 

A day later the edit was made. I messaged the journalist again to thank him and he responded back, explaining that the reason it took so long was because there was a debate internally about the best way to respond. I then shared on TL about the edit being made. It wasn’t the best edit, but that’s all we got. Unfortunately, the hate towards myself increased even more. Some said that the article was my fault, that I failed BTS or that I was an anti. Plus a few words that I daren’t repeat here. Some saw what was happening to me and sent kind support. These included people who I have never interacted with before and I will be forever thankful for that. I also spoke with some about the response of the general public towards the article. The article was heavily advertised so there were discussions in relation to Seventeen going to Glastonbury. This hasn’t been done before so some were curious and some were confused. It was interesting to see the reaction to it, even if it was poorly written. I was personally exhausted though.

This whole ordeal started on Sunday and I woke up on Tuesday still feeling a bit wary of receiving more hate. On top of this, I had gained around 300 more followers from all of this and didn’t know how they would react once I started posting Jikook. If I’m honest, I felt a bit uncomfortable with everything going on. What did shock me though, is that some of these new followers were going through my “pinned” post and liking the threads on Jikook. It made me a bit self-conscious, but I didn’t want it to overcome me and Jimin’s promotions though, so I came up with an idea. 

July is my Birthday month and to celebrate I am doing a giveaway for other UK Army. This gives them a chance to get any albums they currently do not own and to try and boost sales for Jimin at the same time. The UK fanbase don’t really want to be associated with me because of my account, so I decided to do everything myself. To help boost morale, positivity and the community spirit that Army has. Overall, I do not regret reaching out to the journalist. He was rather difficult to speak to, but an edit deserved to be made for the way in which it was written. I appreciate the discussion we had and those that supported me. My focus will continue to be on Chapter 2. Look after yourselves and each other. 

[iichaeyj]

TOMORROW'S ESCAPE

marriage or death

the sun had set a while ago and the moon shone above you as you walked back to your home with sunghoon. after a long day of walking, eating, and hanging out with him, he seemed much more docile compared to your most recent interactions with him. as you glanced over at him, admiring his side profile, you couldn't help but feel as though today was a success in terms of getting closer to him.

"you didn't have to walk me home, you know," you tell him as you two walk up the sidewalk. you kick the stones on the ground as you walk, still unable to process this entire day and the time you've spent with your bias.

"i wanted to," he replies calmly. "and like I said, i live close by," he adds, shrugging casually. he turns his head, biting back a smile before looking back forward with a calm demeanor.

"how close do you live anyway?" you ask curiously, glancing up at the taller figure next to you.

he looks around awkwardly, shrugging while gesturing vaguely toward random directions. "just nearby," he says, clearing his throat.

you nod in response, unsure of how to respond to his short statement. to you, it seemed as though he didn't have much interest in talking or laughing or anything at all. even through the day when you two walked around the park nearby and got food together, he always looked around or turned around to mutter something to himself. in all, getting close to him was harder than expected despite the progress that was made.

"the photobooth we went to was a lot of fun," you tell him, smiling at him as you refer to the pictures you two took together in the tiny photobooth by the park.

"yeah, it was. i've never really been done that before, so it was nice," he tells you, giving you a small smile before he looks away again.

if you weren't on an insane mission to save him, you might've fainted from the sight of his smile.

and as you two approach your home, signaling that the day is about to come to an end, you try and figure out what to say. could you invite him out again? would he find it weird for you to be so eager? but then again, you have no clue as to how this will all work out and what will happen in the future. for all you know, the future could be changed for the worse if you didn't act soon.

pulling you out of your thoughts, sunghoon clears his throat as he stands in front of you. "i actually have something to tell you before you go," he tells you.

"what is it?" you ask curiously.

you look up at him, waiting patiently as he clears his throat once again and looks around awkwardly. his hands are tucked into his pockets as he looks down at you, standing straight as he meets your gaze.

however, before he can respond, you suddenly hear the sound of somebody walking up from behind you.

"hey! sunghoon, right?" a voice chimes in, catching sunghoon visibly off guard.

as you turn around, you're met with the sight of jay, aka jongseong park and your first crush, casually walking up to you two. he smiles casually at sunghoon, giving him a curt nod. "i thought i recognized you. you're jake's friend, right?" jay asks sunghoon. jay smiles calmly at him, completely unfazed by sunghoon's gaze hardening at the sight of him.

before sunghoon can respond, jay's eyes shift down to meet yours. he blinks in surprise, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "oh hey, y/n," he adds, clearly surprised to see you there.

"why are you here, jay?" sunghoon asks him, subtly looking jay over.

"just taking a walk," jay shrugs, either unaware or ignoring sunghoon's pointed looks thrown in his direction. "but i didn't think i'd see you here," jay adds, looking over at you again.

"i live here," you deadpan, giving him a weird look.

jay smiles at your reply, now clearly more interested in you than sunghoon. "no need to be so hostile," jay chuckles, tilting his head as he looks you over. "i thought i was the 'peanut butter to your yummy jelly,'" he quotes, reciting your love letter.

you flush in embarrassment, your cheeks burning red. you cursed out your younger self, wishing that you could've been sent back in time a few days earlier so that you could avoid the embarrassment. seeing your reaction, jay chuckles and reaches out to ruffle your hair.

however, you suddenly feel yourself being pulled back and placed behind a taller figure.

"can't you see that she's uncomfortable?" sunghoon asks, frowning as he stands face-to-face with jay. sunghoon straightens up slightly, looking down at jay as he meets his gaze confidently.

jay watches sunghoon curiously, observing him and his reaction as he pulls his hand back. "it was just a joke, park," jay shrugs casually, intrigued by sunghoon's strong reaction.

"save those jokes for someone else, then. we're busy," sunghoon snaps back, his lips curling down into a frown.

"didn't know you two were a 'we,'" jay snorts, rolling his eyes as his smile turns even bigger in amusement at this unexpected situation. he shrugs and turns around, beginning to walk away. "whatever! have fun, you two," jay calls out before he disappears down the street without glancing back.

sunghoon turns back to you, concern evident in his gaze. "are you alright?" he asks you, holding onto your upper arms as he tries to comfort you in whatever way he can.

you nod, unable to tell him that you were feeling more embarrassment from your past self's actions rather than jay himself. in this moment, all you could really see was sunghoon. and if you even tried to think too long about sunghoon's hands on your arms, you might faint from heat exhaustion. "yeah, i'm alright," you tell him, fanning your warm cheeks as you try and stop the redness that's spread all over your face.

mistaking your embarrassment as shame and sadness, sunghoon only holds onto you tighter as he rubs your arm to soothe you. despite your best efforts throughout the day, it was you looking vulnerable that seemed to have the most effect on him.

deciding to take advantage of this current situation, your mind suddenly focuses on your plan. "thanks for being such a good friend," you tell him suddenly, appearing pitiful as you gently touch his hand on your arm.

sunghoon freezes in place, looking at you with wide eyes. he clears his throat, thrown off by both your words and your touch. "friends?" he questions, almost in disbelief.

"we can be friends now, right? surely, you won't mind after all i've been through today," you sigh dramatically, pretending to look off into the street that jay went down.

sunghoon nods, albeit hesitantly. "yeah, friends," he says, his face stiff as he pats your arm in an awkward motion.

"great!" you say cheerily, feeling accomplished as you smile brightly at him. "thanks for hanging out today, it was a lot of fun," you tell him, already making your way to the door of your home. however, before you can go in, you suddenly turn around and look towards him. "oh but before i forget, what did you wanna tell me earlier?" you ask him curiously.

"it's nothing," sunghoon tells you quickly, running his hand through his hair. "good night," he says, giving you a small smile before he runs down the alleyway whilst trying to hide his ears that are burning red.

before | masterlist | next

taglist: @pshcomforts @zyvlxqht @forlovvers @lilyuwon @juyuppang @nanaheex @hotsforikeu @leep0ems @hexoolio @heejkae @thesassy-mia @in-somnias-world @lisaswifey @tr4ppola @xiaoderrrr @lost-leopard-beanie @papichulomacy @sasfransisco @tobiosbbyghorl @liumoonlight @shinrjj @powerpuffstuts @literallyags @seunghancore @whois-miki @moonlighthoon @lilifiedeans @cupidhoons @chaewonshoney @realrintaro @toomanybiasz @nctislifue @viagumi @ramenoil @shaniandme @luvvvash @conwunder @belovedsthings @n1k1mura @sincerelyrki @mumeimei @velvetkisscs @chocminteu @021894s @iren3luvv @ineedsomezzz @dulcewon @shuamorollss

to be added to my taglist, please reply to the masterlist or send a message to my inbox <3

A/N: decided to get rid of the views thing bc they're annoying and have no purpose 🥲💔 also this is cheesy ik but idc i love romance

[kafus]

a likodot themed analysis of HZ049

hello it's been a while since my last truly longform post like this but guess who watched HZ049 today and is going absolutely fucking feral bonkers about it. it's me. and i have things to say about it of the likodot variety because if i don't get these thoughts out of my head i'll explode.

forgive me for my shipping bias because i'm not sorry. however i am slightly sorry for how messy this post ended up being my god i had a lot of thoughts but i did my best to make this at least somewhat entertaining to read and comprehensive. but it really is a long winding mess LOL. FULL OF PASSION AND ADORATION I LOVE THIS SHOW AND I LOVE LIKO AND DOT MORE THAN ANYTHING IN THIS WORLD

obviously there are heavy spoilers below the cut i'm going to be violently pulling apart all the scenes where these two interact and gnawing at all of it

so. first off. this episode displays massive growth in liko and dot's relationship by method of showing how much liko's behavior around gurumin has changed since these two met and since dot initially confessed to being gurumin. as we all know liko was a massive superfan of gurumin, and then when dot confessed to being gurumin... well liko's reaction was. Uh

well she was having a little bit of a crisis about it LOL. historically liko has gotten very flustered and panicked when reminded that dot is gurumin. and she has been really prone to fangirling still (ie. getting really excited about helping gurumin in HZ019 with the bakery stuff or helping gurumin with the pig town stuff in HZ036), despite knowing the person in the suit. she goes as far as to try to ignore that dot is in the suit entirely and keep them separate in her brain (shown for instance by her freaking out over seeing dot halfway in the gurumin suit in HZ039) because if she were to mentally cross those wires, she wouldn't be able to handle it.

but now in this episode, things have obviously changed a lot over time. the episode opens with a small scene that explains what dot is doing about gurumin while they are traveling on the terastal course (filming them beforehand and scheduling ahead of time lol) but liko and dot have a conversation about (a really CUTE conversation) about gurumin in the process.

do not get it twisted, liko is still very much a fan of gurumin, but this conversation is a lot more comfortable and grounded. she gets a notification about a new gurumin video and she's excited (and surprised because of the timing), but she is not panicking about it. and her first reaction to this information is to directly ask dot (with the softest expression fucking ever??) about it. this directly connects dot and gurumin together in a strong way. liko is no longer running from the fact that dot is the youtuber she looks up to, and in fact she's being pretty upfront about it.

not related to my main point, but i also just want to gush a little here about this scene more - dot reacts similarly to liko showing so much affection for her work in a similar way to how she reacted in HZ008 to liko complimenting her through the door - getting flustered about liko's genuine energy, but this time they know each other and are looking at each other face to face. liko's affectionate energy is enough to make her relent that maybe someday... she could film outside... which shows the sort of effect liko has on her. and also this becomes relevant later in the episode where dot literally does film gurumin videos outside - it's just good writing/foreshadowing lol

anyway, this continues later on when liko is the first to get worried about dot doing the battle livestream with nanjamo as gurumin instead of herself. i think if this situation had happened much earlier on, liko would have been thinking a lot more about the excitement of the idea of seeing gurumin battle in real life, but she doesn't even initially have that thought and have to backtrack, she's immediately worried about dot instead.

ironically, liko recognizing that gurumin isn't dot, as in gurumin is a mask that dot puts on instead of being representational of her true self, drives home liko's recognition of dot as gurumin even more. she understands the connection between dot and gurumin and what gurumin is to dot enough to have this concern in the first place - one roy initially doesn't understand, that is specific to liko. there is zero compartmentalization of dot being a youtuber here! liko is concerned about her friend who is an influencer, where she puts on a mask to be confident and outgoing. dot and gurumin are fully connected.

it's also worth acknowledging that liko holds the gurumin suit and is concerned about it being damaged but nothing more - unlike in HZ021 when she goes to dot's room to give her the suit after it's been washed and cleaned, and she's a little nervous and flustered about it still.

i've always talked about how there's a bit of a difference between shipping liko and dot, and liko and gurumin - not that those two sectors have zero overlap, but that to liko, gurumin and dot were usually kept so separate mentally that fans online could often be sorted into camps of being interested in the running silliness of liko's fascination and flustered behavior with the whole gurumin thing, and liko and dot's connection with each other as normal (girl)friends... liko has progressively adjusted more to dot being gurumin and has had moments where she is able to set aside her fangirl heart to be there for dot (like when she mentions dot being gurumin in her little supportive speech in HZ027), but this episode shows that in a much more drastic and meaningful way, and now those two sectors are FULLY overlapping canonically. i think it is overall a sweet and good thing for them that liko is able to see dot as a whole and directly appreciate her creative skills/work. it is obviously meaningful to dot!

TLDR;

HZ039:

HZ049:

you get the point.

NOW. onto the SECOND thing i want to talk about. the thing i've dubbed LIKODOT TELEPATHY. aka holy shit these girls understand each other without words. liko and dot understand each other on an intrinsic level and often notice when the other is worried, or pushing themselves too hard, or etc. that is EXTREMELY evident in this episode through liko's concern towards dot.

going back to the first scene before the opening theme, liko detects immediately when dot comments on roy's upbeat attitude that dot might be feeling nervous about her upcoming battle, and immediately offers reassurance.

(unfortunately i have to put aside my ramble about liko's continued lack of self esteem and her putting herself down here for another time because otherwise this post will get so off-topic and longer than it has any right to be, but you get the point. also holy shit dot saying "you don't have to fuss so much" but smiling and saying that line like she's happy to have liko fretting about her makes me CRAZY. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH. BUT. coughs. ANYWAY)

then, like i mentioned earlier, liko is the first to be worried about dot in this episode. she's the first to notice dot's anxious/shutting down behavior:

the first to recognize that dot might actually walk away unhappy if she were to do her terastal exam as gurumin instead of herself:

and the first to recognize that her filming videos outside is not as genuinely upbeat and happy as it may seem:

(two quick side notes about this, i really like how the writing puts emphasis on liko's concern by contrasting roy's total lack of it multiple times - NOT that he doesn't care of course, but just that liko understands dot particularly well and is in touch with dot's feelings in a special way that roy isn't. additionally, it makes me feel crazy that dot probably got the idea to film outside from liko's affectionate encouragement in the first scene in the episode... like, she's basically trying to use liko's advice to hype herself up and get through this... of course she would!! trusting liko's words has always ended up positively for her!! liko is such a massive support for her!! and liko acknowledges herself that yeah she said that but that isn't what she meant. GOD. i'm so insane about these girls)

this is notable not only because it's very sweet that liko is so concerned about dot, but also because dot doesn't really understand this herself. she is trying so hard to put on the gurumin facade, to run away from her anxiety as far as possible, to avoid the bad. and yet despite her attempts to cover her true feelings up as much as possible, even from herself, liko sees straight through it. dot cannot mask around liko, she understands regardless, sees the parts of her she doesn't want to acknowledge.

the contrast between dot's understanding of herself and liko's understanding of her is immense. directly after dot boldly proclaims that she feels so much stronger as gurumin and happily mentions that she has nanjamo's permission to do their battle as gurumin is when liko finally confronts her. the difference in mood is startling, almost, and easily shows that contrast. i need to break down this confrontation in detail cause it makes me insane

first, liko is still too nervous to say what she wants to say, but as per usual with LIKODOT TELEPATHY (tm) dot immediately notices liko going into her polite i-don't-want-to-inconvenience-you voice and pushes for what the matter is. she can tell immediately that liko has a problem even though liko hasn't said anything yet.

liko doesn't want to rock the boat and is overly gentle with her words (once again i have to push aside my ramble about liko's confidence problems AGH) but finally speaks her piece about the situation.

i want to mention here as well, these two situations are very different, but the similarities of dot noticing liko pushing herself back in HZ027 and then liko recognizing dot pushing herself in kind... SIIIGH

dot's reaction is to stammer with MUCH less confidence than before that she wasn't forcing anything. she's taken offguard by liko's concerns, but it's evident she recognizes what liko is saying within herself and is grappling with trying to maintain her mental wall after liko has cracked it in half with her words. liko was right and saw right through her, and dot isn't sure how to handle it. she avoids eye contact and everything.

this is where i bridge my conversation about likodot telepathy into talking about dot's characterization and growth as a character, so bear with me - quaxly attempts to drive the point liko is making home by separating dot from the gurumin suit, but afterwards is... The Scene. liko tries to bring the conversation back to what they were saying before, but at this point dot is overwhelmed by quaxly's actions and feels socially/emotionally cornered and... she explodes and screams at liko.

i think it's an interesting part of her personality that she is prone to irritable/angry outbursts and yelling when she has her buttons pushed too far and i'm glad that remains consistent for her, especially because...

the last time dot yelled directly at liko like this was in HZ008. the situation is actually quite similar with dot being pushed too far into a situation she doesn't know how to handle by liko reaching out to her more than she is ready for, causing her to lash out. but some MAJOR things have changed since then - obviously, the first time was through the door before they really knew each other, before liko had even seen her face, but this time it's up close and personal and they know each other. but secondly, at the beginning of the show, dot is irritated and overwhelmed by pretty much any attempt at conversation. she has come such a long way that now she's brought to screaming by something much, much more massive, with the whole being streamed live while battling in real life thing, showing how much she has overcome since then... and not only that!! thirdly! the first time, liko was encouraging gurumin, sharing how much of a fan of gurumin she was, and now this second time, it's in reaction to liko essentially telling her "i don't think you actually want to be gurumin in this situation". point is, the amount of growth dot has had is ironically so easy to see in her screaming at liko here because of the sheer level of contrast between the two times it's happened.

by this happening again, it also gives dot the chance to recognize her own shitty behavior and apologize for yelling later even though liko (nor roy) were asking for an apology - in fact they seemed to be surprised that dot wanted to apologize in the first place, like they had forgotten all about it. i think both liko and roy are used to shrugging off some of dot's more irritable behaviors, but this time dot noticed herself that she messed up and takes that moment to say sorry, which is sweet of her and once again a moment of character growth.

considering that dot also follows this up with the statement that she will take her terastal exam as herself, the apology is also connected to it - like she recognized that what liko was saying, the thing that made her yell, ended up being true. it was liko's genuine attempt to help her. and now that she's come to that conclusion on her own, she can see that yelling was even more misguided.

and that's my final conversation topic about this episode - the fact that dot came to that conclusion on her own. yes, liko cracked the wall she was putting up and gave her that starting push, but dot went above and beyond to take that crack and then smash that wall into pieces without liko's help. which despite what it sounds like i think is extremely important for these two's dynamic moving forward.

i'm going to spare you the analysis of dot's fear of cameras, why she hides behind gurumin, as well as a breakdown of the whole part of the episode with varoom bc i'm trying to talk mostly about likodot here, but assuming you've watched the episode you know what i'm talking about. here, i'm focused on the part where liko exclaims that they have to help dot, and dot denies her help and says she wants to handle it on her own, and then from this experience she is able to conclude she wants to do her terastal exam as herself.

this is massive. for so long, liko has practically dragged dot along and held her hand through tackling new experiences... sometimes literally lol, thinking about the scene in HZ027 where liko drags dot to chase after terapagos by the arm. but anyway, on top of that, this is also different from her standing up to her mom in HZ041, which was ALSO massive, but a large part of that episode consisted of liko's interventions, and she was pushed into that situation where she really had no choice in the matter. she had to if she wanted to stay on the brave asagi which was non negotiable. but here? there was nothing stopping dot from just taking the help and running from the cameras. in fact it probably would have been much easier to do that. but she wants to prove herself, and not because she has to to get the thing she wants, but just because... she wants to. she wants to succeed on her own.

and i think that's really important in the context of not just dot herself, but likodot, because while it is very sweet of liko to constantly be pushing dot and leading her to further self understanding and more confidence, and i will always be emotional about liko essentially caring for her to the point of dot braving ending her time as a NEET, the end goal for that should always be that dot is given confidence in herself to exist as a person independently of liko's pushing, for her own sake.

i think it's also incredibly meaningful that liko saw this happen - she experienced running out to help dot like usual, and then actually having her advances denied, but not for bad reasons this time... she gets to see dot be a better version of herself and come to that conclusion liko tried to push earlier, on her own accord, in her own way.

i say all this because i want liko to be able to love dot not as a person to fix but also just... a person. i want what liko has done for her to cause dot to be a better person outside of what liko does, for herself. and i want liko to be able to love the wonderful and more confident person dot becomes as a result. do you understand. am i making sense. GAH. i am so worked up about this. i'm holding them both in my hands and shaking them violentlySJDFJFSD

god. thank you for reading if you've actually come this far. i am going to end off this messy and deranged casual "essay" with a couple of notes i wasn't sure how to fit anywhere else.

one, i think it's very nice that when roy thinks dot's in trouble, liko is sure enough in dot's intelligence and battling skills to say with great confidence that dot MUST have a plan

and TWO, AHHHH I'M SO EXCITED FOR THE NEXT EPISODE AHHHH AHHHHHH WE ARE GOING TO GET EVEN MORE DOT CHARACTERIZATION AND GROWTH AND SHE'S GOING TO FACE HER MENTOR FIGURE HOW AM I GOING TO HANDLE IT AFTER ALREADY WRITING THIS MUCH ABOUT THE FIRST EPISODE IN THIS TWO-PARTER AND ALSO WHAT WAS THIS GAY SHIT IN THE EPISODE PREVIEW AHHHH AHHH

thank you for coming to my ted talk. goodnight tri state area

[badaziraphaletakes]

can you please stop? screenshotting someone else’s post is extremely rude and only makes the fandom a worse place. talk about a bad take you saw, describe how it’s harmful, and vague all you want, but don’t screenshot. i agree that most of these takes are awful but that’s no excuse to do this to people. either confront the person who’s take you don’t like or make your own post. stop screenshotting, please.

Either confront the person who’s take you don’t like or make your own post.

The assumption that I didn’t try that is where you went wrong. I (mod X) started this blog only after I tried many, many times to confront people about their offensive takes directly and it didn’t work. I was subjected to appalling harassment and even bigotry. That’s what happens when you try to engage with someone who’s being offensive.

I had been throwing the idea around for weeks and what finally decided me on starting it was that I found out that I wasn't alone. That the anti-Autistic bias and the ableism and the transphobia and the victim-blaming and the misogyny (and on and on and on) that we kept seeing and being subjected to was ruining our enjoyment of this show. This was bigger than just me.

FTR, most of the takes that are submitted to us (note that I'll be switching between "I" and "we" in this reply depending on the context) don’t have a handle attached to them, but of the few that do include a handle, 99% of the time I have recognized it as someone who I have seen being so bigoted that there was no possible way I could engage with them. We don't confront people directly partly because we don't want to direct people who disagree back to the OP's blog, and partly to keep the mods safe.

You say “do this to people” like this blog is committing some kind of outrage, which is absurd. We are, at worst, being slightly rude (which I think is justified considering sarcasm and humor are one of the only weapons we have to fight back against hate), whereas most of the posts we comment on are outright hateful. They’re the ones “doing this to people”.

We are being far more considerate of the writers’ feelings and their dignity than they ever were of other people’s in the fandom. The takes are not just ‘awful’ (although, that too haha); they are actively harming vulnerable members of the fandom, and, more concerningly, are spreading messages that will poison our views on how we should treat Autistic people, ab*se survivors, and the like in broader society. Quite frankly, the people who are spouting the kind of anti-Autistic/ableist/victim-blaming/otherwise bigoted crap that forms the bulk of the content we feature here deserve to have their posts screenshotted. People who say things like that do not deserve to be handled with kid gloves in response.

(Also I don’t have time to re-type and slightly paraphrase every bad take I see. And if I did, people would throw out “no one is really saying this”. And even if it weren’t for that, I don’t think it’s reasonable or appropriate to expect me to use my time that way.)

Incidentally, nothing is stopping people from messaging/asking us or commenting if they recognize a post as their own, but only one person has ever done that, asking if a post was theirs. I replied that it was, leaving the ball in their court. So far we haven’t heard back from them about the matter, which is fine. But I digress.

As for this blog making the fandom a worse place - even though it’s only a few weeks old, I’ve had an average of two new people a day, every day, tell me how grateful they are I created it and how it makes them feel safe and how it’s the only reason they haven’t left the fandom. I’ve even had multiple people say “I was going to leave the fandom because of that specific post and then your blog called it out and I felt like I wasn’t alone”. So yeah, I'd say screenshotting is important here.

There is a subset of the fandom - many of us Autistic, Disabled, ab*se survivors, GNC, trans, and/or otherwise oppressed - who have been made to feel EXTRAORDINARILY unsafe by the Aziraphale hate (which far, far too often is thinly-veiled hate for some of the aforementioned groups of people) and the truly scary way people double down when we push back against it. So I don’t care if people are annoyed by my sharing a screenshot of their post. Not when this blog has become a safe space for so many people who otherwise would have had Good Omens ruined for them by the bigotry and general hatefulness we keep seeing.

LSS I will not stop building this tiny lil corner of the internet that is the only part of the fandom where many of us feel safe.

I actually made a post addressing almost this exact thing a couple weeks ago; if I can find it, I’ll add it here in a rb.

[devildom-moss]

Roses for You (9)

This had all started when you noticed a link between a book on the language of flowers you had borrowed from Satan’s room and the current lessons from your Seductive Speechcraft and Magical Potions classes.

In Seductive Speechcraft, you had just reached a section on the effectiveness of spells using non-verbal communication: enchanting glances, dance, and offerings. Meanwhile, in Magical Potions, the professor had been discussing the significance of using specific quantities when concocting potions; they had spent fifteen minutes just providing examples – including adding petals from two different flowers when using them for a love spell.

You couldn’t resist discussing the use of flower language – utilizing the type, color, and quantity of the flowers – to specify the magical intent of an offering as a form of seductive speechcraft. Asmo and Solomon listened intently. The same idea popped into both of their minds, and before you knew it, everyone was looking into color and number meanings, searching for the perfect combination to convey their feelings for you and try to put you under their spell. The only rule for their little competition to charm you? Only roses are allowed.

Will you be charmed by their attempts?

Nine Roses - Barbatos

Word Count: +1,500 (sorry. I think my bias is showing.)

Eternal love

“Hey, Barbatos, why did you want to see me today?” You stood at the door to the Demon Lord’s castle.

Barbatos chuckled and stepped aside to allow you in. “What would you say if I told you I simply wanted to see you?”

“I’d say, ‘I’m glad you invited me because I missed you, too.’”

You missed the brief widening of his smile. He was delighted by your response, but the thought of someone walking into the foyer and seeing him practically fawning over you caused him to suppress that joy.

“Actually,” Barbatos started with a hint of something between hesitation and musing. “I was finishing up a task that I believe you might enjoy. Would you like to try your hand at making a flower arrangement?”

“I don’t know if I’d be any good at it, but it sounds fun.”

“Excellent. Come with me to the garden.” Barbatos turned, hiding the sudden appearance of a grin, and led the way. Perfect, he thought. It was no coincidence that you “caught him” in the middle of this particular task. He had worked hard to complete his necessary duties ahead of time so that he could spend the entire afternoon with you. This last task had been postponed until you were on your way with the hope that it would spark your interest – with the expectation that his plan would come to fruition. “I have a table set up in the garden where I was previously making arrangements. The flowers around the castle required refreshing. Although, as you can see, I’ve already completed a few.”

There was a vase slightly ahead of you on a table in the hall. You recognized the purple basil and black calla lilies, but there was something else in the arrangement – some alien- or Devildom-looking plant. It was a large dark reddish-brown, almost black, with petals that resembled wings – some pointed, demonic version of an orchid. Even stranger were the long, whisker-like tendrils that jutted out from the center. You’d never seen anything like it. “What type of flower is that?”

“I take it you mean the black bat flower?” Barbatos hummed and stopped in front of the vase.

“Is it native to the Devildom? It’s incredible. I half-expected it to growl at me as we walked by.”

“No, my dear,” Barbatos chuckled. “This plant is from the human world, but it tolerates Devildom conditions quite well; in fact, it flourishes here – much like yourself. I’ve heard about your recent interest in flower meanings, would you happen to have learned about any of these?”

“Well, I’m not sure if it’s the same for purple basil, but basil is usually a symbol of love, right?”

“It is now, although I’ve read that it once symbolized hatred. It was said to drive men insane. What an interesting turn of events. Both the calla lilies and the bat flower symbolize transformation, strength, and mystery. However, the black calla lily has a rather unique association.” Barbatos paused and turned to face you. His tail wrapped around the back of your thighs and pulled you closer to him. He held your gaze seductively and spoke, slow and heavy: “forbidden love.”

Barbatos had brought you here on purpose – both to see that particular arrangement and because the hall was quiet and not prone to foot traffic. He gave you a gentle smile that smothered the spark of heat you had felt in his eyes.

You found yourself searching for something to say – to cut the charged tension in a still-very-public part of the castle. “It’s a beautiful arrangement, Barbatos.”

Barbatos chuckled and shook his head. “Oh, dear, I lost myself momentarily. Shall we continue to the garden?”

He didn’t wait for a response before he turned and began to walk. You immediately felt his tail drop and encircle one of your calves, pulling you along with him.

The table Barbatos had set up in the garden was filled with a variety of flowers. You could see that he had nearly completed another arrangement before you had arrived. Barbatos added a few more hell roses and a sprig of black grass before he wrapped it carefully. “I’m going to place this in an empty vase. You’re welcome to use whatever you’d like to create your arrangement.”

“Will you display it in the castle when I’m done?”

“I’d like to, yes – if you don’t mind.”

You grinned to yourself as Barbatos walked away. The thought of Barbatos looking at an arrangement you made throughout the week as he went about his duties left you nervous but eager to please. Instinctively, you reached for a blue anemone. Sure, you probably should have considered what would suit the castle and the potential surrounding décor, but all you could think about was Barbatos. You added a few purple hyacinths, and cursed baby blue eyes, rotating the placement of each selection, but you felt that something was missing. The pale blue glow of hell jasmine called to you. Strange; the scent of hell jasmine was said to make a demon extremely needy. Why would Barbatos want to display these in the castle? That seems a bit dangerous. However, on closer inspection, the scent had been hampered significantly compared to other times you had run into this plant.

“Let me guess,” Barbatos spoke up as he returned to the garden. “You’re wondering if that hell jasmine has had an effect on me today?”

“Sort of.”

“Worry not. This variety has been modified. Its scent has no power over me. That honor is all yours today. It’s perfectly safe to use in your arrangement.”

“Oh!” You felt the heat rise in your face. You weren’t sure you believed him with all his sweet-talking. But that didn’t matter. If the hell jasmine was safe to use, it would make for the perfect final touch. You wanted to surprise Barbatos with your creative decisions. “Close your eyes, please.”

“As you wish.” Barbatos made no attempt to get closer and shut his eyes. You finished your arrangement and brought it to Barbatos, holding it out to him like an offering.

“Okay, you can open your eyes.” You watched as a look of pleasant surprise was sketched on Barbatos’s face. The smile on his lips filled you with an unfamiliar pride – so warm and encompassing as if you had performed a miracle. There was no restraint in that smile. “I made it with you in mind.”

“Oh my.” Barbatos brought the knuckle of his index finger to his mouth. “I beg your pardon, but would you indulge my selfishness and put your arrangement in my room? There’s an empty vase on the table near the door.”

“You want to display it in your room?”

“I would feel better knowing something so thoughtfully crafted by you was in my room. I’m afraid I would feel quite jealous allowing someone else to admire it. That is, I want the sole joy of seeing it and thinking of you each day. Is that okay?”

“Are you certain the hell jasmine has had no effect on you?” You looked at him suspiciously as if that would distract from the way he flustered you.

“I’m afraid not. This seems to be a consequence of thinking about you so much today. Now, will you do me a favor and deliver those to my room? I believe you’re adept at finding my room on your own by now,” Barbatos added a seductive tinge to the last sentence. He turned you towards the entrance and gave you a gentle nudge. The warmth of his hand lingered as you headed to his room.

When you returned, Barbatos was carefully wrapping a bouquet of blue roses and darkness thyme – likely both of which were cultivated by Barbatos. It was simple, but the blue roses were stunning, and their rarity was only complemented by an equally rare herb. Barbatos tied a silky blue bow around the bouquet and held it out to you with both hands – an oddly elegant gesture.

“Where would you like me to put these?” you asked.

“No, my dear, these are for you.”

Your eyes widened and you took a closer look at the bouquet. Nine blue roses. Nine was for a timeless, eternal love. Blue roses signified mystery and uniqueness, but they could also mean something unattainable or impossible. You frowned. “Eternal love is impossible?”

Sure, maybe Barbatos wouldn’t love you forever, but that message seemed a bit cruel.

“Not quite.” Barbatos laughed at you softly. Had his laugh not been so sweet, you might have been upset. “Blue may represent the impossible, but here it is – a dream come true. If I can be so bold, you are a dream come true – the only one I could adore like this for all of time.”

The frown fell from your face, and you were left with shock and shyness. Something must have gotten into him today. In truth, the thought of the others giving you roses only encouraged Barbatos to charm you as much as he could, and that meant he would need to bare his heart to you. Barbatos pulled you in close and kissed you with a sweetness that matched his words.

“For a demon such as myself, eternal love is a rather serious proposal; will you still accept it?” His thumb ran across your lower lip.

“That would be a dream come true.” It was your turn to kiss and fluster him now. Hopefully none of the little D.s would go into the garden that afternoon.

Lucifer (1) | Mammon (2) | Leviathan (3) | Satan (4) | Asmodeus (5) | Beelzebub (6) | Belphegor (7) | Diavolo (8) | Luke (10) | Simeon (11) | Solomon (12) | Thirteen (13) | Raphael (14) | Mephistopheles (15)

[cloudmancy]

which is worse: d20 tumblr or d20 twitter?

this is such a funny question. frankly I prefer talking with my existing friends over discord over either of them but here's a breakdown of my experience with them

d20 tumblr

feels like a more isolating experience because of the way tumblr is set up in general as a platform. I follow relatively few people here, so all my interactions are from people engaging with my art (love you mwah) or asking me questions. nearly every time I go into a d20 related tag I regret it

I think frankly I disagree with 90% of the opinions on d20 here but because I don't have to see it I can just post my art and go

feels relatively static like there's not a good way to get everyone talking about a specific transformative fandom thing instead of only what's happening in canon because it's a looser more disconnected community

allows for longer posts and the search system on my own blog is great though. I love directing people to go through my tags or archived art

d20 twitter

incredibly, astonishingly, bad at recognizing jokes for people who are fans of a comedy show

way easier to interact with people which means most of the friends I make are from d20twt...

very easy to get everyone talking about one specific thing (ie fhsonas) because of how interactive Twitter is as a platform and how quickly word spreads

downside of this^ is that every time I express an opinion someone disagrees with they tend to assume that this is a majority opinion rather than like, 3-4 popular gay asian artists speaking their mind? when I complained about fhjy 18 battle on here I got interesting and thoughtful reblogs and everyone kept it respectful meanwhile on twitter people started making vaguetweets about how people who hated the episode were morons. stuff like us joking that oisin's grandma's whole mahjong group got murked getting 200 likes VS people directly shitting on us getting 1.7k likes and people going "wait... people are mad about oisins grandma for REAL?! she was going to kill people !!" getting 2k likes. clearly there is some sort of strange authority people put on your words whether or not you're actually just trying to have fun with your friends

I did talk about this more on twitter but I am not a fan of the CRitterfication of d20twt either. feels like much of the fandom is now watching because they're megafans of the cast rather than for the story which leads to some really big toxic positivity bias and the implication that criticism of the show == direct attack on the crew and therefore on THEM because parasocial attachment. I don't think it helps that for a majority of them d20 is their first big fandom experience aside from like... kpop or tswift because they have not developed a lot of the detachment from canon + not being parasocial + ignoring opinions you don't like if they're not directly addressed at you mechanisms that people who've been around have. sorry I'm not trying to fandom elder or whatever here I'm 21 years old but I think it's incredibly hard for me to interact with people whose entire understanding of canon depend on siobhan thompson's opinions like this

tldr;

d20twt has way less reading comprehension and critical thinking skills. better for making friends. I interact almost entirely with 30-40 of my artist friends. (my) d20tumblr experience is more chill and feels like I'm doing a seminar and people come up to ask me questions afterward. more isolating but easier to do my own thing. I do recognize and am fond of a lot of you but I've made one (1) entire friend who I can talk to off platform and not just see on the dash/my notes and that's just the nature of how tumblr works as a platform (it's terrible for conversations)

[n3xii]

What state are you currently in?

Hey besties, I'm trying to shift the focus of my readings to stop (intentionally or unintentionally) encouraging the idea that the cards control your fate, tarot and oracle cards mirror your inner atttitudes and how those attitudes are reflecting in your daily life. The reflect what state you're in and this is that is todays readings topic. This reading will be helpful for people to become aware of what state they may be perisiting in unintentionally. Choose an image from above and go to your pile <3 don't force messages to resonate if they don't. My cashapp to tip is sarahx2x

Also, if you have ideas for pick a cards related to law of assumption send it to my asks!!

Tip and ask a question in my asks for a personal reading !! Put username in message

♤♡Pile one

(7 of swords and 6 of pentacles)

You may be in a state of avoidance, dependence, and a scarcity mindset, you're running away from your current reality instead of living in the state you want, and conversely you're in the mindset of someone who feels like they need to deserve or "earn" their desires. You may feel that theres not enough to go around and placing limits on your manifestions. Some of you are on some level dependent on the benevolence of an external source to fulfill you. This isn't true, there is nothing you have to earn or avoid to achieve what you want. You may be avoiding thoughts or things in your reality that make you afraid that you'll manifest the opposite, this is living in a state of fear, that is giving power to external forces to control you. You are not dependent on an outside force to give you what you want, the power of divinty and limitless is already in you. you don't need to earn it or work hard for it. Understand the limitless and vastness of creation, become aware of your own limitlessness

♡■Pile two

(Queen of swords, the sun)

You are in a very positive state, a state of joy and freedom. You place you're awareness on the things that bring you geninune emotions of joy and the that make you feel infinte. The sun tarot card is traditionally associated with deity and deity worship, so one could say you are in a divine/God like state. In modern times, the sun tarot card is associated with consciousness (as its counterpart is the moon, and it focuses on unconsciousness) you are very intentional and aware of where you consciousness flows, and I see that you have flushed out old states of mind that are outdated. The queen of swords is aware of ignorance and bias, she rises above old ideas. you are in a state of recognizing when your thoughts are reflecting old states of mind and you are capable of rising above them.

♡○Pile three

(The heirophant reversed, the magican reversed, the page of swords)

This is a very intresting pile, for many of the people who felt drawn to this pile they have lost their faith in manifestion, theyve lost faith in the divine that dwells within them, they feel out of control with their reality and they're in a state of doubt. They may also be in a state of limitation and frustration. The page of swords is the investigator card of tarot, they are skeptical and alert. So this futher affirms to me that this pile is in a state of doubt, skepticism and powerlessness. The magican is a card of bending reality to your will, it's associated with channeling the divine and ones own will to manifest whatever one wants into materlizing from nothing, the magician card is associated with mecury which is the planet that represents thoughts, speaking words and communication. So I feel that people who chose this pile haven't been committed to aligning their thoughts and words to the desire they have. The heirophant reversed indicates falling out of routines and being noncommittal. In the tradtional meaning if the card, people may have lost their faith in manifestion because it condradicts their spirituality or religious pratice, they theyre too stubborn with their old beliefs. I also feel that people who chose this pile were learning from sources, coaches, teachers etc that were wrong or too harsh, but that won't be for everyone.

[daegudrama]

Daegudrama’s Spicy Festa Special D-1

Title: Lucky Night

Pairing: Reader/Min Yoongi

Summary: Reader gets a very special night with Min Yoongi after a BTS concert where they learn more than they could ever dream of.

Word Count: 3753 words

Being escorted into Min Yoongi’s hotel room was the last thing you possibly thought would happen when you woke up this morning. Of course, you’ve let yourself imagine it might happen even if you knew it was a completely delusional thought. The security guard caught up to you as you were trying to leave your floor seat and you were terrified you’d done something wrong. What other reason would they have to be coming up to you randomly. 

In reality they told you one of the members wanted to see you and one of BTS’ staff members drove you straight to their hotel. Maybe your instincts weren’t working correctly because that sounds so incredibly shady, but now you are here standing in front of his door. He opens the door with a shy smile stepping back to let you in before shutting the door. 

“Hi.” You say meekly not believing that the man you’ve idolized for the last nine years is standing in front of you. 

Yoongi has removed his makeup and seems quite relaxed despite the fact that he’s just invited a super fan into his hotel. You suppose he doesn’t have that much to worry about considering you signed a thick stack of paperwork on the ride here. A stack of paper that could ruin your entire life if you let anything that happens here get out.

He seems a lot taller standing right in front of you then he did on stage or in videos. Yoongi’s hair is wet and pushed off his forehead like he might have just gotten out of the shower. He’s wearing a black shirt with navy blue cotton shorts. Overall he seems very comfortable when you are holding in a scream. 

“So glad to finally meet you.” He says, leading you towards a sofa a few feet away from the bed. He sits on the couch motioning for you to join him. When you don’t respond, with a confused look on your face, he continues.  “I’ve seen a lot of your tweets.”

Your eyes widen as your face heats up thinking of all the not so suitable for work things you’ve said on your account. You sit on the edge of the couch crossing your ankles. How many tweets has he seen? And which ones? Which selfies did he see that made him recognize you in the crowd? He obviously wasn’t bothered if he still wanted to meet you despite what you’ve said about his hands. You can’t help but feel like you should apologize. 

“I’m so sorry.” You rush to apologize and he laughs showing off his gummy smile that looks a thousand times better in person than it ever has on the screen. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” He puts a finger under your chin guiding your eyes to his. Your heart is racing in your chest wildly. “How could I be mad when someone as pretty as you wants me?”

A choked sound leaves your throat and he backs away like he thinks maybe he said something to upset you. All the girls in the world he could have and he chose you. Part of you doesn’t even care if he’s done this to hundreds of other girls around the world. Tonight he chose you to be by his side. 

You come closer to Yoongi on the couch testing how far he’ll let you go. He doesn’t stop you even when your body is pressed against his side. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls your face closer with his other hand. With his face mere inches from yours he pauses looking from your eyes to your lips several times. You take the plunge, closing the distance and kissing your bias. 

There is an eruption in your stomach like you’ve never felt before. It’s like butterflies you’ve had before intensified by a thousand. Yoongi’s lips are silky soft against yours and he tastes like mint. The man kissing you shifts his body reaching for your thigh and pulling it so you are straddling him. You gasp but happily oblige while you continue to kiss him, tongue slipping into his mouth. He rests his hands on the strip of bare skin between the top of your skirt and the bottom of your tank top. Yoongi pulls away from the kiss with your lip between his teeth and a soft moan falls from your mouth.

You try to hide embarrassed that you just made that sound from just kissing him. Yoongi has other plans and flips you onto your back on the couch. He hovers over you with half lidded eyes and his chain swinging in your face. You don’t think you’ve seen anything sexier in your whole life. 

“Don’t be embarrassed, YN.” He leans in to kiss your exposed collarbone. “You obviously know what you want.”

He sucks harshly at your collarbone leaving a purple mark just above your ‘moonchild’ tattoo almost like he’s claiming his territory. He moves further down the couch leaving a trail of kisses. Yoongi spends a minute kissing your thighs sending a shiver up your spine. With his hand on the edge of your pleated black skirt he pauses. 

“Please.” Is all you can muster without your voice cracking.

It’s at that moment you remember the joke you made with your twitter mutuals, but it’s already too late.Your heart drops to your stomach and you want to run away. He’s already seen your panties and a smirk forms on his lips. You cover your face wishing you could disappear. This is not a funny joke. There was no world in which you thought this could ever happen or you would’ve worn something sexy. 

“Should I call Hobi?” Yoongi asks, examining the Mang printed on the front of your purple thong. He touches the fabric with his index finger like he wants to make sure it's real. You think you might explode just from that light touch alone. You feel like some kind of virgin again. “Do we sell these?”

“I made them myself as a joke.” You say your voice is muffled by your hands. “I never thought anyone would see them. Especially not you.”

He pushes your skirt up before placing a light hand on your wrist to pull your hands away from your face. There is a genuine smile on his face that is usually reserved for his members. He locks eyes with you while he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties and slowly slides them off. A soft groan falls from his lips as he looks at your pussy already wet in anticipation. He tucks your panties into the pocket of his shorts before dipping his head down to lick your cunt.  

You gasp not believing that this is really happening. Reading about this a thousand times has not prepared you for how good his tongue feels swirling around your folds. Quiet noises that you can’t control are leaving your lips. He is slow, seemingly enjoying himself. He lifts you sliding his hands under you to grasp your ass cheeks with his strong hands. Yoongi pushes his tongue into a point bringing a new sensation. You grab his long hair when he puts his tongue inside you. He removes his right hand from underneath and quickly replaces his tongue with a long skilled finger.

“You sound so pretty.” He says curling his finger inside of you drawing another gasp from your mouth.

He adds another finger stretching you as he fucks his fingers into you. He sucks your clit into his mouth drawing patterns with his tongue until you can hardly stand another moment of it. 

“Yoongi, can I please suck your cock?”

He sits up pulling his fingers out and spreading his legs. Yoongi looks around for a moment before getting up and retrieving a pillow from the bed. On the way over he loses his clothes and your jaw drops when his shirt hits the floor. You sit up eyeing him as he walks back towards you. Somehow in all the times you’ve imagined your bias naked, you’ve never been able to capture the full beauty of the sight before you. 

Your eyes are immediately drawn to the small 7 tattoo right over his heart. You knew your prediction was right and you are livid that you can’t tell your mutuals. The funny thing is you could tell them everything that happened and they would probably just tell you to take a trip to the Boraward. 

Secondly, your eyes trail to his already hard cock. His dick is thicker than you thought it would be, not that you’ve spent that much time thinking about it. Yoongi sits on the couch setting the pillow at his feet before he spreads his legs. Before he can change his mind you take your place on your knees in front of him. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to give the vacuum seal double hand twist samsung spin cycle triple decker pecker wrecker gluck gluck glizzy gawk gawk combo–”

Your lips cut off his sentence as they wrap around his length. He gasps as you sink your head further, taking more of his delicious cock into your mouth. You look up at him through your lashes finding that he is staring intently. You use your hand to stroke the rest of him while you focus on the head of his cock. Your tongue swirls around the sensitive head loving that you are the one drawing these eroctic sounds from his mouth. Yoongi strokes the back of your head when you take his cock fully into your mouth. You relax your throat, squeezing his thigh trying to signal him that you want him to move. He experimentally thrusts his hips upwards and you easily take his size. He holds your head steady while he fucks into your throat throwing his head back against the couch.

“Ah, YN you’re taking my cock so well. Such a good girl.” 

Heat pools in your stomach hearing the man you look up to most in this world praising you. He fucks your throat for a few more seconds before he pulls your mouth off. He takes your hand pulling you onto his lap and pressing his lips against yours in a heated kiss. You can taste each other when your tongues meet. His hands grab your top pulling it over your head and throwing it to the side. He quickly unhooks your bra with expert speed and takes one of your nipples into his mouth. Yoongi’s hands cup your ass under your skirt kneading the soft skin with his fingertips like a cat.

“Yoongi, will you please fuck me?” You whisper in his ear in your best attempt at a seductive voice. 

“Bend over the side.” He says lifting you off of him to help you into the position. You lean over the arm of the couch sticking your ass out for easy access. He gasps when he sees your bare ass and you hold in a chuckle. “Is that my name tattooed on your ass?” 

“See you don’t need to call Hobi. I’m yours.”

Two years ago after you lost a bet with three twitter mutuals and got ‘Yoongi’ tattooed on your ass in a pretty cursive font. Maybe you should be mortified but it seems like he’s into it from the way he hasn’t yet backed away. Quite the opposite actually. He leans down to kiss the tattoo before sliding two fingers into your cunt. Yoongi is making sure you are ready for his cock. When he pulls his hand away he leans backwards to retrieve a condom from the small table next to the couch. He rolls the condom on while squeezing your ass one more time. 

“All mine.” He whispers as he lines his cock up with your wet pussy.

He glides in easily with a curse leaving his lips when he is completely inside you. Yoongi pulls out then thrusts back inside of you with a sharp snap of his hips. You brace yourself against the arm of the couch preparing for more. His cock is stretching your walls just the right amount like he was meant to fuck you. He repeats his previous motion several times making you gasp each time.

How is he actually good at everything? How can one man be so absolutely perfect and desirable? Yoongi pulls your head back by your hair pulling a high pitched moan from your lips. He finds a rhythm and you can hear how wet you are as he continuously pushes himself in and out of you. Yoongi’s other hand finds your breast playing with your sensitive nipple. 

He is grunting your name as he thrusts inside of your tight cunt. You think he must be close when he suddenly pulls out and sits back on the couch stroking his cock. Yoongi looks at you waiting for you to make the next decision. You decide to straddle him letting his cock slip back inside you without using your hands. He groans, gripping your hips tightly as his head falls backwards. 

You roll your hips relishing in the whiny sound that leaves Yoongi’s lips. He looks so pretty being pleased by your pussy. His lips are parted and his brow is creased. You lean forward capturing Yoongi’s lips with yours. If you have the chance to kiss the Min Yoongi, you shouldn’t waste it. His tongue explores your mouth as you rock your hips on his cock. He moans into your mouth before pulling away and kissing your collarbone. Yoongi sucks leaving yet another mark on your neck.

Yoongi takes charge helping you bounce on his thick cock. His hands are firmly placed on your ass. You have never felt this close from just being fucked and you hope the unintelligible sounds coming from your mouth are telling him that. Even the air around Yoongi is sexy, making this experience one hundred times more enjoyable. 

He flips you onto your back somehow without falling over. You are shocked by how smooth he’s able to be. Yoongi never leaves contact with your body continuing to fuck himself into you the moment you are on your back. His long fingers find your clit as he thrusts harder into your needy cunt. 

“Yoongi I’m going to cum.” 

His eyes lock with yours as he continues at the pace he was going hitting just the right spot inside of you. The combination of his fingers and cock working together send you over the edge screaming his name. Your legs are shaking as Yoongi chases his own high, grasping your hands for support. His fingers are calloused from playing guitar but you still love the feeling of his hand in yours.

“You’re so perfect, YN.” Yoongi says kissing your jaw. “You took me so well.”

It takes a moment before he pulls out and heads to the bathroom. He comes back lying on the bed behind you. Yoongi opens his arms motioning for you to join him. On shaking legs you get up and curl your head against his chest. For several minutes you remain in that position. Yoongi strokes your hair while your hand rests on his waist.

“Can I take a picture of you?” He asks and you raise your head to look into his soft eyes.

“Why would you want a picture of me?”

Despite what you just did it seems weird that he’d want a photo of you. Is this some kind of collection for him? Does he take photos of all the girls he sleeps with? Is he actually some kind of pervert? You hate that even after thinking that you still want him to have whatever he wants. The thought of him looking at your photo months from now makes your heart soar.

“How else will I remember your beautiful face?”

You cover your face that you know has turned scarlet. He pulls your hands away after retrieving a polaroid camera from the bedside drawer. Yoongi doesn’t take the picture yet, waiting for you to consent. 

“Take my picture, but you have to answer my question.”

Yoongi straddles you, getting just your face and collarbones in the photo and happily snaps the picture. The flash leaves you blinking for a few seconds while Yoongi goes back to his spot beside you. 

“What’s the burning question?” He asks not seeming too worried about what you could possibly be wondering. 

“How many of those photos do you have?” He raises his eyebrows at your words like that is the farthest thing from what he expected you to ask. “I’m sure I’m not the only person who has ever been called to your hotel room.”

Yoongi thinks for a moment his tongue poking out to lick at the corners of his mouth. It's almost as if you can hear the gears turning in his head as he decides if he wants to be honest  or not. He takes a deep breath in then releases it before he speaks. 

“Usually, I lie when people ask, but I’m so tired of lying. You make 63 and maybe this isn’t the healthiest coping mechanism but it's better than other things I could be doing.” 

You are truly impressed that you are able to keep your face neutral when he says that. Where does he find the time for that? Does he only take photos of the fans he sleeps with or everyone? At the end of the day this is none of your business but he said he’s tired of lying. If he wants to give you answers you will surely keep them locked inside your head for the rest of your life. 

“Some fans are really convinced Jimin would be the one to do something like this.”

 Yoongi chuckles, reaching out to play with your fingers not catching your eye as you study his face. You briefly wonder what he thinks of the Takashi Murakami Flowers painted on your nails. You do look like a Hobi bias today. 

“The younger ones did a lot of this in the beginning, but not so much anymore.” He keeps his voice low. “I do this a lot less often now than I used to. When I saw you were coming to the show tonight I knew I had to try. From what I’ve seen on twitter you are so charming and interesting. I just had to know if it was all true.”

This can’t be real. You must have shifted to some alternate reality. How is Min Yoongi saying these things to you? This must be a cruel dream you are going to wake up from any second. It takes you a moment to find your composure enough to speak. 

“Did I live up to your expectations, Yoongi?”

“You far exceeded them, beautiful.” He pulls you closer, still nude, until your head is rested against his shoulder.

He asks you about yourself while he pets your hair. You tell him about how you got into BTS’ and when he isn’t satisfied with that answer you tell him about how you grew up. He tells you things you have never heard in interviews before. Part of you wonders if he does this with everyone too. The connection feels so real, but could it just be your brain making it up?

You fall asleep wrapped in his arms feeling safer than you have in a long time. He didn’t just pleasure your body but your soul too. You wonder if in another life you could have been friends. If he wasn’t an international superstar and you weren’t his fan.

Yoongi isn’t beside you when you wake up. You sit up listening to see if maybe he went to the restroom, but the room is silent. Your heart sinks, but of course he wouldn’t still be here when you woke up. You stand up looking for your tank top and panties but only find the former. There is a piece of hotel stationary taped to the TV. Yoongi’s familiar scrawl is covering the paper.

‘YN, I’m sorry you woke up to an empty bed but I had a last minute schedule. I really enjoyed the night I spent with you. I hope you have a safe flight home and know that I’ll be thinking about you.--Yoongi’

Your eyes fly to the clock when you read the word flight. There is only an hour until your flight leaves. After ripping the note from the TV you tear apart his luggage looking for your panties. They are nowhere to be found so you steal a pair of his boxers. You quickly pull them on and retrieve your phone before rushing out of the room. 

“Hello, YN.” A Hybe staff member says. “There is a cab waiting for you downstairs. We collected your things from your hotel room and they are in the cab.”

“Thank you so much.”

You don’t even want to know how they got into your hotel room. The thought of it being someone’s job to collect the things of Yoongi’s hookups is making you giggle as you get in the cab. Surprisingly, you don’t feel used. Sure, you were one of many but it was one of the best nights you’ve ever had in your life. You learned so much more about the man you idolize. There was a much deeper level of connection that goes beyond the amazing sex you had. 

The gate agent is calling the final boarding call when you finally make it to the airport. This weekend has felt like an actual dream and the sadness that it's over suddenly hit you when you are seated on the plane. A few tears slide down your cheeks before you contain yourself. 

By the time you get home you are starting to believe you dreamed the whole scenario. There is no way Yoongi told you about the fights he used to get into with his brother or how he twisted his ankle trying to impress a boy when he was 12.

You flop onto your bed ready to fall asleep when an unknown number makes your phone ring. Under normal circumstances you wouldn’t answer the call but something is telling you need to. 

“Hello?”

“Hello, beautiful.” The unmistakable voice of Min Yoongi says on the side. Your heart skips a beat. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t say goodbye. Guess that means I need to see you again.”

[irabelaswriting]

influx

pairing: morpheus x f!reader  |  rating: E  | words: 8.7k |  ao3

tags: sexy dream stuff blurries the line between dreams and reality you say?, count me in, alternatively titled what no dick does to a mfer, service top dream, afab reader, oral sex, masturbation, sexual fantasies, pining, mentions of choking, mentions of spanking, mentions of public sex, no use of y/n

summary: "My name. You wondered about my name," the dream that is no longer a dream says. As plainly as possible, as if he's not a stranger in your home.

"Do- do you have one?"

"All beings do."

or

You meet a stranger in a dream.

And then you meet him again.

a/n: i am dipping my fat littles toes in this particular pond. hope y'all enjoy!<3 let me know what worked and what didn't!

It’s really starting to get cold out. 

October has just rolled around – autumnal colors all around. Pumpkins freshly harvested from patches set out on the steps of the houses you pass, leaves slowly making their descent from tree crowns. A promise of frosts sits in the air; come morning, the cold would make the warm colors more vibrant. 

If it gets too cold you might need to start commuting, you decide, no longer taking the oh-so familiar road you’ve incorporated into your daily routine for months now. 

The streets are wide, a winding path you walk along – passing by garbage and street lights, small little shops and narrow alleyways just out of the corner of your eye every so often. 

Every day, you walk down this road. It’s routine – just like how putting on socks or brushing your teeth is. 

Yet, as you pass another alley, something stops you midstep.

Something about this particular alley on this particular day makes you turn your head as if you’d just caught the eyes of a long lost acquaintance across the room. 

And unbidden, an image flickers across your mind. 

Large hands pushing up your skirts, finding the gusset of your underwear between your thighs soaked through, all for him, deft fingers sliding beneath wet fabric. A teasing touch against you, the slick slide audible in the dark, quiet alley. Someone could find you, see you, if they had mind enough to just look hard enough for a moment longer. 

Your heart skips a beat – the memory as clear as day on your retina. 

As if it had been real. 

The dreams… the visions, had started a while ago. Unbidden, as wet dreams – ugh – usually were. Of course, it was all just a normal part of being alive, you rationalized. Heated situations in a dream with a crush or someone whose outwardly attributes you liked more than the person themselves was a totally normal, natural response to non-reciprocated attraction. 

What wasn’t normal was having them about a person you didn’t even know. And, that they were recurring.

Not one night of reprieve had been awarded to you since it all had first begun. 

Every night, he visited you in your dreams. 

The man in your dreams hadn’t been known to you. Well, not previously. Now, you felt as if you’d recognize him in a crowd, that you could pick him out in a lineup of all your previous lovers despite him not truly being one of them. Stoic and pale, tall and lithe, composed of lean muscles that rippled under smooth skin, with hands so very large in comparison to your own. A voice that whispered into your ear, deep and dark and holding promises of pleasure everytime it raked across your brain. 

The first time you’d seen him it had been a seemingly ordinary dream. Usually, they’d be about losing all your teeth at once while simultaneously trying really hard at an exam in school only to realize you were taking it naked. All the people involved, witnesses to your embarrassment, were usually pieces of a puzzle coerced together simply under the guise that you had some bias from having them there. 

Yet… the dream in particular had been nothing but ordinary; not even sexual. You had gone about your usual routine, said your usual hellos and goodbyes, walked on the very road you were trudging along right now, when he had caught your eye. A face in the crowd of muddled features. 

He had stared back at you – with consciousness, a responsiveness that didn’t belong in dreams. 

It had been impossible not to look back at him – meet his striking gaze. 

One moment, he had been there, and in the next, he was gone.  

They weren’t real, you tell yourself yet again, bending down, pretending to fix a shoelace in case some unbidden voyeur was privy to your mindless stop on the street. Above, a tree canopy rustles as a bird takes flight, the only evidence of it ever sitting there being the dark feather landing by your feet as you rise. 

The way home is a winding one – but the scene replays in your head enough that you feel a sticky heat coil in the pit of your belly. A hunger wanting, no– needing to be slaked with the ease of your own fingers (all the while imagining someone else's) sliding across heated skin. 

You think that you must've met him somewhere. 

That your subconscious is pulling a mean prank on you with blurry half-imagined images of a man you might’ve maybe (hopefully) snogged on a night out and can’t recall more than that fuzzy encounter of. 

That it’s not a stranger, but rather surely some acquaintance or a mutual friend of a friend you’ve been introduced to at a party and promptly forgotten the name of. 

That you’ve somehow baked him into your subconsciousness like a calzone. 

That you’re so starved for attention that you have wet dreams about the one guy who has proved to be somewhat of a constant in your life. 

Good gods, were you really that starved for affection that you had wet dreams about a guy you’d only seen in your dreams?

Your depravity was endless, a bottomless pit.

Because it hadn’t happened just once – no, now, the image of him panting above you was etched to your mind as the code into your apartment complex was. 

Finally, you reach your destination – home. You take the steps to your apartment two at a time, riled up by the promise of what awaits in the solace of your bedroom. The steps are made of polished limestone filled with fossilized ammonites that you’d otherwise stop and look at but you’re on a mission now. 

Everything lays forgotten as you move into your abode, closing the door and securing it with a physical deadbolt. Then, the weight of the day hits you. A layer of grime and dust surely lingers on your skin, sweat and dirt that came with moving about your business–

A change of plans. 

Instinctively, you move towards the bathroom, chucking clothing items as you go, leaving them for a future you to take care of. 

You let the water get hot before getting in. 

In the shower, you let yourself go, fingers slipping down between wet skin to an even wetter core, teasing yourself just slightly before really getting to work at easing the orgasm out of your body.

In your mind's eye, in your dreams, it’s easy to let fantasy do the work; change your position, have your hands tied or free at a mere whim, shoved faced down or facing your unknown, nameless lover.

It blurs together into a mess – but it’s orderly, kind of – every whim you have is met. 

If you imagine him grabbing fistfulls of your hips and pushing down, spewing lewd vitriol against your ear – you get it. 

If you imagine your hands tied and him using them for leverage until the change of altitude makes you woozy – you get that too. 

Every urge is abid and sated, the fantasy adjusting at once depending on however you’re feeling inclined. 

That’s the easy part, recalling the intimate moments as if they’ve been real, emulating his touch on your body.

His hand moving down along your naked front; cupping your pussy in his hand, fingers skirting along slick folds but being withholding, not giving you anything, not until you’re writhing in his grip, reduced into a needy, begging mess–

He talks, too, you recall, fingers picking up their pace – with a deep, baritone voice that ushers praises and harsh little words at just the right moment. Instantly, you incorporate it in your fantasy. 

“So good,” he whispers by your ear as you titter on the precipice of yet another orgasm at his hands, fingers working inside you just so, “so good for me.” 

No, take it slow, you inwardly scold. Prolong the pleasure just a bit longer. Listening to the constant stream of water running over your body and down down the drain, you steady yourself. 

Rewinding, you alter the daydream. 

Fingers pressing into you only after you’ve earned them on your knees – your reward a perfect curling motion that has you keening. A sound that only has him roughly pulling you deeper down on his fingers, your back arching as heady pleasure rolls over you in thick, heavy waves. 

You moan into the air, air that’s filled with water vapor that condenses, droplets of saturated water that run down your bathroom mirror. Despite the water steadily streaming across your body, you feel the sensation of sweat beading behind your knees; a surefire way of predicting the impending orgasm. Swallowing thickly, fingers pick up their pace. 

Hands tied tightly behind your back, large fingers skirting along your innermost thighs, grabbing fistfulls of plump, supple flesh, lightly smacking the fat of your ass, the soft waves of pain and pleasure making your belly coil together hotly. Knowing what’s to come when–

Just right, you curl your fingers, pinching a nipple simultaneously. Teasing at first, building up the anticipation of filling yourself up with your fingers, circling your core until you can’t take it any longer and give into the first few moments of blissful fullness.

One moment, on your back, the other, on your knees. Throat stuffed with cock and cum, and in the next– 

Shamelessly moaning into the air, you goad yourself with more to tip over the edge.

His hand twisting in locks of hair, gently coaxing your head towards him, tucking his face against your shoulder, hand covering your mouth as he whispers for you to be quiet, pounding you through an orgasm in a dirty back alley.  

Hips undulating, you tense up – voice vibrating in the humid air, reaching a crescendo. 

Slender fingers circling your waist, before finally settling on your hips and pulling you down on his cock with soft, pliable resistance–

But it isn’t him. It isn’t real. Has never been. 

You stop abruptly.

Defeat washes over you – and still, you try again, scratching at that particular itch, that particular daydream, yearning for the release. 

The fall over the edge never comes. Blissful pleasure never arrives despite being right there, and soon the movement of your fingers is a chore, the throbbing in your lower belly almost hurting. 

A groan leaves you, head against the bathroom tile, as you flex your cramping fingers, finally relenting. Panting now, hot all over, water still flowing freely across your body.

Only thing you were achieving now was running up your water bill.

Pride swallowed, you twist the blender into icy cold, dousing yourself until you’re nothing but a shivering mess. 

You step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around your body, cursing yourself under your breath. 

This was all so– so stupid. 

It had never been an issue before. Really, you could bust a couple out in an evening if the mood struck – but since this all started, your statistics for masturbation ending with a climax had dwindled hard. Had the graph of your sexual habits been recorded somewhere it would’ve been exponential in it’s decline – off the charts with failure. 

You take the disappointment and frustration out on your hair, doing your best in drying it before making your way into the living room. It’s cold there too, and you feel goosebumps rise along your arms, prickling on the back of your neck. Even the mess you’ve left for yourself to take care of annoys you, no help in bettering your rapidly souring mood. You kick a shapeless mass of clothing into a corner, trying to stop the beast in your belly from blossoming and tearing through. 

One blanket secured later, you plop down into the sunken down couch – exhausted. Still shivering, you turn on a rerun of some show you’ve already seen a hundred times on Netflix. 

All in all – it serves as a little distraction from your already wandering thoughts. 

The failed orgasm is still lingering in the back of your mind, a steady thumping in your core that won’t go away with anything other than time. You don’t click the little skip intro prompt that pops up this time; and boredom soon takes over as a scene you know by heart starts playing. With a sigh, you turn over, starting a mindless scroll on your phone instead, nuzzling into the couch that’s finally starting to warm up your shivering body. The show provides a soft chatter in the background, filling the void with some non-tangible noise – a mere background buzz. 

Body heavy, you sink down, down, until there’s nothing but the soft embrace of sleep to catch you. 

Bent over a desk, cheek pressed into unrelenting varnished wood, slender fingers around your neck as he thrusts inside you, buried to the hilt with one languid roll of his hips. A deep groan ringing through the air, your own sounds muted from his grip around your windpipe. 

Your ass high in the air, fingers digging into the divot where thigh meets hips, one large palm ghosting over the round surface of your rear, rising up to give the already tender flesh another well placed hit. 

The same rough pace still persists, forcing stuttering little words from your lips, fingers now digging into the softness of your sides. Livid bites left along your neck and shoulders, a hand slipping between your thighs. A sheen of sweat covers your back, as well as the forehead that’s pressed to a shoulder blade. 

The gasp that escapes you as the room contorts until it’s no longer recognizable echoes through the void. It’s not even your bed anymore, the sheets you’d hand picked out of the bargain barrel replaced with the softest of silk that flows like water between your clutching fingers.

He’s in front of you, above you– 

Behind you.

Fingers tug the towel wrapped around your body off. 

You yelp – instantly going to cover yourself.

“Nothing I haven’t already seen,” a murmured whisper intones, goosebumps rising along your skin. “Don’t be shy.” 

His hands are cold – in clear difference to your already much too hot body – and your back arches as if to escape from his light touch against your ribcage. 

Instead, he’s behind you, and you’re in his lap, with nowhere to run now.

You try again to cover up, but large hands grasp your wrists and pull them back. 

Finally, you relent, relaxing.  

“There we go,” right by your ear, you hear him, feel him rest his chin on your shoulder, peeking down the valley of your now bared breasts. 

Eyes glimmering like stars watching as his own fingers trace gently along bare thighs before finally pushing apart the sticky folds of your pussy. Soft, teasing graces toying with you before finally pushing inside. Curling just right, adding just the right pressure, until you throw your head back against his shoulder, a leg darting out for purchase against the incoming wave of pleasure, thumb flicking against your clit just as he finds that spot inside you–

He stops. 

You whine – almost crying from the let down, feeling that fire die down by not being tended to. 

“So desperate,” he chides, lips barely tracing yours as you jerk more, convulsing in his hands from being denied. “Still not enough?” 

“No– please, more,” you murmur against soft lips, speech rendered into a mess of sloppy and slurred kisses. It could never be enough – you want him, you want to beg for him, want a name to call out into the night, some title to give him more than this shape that comes to you each night. 

Your hand digs into him, keeping him close. As if he would disappear if you didn’t. 

You want to know him – taste him, share more than just this simple fantasy with him – you want more, crave it even as he’s on top of you, inside you–

“Tell me, do you think you’re awake?”

His voice echoes in the nothingness surrounding you. 

What did he mean by that? 

He has deviated from the usual course, the script that you’ve willfully, intently, set in your mind and eagerly fulfilled your role in–

“Realizing you’re dreaming wakes most people up.” His hands are on you again, moving across your skin until he’s right by your ear, whispering. “Interesting.” 

Halfway – that is how far your fingers, reaching out to grab his own, make it before the world tilts and changes again. 

With a start, you wake up, immediately sitting up from the pile of blankets on top of you. 

Blearily, you blink. 

Are you still watching? Netflix questions, mockingly. 

You– you must’ve fallen asleep – the throb between your legs has only intensified, coupled with your heart hammering in your throat and you know– you remember what he had said–

Out of the corner of your eye, something moves. 

A man is in your living room. 

Not just any man – it’s him.

As clear as day – across the room from you. Dressed in all black and staring at you with familiar, gleaming eyes. 

“Um,” you start, heart hammering hard behind your ribcage, working overtime in keeping you alive, “c-c-can I h-help you?”

Ah. Yes, the good ol’ fight or flee or freeze or fawn or– 

Customer service.

You clutch the blanket around you even tighter, backing up into the corner of the couch – hyperaware and noticing everything in what feels like a millisecond.

How you’ve slept through at least two episodes of the show you put on. That the street lights outside your windows are bright, casting luminosity on the streets below. That there’s no immediate sign of a break in, no broken door hanging off its hinges. That you’re in nothing but a towel and covered by a blanket. 

And, that the man currently across your living room is staring at you. 

“My name. You wondered about my name,” the dream that is no longer a dream says. As plainly as possible, as if he’s not a stranger in your home. 

“Do–do you have one?” 

“All beings do.“

At a loss for words for a moment, mind racing (how did he know that? followed by a frantic oh god why is he here? and how did he even get in?) you offer him your own name, and the side of his mouth twitches upwards, as if he’s known it all along. 

“I am Dream of the Endless. Lord of dreams and nightmares, and ruler of the Dreaming.” His voice is deep and calm, much calmer than you yourself feel at the moment. A rich baritone that carries across the room despite him not even raising his voice. 

It sounds… pompous, but not untrue. Still, you can’t keep yourself from asking. “Any more titles?”

“Morpheus. Lord Morpheus.”

You hadn’t seriously considered that there’d be more. 

“... The Dreaming?”

“Yes, it is my realm, where I hold sovereignty,” he explains, “I am the maker of dreams and nightmares for all beings of this plane.” 

For a moment, you wonder if you’ve gone insane. If not getting your rocks off for the past weeks has changed your physiology somehow, that you’re so pent up that you’re hallucinating this. That this isn’t real – just a dream of a dream to soothe your already fragile, underfucked psyche.  

“Sleep well?” 

Your breath hitches in the otherwise silent room at the question. 

At once, you’re aware that he knows. He knows. He’s solidifying that fact with that question – a question he probably knows the answer to too, and is simply asking because your inherent uneasiness of the situation must also be known to him. 

Or, as you might suspect when your eyes flick to meet his own and notice the hint of smugness present in them, he is simply asking to embarrass you further. 

“Ah, yes, uh,” the heat on your cheeks is mortifying, shame welling up at the base of your throat, “I’m sorry. If– if you’re able to see them and all–”

“I do.” 

No need in explaining what they are, then. 

“So sorry about that, erm,” the words fumble out of your mouth, “they’re just– fantasies, right, my, uh– my l-lord?”  

You probably actually don’t need to address him as such, one of the many titles, but something about him demands your attention, your respect. Is it shame? A part of you cringes inwardly, finding it difficult to meet his hard eyed stare. Eyes that are simply observing you – not eating you alive, not even undressing you. Yet you get the distinct feeling of being under a microscope, every part of you being dissected. Evaluated.

Deciding to err on the side of caution – he is, afterall, a stranger – because you’re not completely sold on what he’s selling you. 

Which is an explanation to all of this.

“I don’t understand,” you say, shaking your head. “Are you– are you the one doing this to me?”

Dark brows pull down. For a moment, you think he’s cross with you–

Maybe that’s just the guilt rolling together in your stomach, all bile and acid, because he knows. He knows everything. He’s the unwilling participant, no– object, of your fantasies. 

“... These dreams are–” Morpheus pauses. 

Filthy, dirty, wholly indecent, you mind intones on its own, preemptively wincing. 

”Very imaginative. Thoughts that are all your own work.” 

No hammer falls to sentence you – judgment simply not present in his tone. 

Unbeknownst (or simply not caring) of your internal dilemma, Morpheus takes in your space, the adjoining kitchen and door to your bedroom before continuing, voice the same even tone. “My involvement never stemmed greater than simply… appearing. It seems you’ve grown attached.” 

Attached to the idea of him, just as you’d find a kind stranger enticing. It wasn’t… had it truly been him? 

“I just thought–” you don’t even know what you’ve been thinking, how you’ve cause this more than– “that since I daydreamed about it– it could alter what I dreamed of while sleeping–” 

“It does. Not to this extent, usually, but you seem to have acquired a gift not many are even born with.” Morpheus says, carefully stepping over the heap of clothes you kicked earlier. “A form of lucid dreaming.” 

“... I’m shaping my dreams?” You had seen a couple of videos on lucid dreaming during your teenage years. Followed the seemingly simple instructions a lady in harem pants had listed in a 16 minute long youtube video – but to no avail. Now, however, you would envision scenarios, make up context for your fantasies, was that what he meant? 

“Are you surprised?” Morpheus asks, head tilted to the side slightly. “Every day life affects dreams, yes, even fantasies and wishes do. That is not the unusual part.” 

Pieces of a puzzle started to form a cohesive picture – you couldn’t control what happened in your dreams as much as you could perhaps entice a certain end to happen. Set one ball rolling and hoping it triggered a response in kind. 

Maybe, if you could still find it, you should leave a comment on that video praising its effectiveness. 

“Willing them to happen as you see fit, however, is.”

Immediately, you think back on the dream you’d just been pulled out of rather roughly – where you’d been denied, where he had denied you–

“That is why I’m here.” He answers your unasked question as he steps further into your living room, continuing. “It’s usually a gift sought out and refined by dark arts practitioners, not by… lonely girls.” Morpheus almost scoffs a bit at that, as if he’s noticed the singular plate drying on your dish rack, the adjoining single pair of cutlery and glass from last night's dinner, and realized exactly what you are. 

Now, you glower at him. You weren’t lonely in many ways of your life – you had friends, family, hell, even coworkers who all adored you. It was just… a lonely life in one particular department, one that you weren’t fully ready to admit to even really coveting. 

Yet he isn’t outright judging you – nor the contents of your dreams. Moreso, he seems mildly annoyed at being pulled into this.

That wasn’t wholly true though, was it? No, he had done this – he was the weird magic dream guy, not you. 

“I didn’t want this,” you almost hiss back at him, “you’re the one– who's done this– you’re the reason I can’t–”

The words hang in the air, unfinished.

–can’t get my rocks off. 

You don’t want to say that – to frame it that way, to admit it. 

Some part of your subconsciousness obviously found him desirable, attractive – you couldn’t keep that from him, even now, as he imposed himself in your apartment and had almost scared you half to death – because he had been in every single dream since you’d first laid your eyes on him. Appeared in them, he had said, as if he was just a supporting role in all your fantasies. Knows about the predicament the dreams leave you in every morning – has to know.

Instead, you just glare at him now, grit your teeth. Accusingly. “Fix it.” 

At your words, he looks like he’s on the verge of an emotion – but like he can’t decide on which one. Incredulity and genuine curiosity both flit over his stoic features; you dare order him? as well as clear unfeigned interest that that’s exactly what you’re doing.

“As I said,” he finally says after a moment, “you’ve grown attached.”

It’s your turn to scoff. “I wouldn’t call it that.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “You mortals do like excuses.”

Instantly, you regret all the very good things you’ve inwardly thought of him, a flash of annoyance welling up inside of you. Morpheus was certainly much ruder like this than in your dreams, where he was all willful, enthusiastic compliance to your whims. You suck your teeth at him. “Why are you even here?” 

“I have already told you. It’s a phenomenon rarely seen, and I’ve come to inspect it further.”

Describing it like you’re nothing more than bacteria on a petri dish, a mere body ready for autopsy – clinical, medical, distanced. 

“And you’re doing that by… breaking and entering my home?” You look away from him, fighting against the flush of emotion moving up your shoulders and neck. “Could’ve just knocked on my door instead of sneaking up on me in my sleep.”

“Only one of those statements is true.” 

You’re just about to question which one he meant when you note the faint lilt of amusement in his tone. 

You don’t need to see him to know that he’s pressing closer to where you’re still sprawled out on the couch. 

“Here I thought you were inviting me over when you asked for more.” 

Your head whips back to him – just to find him peering down at you. 

Much closer than before. 

Tendrils of heat sink their clutches into you at once. 

“I can’t help but wonder… if you got a taste of the real thing, would it stop? Would you stop calling me to come fill you up in the middle of the night?” Leaning down, his fingers wrap around your chin. “I do have a realm to tend to, other duties to… see to.” 

The shift in the air is palpable. 

Your mouth is so dry now. This feels so much more real than anything else before – you’re conscious, this is not a dream, you finalize like a mantra, fingernails digging into your palms. 

A light slap to your cheek, ordering you to open up your mouth, to show him his spend on your tongue before being allowed to swallow. 

The image had come unbidden – that it’s a particularly degrading one is even more mortifying. Pupils blown wide, you peer up at him through your lashes. 

“Even now, you want it.” His thumb brushes against the plump of your lower lip as he regards you. His tone indicates that he’s almost… surprised at it, your willingness. 

Embarrassed, you come to your own defense.

“I don’t.” You lie. 

A peculiar sound leaves him – something halfway between a scoff and a laugh. 

“You are as predictable here as you are in your dreams,” he says, sounding far too amused for your liking, thumb sweeping along your cheekbone. 

Then, he kisses you, all slow and soft. 

The protest that had sat on the tip of your tongue is swallowed down. 

One hand curls in the front of his shirt, the other wrapping around a bicep reached out to support himself on the couch’s backrest, searching for purchase. The rest of your body freezes, not yet answering the kiss in kind. 

Eyes squeezing shut, you try making sense of this, this whole situation. The interest that’s been rewarded you has been for reasons you barely understand, abilities you didn’t even know you possessed in the first place– 

At once, you sink into the couch pillows, escaping the kiss but not the hand that has settled on the back of your neck. Still, it lets you fall back with no resistance. 

He – Morpheus, you inwardly remind yourself of his name – hovers above you, tilting his head to the side imploringly. Like a crow would, or how dogs do at funny sounds. 

Swallowing uncomfortably, you break the gaze he has you in. Despite that, his eyes stay on your face, pinning you to the couch as much as the weight of him above you does. 

At first, you don’t know how to put the words that sit on the forefront of your mind. You were overthinking this, you were thinking far too little, you were–

“What you said before… Am I controlling you? H-have I been controlling you?” Your eyes search Morpheus' face.

He snorts. “You are not nearly powerful enough for that.” 

Good to know, you think, shifting beneath him, still. At least there’s that.  

Even with his body hovering above you, with layers of clothes and fabric separating your bodies, you feel yourself flush, an instinctive reaction to him, the object of all your desires and pining, being so close, so real. 

After a moment of silence, you start again. “You’re doing this to make it stop? Will it work?”

Morpheus seems to weigh his options a bit – all of them, the consequences of whatever reply he’ll give you obviously fluttering across his mind – before he goes on.

“It is… a working theory. If simply fulfilling your imaginations in the Dreaming would have been enough to keep you satiated,” he lingers on the word enough that you feel a fresh flush travel up your shoulders, “then I would worry about how much power you’ve already managed to steal from me.” After a moment’s longer deliberation, he adds: “... Honestly, it is seldom something like this occurs.” 

“I haven’t stolen anything.” You huff. You hadn’t willfully robbed him of anything. 

“Maybe not. Perhaps it was a gift.” Fingers trail up your bare arm, goosebumps rising in its wake, his eyes following the path he traces. Almost contemplatively, as if he’s just seen you for the first time, he goes on. “When I first felt the promise within you as you dreamt… it was a mistake showing myself in your dreams. Now, I am simply dealing with the consequences of my own recklessness.”

Reassurement aside, it is also a bit gratifying, knowing that he’s at your beck and call. That he’s here because of you – because it’s you. That the interest is mutual, in some capacity. 

That this isn’t a pity fuck – not one solely reserved for lonely girls who happen to call the Lord of Dreams into their own little fantasies. This was as much him as it was you. 

“Then– take it back.” 

“Oh, I am eager to make sure it is returned to where it belongs,” the slightest uptick of his mouth punctates the last bit, a promise of imminent closeness, the word stressed with weight as he leans down to whisper right by your ear, “for the both of us.” 

And even though he’s kissed you hundreds of times in countless dreams – this first, proper one is tentative, uncertain. A chaste press of his lips to your own, all soft and unimposing. 

Searching for any lingering doubts, making sure–

A pause follows as your eyes meet again. Morpheus pulls back slightly, brows tugging down again. Instantly, your arms move on their own accord, wrapping around his neck. You pull him back down, into another kiss, this one claiming more, allowing more. Fighting against the smile you feel spread across your lips when he answers the kiss with the same fervor is hopeless. At once, fire starts to spread under your skin, cinders smoking in your belly, his hands clutching you against him in return. 

He tastes soft, like rainwater and fog, and dark and deep like wine, musky and minty all at once. Something to get drunk on, lost in. Nothing like you could ever conjure up yourself. 

Your hands leave his neck – moving down his collar between layers of fabric and shoulder blades, feel them move as he settles against you, hands adjusting you underneath him, scratch your nails against whatever skin he’s allowing you to see, to touch. Searching for a definite clutch to assure you that it’s real. As if on cue, he lets the dark coat fall off him, your eager hands just as helpful as his own when in return he makes short work of the fabric between you. The towel falls off your body as easily as it had in your dream, discarded and out of sight. 

Despite yourself, you keen into the kiss, feeling a soft haze settle into your mind, as if you’re on the verge of slipping into easy sleep, hitting your senses and spreading through you like the first warmth of a bath.

It’s delicious, languid bliss.

Bodies molding against each other, settling into the natural curve of each other, thighs spreading to let him between them; teeth and tongue and lips mingling together in the kiss. Your fingers tread through the hair at the nape of his neck, humming softly when he pulls back from the kiss. 

Slender fingers dig into bare skin, his hands maneuvering you beneath him. They touch every inch of skin within reach; the pads of his fingers dragging against hip bones, along every rib, between your bare breasts and trailing along the natural curve of them. 

Finally, his hand sweeps across your neck, the tips of his fingers running along the column of your throat before lightly tracing your collarbone. When the hand pulls back, it’s replaced with his mouth finding the side of your neck, teeth biting down. Your breath hitches from the sting, clutching at him even harder as a delicate sound leaves his own lips. 

“What do you want?” Morpheus mummers against your ear, lips brushing against the sensitive skin. “Ask and I’ll give.”

“Mouth,” you whisper out, breathlessly, “I want your mouth on me.” 

He must know what you meant, where you mean. 

Yet the path there is tortuous and slow. 

Arms unwrap around him to give him freedom to travel the path further down, another press of his lips to the intimately hidden skin behind your ears, your clavicle and sternum given the same attention. Little love bites left in his wake, never hard enough to bruise or break the skin even if they make you squirm beneath him. 

Finally, he finally seals his lips around one stiff nipple without anymore of the slow, teasing buildup. Toying with the hard nub with lips and tongue, teeth nipping lightly, shockwaves of warm pain and pleasure spreading out from your chest, curling in on itself deep in your abdomen. It’s not until you start to shake and whine earnestly that he switches over and lavishes its twin with the same attention, kneading the other in his broad hand. 

Your fingers tread through dark hair, urging him down with more force than needed to further incite him downwards. Even as he maneuvers you easily, your fingers fist in the back of his collar, tugging upwards before he catches on and lets you drag the shirt off him. 

When he finally relents, it almost takes you by surprise. Large hands get a hold of your hips, hauling you down until you hang off the edge of the couch, before letting them settle on the back of your knees. The soft pressure of his forearms urges them up, like you’re nothing but a doll in his hand, tilting your pelvis up while he simultaneously sinks down his knees. Hearing his breathing deep at the visual of your spread legs, center slick and heated, is almost as gratifying as the swipe of his thumb against your clit that follows. Eyes locked with yours, he tastes the wetness as your mouth falls open as a new wave of want rushes through you, hips arching up to entice him into hurrying up. 

As if on demand, a large hand circles around a thigh, butterflying out against the softness of your belly, a throaty hum leaving Morpheus. 

It’s a visual for you too – seeing him on his knees, framed by soft thighs, eyes gleaming as he finally leans down–

Slowly, a silken, dexterous heat envelopes your clit. 

The sound that leaves you is desperate; long and pitched low in your throat, the joints in your fingers almost locking with how you tense up. It nearly hurts with how good it feels – and you let it be known, vocal cords not able to keep in the loud moans. Thighs clamp shut around him, starting to squirm with a needy gasp as his tongue flutters over your clit in broad, slow strokes. His grip tightens around your thighs, giving a hard squeeze, the soft pressure on your belly increasing. 

It’s almost impossible to not tilt your hips up and meet the unhurried laps of his tongue, and it’s almost harder to remain unmoving when you notice the prickly friction of stubble across your innermost thighs. Not a wholly unpleasant sensation but rather… tickling. The soft laugh that makes it past your lips as you squirm yet again is rewarded with a hard stare and an even harder hold circling your thighs, keeping them open as he pushes you further into the couch. A silent order to keep still. 

You bite your lip as he uses his teeth softly against your thigh, fingers flexing in the upholstery below you. Morpheus has given you all the incentive to obey. 

Not until you're well and properly still does he move again. 

He’s warm, not at all like in your dreams, and he’s velveteen against you; tongue rolling in repeated soft circles against that bundle of nerves, swollen with need. 

You think that there’s an easy way around this all – Morpheus doesn’t need to do… any of this. Not only the reassurement he had so willingly provided after you’d shown the slightest of doubt, but also–  

You’d been slick and ready from the moment you woke up. Really, the dream he had pulled you out of had been more than enough to ensure that. This was as needless as an AC on the North Pole. Maybe, it’s simply because you asked. 

Yet, as you peer down at him again at a particularly long stroke of his tongue, you meet his eyes yet again. The striking eyes are already watching you; taking it in, watching you come apart underneath him. A new rush of arousal surges through you, wetter at the mere thought that he’s enjoying this, that this is for him as much as it’s for you – following your whims, making your fantasies come alive– 

Morpheus’ motivations are a mystery to you – and impossible to focus on, too busy letting the high tide of pleasure swallow you whole. His tongue circles around your center without pushing past the ridge into you, so close in giving you something to tighten around. 

“Please,” you gasp, hands twitching with need to hold onto something, to ground yourself with, to fill you up with, “I– I need–”

Two fingers sink into you. 

Instinctively, one hand tangles in his disorderly dark hair, anchoring him closer, harder into you, the other grabbing his hand splayed out across your belly still. 

Morpheus’ smug hum vibrates through you, nose brushing against your clit as you start to stutter. 

Soft and easy, meeting plump resistance and your own tightening walls, soft and wet heat, a slick sound as he starts moving the digits. Lazy, languid movements that give you delicious stretch, friction. A steady rhythm that’s just what you need – flashes of electricity moving up your spine with every slow pump of his fingers. 

Then, they curl into a coaxing motion, and the pressure is almost punishing, coupled with his lips locking around your clit again, sucking as he repeatedly taps against that soft place inside of you. 

It’s devastating. 

“I’m– I’m gonna– oh–” you breathe out, managing to unravel your voice from where it’s stuck in your throat, everything seizing up into one big wave, grip on his hair turning steely. He doubles down – giving you just what you need, latching onto anything you’ll give him.

Hot white lightning floods your veins – and the pent up weeklong backlog of being denied bursts through, wringing itself out, tightening up like a vice. Stars sparkle behind your eyes, a broken moan leaving your lips as you twist on the fingers working the orgasm through your entire system, legs trembling. All of your synapses are on fire, feeling every precise flick over the oversensitized nub wreak havoc on your nerve endings, every crook of his fingers prompting an influx of heat. 

The force of it nearly makes you fall off the couch. 

Luckily, his hands are there, holding you down, securing you against the furniture so you have no wiggle room, unable to do anything but take the shockwaves that flood your system, no choice but to just take the fingers working the orgasm through you. 

When your muscles finally relax and you go limp in his hold, you fill your lungs with oxygen, chest rising and falling. Panting into the air, feeling the aftershocks sending flickers of electricity through muscles contracting. The scent of sex hangs heavy in the air, the faint soapy smell of your showergel, as well as something wholly different from yourself. The hand on your belly moves, and you notice that you’re still clutching at Morpheus’ hair. You let the cramp like hold relent, and he unlatches himself from between your still shaking thighs. 

A line of gossamer slick still connects his mouth to your core. Thoughtlessly, you dart your hand out and collect the wetness with your fingers. All motor skills leave you in his hands – your body acting on its own accord rather than how you want it to. 

Heady eyes move between the slippery fingers and your own gaze, peering up at you through thick, dark lashes. With the barest of motion, he takes the digits into his mouth. 

Eyes wide, pupils blown, you watch the peek of pink tongue run over your fingers, heat coiling together tightly in the pit of your abdomen. His lips are warm, soft against the pads of your fingers, as he pulls back, drinking in the look plastered on your face. 

“You are just as demanding here as you are in your dreams,” he says, sounding too amused for your liking. A secret joke you’re not wholly in on. 

You watch him rise up between your thighs, eyes immediately lowering– 

Now, you notice that he’s as naked as you are as he stands between your spread legs. And he wasn’t done with you yet. 

You gasp when he pulls you up with him. He grabs just below your knees as he stands, adjusting you until your knees bend inwards towards your head.

A thin, barely there, trail of hair on his chest and stomach catches your eyes, almost translucent and unnoticeable if you weren’t looking for it. You run your hand over it, fingers skim along his adonis belt, following the natural curve of the bone and down. “Imagine if I was more demanding,” you say, a bit breathlessly, watching alabaster skin twitch under your touch, the flesh that’s stretched over bones and lean muscle, pressing your fingers to his heart to really see if there’s something there, “what then.” 

In return, Morpheus grabs your wandering hand, pressing his lips to the back of your fingers hastily. The both dark and bright glimmering eyes catch your own. The cosmos must be in them, you think, as they sparkle with something much more indelible than you could ever hope to be. 

What you’re thinking of, the realization that hit you, must show on your face, because the faintest of smiles graces his lips as he traps the wandering hand to your side, stopping any further investigation of him. 

“More,” he finally answers, as something blunt and slick presses between the apex of your thighs, the glide made easy by your own wetness, when it catches on the ridge and– 

“I’d give you more.” 

With one surefire thrust, he’s filled you to the hilt – the baritone groan leaving him reverberating through the room. 

Your mouth agape as your vocal cords work, but no sound comes. 

Quickly, you snag your fingers around his wrist, around one bicep, and his own fingers dig into soft, pillowy flesh. He pulls back and thrusts down, the stretch of him instantly making your legs quiver, supporting himself on the edge of the couch, easily maneuvering a leg over his shoulder. 

Staggered at first, the pace he sets has your eyes rolling with every inch pushed into your waiting cunt. A groan rattles through his narrow chest, cock seated inside of you, grinding his pelvis against your own. You moan, hips arching up, plainly asking for more. And he grants it; the leg over his shoulder that he’s keeping there almost cramps up from the pleasure, and you feel a hot breath let out against the soft skin behind your knee, his lips pressed against the skin he’s able to reach. 

He fucks you through the couch. 

At least, that's what it feels like. 

It’s a pounding – the couch springs underneath you doing little to absorb the shock as you take his cock, barely offering any plush comfort. He fills you completely, reaching deep and hitting something completely shattering within you. Broad hands grip your thighs, keeping you flush and filled completely with him. Every snap of his hip brushes against your clit, adding little bursts of stars behind your eyelids. 

When you start calling out his name, begging for more, he murmurs against your skin, back bending to kiss the salty sheen off your brows and collarbones. 

And suddenly, you’re caged under him. 

Slender fingers settle into the plump of your rear, and instinctively your ankles lock over narrow hips. Letting gravity do the work as he thrusts down, Morpheus drives the pace even further, making your wail and digging your nails into his back, shoulders, anything you can reach, tugging on the hair at the nape of his neck. 

When his mouth covers yours it’s mostly to keep you quiet, you’re sure. 

It’s comforting – the heat of him above you, covering you like how blankets of snow cover the streets in the middle of winter. Finding comfort in being wanted and needed, coveted, in the way that you feel you need him, cling to him, head thrown back as his strokes hit deeper and deeper, whispers of encouragement leaving his lips all the while. 

What was tentative and searching at first turns into a fervor; more, you think, more. 

Even as he surrounds you utterly, completely. In every breath, you smell him, taste him, feel him as he rocks into you. Lips eagerly opening for each other without any hesitation, a hot need, a want, rising in your chest. Every ounce of closeness that he offers, you take and swallow whole. Nails dig into his shoulders, as his own fingers do the same to your hips, grip on the cusp of bruising. 

You feel bent in half – his forehead against yours, a salt sweat covering your body. You start to moan in earnest; you feel yourself clutching around him, the first warning pulses of an orgasm rippling through from your toes to the veins in your throat seizing up. All the air rushes through your lungs – up and out, twisting into a shout. 

Every movement is precise, every caress and kiss and bite he rewards across your skin serving a purpose. It’s perfect; it has you keening, writhing like molten metal has filled your veins. The air is filled with your quick, rapid breathing. His own low, dark grunts and praises against the shell of your ear are private, reserved only for you. Your toes curl as if there’s hot sand below them, like you’re racing across the hot dunes of a desert, like you’re falling into quicksand and sinking down into the hot center of the earth. The way he takes you is rigorous; leaving nothing behind to have you wanting. It’s deliberate, knowing, of both you and your wants, and you think that anyone else would pale in comparison to him. 

No one would – could – ever compare.  

The second orgasm unfurls, wicked and hard, crashing through you. It burns a hole in the pit of your stomach, clutching at Morpheus, back arching to keep him close–

It doesn’t stop, he doesn’t stop, not relenting an inch as he pushes you over the edge you’ve been begging for, imagining for weeks on end. Every thrust tightens your cunt until everything inside you is fierce and tense, chest heaving with almost seismic force, wet and hot bliss. 

It’s devastating, utterly destructive – complete pleasure that soars through you.

Head dropping to your shoulder, Morpheus drags himself over that same brink as soon as you’re done toppling over, hips stuttering against your own until his pelvis presses against yours and stays there, grinding deep with a throaty groan. 

Gradually, things start to return to you; Morpheus' forehead pressed to your sternum, the tranquility around you, watching dust particles dance in the soft light coming from outside your window. The breath he takes as he holds you still is deep, slowly pulling himself out of you. Immediately, gravity makes itself known by the sticky wet that runs down your innermost thighs. You shudder at it, the unpleasant feeling of cum slowly leaking out of you. 

It doesn’t matter though – no, you couldn’t do anything about it if you wanted to. 

You’re boneless. Joints all locked up, stiff from the position, panting breath rising towards the ceiling. A dull throb still persists between your legs, aftershocks of the way your muscles have been working, the comedown starting to kick in. 

The couch is worn down, sunken in after years of diligent use. 

But at the moment, it’s the most comfortable thing you've ever felt.

And you sink down into it, let yourself be taken into Morpheus arms as he leans down into the couch.

You groan into the air, hand thrown over your eyes. 

“Sated.” Morpheus’ voice is soothing, but the statement is plain. As if you’re some fairytale beast he’s just offered a sacrificial lamb to, and was now awaiting a boon. Pleasure lingers, as does the weight of him, the feel of him inside you. His voice is smooth, lulling, a promise of the sleep that would come, eventually – as inevitable as dreams themselves. 

Fleetingly, you wonder if he’d still meet you there, in that inbetween place, where all your previous encounters had taken place. 

“Are you serious? Who– where else could I get fucked like this? I’m ruined.” You moan, like you’re a maiden who's just been sneaked out of her virginal purity by showing too much ankle. 

The thought, that certain consequence, hasn’t seemed to dawn on the King of Dreams, Lord Dream or whatever it was. Or at least, that’s what his silence tells you. When no reply comes after another moment, you part the fingers across your eyes, just in time to see him move. 

And then, he’s rolling you over, hovering above you as you lay beneath him, heart suddenly stuck in your throat – staring down into your eyes intently. 

“Maybe,” Morpheus closes in on you again, leaning over you, lips barely skimming yours as he follows up that particular thought, “this shouldn't be the last time then?”

---

i read a total of three (3) morpheus/reader fics before i started writing this. happy sandman renewal and what not!! 

is the ending a set up for a sequel? well,,, 

let me know what worked and what didn’t! <3

EDIT: this ended up getting a sequel! read halcyon here

[hwaseonghwasworld]

Best friends brother chapter 10 LAST PART: I Always Come Prepared

Summary: Yunho doesn’t want his baby sister (Y/n) dating any of his friends especially Mingi since they are like brothers to him and it’s an issue when all Y/n’s friends are dating Yunho’s friends but he wouldn’t let Y/n talk to any guys since he’s so overprotective, it’s such a shame that she’s been with Mingi for almost 2 years and no one knows. What will happen if Yunho finds out?

Song Mingi x Reader

Warnings: cursing, smut, fights

Word count: 1k

Genre: series, angst, comedy, fluff, hidden relationship, High school au

Updates: probably Friday at 10pm BST

“Mingi we should go to Kang Daniel’s fan sign” Mingi sigh eyed me saying “why do you like him so much?” I hit his arm a little “what do you mean his voice is so angelic and his dancing” I was blushing just saying those and he rolled his eyes.

“Can we go pleaseeeeee” “fine” “why do you want me to come anyway” I looked at him and told him “for comfort” “and you know I don’t like going places alone” he nodded then I jump onto him kissing his cheeks.

A couple year later me and Mingi live together in an apartment in Seoul but Mingi is a Kpop idol with his friends while I go to Yonsei University, and I study interior design. Mingi proposed to you recently since you two have been together for 7 years.

You were about to go to uni and since Mingi has to be up early as well so you both ended up waking up at the same time, as soon as you both get ready you kiss Mingi goodbye after dropping him off to the company’s and driving to my university, I made new friends in uni since my friends are also kpop idols so they don’t go here.

“Y/n that dress that you made in class is so beautiful” I smile and thanked her, we went into class and I got a text from Mingi, I smile and texted him back.

“You’re having a wedding?” “Yeah me and Min- my boyfriend have been together for 7 years” “and you didn’t invite us?” I never told them that I was dating a kpop idol since I felt like there was no need, my graduation is soon anyway and my wedding is a month after, but since I’ve known my friends for 4 years I guess it’s best to just let them come “of course you guys are invited, we haven’t really sorted out the guest arrangements yet anyway” “ok so like when is it” I told them where and when it is, and said how they wouldn’t bring anyone I don’t know but they can bring a date, since I didn’t want people to know that I’m married to an idol yet since the groups dating ban hasn’t ended yet even though almost all the members are in a relationship.

“So why doesn’t he go here” I looked at them trying to find something to say “he works” “ohh ok” “oh yeah Y/n did you see ATEEZ’s new comeback.” “No I don’t really listen to them” she showed ma a picture of the 8 boys and I kept my eyes on Mingi “so whose your bias?” “Wait she looks like a Yunho bias” “yeah they look the same too” I looked at them shocked and disgusted, I did not want them to say that even if they don’t know about me and Yunho being siblings, “my bias is Mingi actually”

“Really?, my bias is Hongjoong” I looked at them and nodded as they were fangirling over each member “I really wish I could marry Mingi, he’s literally husband material” I nodded agreeing with them since it’s true, Mingi is husband material.

After school I decided to go grocery shopping, while I was searching for stuff someone back hugged me and I turn around seeing the man with a mask and a hat covering his eyes, I knew it was Mingi and I hugged him putting my head on his chest smelling his scent. “What are you going here, what if someone sees you” he smiled giving me a hat and mask so it seems less suspicious “I always come prepared princess” I smile as he helped me hold the basket.

When we were about to pay and Mingi could see that the woman could recognize him, he put his head down so she couldn’t see his eyes. We walked out and went into the car, “I think the lady saw me” I looked at him shocked “wait really” “Yh but I don’t think she realized who I am I nodded hoping he doesn’t get a scandal.

Once we walked into our apartment and ATEEZ and (G)-idle were here I was shocked to see them since I thought they were busy, I hugged them, they had another member called soojin and she was so nice she hugged me and smiled at me wanting to know about the wedding, “so how when’s the wedding?” I looked and Mingi and smiled then back at soojin, “it’s in 3 months”

A couple months later it was the wedding ceremony, i was taking pictures and as my friends from my uni saw me with Mingi walking up to me and kissing me, getting ready to take pictures with him. “Wait … Mingi IS YOUR HUSBAND!” I looked at them in shock as my brother answered them still lowkey not wanting us to be together “yup” “I don’t even know why my sister chose my best friend, but it is what it is” the girls were just flabbergasted, they didn’t know how to react. “Ok so let me get this straight, you’re getting married to a kpop idol, your brother is a kpop idol, and your friend are kpop idols too” “yes” I answered as they stood there in utter shock “THATS SO COOL” I laughed a little as we took pictures to and they go to the main venue.

While I was walking down the isle so me and Mingi could finally get married my friends looked at me excited as they were quietly rooting me on, I turned to look at Mingi and he kept looking at me the whole time, as soon as we finally got to kiss people cheered us on as Mingi pulled me closer and wrapping his arms around my waist while I cupped his cheeks as we pulled into a soft passionate kiss.

💖

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

Taglist: @scarfac3 @huachengsbestie01 @tunaasan

Side note: I apologize if this seemed rushed I’ve been pretty busy with my exams which is the reason why the time is so messy and also because of the writers block but i will try and have better timing with the next ff and try and make it longer

Thank you for reading this ff💖

[alice-after-dark]

Something That Has Been Bouncing Around in My Brain

This is one of those little things that has just lived rent free in my brain ever since I saw episode 2. So from what I have seen, people generally think that Vox is a terrible toxic boss who abuses his employees. While I'm not gonna say that this is not true, the one interaction we see between him and his staff (his assistant) was very telling to me.

TW for discission of abusive work relationships, physical/mental/emotional abuse, and other canon-typical triggers.

Look at what we have seen from the Vees as bosses so far.

Valentino is highly abusive in every capacity and cruel to his employees. His employees fear him and his wrath. They are reluctant to disagree or argue with him. They don't talk back. We see this specifically with Angel Dust and Travis. Angel Dust is pretty self-explanatory, but with Travis, when Valentino says that no one cares about the script and for Angel to just improv the scene, he looks directly at Travis who looks scared shitless as he hurriedly agrees with Valentino.

Velvette is a very strict boss with high expectations and an even higher approval bar. She flat out fires someone for not meeting her standards. She is very much the boss from Devil Wears Prada. She is verbally abusive to her employees and accepts only the best of the best. I definitely think she is a better boss than Valentino, but she's also not sunshine and rainbows. She does have the benefit in her corner that she at minimum recognizes that physical abuse is counter-intuitive to her bottom line and calls Vox in for backup when Valentino is going on a rampage and harming her employees. Her employees might not be emotionally or mentally safe from her, but at minimum they are physically safe.

And Vox? Well, here's where things get interesting in my opinion. Because the only interaction we see between Vox and an employee is that employee questioning him. His assistant walks right up to him and essentially says "I have no idea what is going on" and Vox doesn't get pissed or verbally berate him or anything. He answers his question and then immediately launches into a plan and distributes marching orders. And it can't even be argued that he is controlling his temper for the media crowd because they're all so hypnotized at that moment that he is openly talking about how this is a last second bullshit plan for profit right in front of them. The point I'm trying to make is that Vox's assistant literally has no fear of questioning his boss, something that would be 100% out of the question with Valentino and Velvette. His assistant had no idea if this was a new idea or if he had just somehow let something fall through the cracks, but he felt safe enough to ask that question. Like think about it. For all the assistant knew, he could have completely dropped the ball on something that was supposed to be long in production and he still felt safe enough to bring it to Vox's attention that he didn't know what Vox was talking about. That says a lot. And in turn, Vox has zero interest in hiding that this is a last second scheme. He straight up tells his assistant as much. This tells us that, at minimum, Vox has favorites who get more privileges than others in how they can interact with him as we only see him interact with a single employee as opposed to Valentino and Velvette who interact with multiple employees.

Now, I'm not the type of analyzer to ignore the elephant in the room for the sake of my bias because frankly where is the fun in that? Something that does lend itself to the Vox being just as toxic a boss as the others is the fact that he does offer up the lowest earners to Valentino to shoot. That is definitely a shitty move. The one fact that I will point out here is that this isn't done just for shits and giggles or over a tantrum (like Valentino tearing apart Velvette's model). Vox does this in order to satiate Valentino's bloodlust and keep him from being in a bad mood, causing more collateral damage to the company (again, Velvette's model) and their image, and going after the hotel. It's a calculated move to appease Valentino. And Vox specifically goes for the people who would be the least loss to the company while they regenerate. It's still shitty to offer up your employees to get shot up like a demented carnival game, but I think it's fair to say he wouldn't have done that if Valentino wasn't being a big baby about the whole Angel Dust situation. It's not even his first go to. He plays every card to talk Valentino down first before resorting to the sacrifice of his employees when Valentino insists on being petulant about the whole thing. And what do we see? Valentino's mood abruptly goes from petulant to pleased. He is officially sated and appeased, which was Vox's goal from the beginning.

So what do I think this ultimately says about Vox as a boss? I think that he has high standards/expectations and definitely plays favorites and will absolutely throw you under the bus if it comes down to the protection of his company and image, but on average he's not a terrible boss. I think as long as you do your job, do it well, and make him money, he is perfectly fine to work with.

[achaotichuman]

I will say this once, and only once because I am hardly losing sleep over Elain in the slightest.

Throwing around the idea that everyone who disagrees with the theory Elain would make a good High lady is not a direct output of internalized misogyny. In fact, not caring about Elain at all, is not an output of misogyny either.

The idea that people only dislike her, or otherwise do not pay her as much notice as other characters is because of misogyny, is completely false at best, and a half-assed attempt at morally upping people at worst.

I am sorry, but on my desk alone I can count 12 books with female main characters who are incredibly feminine and do not end up a warrior with a sword in their hands. So, to accuse me of disliking or discrediting Elain because I have internalized misogyny, is an insult, no matter how you try to spin it.

Quite frankly, I do not like being accused of being a misogynist over a fictional character, so let me go over this once and only once.

Elain is not a main character as of yet. She is a side character and so is Lucien at the moment. Sure, it's pretty damn obvious both are being set up to have their own book, but for now other than the bonus chapter we see very, very little of Elain. And when we do, she makes no major impact to the reader other than to people who ship Elucien. I highlight the word reader, because obviously with the whole stabbing of Hybern she made a pretty big impact to the story itself.

Which I will remind she would have never been able to do if she had died in the Hybern Camps, which she got herself into and had to be rescued to get out, but I digress.

Lucien has more impact in the story than Elain, Nesta had more impact throughout the entire series than Elain. When we go back to the human lands in Acowar, we see more of Nesta. We are talking Nesta.

So, already, Elain is not the biggest character in the series, in fact she tends to cause more discord and harm than good. Whether she is aware of it or not.

In the first book this is because she is another mouth that Feyre has to feed. And appears as completely unaware of the hard work Feyre is putting in to hunt. Which already starts the reader off as underestimating her. Whether or not she was doing more behind the scenes is ignored by Feyre and the bias she has, therefore this is the only impression we get of Elain.

This was retconned later, but I am not going to ignore it since we are talking about impressions here and not about the legitimacy of the statement "Elain can't grasp things". This is what Feyre says first up in the book, which is where the reader is being given their first impressions and laying out their first thoughts of the characters.

Later on, Elain is still a very minor character. Nesta was the one who went to the wall to try and retrieve Feyre, not Elain.

In the next books, Elain does not want to be in the Faery lands, with good reason. She is very much to the side trying to handle her own trauma, the only time we see her come out of her shell a little bit is when she is Seering. Which the IC doesn't even use her for in Silver Flames, they get Nesta to do it. Nesta talks to the Cauldron, not Elain. Nesta scrys not Elain. Elain only scrys once if my memory does me justice, and it is hidden from the rest of the characters other than Feyre.

Like it not, (I know I don't like it, but I recognize it) The Night Court is the Court of interest within the Acotar series and Elain appearing as not a part of it, or as different from it, is reason for the reader to not pay her interest because they are focusing on what is happening in the Night Court. Its Elain being put to the side again, because at this point, she is a side character.

She was the one who was lured into the camps of Hybern by the Cauldron, which created a frustrating problem for the IC and Feyre, who are the MCs at this point.

She is probably going to be the next MC in the series, but up until now, unless you do ship Elucien or otherwise care about what happens to Lucien. There is not a massive need to care about Elain, leading to people either not caring about her, or not liking her.

Of course this isn't a reason to be anti of her, I'm pro Tamlin and he is somehow the most hated character in the series. But like being Pro Tamlin doesn't mean you're an abuse apologist, not really caring about Elain is not being a misogynist.

Why do I not care about Elain? Because simply put, she's a side character who I've never seen be very driven for anything in a way that wholly affected the plot, and no matter what your headcanons for her are, they are your headcanons, not mine. She is never focused on, and not in a 'we don't care about her because she's feminine' way, in a 'she simply has no relevancy yet' way.

And no, I don't care about her potential, because she isn't my favorite character. That's okay. I don't need her to be my favorite character to not be a misogynist. And no, I don't need to acknowledge her potential to not be a misogynist either.

To try and accuse people of being misogynistic to support your claim of Elain being a High Lady is a blunt sword at best. And it all comes down to one argument, why do you not like Elain?

Because as of right now, she has no drive, because she has no reason to have any drive, because at the moment she is a side character. I simply cannot stress that enough.

It does not matter, if she is one day going to be a main character, she is currently a side character who drives no plot and has no call to action.

Of course, the A Court of Thorns and Roses series is a fantasy romance, and Elain's story will be for the most part non-violent. Which I enjoy a lot more than warrior stories.

I do not read fantasy most of the time. I have read like four-five fantasy series in my life. I mostly read historical fiction, regency fiction, mysteries and retellings of fairytale tropes. Elucien's book will be filled with high society and navigating the political world rather than the battlefield. I will probably enjoy it more than Nesta or Feyre's journey.

That does not mean I need to care about her or think her to be a good ruler. Because I am more than happy to read a story of Lucien and Elain travelling the world in a way that Nesta and Feyre always wanted to and never did. In fact, I think it would be a better fit for both of them to find a life outside of Prythian, and outside of the box they were both shoved into. Because regardless of how you see it, Elain and Lucien were both forced into the places they are now.

But sure, I'm the misogynist for not wanting another journey to becoming a ruler despite being in your early twenties and never being prepared for it, story.

I am not trying to pick a fight with Eluciens. But I am trying to get the point across at how it is a fairly half-assed accusation to throw at someone over a fictional character.

Do I think that everyone has some level of internalized misogyny because of the society we live in? Absolutely. But to act as though it is pure misogyny coming out when we discuss Elain is just plain insult throwing. And I put it in the same box as people who say people who support Lucien and Tamlin are abuse apologists. Because it's an assumption you are making about a person's morals and thinking with no real basis.

No matter if you ship, Elain and Lucien or Elain and Azriel, or Elain and Gwyn or Elain and Eris, or whoever else in the acotar world. I believe trying to question another personal's morals over a fictional relationship, or character in general, is rude, inconsiderate and invasive.

I will repeat, I am not trying to pick a fight, I am terrified of fighting. But that doesn't mean I won't defend myself. Overall, this was not meant at all to question whether or not Elain will be High lady, and if I see discussion about that, I will assume you did not read my full argument and will be ignoring you.

So, to recap. Elain is a side character, and her not being your favorite character does not make you a misogynist. People not acknowledging, disliking, or otherwise 'sleeping on' Elain, does not make them a misogynist. That is a crazy accusation. We are already in a highly toxic fandom that throws around labels and sticks them to people who disagree with them over characters. Let's not add to that.

I think if you can't make a critical analysis without sticking a label to someone than you haven't made an analysis.

Let's be honest, all the 'arguing' is supposed to be a debate, not a real argument. Unless the person you are arguing with is being deliberately disrespectful, then there is no reason to insult someone's person. Debates can get heated while still being respectful.

Calling someone an abuse apologist, telling someone they have internalized misogyny when you've never met them in person, or otherwise trying to degrade someone else's argument by insulting them, is childish. I am not going to allow any arguments against this whatsoever, because this shouldn't be up for debate.

Hating on a character because they are feminine is misogynistic. Obviously. But not caring for a character because they are a side character or have caused more problems than done good is simply not liking a character.

And let's be honest for a second, some people just don't like characters because they just simply aren't interested, and that is okay. You are not morally right, and they are not morally wrong.

This was a very long-winded rant, all to say, stop insulting people who have done nothing other than no agreed with a statement you made about a character. It's just not a nice thing to do at all.

And no, this was not a list of reasons of why you shouldn't care about Elain, this is MY reasoning for not caring about Elain in the present time.

You can argue that Elain did make some impression on the reader in x scene in x book at x time. But it didn't an impression on me, which led me to not caring about her. It's fruitless to argue that point with me unless we are engaging in a debate about Elain as a character.

And this was not meant to be a comment on Elain as a character, nor on what I think her story will be. This is a direct comment on the idea of people being misogynistic for not liking Elain. It's an insane comment to make.

I will repeat for the hundredth time, some people don't care for Elain because she is a side character. Some people don't like her because of the kind of impact she made on them. And some people just don't like her vibes. All of which are not rooted in misogyny. Her story has not been told, at all, we don't need to care about her yet.

Okay bye.

[baeddel]

obviously, i'm trying to get my head around things as someone who doesn't ultimately know that much about about Palestine. i went to look at Al-Manar (Hezbollah's news outlet) and they have this article (click) saying that while in the past 'the resistance groups' of Palestine (they don't name Hamas or anyone else) have been forced to be on defense, they have been moving towards a new strategy, an offensive strategy. Al-Jazeera had an analyst on saying something similar, that this was a 'new resistance approach' (click, scroll down a bit), seeing it as a way of sending a message to other Arab states that have settled into normalized relationships with Israel that they can't have it both ways.

obviously Al-Jazeera and Al-Manar both have a specific point of view on Palestine, but i wondered how much it was true that Hamas were building towards a new kind of strategy that the rocket attack (by the way, what Iron Dome?) was an expression of, and what reasons would underlie that change. one condition is obviously the availability of rockets, something Hamas didn't always have (if this wiki article is correct, click, the last suicide bombing on Israel was 7 years ago and there were only two in the 2010s; i feel that this is a big change, not just strategically; doesn't it allow for a big change in the kind of relationship you can have between an organization and the people it wants to represent when it no longer needs to convince young people to kill themselves to carry out operations? access to rockets must come with access to new civic modes as well).

i remembered an article by Haaretz (a left/liberal Israeli newspaper; unfortunately i can't find the specific article again—i posted it on this blog but tumblr's search is awful) from years ago about the war between Israel and Hezbollah in 2006, where they said that the IDF were blindsided by Hezbollah because the IDF had transformed itself into a counter-insurgency force to deal with Palestine and were unable to cope with Hezbollah's conventional military, taking the view that it may be impossible to have an army that can effectively cope with both insurgent 'small wars' and conventional militaries. since then we've seen the US transition from being COIN-oriented to 'Great Power Conflict' oriented, at least according to a lot of media (see WSJ, click). i was reminded of it because of the theme of the shifting approaches to war in the region.

i went to look Haaretz today to see what their view was; they seem to mostly focus on the Israeli dead and the threat Hamas pose to Israel. i am not sure what their real position is; on the one hand they're ultimately an Israeli paper so that bias isn't unsurprising, but i appreciate that they also probably can't publish treason during a war, so you can suspect timidity. one article has the headline "Israel Must Smash Hamas" (click). but the very next word is "But..."—as if to say, 'of course we support the war, we only wish it was a just one.' their rhetorical strategy is to start off talking about the cost to Israeli lives, especially civilians, but then to redirect the discussion towards Israel's internal politics, to say that this wouldn't have happened if the Israeli government hadn't mismanaged its handling of Palestine, that the government is full of corruption and that they can't effectively respond to the threat that Palestine poses. i realized that the article on the Israel-Hezbollah war was actually saying the same thing; it blames the situation on the transformation of the IDF and so forth. in this article they first blame it on the government's creation of the division between Gaza and the West Bank, their unwillingness to recognize any Palestinian authority, and their unwillingless to work towards a peace process that might have "required territorial compromise in the West Bank."

but then they blame it on Netanyahu's corruption, saying that he appointed incapable people to the positions of Minister of National Security and Minister of National Defence because they were his personal allies, and that their reforms have "severely weakened the IDF." in contrast to the Arab outlets Haaretz' analysis effaces Palestinian agency, which is actually a familiar motif to me as a radical in the West who supports the Palestinian resistance. everyone talks about Israeli settlerism, Israeli rockets, Israel's sanctions and so forth, and are happy to attribute full causal powers to these things. this is because it's necessary to convince people (and renew their conviction that) Israel is the enemy, but i think there's also a certain timidity about acknowledging Palestinian agency for various reasons (you don't agree with Hamas about anything except that Palestine should be free, you don't want to support the killing of civilians, and you don't know what relationship ordinary Palestinians have with Hamas). but Haaretz take a view that i have never seen before and which is probably very uncommon outside of Israel, which is that the IDF are actually weak and mismanaged and that's the problem, and that the situation could be better if they had a left-wing government with competent leadership committed to peaceful negotiations, and that political changes in Israel are the step forward.