#but this book requires so much focus and brain power from me that i have to put on my study music. which is the disco elysium soundtrack lo

[imadetheline]

truly no other way I can think to describe reading House of Leaves except to say it is like reading the most intriguing academic paper for 700 pages (this is a compliment)

[kenbak69]

Headcanon concept: Do transformers dream of Electric sheep?

With the book Philip K. Dick in mind,” Do androids Dream of Eletric Sheep”, I came with the following question: Are transformers capable of dreaming like humans do?

Now, this is quite interesting concept to question yourself with. For those who know about transformers, knows that they’re more than mindless machines. They are capable of felling emotions, feel pain, make their own decisions and even forming relationships! So Surely they have a subconscious! However, how much similar their minds are from a human’s one???

To transformers be capable of dreaming, they need to require some necessary brain activities when sleeping in order to dream.

And here’s come my headcanon: Transformers aren’t capable of dreaming. At least- not entirely.

Let me explain…

When humans dream, they enter into REM sleep (Rapid Eye Movement), which is characterized with the activities of the cerebral cortex, the primarily generator of the dream, and influenced by signals from the limbic system, which governs emotions and memories.

There’s also other brain activities that makes us dream, such as the amygdala (linked to emotion) and hippocampus (linked to memory) are particularly active during dreaming, which explains the emotional and memory-like content of dreams, and the prefrontal cortex, responsible for logic and self-awareness, is less active during REM sleep, leading to the surreal and illogical nature of dreams-

Anyway! The point is: even when we are sleeping, our brains are still active 24 hours a day, but how about transformers? Are their processors working 24 hours like ours??? Yes and no.

The transformers mind is different from a human is mind once in the state of rest. Though they still keep working even after they go to “sleep”,

Transformers aren’t capable of dreaming like humans do since they do not possess all the sleep REM components in order to dream, instead they recharge.

Now- what’s the difference between sleeping and recharge??? Basically, Recharge would be the transformers equivalent of a Non-REM sleep, where not all processor functions are working at the moment, therefore, transformers can’t dream like humans do since their equivalent of a brain is not capable to function the necessary activities in order to be capable dreaming. So, most of the time, transformers are into deep sleep condition, which results a state without vivid imagery dream and focus more into gaining enough “power” in order to start the next day.

However! Tough they cannot dream, they are capable of “memory replaying”, which means every time they go into recharge,

Instead of going into pit blackness, they can play a memory record! Being it a happy memory, like a talk with friends or a match of Cube.

Unfortunately to the recharging transformers, they do not have a decision of which memory their processor would play and, depending of their emotions or state of mind once they go into recharge, it can affect the type of memory record that’s going to be shown once they off-line their optics. So, if they had gone trough something very much traumatic, there’s a high possibility that they will replay that memory over and over again for a while…

Anyway! That’s my headcanon of transformers and dreams! Hope you all liked it!

[zai-doodles]

Hi, I really love your art and you are just so talented and I really really try to be patient but please pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty. Please tell me the Lore with Levy and her pen. I can’t wait any longer. I’m just so curious and so excitedto know how you wrote her magic the Lore you have for her but if you don’t want to that’s OK anyway I hope you have a nice day. Bye ❤️ 

lol sorry for ignoring this i fr couldn't figure out how I wanted to word this and it requires some context for my world building which idk if anyone cares abt but whatever I'm gonna pop off

summary of the magic system is that there r 3 types of magic, innate, holder and patron, they r all v self explanitory

script magic is innate, it is also the overall category for any magic that deals with the actually written symbols of magic (curse and rune magic r both branches of script magic basically)

And for context in my rewrite I have it so fairies r the ones who gift humans with magic to begin with and eventually people started being born with like pointy ears and higher affinity for magic and thats how the pixie race was made

its a pretty common form of magic

ok onto levy specific

my idea for levy is that shes half pixie half hybrid (basically this world's version of furry there's lore for it but that's all u need to know for now)

ANYWAY

All this to say that levy is a very skilled wizard with a love for books and reading and by the time canon starts she's basically the best script mage around, mainly bc she experiments with offensive script magic where as before the magic type was usually reliant on someone else with a more offensive type

This is because script mages need to actually write out the runes and symbols with some kind of Wand, which takes a sec to set up and even then its hard to hurt someone with a word if they have time to move, this also differentiates it from curse magic, which is entirely oral and is overall less refined (most of the time but ill talk abt that if I talk abt freed lol)

Like it's much easier to use a curse than to do script bc script is containing a spell within the lettering rather than like, attacking the person's magic core kinda???

Idk how to explain it but it makes sense in my brain

So buffs and support r the most common for script mages but levy is my Mary sue and I love her

So basically because she's mastered so many languages she's basically invented her own form of magic language for her spells, not unheard of in this world since it's also like a form of short hand that can usually tell u who wrote those runes

However this is usually only based on one or two languages since mixing different styles of like, characters? Can take more time and cause the spell to take even longer to cast

I'm explaining this terribly and making it seem so complicated

But its literally just levy teaches herself her own little language to writer her spells in that's basically magical cursive so it prioritizes speed above all else, that means it's sometimes kind of destructive and not as precise but she's working on it

Eventually tho, when they find tenrou island and have a huge lore dump abt Mavis (who is a fairy), levy is able to get her hands on fae language and magic runes and begins incorporating them into her spells and it's the final things she was looking for to make her spells more stable

The pen was something her and droy collab on basically, due to how unstable script magic can be she needed something able to handle the full brunt of her magic to essentially be her arcane focus

The pen is made from a tree droy grew himself, slowly feeding it magic, somehow dont ask me idk, so it could eventually handle levys power

The idea was from an offahnded comment levy made in an attempt to show droy the potential of his magic since in my lil hc he feels like the least useful member of the 3 (which is dumb and he isnt) and levy hit him and was like no u dumbass magic plants r dope and rattles off weird theories on how it could be used in different ways

hope this was at all comprehensive!

[thewitchoftheweed]

Hello! It’s me again! Coming at you with more questions because I never seem to run out of them. Plus you’ve built an incredibly engaging and complex world from CoTL’s baser aspects that I can’t help but try and pick apart a little. Very inspiring.

I noticed that you have alluded to or at least built up your own magic system for Red Star. I’m a sucker for anything with a magic system so I wanted to pick your brain a little bit if that’s okay.

In “Sins of the Bishops” Kallamar and Narinder are trying to figure out how to use magic with the book they have but they don’t have much luck. However, later on they do learn how to do some spells and Narinder focuses on necromancy. So mortals can do magic but I think it was mentioned somewhere that divine magic is different and obviously more powerful.

So if mortals can do magic are there any limits to what they can do?

Obviously there are also those who specialize in certain magics as well. Are there any categorized types of magic users?

Can anyone accomplish magic or does it require some special circumstances?

Also what is the difference between magic bestowed to a god with a crown and magic that any mortal can use? Both seem pretty powerful in their own right.

How powerful could a mortal mage be before they hit some sort of roadblock?

Also is Nari ever going to get back into magic again or is he pretty content with the farming gig he’s got going?

Sorry for so many questions! I’ve been thinking about this for the last week and figured the greatest teacher is the creator! Thanks for taking the time to read all my nagging and I hope you have a wonderful day. :)

Hi again!!

I tend to play fast and loose with my magic systems, but I do have answers for these.

The idea that I had for magic in the Red Star AU is that mortals can use magic and, theoretically, anyone can learn it with the proper education. Kallamar and Narinder struggle a bit initially as children because they are teaching themselves from scratch; they eventually realize they need to master the fundamentals and understand magic's basics before they can jump into actual spellwork.

The only thing that really separates casters from non magic users is their ability to focus their own willpower. It's like a 'muscle' that must be exercised regularly; the more often you do it, the easier it is. Not everyone has the time/patience/access to resources to learn, but the Bishop family is nothing if not scrappy.

As an aside: the Definitely-Not-Latin I use for some spells/incantations is called Godspeech in-universe and is (allegedly) the language of the First Gods, with which they shaped the world. (I like A Wizard of Earthsea can you tell.)

There are different types of magic users. Kallamar initially specialized in defensive magic (shields, barriers, force fields) while Narinder specialized in necromancy (speaking with/binding the dead). There's also healing magic, enchantments like Neftis used that can warp perception/take control of others, and various types of offensive elemental magic.

The difference between mortal magic and divine magic is what they're able to accomplish. A good example is Narinder's necromancy; he was considered a talented mage in that respect, and was able to:

Briefly speak with the dead (3 questions)

Bind spirits to his weapons

Summon spirits to fight on his behalf

As a god, Narinder is able to:

Create a variety of undead 'guards' and 'servants' out of skeletons, zombies, and mummies

Dispel restless spirits

Open a fissure directly to the other side and bring forth even more, spirits of the damned to fight on his behalf

Speak with spirits for longer periods of time (a few minutes)

And, eventually, resurrect the dead

Divine magic is essentially the same as what mortals can use, but without 'restrictions.' Other barriers that mages run into don't exist for them; the world will bend to their will always.

Mortals are able to do extraordinary things with their own magic, but it is a fraction of the power gods are able to use. They can even tap into devotion without a Crown, but again, at a fraction of its power. Narinder is able to channel the burgeoning cult's devotion to help him fight Neftis; it gives him a bit more strength/agility and adds some umph behind his magic. But that's about it.

Where a mortal's power plateaus depends on the type of magic being done. A force field may keep off rain or deflect regular blades/arrows, but will be destroyed by a godly curse or attack. A healer might be able to mend a broken arm or heal a cut, but they're powerless to beat back illnesses or more catastrophic wounds.

Basically, consider some of the magical enemies we see in game vs the Lamb. Enemies can throw a fireball here or there, heal an ally or two- but the Lamb can rip open fissures in the ground, send out huge blasts of hellfire, etc. etc.

Narinder still has his magic, but is very much out of practice. He got a bit of 'exercise' while fighting Neftis, but he doesn't really have much use for his particular brand of magic in everyday life. He's pretty content with his farming gig, but will occasionally spar with Hamal and use magic to give them more of a challenge during practice/stay in practice himself.

I hope this provided some clarity/shed some light on things! Thanks again for the questions, they're always so fun to read and consider.

[mdhwrites]

Ruby Gillman Trailer

So... This trailer has theoretically been living in my brain for the past day and I want to talk about it. My first thought was just “This is cute. Looks neat. I’ll keep an eye out for it and maybe see it if I get the opportunity.” Theeeeeen someone made art of the mermaid and kraken kissing and I mean that’s just perfect. There’s even a lot of good potential for shipping there with the person who is defined by their powers and what they are and the person who doesn’t care about any of those things. The attraction from the mermaid to the kraken is immediate and obvious and filling in the gaps could be fun. Which actually brought me to stage two: This trailer is bad... but in a good way? It fails in just making an audience interested as it also defeats the purpose to watching it for people who mostly care about the big plot points rather than the journey. After all, we know her powers, see her first accidental transformation into full kraken mode, see the villain’s super mode reveal, get it confirmed that it ends with a kaiju fight, see how superfluous the love interest will be, etc. like that. When people talk about trailers showing the whole movie, this could actually be used as a textbook example of it... With one exception: How it does it also easily facilitates fandom interaction. The main designs are shown fairly clearly, with their variants being shown as well so artists don’t have to fill in the gaps left out by lack of references, the plot of the movie is clear so you can take educated guesses on what they’ll do so the movie won’t as easily contradict fanfiction made before it, etc. like that. Hell, you could just try to write a fanfic that’s effectively the movie with those guesses. It’d be like those cheap knock offs of hyped up movies like “Atlantic Rim” that you would find in old video rental places. I... I swear I’m 26 (one month away from my birthday to the day actually which is actually pure coincidence). So... Here’s the multiple levels of thought in full: This idea is neat. I like monster girls and monster girls trying to fit into human society is something I’ve enjoyed enough to write multiple times in multiple ways! The last book I released had a dryad in it even. Oh! Yeah, this antagonist and protagonist actually have great potential for a sapphic romance and we KNOW how much I love those. My first proper length novel, instead of novella, was based on a popular werewolf girl falling for a nerdy human girl after all. You do know so much though that you could try to take the same premise and flip it in time for the movie to come out. Books would have a way easier time with a deadline of ‘this Summer’ than making a movie yourself though. You’d have to be able to pump out a whole book’s worth of chapters in like a week, let alone if you don’t have practice with mermaids. Of course, I am well documented as having experience writing mermaids, and even more hostile ones at that. With all that said... There’s MORE than enough differences between Ruby Gillman and the story percolating in my head right now. There won’t be a race based rivalry, it’ll be focused on a romance rather than shoving it in there because apparently it needs one (that’s really how the trailer makes it feel for Gillman) and just the shift from the two being entirely against each other from go to actually working together and getting closer inherently requires a very different story. As well as the fact that a book can’t get away with the main character being blue and people just theoretically ignoring it (I’m curious what the explanation for that will be) and the fact that a kraken might be hated while a mermaid is loved in the world has already led to worldbuilding that will play into the romance, the climax, themes and character arcs. This also isn’t me trying to say “I’m gonna outdo Dreamworks!” It’s more my silly way of announcing a new project I’m going to try and focus on and try to get done in like two-three months. I know I can more than easily do it if I can get my mind to work with me so... we’ll see but my mind is excited and I think it’s a fun, silly experiment. I am a little sad that it means I likely won’t be writing fanfiction for the movie before it comes out though like I did with Wenclair and Wednesday. Again, I think Ruby and Chelsea already have a good possible dynamic together but my job as a professional writer takes precedence unfortunately.

[evelhak]

Since you were so gracious to give me some asks, I shall do the same! Artists asks: 2, 7, 19, 26, and also 30. ^__^

Always happy to hear from you and to know more about you!

2. Is it easier to draw someone facing left or right (or forward even)?

I think it's the easiest to draw someone facing left. That one usually takes the least amount of redrawing.

7. A medium of art you don't work in but appreciate

Pottery is something I feel very drawn to, as well as glass blowing. I don't have the physical requirements to become good at it but I'd like to try some time.

19. Favourite inanimate object to draw

I'm stuck between flowers and books. I'm so basic.

26. What's a piece that got a wildly different interpretation from what you intended?

Wow, what a question. Nothing came to mind from the art I have on Tumblr, so I had to look for something I haven't posted.

Someone interpreted this as your typical fantasy character with fire powers. It's SO far from that, actually. The fire is symbolic, because this character plays with fire metaphorically, and because what she's holding in her hands can symbolically be burning for better or worse, and also because she is blinded by magic in the story, although it's more the lack of it than the thing itself, and because she's seeing what she wants to see.

I guess it's not that "wild", but I couldn't think of anything else.

30. What piece of yours do you think is underrated?

I'm going to have to go with writing for this one, because sometimes I can't believe how much more interaction smut fics get on AO3 than long fics like mine that are basically like another season of the story (with a different focus or angle, but still).

I get that another reason why I'm never going to get that many readers is because I'm pretty much never posting at the height of a fandom's interest, because I need to mull things over for months after the series ends, and I never create anything while the original story is incomplete, so I'm usually only starting when the peak interest for a series is already going down, and my fan works tend to require a bit more of an attention span than the average fan seems to have for one thing. Even my She-Ra comics were a bit late for the fandom, although they are of a much more readable length than my fics, so I assume that's why they got relatively popular. I guess comic form is easier to digest for a lot of people, too.

Anyway, I think if I have to pick the fics I'm the saddest that many people haven't read them, they are my retellings.

I'm really proud of the way I basically paraphrased the whole Into The Woods to tell a KnB story! I don't understand how most people's brain doesn't light up with all the good hormones from wordplay like this! I was SO high, writing this.

I'm also really fond of this one, which was inspired by the Romance of Silence. Where are all the people who love intertextuality, hiding??

Yes, I understand another reason why people aren't into these stories is that they are so niche. That's always going to be my curse too, because I love the interaction of specific and general, but I love to go about it by combining things that are niche and don't usually go together. Not because they are niche or rarely combined, it just happens, I can't help but be drawn to specific concepts in a specific thing and then finding another equally specific thing with compatible concepts that send me right into hyperfocus, and I can't leave them untouched, I have to create something new from the interaction of those separate elements, because the abstract connections just sing to me. But I guess there's always the hope that when someone whose niche my stories perfectly fit into, finds them, then they are going to really love them. And honestly, I'd rather have one person to whom they are the perfect fit, than a hundred who thought they were "okay".

Also, I know these stories don't work very well unless you read the whole fic series, though I guess Kuroko's Fairytale makes more sense, and I tried to frame it like you could read it as a standalone, since I think technically you can, but you're probably still going to be very confused at some parts.

[bookwyrminspiration]

Explaining the chorus of dragons sounds like trying to explain a desi person’s family tree. It’s large, extensive, and everything is so intertwined that if you don’t know one thing, you can’t understand most other things.

-⚙️

Well I've never tried to explain a desi family tree so I don't know exactly how it compares, but like I haven't even scratched the surface of what's going on. That scene I was talking about isn't even one that moves the plot forward that much it's just a side-note in one of several relationships; it's like 5 pages total (although there is background from outside of that).

Kihrin having drunk sex with his stepmom who's actually his sister-in-law who's actually a person-eating shape-shifting monster is just like a huh I guess that might as well happen. I swear 50% of everyone he meets they're sexually attracted to each other within the hour. Only reason he isn't fucking more is because this one demon fucked with his mind and filled it with images of him being a horribly abusive person and enjoying it so now he doesn't trust himself to be intimate with others in case its true

But like there's so many other things happening. The story is being told at 3 different points in time simultaneously and I only know when 2 of them are, and they're all as complicated as that one scene. Half of what everyone says is either unintentionally wrong or they're flat out lying. There are so many words that are used casually that mean nothing to me (like all the countries...so many...).

Like I'm intrigued but also there's some things that just genuinely require a lot of focus and brain power to understand what the author is saying or what's happening and why it matters. Kihrin figured out that thing with the golden hair and the ancestry and I had to sit there for a few minutes and be like...what is he saying about being descended from who and how he knows that? Teraeth explained who his father is and I genuinely had to reread the paragraph about 5 times and I'm still not sure what I read. And then that thing with Doc and Ter-what's his name and the illusion, I'm still not sure what the fuck that was about like I just genuinely don't know what just happened. I read it but like I didn't get it and I'm gonna have to think about it.

I'm making a fuss about it being complicated and complaining but I do appreciate it; I've read so many predictable books and iterations of similar patterns, and while I do enjoy those books I like being caught off guard and having to think, not having the story handed to me. Nice change of pace to be so wildly confused about everything and not know everything's that's happening a hundred pages before it does :)

[selflessanatta]

How to Create a Dry Float Sensory Deprivation Enclosure at Home for Meditation, https://selflessanatta.com/how-to-create-a-dry-float-sensory-deprivation-enclosure-at-home-for-meditation/

New Post has been published on https://selflessanatta.com/how-to-create-a-dry-float-sensory-deprivation-enclosure-at-home-for-meditation/

How to Create a Dry Float Sensory Deprivation Enclosure at Home for Meditation

A dry float tent was far more practical than installing an at-home float tank, and it’s nearly as good for meditation.

The call of the mystic

When I was in my early teens, I watched the movie Altered States, a horror film based loosely on the life of John C. Lilly, who, among other accomplishments, invented the floatation tank to explore consciousness in complete sensory deprivation.

This scene was inspiring to me.

Years later, a float tank center opened near my house that offered an unlimited membership.

I scheduled daily float sessions at 6:00 AM to meditate for one hour in total sensory deprivation before going to work.

How Float Tanks Work

John C. Lilly invented the float tank to experiment with sensory deprivation. To document his findings, he wrote the book Programming and Metaprogramming in the Human Biocomputer: Theory and Experiments. Samadhi Tank Company still manufactures John C. Lilly’s original float tank design.

To create sensory deprivation, his design sought to eliminate light, sound, and tactile sensations, considering taste and smell to be negligible distractions.

The enclosed tank effectively blocks all light, eliminating any visual stimuli.

Tanks are often vibration-isolated, and most designs have walls that do not transmit sounds from the outside. Plus, many tanks are installed in rooms with additional soundproofing measures. In a good floating environment, you hear only the light ringing or pulse in your ears.

The tank is filled with water saturated with magnesium salts. The saturated salt-water solution provides buoyancy, so the user floats on the surface without the danger of submerging and getting water in the eyes, mouth, nose, or lungs.

Since the user is floating, the brain isn’t processing information about balance, requiring any muscle adjustments to stay upright. Further, there is no pressure on the body to register the feel of gravity.

The water is maintained at a temperature of about 92.5 degrees, depending on the person. At that temperature, the skin provides no signals to the brain. The water doesn’t register as hot or cold; in fact, it doesn’t register at all.

With the elimination of sight, sound, pressure, gravity, and touch, very little sensory information enters the brain. Whatever occurs in the mind is almost entirely brain-created.

Meditation without Distraction

In the float tank, I made progress with my meditation practice much faster than I otherwise would have.

I was trapped in an environment without distraction. Once I went in, I knew I was not going to get out for an hour; I wasn’t going to bother my family, raid the refrigerator, surf the Internet, or turn on the TV.

It was a great experience.

From the beginning of my regular meditation practice, I sought out environments with minimal distractions, much to the chagrin of my teachers.

I was rebuked by many who insisted that only sitting in the traditional posture in front of an altar with an image of the Buddha was proper meditation practice. Anything else was second-rate, substandard, or somehow counterproductive.

There is a pervasive belief that developing the ability to divert the focus away from distractions is an essential part of developing concentration.

It’s not.

I have very strong powers of concentration, and I can focus my attention away from distractions, but I developed the ability to ignore distractions as a side effect. I didn’t have to battle with distraction to obtain this ability.

Hitting Golf Balls

When I was a teenager, I liked to go to the driving range and hit golf balls. Since golf is not played in a sensory-deprived environment, I used to practice with a boombox when others weren’t around to learn to filter out any distracting noises.

However, I also learned that if I needed to work on something mechanical in my golf swing, something that required mental focus on concepts rather than just feelings in my body, then the noisy music was a real hindrance. I was asking too much of my mind to hold a concept, swing a club, and ignore the noise.

Ignoring noise was useful when I was practicing precision and repetition only because I needed to shut off my conceptual mind anyway. At that point, focusing on blocking out the distracting noise helped me focus, but only because I had less to focus on.

Sensory Deprivation Enhances Object Meditation

I believe the same is true in object meditation. If I am focusing on concepts to generate virtuous feelings, it’s too much to ask to also ignore noise or physical discomfort.

If I meditate on virtuous objects in sensory deprivation, it makes my meditations easier, more focused, and much more powerful. This improves my progress, and makes realizations come with greater ease and greater speed.

Object meditation requires concentration on a concept to bring forth the object of meditation, and it requires the ability to hold concentration on the object for long periods of time in order to gain the full effect. If I am distracted in meditation, the quality of the meditation declines, and my progress is slowed.

I want to put in the greatest amount of time meditating on virtuous objects, and the less time I must battle distraction, the better.

Home Float Tanks

In order to maximize the benefits of my meditation practice, I set up a place for sensory-restricted meditation in my home. I spent hours trying to figure out how to set up a float tank, but after considering all the costs and benefits, I decided to go a different route.

Floatation tanks for commercial use cost a minimum of $10,000 to obtain and set up, and some models can exceed $30,000. Only recently have residential float tanks fallen to $5,000 to $10,000, making them a viable option for personal use.

Float tanks are full of magnesium salts, which are great for your skin and hair, but brutal on anything outside the tank. Salty water is very corrosive, it gets everywhere, and it destroys nearly everything it comes into contact with.

I considered obtaining a shed and placing the tank outside to avoid damaging my house, but that added to the cost, and it would have required heating and cooling the shed to make floating comfortable.

Plus, unless I were planning to build an outdoor shower, I would be bringing salt water into the house anyway. By the time I added up all the costs, I was still looking at $15,000, and I would be maintaining a salt-water float tank indefinitely.

Even with all those problems, I might have done it, but as I lay awake at 4:30 in the morning, I asked myself if I would really commit to getting up, showering, going outside to a shed, and getting in the float tank each day.

When I realized I would not maintain the commitment, I decided to look for an alternative I could live with.

I decided to create a sensory-restricted environment in my bedroom using dry floatation technology as a substitute. This way, I could avoid disturbing my family in the early morning while getting out of bed to truly meditate rather than trying to meditate in bed and falling back asleep, which is invariably what happens.

It works.

Meditation at Home

The least expensive way to eliminate visual distractions is to wear an eye mask. You can obtain a high-quality one for $10 or less.

Eye Mask $10: https://www.amazon.com/Cotton-Sleep-Eye-Mask-Comfortable/dp/B07D3M6892

I’ve tried them, but they didn’t effectively help me feel safe and enclosed. Without air circulating around them, my eyes became uncomfortable. Plus, it was one more thing touching me, which served as a distraction.

Despite those issues, I recommend starting with this because if you don’t have problems, it’s a very inexpensive way to eliminate visual distractions and improve your meditation practice.

It looks like I have the Batmobile in my bedroom. I have a twin air mattress covered with black sheets stuffed partially inside a black sensory tent. This arrangement eliminates nearly all light, which is usually the largest source of distraction.

The basic materials are an air mattress, a fitted sheet, and a sensory tent.

Air Mattress $40: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01J1KVS46

Fitted Sheet $20: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B09XJG65XG

Sensory Tent $80: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0C4F3G3TM

A pillow is not required, but if it’s more comfortable, you can use one. I suggest an ergonomic pillow as you will be lying on your back.

I did purchase black pillowcases, but I ended up cutting them up to use to help screen any light around the modified opening, which needed to be cut to fit the mattress and make it easier to get in and out.

Pillowcases $10: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07BNZWG17

If you don’t have a place to keep an air mattress inflated, you could also purchase a sensory tent to place on top of your bed for $40 or less.

The problem with trying to meditate in bed is falling asleep or losing your alert focus. If you get drowsy, the meditation suffers. It’s far too easy to fall asleep.

Even though I am simply moving from one bed to another, the psychological shift is significant enough that I don’t experience problems with drowsiness, even at 5:00 AM.

Noise Reduction

I don’t employ any noise reduction. My home is in a quiet neighborhood, my family is still asleep when I meditate, and the room is very quiet.

If I were to use something, I would first employ noise-reducing headphones. There are many varieties.

All will have the problem of tactile sensations on the ears and scalp, but that’s a small price to pay if you must meditate in an environment filled with many noise distractions.

You can also use headphones to play meditation music. I used to meditate while employing brainwave entrainment music or soothing nature sounds. This is also effective at drowning out noise, but it can also serve as a distraction for object meditation.

Silence is best.

Improving Airflow

One of the major problems with floating is airflow. Even large commercial tanks become stuffy as you deplete the oxygen trapped in the tank when you close the lid.

As a result, many people end up blocking open the lid with a towel to let fresh air in. Unfortunately, this also lets in light and noise.

Float tank manufacturers resort to a brute force approach and design complete tank rooms to trap a larger volume of air, and provide either passive air circulation, which doesn’t work well, or a quiet active system, which is still audible. Unfortunately, tank rooms are expensive and large, and thereby impractical for most home applications.

I implemented a low-tech solution. I attached a small, relatively quiet fan to an air sock to actively pump fresh air into the enclosure.

My room is very quiet, so I don’t need anything to help reduce the noise, particularly from 4:30 AM to 6:30 AM, which is the window of time when I meditate.

I do hear the fan, but it’s a steady white noise that’s easily filtered out. It also serves to drown out other household noises that I might become aware of in total silence.

Wind Sock $10: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01L138HWM

Fan $20: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09G671VNN

I used duct tape to secure the sock to the fan. It’s very effective at circulating fresh air into the enclosure.

I indulged in one expensive optional add-on to reduce tactile sensations. I purchased a state-of-the-art dry flotation mattress from Roho. These retail for over $2,000, but you can find deals online.

Roho dry flotation $1,750: https://www.medicaleshop.com/roho-dry-floatation-mattress-overlay-system.html

A less expensive version is available for $1,000: https://www.amazon.com/Non-Powered-Dry-Flotation-Technology-Alternating-Performance/dp/B08CJQWJ4Z

The air cells are larger on the less expensive model so you will feel a bit more pressure, but not much.

There is also a $75 option: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00TZ73MUY

However, that one will make more noise and provide less comfort than the silent Roho toppers.

Even laying on a bare air mattress is comfortable, and with minimal concentration effort, the pressure is easily ignored.

It’s about the meditation

I set up this microenvironment in order to facilitate higher-quality meditation sessions with a minimum of distractions.

None of what I’ve done is necessary. I maintained a meditation practice for years before I spent time in the float tank and before I created the contraption in the photos.

Meditation is still about making a consistent effort with a focused goal. There is no ending point on the journey, no goal line to cross.

Even fully enlightened masters continue to meditate, not because they need to for liberation, but because there is joy in the activity.

Mindfulness Meditation Mastery: A Journey to Observing, Directing, and Sustaining Mental Focus

The ability to observe the mind, control its focus, and sustain concentration are the key practices of mindful meditation.

~~wink~~

Anatta

[mendelbluming]

Menachem Bluming Muses, Why Pray in 2023?!

Question: My Dad drags me to synagogue and insists that I stay with him for 20 minutes. The prayers mean nothing to me, so why should I comply?

Here's a thought, I challenge you to try this.

When it's time for the prayers, sit with your prayer book open and start reading. For the next twenty minutes, try not to take your eyes off the book. Try to maintain focus and concentration for the entire duration of the prayers.

I don't mean to have mystical intentions or to meditate on anything in particular. Just look at the letters on the page without lifting your eyes.

It will be excruciatingly hard. At first you might only be able to last half a minute. But over time, if you persist, you will be able to hold focus for the entire twenty minutes.

This powerful brain exercise is much needed today. We live in a time of shortened attention spans and over-stimulated screen addictions. Most people would not even be still reading as far as this paragraph without getting distracted. By looking at your prayer book daily you will get a huge head start in life. Focus, discipline and persistence are tools that every successful person must have. You will not learn these skills from your phone. You will learn them from your prayer book.

Now you might argue, if I'm going to spend twenty minutes focusing on one thing, why not focus on a game or something that interests me, rather than a prayer book that doesn't interest me at all? Well that's the whole point: to focus on something that is not your thing. It's not your interest, it's not fun, it is something out of your norm. The discipline and self-control required to do something you are not in the mood of doing is itself an achievement, and a vital life skill.

This is actually the true purpose of prayer, to transcend yourself for a few moments a day. It will make you a better person. Believe it or not.

Mendel (Menachem) Bluming from many sources including Tanya Chapter 28

[menachem-bluming]

Menachem Bluming Muses, Why Pray in 2023?!

Question: My Dad drags me to synagogue and insists that I stay with him for 20 minutes. The prayers mean nothing to me, so why should I comply?

Here's a thought, I challenge you to try this.

When it's time for the prayers, sit with your prayer book open and start reading. For the next twenty minutes, try not to take your eyes off the book. Try to maintain focus and concentration for the entire duration of the prayers.

I don't mean to have mystical intentions or to meditate on anything in particular. Just look at the letters on the page without lifting your eyes.

It will be excruciatingly hard. At first you might only be able to last half a minute. But over time, if you persist, you will be able to hold focus for the entire twenty minutes.

This powerful brain exercise is much needed today. We live in a time of shortened attention spans and over-stimulated screen addictions. Most people would not even be still reading as far as this paragraph without getting distracted. By looking at your prayer book daily you will get a huge head start in life. Focus, discipline and persistence are tools that every successful person must have. You will not learn these skills from your phone. You will learn them from your prayer book.

Now you might argue, if I'm going to spend twenty minutes focusing on one thing, why not focus on a game or something that interests me, rather than a prayer book that doesn't interest me at all? Well that's the whole point: to focus on something that is not your thing. It's not your interest, it's not fun, it is something out of your norm. The discipline and self-control required to do something you are not in the mood of doing is itself an achievement, and a vital life skill.

This is actually the true purpose of prayer, to transcend yourself for a few moments a day. It will make you a better person. Believe it or not.

Mendel (Menachem) Bluming from many sources including Tanya Chapter 28

[menachembluming]

Menachem Bluming Muses, Why Pray in 2023?!

Question: My Dad drags me to synagogue and insists that I stay with him for 20 minutes. The prayers mean nothing to me, so why should I comply?

Here's a thought, I challenge you to try this.

When it's time for the prayers, sit with your prayer book open and start reading. For the next twenty minutes, try not to take your eyes off the book. Try to maintain focus and concentration for the entire duration of the prayers.

I don't mean to have mystical intentions or to meditate on anything in particular. Just look at the letters on the page without lifting your eyes.

It will be excruciatingly hard. At first you might only be able to last half a minute. But over time, if you persist, you will be able to hold focus for the entire twenty minutes.

This powerful brain exercise is much needed today. We live in a time of shortened attention spans and over-stimulated screen addictions. Most people would not even be still reading as far as this paragraph without getting distracted. By looking at your prayer book daily you will get a huge head start in life. Focus, discipline and persistence are tools that every successful person must have. You will not learn these skills from your phone. You will learn them from your prayer book.

Now you might argue, if I'm going to spend twenty minutes focusing on one thing, why not focus on a game or something that interests me, rather than a prayer book that doesn't interest me at all? Well that's the whole point: to focus on something that is not your thing. It's not your interest, it's not fun, it is something out of your norm. The discipline and self-control required to do something you are not in the mood of doing is itself an achievement, and a vital life skill.

This is actually the true purpose of prayer, to transcend yourself for a few moments a day. It will make you a better person. Believe it or not.

Mendel (Menachem) Bluming from many sources including Tanya Chapter 28

[bestworstcase]

How much of Ironwood's decision making do you think is informed by his semblance? Or is it a non-factor?

ooh this one is fun because i don’t agree with ✨any✨ of the common takes that i’ve seen across the spectrum from “mettle is auto-brainwashing” to “mettle is just the trigger he pulls on a gun”

and i need to preface by saying that i have adhd, and i experience EXTREME hyperfocus. extreme like i work from home and enjoy my job so i accidentally pull 14-16 hour days about 2-4 times a month because i’ll get going on a task after lunch and blink and it’s four in the morning. extreme like before i went on meds i needed to set alarms for mealtimes to avoid starving myself to death and that still only worked half the time. extreme like i have to be careful about reading books because i will not stop reading until i’m finished and very long books can prevent me from sleeping multiple nights in a row.

that said i do not and have never experienced hyperfocus as involuntary. i am always surprised by how much time has elapsed, because it never feels like more than maybe half an hour tops and it is always actually more like 10+, but for me hyperfocus is preceded by about 15-20 minutes of normal focus during which i’m fully aware of what my brain is doing and am able to step away if the thing i’m doing isn’t something i want to sink the rest of my day on.

it’s both a fairly debilitating symptom and something that i make a deliberate choice to do for a variety of reasons that are not especially important here. there is risk-benefit analysis involved.

this is basically how i think mettle works, with the sole difference being that hyperfocus requires a specific kind of trigger [complex high-interest tasks] and mettle does not, so ironwood can induce this state at will for any task. besides that, my interpretation of mettle is that it’s deep hyperfocus on a particular task, lasting anywhere from a couple minutes (for very short-term goals) to an entire day but averaging around 8-10 hours at a time for anything involved (paperwork, strategizing), possible to interrupt with difficulty, and involving a mildly altered state of consciousness in the form of a dramatic reduction in sensory and temporal processing i.e. no perception of time passing and inability to perceive sensations like hunger, fatigue, discomfort, people talking to you without getting your attention first, and so forth. it does not cause changes in personality or cognitive function, nor inhibit decision-making except insofar as it takes conscious effort to step away from the task.

mettle as described is “like an iron resolve […] that powers him to [keep going], almost like a very stubbornly, narrow focused mindset on things […] to push himself to do what he’s decided he’s gonna do” or to “push himself through something like searing the flesh off your arm, like if this is the goal he needs to accomplish, everything else goes by the wayside.” and for some inexplicable reason this has been widely interpreted to mean that mettle is a switch ironwood can flip to make himself willing to kill people. no! mettle is how he’s able to flay and cauterize his own arm to escape watts’ trap! mettle is how ironwood keeps himself awake and lucid for a solid forty-eight hours after his fucking arm gets amputated! mettle is why he’s composed and reasonable at the top of volume seven and gradually unravels into an unhinged frazzled lunatic over the months that follow because he’s using his semblance to force himself past the limits of what his body is physically able to endure.

ironwood is a soldier born and raised and indoctrinated into a military state that never quite escaped its prewar fascism. he was always perfectly willing and able to kill people at the slightest justification—“if you were one of my men i would have you shot” was, um, not a joke. that’s who he is. that’s what atlas molded him into, same as it molded clover and harriet and elm and vine and marrow and winter and goddamn near everybody else it touched who didn’t have the means to get out.

mettle didn’t turn ironwood into a murderer—atlas did.

but hyperfocus is not a healthy superpower, ok? it feels fucking great to effortlessly glide through a week’s worth of work in a single afternoon but you have to balance that against the physiological and psychological toll that will take if you try to make that your normal. it’s a day of absolute peak performance and then a crash, and you have to be able to crash. you HAVE to let yourself rest. hyperfocus feels like infinite energy and that feeling is a lie your brain tells you after unplugging all the early warning systems so that your body can’t interrupt you with petty things like hunger or pain, and you HAVE to remember that.

ironwood goes off the fucking rails in volume eight because he believes that lie. he desperately needs to eat and sleep and take it easy while his body recuperates from losing an arm, but mettle can make all of that pain and exhaustion fade away—only it doesn’t actually. the physiological need is still there, getting worse for every minute he spends neglecting it. all through volume seven it’s building up and up until it hits a critical mass after he flays his arm and his cognitive functioning just fucking implodes because his brain physically does not have what it needs to work correctly anymore and the result is this sudden explosion of acute irrationality and emotional lability that just keeps rapidly getting worse and worse and worse because ironwood keeps trying to brute force his way through it with mettle.

i have done this. it sucks. for me the stakes were high school so it mostly looked like a prolonged meltdown and some screaming fights over college applications, but the underlying psychological mechanism driving ironwood’s dramatic tailspin is exactly hyperfocus run amok. in its worst extremity unmanaged hyperfocus is just a horribly destructive and insidious form of self-harm and it will make you completely fucking batshit until you stop.

[nedlittle]

top five classic novels!!

as always we need a caveat that i have so much love in my heart that choosing favourites is hard and i'm gonna exclude some big heavy hitters from this year that are fresh in my mind and instead focus on the ones that absolutely have vacation space in my frontal lobe

rebecca (daphne du maurier) - i relate to the narrator saying she "shall never be rid of rebecca" because Me Too girl!! a gateway drug into classics. absolutely intoxicating without a word misplaced or misspent. i enjoyed reading it more for the second time not only because i knew the plot but because there was so much of any given theme to stick your teeth into (i had colour coded highlights for gender and doubling in addition to general excellent prose/foreshadowing). a whole thesis could be written about the ways that rebecca and the narrator both perform androgyny--the narrator essentially fails at performing any sort of gender, rebecca is too good at androgyny and that is what kills her. not to toot my own horn with the one decent line in my otherwise incomprehensible review but: "while rebecca sails freely between masculinity and femininity, not-rebecca drift unmoored between both." i could write more about the structure and point of view but i am big sleepy so unfortunately that post will half to solely exist in the hypothetical. i am always thinking about rebecca

wuthering heights (emily bronte) the thing about wuthering heights is that the first time i read it all the way through i gave it 2.5 stars and was absolutely enthralled by what it lacked and then like 5 months later i think emily bronte personally tunnelled into my brain and compelled me to bump the rating up to 4. at first i was just like Oh the ghosts they story is stuck in a time loop while the rest of the world moves the only way it can be broken is if the cycle of abuse is also broken which is True but the more i thought about it the less i actually thought of the ghosts (shocking i know) and more the possibility of rancid trans rep t4t cathy & heathcliff. cathy trying to get around gender like it's a blocked path and ultimately dying because of compulsory femininity. heathcliff determined to make up for what society sees as a deficit (his race) with his gender, playing four-dimensional chess with his gender trying to find the one (1) way to Do It Right which ultimately means deliberately emulating all the worst parts of masculinity so he has some modicum of power. this WILL be a post in the future and that is a threat.

hamlet. i don't need to say anything more about this one. we've unfortunately all seen the horatio monologue that people keep tagging as poetry even though the word MONOLOGUE is in the first line of the description.

the brothers karamazov (fyodor dostoevsky) frankly an insane choice for my first fedya d especially given the circumstances but man....mitya karamazov is one of the Characters Of All Time. honestly it took me a longass time to read because uhhh being intensely suicidal in a tiny studio apartment with a job you only took for convenience's sake in huge and unfamiliar country during a global pandemic is not the best environment to read your first dostoevsky in but also is maybe the most appropriate. so it took me a while to read and at first i wasn't sure if i understood half of what i was reading but gave it 4 stars for sheer craft and then maybe a week later it really hit me how good it was. i am Not Immune to atreus house. one of the readings i like to consider is somewhat basic but seeing it as biographical specifically alyosha as a mirror of dostoevsky's son alyosha who died at 3 from epileptic complications. book as a mirror and a shrine and a grave all at once. also i'm legally required to mention the unwritten brothers k sequel brothers k ii: alexey kills the tsar. my literary white whale. i have never wanted to read a book more and this one doesn't even exist. kill me! your slave and enemy!

the epic of gilgamesh. bro. bro. 1400 years old and it's a deceptively simple story about transformative love and the earth-shattering grief that comes from losing that love. please refer to my post about how gilgamesh and the velveteen rabbit are fundamentally the same story. it turns out that my method for answering asks is to just type until i run out of ideas and get so sleepy thank you goodnight

[missgeniality]

A Date With Destiny (m)

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves, alone - we find it with another.” - Thomas Merton

➺ Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Strangers to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Fluff, Smut, one comedian in the mix

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11k

➺ Summary: You are a boss lady in the tech industry travelling to world for work. He is a chart-topping artist touring the globe to perform in front of millions of fans. In the cosmos of life, you are not likely to cross paths. Luckily, fate has a different plan for you two.

➺ Warnings: dom!jk, unprotected sex (sex is cleaner when you pack your weiner!), hickeys galore, lot of spit, oral (male and female receiving), balls receive attention, throat fucking, cum eating, edging, masturbation kinda?, cum play, pussy slapping, pussy sniffing, fingering, squirting, spanking, pain kink?, tit slapping, reader teases a bit but this man is a tease maestro, cum stuffing (is that a thing even?), Jungkook’s THIGHS need their own warning

➺ Author’s Note: @ppersonna​​ is an angel among us peasants. Thank you so much for all your help with this!   This is my first attempt at writing, and the tiniest feedback goes a long way! Hope you enjoy! 

When you die, the first pit stop you make is to the coffee gods. 

Without coffee, this whole month would have been a disaster. Back-to-back meetings, daily flights, countless documents being read, it’s a miracle your eyes are open and fully functioning. 

Being the Chief Technical Officer of a well-established company at your age had been anything but a cakewalk. You had strived hard and crossed many boulders to come to where you are. But if reaching that point required huge amounts of effort, now your work is tenfold. 

“Why can’t I just get longer flights so I can nap in them?” You mumble into your nth cup of coffee - not keeping count is for your own sanity. 

“Because longer flights apparently have crying children. You, our resident baby-magnet hypothesized that shorter flights equal more time in hotel rooms ‘sleeping’. Guess who sleeps in said hotel rooms? Everyone but you.” Your personal assistant and part-time truth-spouter Jake offers helpfully. 

“Past me was such an idiot.” You shoot back, wondering if you could inject the espresso right through your veins.

Jake pouts. “Woman, you take on jobs that an intern could do. If you weren’t such an unnecessary perfectionist I would be on the beaches of Thailand, getting sensual massages and eating some pretty pussy. But here we are, on our way to Seoul. So quit your whining because clearly, I have lost more.” 

“What if I wanted to do that too?”

“Can I watch?” 

“Right.” And that was the end of the conversation. 

Passengers on flight KE654 from Bangkok to Seoul are requested to report for boarding at Gate 45A. First Class passengers will be boarded first, followed by Business class and lastly Economy. Please keep your boarding pass ready for checking.

Jake stands up, groaning. “This is where we say goodbye. Do you wanna pretend like we’re strangers and have a hot one-night stand when we land?” 

“Sometimes I think it’s your natural response to flirt with a breathing being. Do you ever accidentally just, you know, flirt with a tree?” You try to sound sarcastic, but you’re genuinely curious. 

“If a day comes when a hot specimen like me has to flirt with a tree, humanity is doomed. Catch ya later!” He blows you a kiss before leaving for the restroom. You shake your head in awe, a small smile finding your lips. He knew how to get your mind off things.

For all his flirting, Jake’s interest in you is perfunctory. He looks after you, keeps you from starving or gouging your eyeballs out, and calms you when things are too hard. He’s seen your worst. You’ve seen him drunk out of his mind, bailed him out when he “accidentally” smoked up, and heard every new pick-up line his ingenious brain churned out. Basically, you’ve seen his worst as well. 

You take a look at your boarding pass. 3C. Jake would be in business class, and you in first. Not your choice, the company makes the rules. It's for the better, he says. Apparently, he can ‘prowl for his hunt better’, without your judgmental glare. You nearly vomit on him just for his choice of words.

Entering the flight, you stash away your hand baggage the first place you find the room and head to your seat and-

Holy. Shit.

Jeon Jungkook is sitting on your seat.

Jeon Jungkook is on your flight? 

BTS is on your flight? 

What are the odds?

Granted, you’re not a 16-year old obsessive fan, collecting photocards and waving light sticks through the screen, but even in your adulthood you’ve admired their music and shows, routinely keeping up with their discography. 

Hell, you even learned Korean years ago to better understand their songs. Maybe you are an obsessive fan.

But you can’t approach them like that. They no doubt want some privacy and not be recognized. God forbid you approach Jungkook with crazy eyes, just to be escorted off the plane for stalking. While you liked their work, you had your own, and getting thrown off this flight does not help you there.

So, you’re just gonna have to speak to him like just another passenger. 

BTS who? 

Biggest boyband who? 

You only listen to Frank Sinatra. 

“Excuse me?” You call out, a shiver of a whisper leaving your lips. You immediately chastise yourself for being so star-struck.

Big, round eyes glitter under the bucket hat. The softest ‘huh’ throws a lasso over your heart, and holds it captive. He adjusts his hat, inked fingers making a brief yet lasting appearance. The epitome of tenderness, you muse as his eyes flit here and there to figure out the situation. After finding no one to help him out, he gently offers “Yes?”

You feel extremely guilty for marring his serene face with creases of trouble. “I think this is my seat. See, 3C.” you say, pointing to the seat and then to your ticket for good measure. Did he suspect you recognize them? No. Do you look like you’re over-gesticulating? Totally. 

“Oh.” His brow distresses further, the sight has you ready to give the man your seat and hide in the bathroom for the rest of the flight. “But even I am 3C.”

His ticket shows the same characters as yours. 

Huh?

With both your faces contorted in confusion, an air hostess comes forward to help. 

“We both are booked on the same seat. How does that happen? Do I need to catch another flight?” You suddenly pour out, remembering the countless commitments you have in Seoul that would go down the drain if you don’t make it by tonight.

She's quick to reassure you. “Do not worry ma’am, I’m sure there must have been an error in the printing. I’ll be right back.” At the same time, Jungkook is approached by someone, probably one of their staff, to discuss the issue.

The air hostess returns smiling. “Ma’am, you both were booked on the same seat but this adjacent seat was left empty. We are extremely sorry for the error. You may take 3B.” She reiterates the same message to Jungkook in Korean, who then looks mighty relieved. 

Goddamn, his eyes got bigger. How much bigger can they get?

“All okay then?” He glances sideways, smile irradiating your senses and waking you up better than all the coffee could. 

“All good. Sorry for the trouble.” You add, even though it isn’t your mistake in any way.

“No no. No trouble” He beams back. 

Aw, you are in trouble. 

As the flight is about to take off, you can see the rest of BTS in the rows ahead of you, with some other staff members taking up other seats. There’s one old man with a scowl on his face, whom you can’t place with the BigHit group. Great, no crying kids. Unless the frowning grandpa snores to the heavens, you can actually catch a good four-hour snooze. Take that, Jake. Hope a kid blows snot in his face. 

Looking at your neighbor, you find him busy searching for a good video game on the screen. The other members seem to be using this flight to catch a nap, except him. You always wondered whether their on-screen persona was real or not. Now you could say at least one of his characteristics is true. 

Turning away, you bring your focus back to the document at hand. The schematics for a new product your company was launching. You had spearheaded its conception and looked over every single detail in its manufacturing. The Seoul branch is one of the main players in its production, and your last stop before heading back home. You must have every word in this file burnt in the back of your eyelids to make this deal smooth. 

Reclining your seat, and putting your legs up, you got down to business.

An Angel was calling you. 

You want to wake up, but you couldn’t, fearing the Angel would stop singing to you. Something is poking you, but the voice just drowns it all out.

Wait...

Fluttering your eyes open, you see Jeon Jungkook staring right at you. 

“Hi... They, umm--Food? Want to eat?” the Angel utters. Jungkook utters. Tomato, to-mah-to. 

“Oh!” you exclaim, wiping non-existent drool on your face. His palm on your shoulder quickly retracts at your exaggerated attempt to hide your embarrassment. “Thank you so much.”

Then, he does that thing. He smiles. Eye scrunch and all. 

Fuck the coffee gods. When you die, you want to meet the Grand Master and ask him what crack he was on to hand over so much power to one man’s smile. 

The food is placed on your table, and you thank the hostess graciously. 

“Do you need anything to drink?” She asks, to which you only shake your head. There was enough caffeine in your system to shoot a horse to the moon and you were still drowsy. There was no need to catalyze this process with booze.  

“Your Korean accent is pretty good.” Your next-seat resident comments. Ah, you had conversed with the hostess in Korean. 

“Thank you very much.” You giggle, roleplaying an acne-prone teenager talking to her hunk of a crush.

“Have you been speaking for a long time?” He pops a huge morsel of food after asking. Well, that’s another on-screen quality found to be accurate.

“Six years now. Comes in handy for my work.” 

“Oh! Did you have to learn it for work? That’s fascinating.” Another mouthful went in. You didn’t even know it was physically possible to hold that much rice using chopsticks.

“Uhh.. no..” You tussle your hair, trying to stop your cheeks from turning beet red, “I just listened to some music and consuming more content.. and subtitles are a bore, plus I needed a hobby at the time so..” 

Your unnecessarily long explanation was cut short by Jungkook’s child-like laugh, enjoying the pickle you were putting yourself in. 

“Hey! I just didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation, that’s all.” you try to be cross, knowing it’s inconceivable since God himself seems to have given him whatever he wanted. If big ol’ Almighty can’t stand against his charms, you are but a mere pleb. 

He looks at you kindly. “Thank you, that was very thoughtful. I’ve been speaking to so many foreigners trying to get across to them I got surprised when you spoke so fluently.” 

He went back to chomping on his food like it was his last meal, completely unaware of your staring.  

You both speak for a long time. He explains their latest shoot and fan meeting, and you listen to him pour out his love for his job and fans as much as he could articulate. The rest of the emotion is portrayed by his now widest eyeballs (they cannot get any wider, you confirm by asking him - a request he apparently gets a lot) and intense gesticulation. It is very gratifying to listen to his past schedules, and you slip in a quick prayer for not having a job where you had to maintain public appearances while having a schedule as persevering as theirs. Sure, you had a ton of commitments. But can you throw your hair in a bun and aggressively scowl at a monitor and still meet your target? Fuck yeah.

You went on to tell him about yourself - your job, your travels, the reason you were in Seoul. He listens to them with rapt attention throwing in appropriate questions without interrupting your flow. He gives the right amount of sympathy; just enough to show that he understands why you have three sets of nightwear and a futon in your office, but not too much where it seems like you should “take a break” and “think about the joys of motherhood” - as you are often told. 

During the conversation, you digress a little to take in his slight features. The apple of his cheeks, in full display, when he tells you about how he pranked his members. The light pout of his lips when he talks about the times their path seemed too far-fetched, when every single obstacle felt like the end of their career. The stars in his eyes when he speaks of how he feels during tours, meeting the endless number of fans, the drive that keeps him going. They all make an endearing package. Eager to please, you kept the conversation going with gusto. The meal is followed by a snack break, after which you had effectively exhausted all conversation topics that could be brought up with near-strangers.

A quick alcohol break later, (yes, you caved, the catalyst was welcome) you both doze off, seemingly exhausted from recollecting respective timetables. He wakes up soon after to play video games and talk to the other members. But you fall into a deep slumber, with an Angel’s chuckles in the background guiding you through the sleep. 

Jungkook wakes up to see his character dead. The video game was forgotten after his conversation with you began. 

He spent an inordinate amount of time talking to you. And now that you’re asleep, he is only thinking about how much he enjoyed the conversation. Jungkook is not a speaker. His introversion leaves much to be desired in that department. Most of the time, his members cover for him, play the role of dutiful wingmen, and introduce him to their friends. And still, it took him a long time to talk freely.

But something about you made him open up.

Maybe it was the way you listened to him, lips slightly parted when you were absorbing every single word he let out. Maybe it was the questions you asked, treading lightly and skirting any personal questions. Maybe it was the fact that you pretended to not know him at first, mindful of his privacy. The butterflies in him could be explained by this.

But.

It could also be how graceful you looked, even though you’re dressed in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. It could be how you carried yourself, with great elegance and poise, even though your work was taxing. It could also be your toe socks, and your glee when he showed you his.

Your personality is infectious. He already misses you, despite you being inches away, desperately wants to exhaust every second of this journey engrossed in you. 

He wonders if you feel that way too.

Speaking of whom-

A snicker escapes his lips when he turns to face you. 

In your sleepy haze, Jungkook sees that a) your mouth is wide open, b) your hands mindlessly fiddle with the reams of pages on your lap, and c) your eyes scrunch as sunlight pierces through the flight to bounce off your face. Cute, he muses, trying to locate the source of the criminal rays irking you. 

The window letting the sunbeam in is beside an old man sitting on the other end. He is eyeing the magazine in his hands with abject disapproval, like the booklet had sullied him and his family. 

Gathering up the courage, Jungkook calls out for the man.

“Excuse me, sir. Do you mind pulling the window shade?” He asks, in the sweetest voice that his hyungs would melt at first listen. 

Puppy eyes are met with the geezer’s piercing glare, making Jungkook wonder if he accidentally said something strikingly offensive instead of what he thought he said. About to backtrack his words and try again, he gets interrupted by the man letting out a big grunt, after which he continues in his endeavor to telepathically set fire to the magazine. He does not forget to give a nasty side-eye but completely refuses to comply with Jungkook’s request. 

“And my team thinks my glares are spooky.” You pique, having witnessed the whole interaction, “I ought to have him on board”. Jungkook snorts, and you take that to be his agreement. 

Pausing, you throw caution in the wind and add, “Thank you though, that was very sweet of you.”

He eyes you demurely. “No problem, you looked like you needed the rest.” 

“Listen, I-”

“So I was think-”

Ladies and gentlemen, we have just been cleared to land at the Incheon International airport. Please ensure your backpacks and suitcases are stowed away in the overhead compartments or underneath the seats ahead of you. The flight attendants are currently passing around the cabin to make a final compliance check and pick up any remaining cups and glasses. Thank you.

High-quality curses almost make it to heaven (speakers). The announcement dissipates all the courage you had mustered, feeling a rush exit your body. You had almost asked for his contact - and by the looks of it, he had wanted it too. Or maybe your hair is a rat's nest and he was just going to point that out. Guess you will never know.

You shyly smile at each other before going about following the instructions. Your half-read document gets stuffed back into its bag, to be read once you have no distractions in the form of eye candy armed with saccharine speech. Well, you have Jake to distract you plenty, but you can shoo him away by threatening his paycheck. 

As the flight descends, you look over to your neighbor - one last time, you guess - and surprisingly lock eyes with him. Anything that had exited you comes rushing back, veins in full alertness. A moment’s awkwardness later you both burst out laughing, each doing their best to hide their crimson cheeks. You find one more online fact to be true - Jungkook’s peak happiness laughter, eye crinkle and nose scrunch, can melt your whole entire heart. 

“Hey mami, come here often?”

“For the last time Jake, I will not hesitate to donate your bones for science.”

“Well, I heard bone, it's already a win for me.”

You let out a sigh of exasperation. There is no reforming him. 

“How was the flight?” Jake questions as you approach the baggage belt. Looking out for your somber black suitcase, you try to play it off like you did not spend the whole time in the company of a stranger who is on the fast track to your heart.

“The usual. Sleep, eat, read needlessly printed out documents that could have been shoved into on email, repeat. What about you?”

As Jake starts an account of his flight experience in exorbitant detail, you took the opportunity to try and find your ride. Once you locate it and get in, you catch the end of his sermon. 

“-and the name of the book will be ‘How to manage a farm - ‘cause chicks gon’ be crazy!’. What do you think?”

“I think it was a good idea I chose to zone out.”

“Y/N come on! It’s a self-help book for poor souls born without my raw charisma. Men and women out there want me, but I can’t satisfy them all. I will just resort to making more of me! It will have pointers, DIY’s and pick-up lines crafted by yours truly - wanna hear one?”

You throw your bag in front and turn to him. “Do I have a choice? Go ahead.”

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he starts. “Am I cute? Squish my cheeks. Am I hot? Clap my cheeks.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Points for creativity. You’ll still get wine splashed at you.”

Jake was not one to give up. “‘It’s good we don’t need eye condoms, or you’d be on your way to delivery.’”

“Just… don’t have kids, okay? This gene must be stopped, right here.”

“Okay, this one is my all-time favorite. ‘Rack so big, I don’t motorboat, I motorship.’”

That’s it. The guffaw itching you since the start of this conversation is out of its cages, populating the air in the car. Wiping stray tears from your face, you face Jake, seeming very pleased with himself. Undoubtedly, he is coming up with absurd scenarios to ease your nerves. No book is in the works (one could only hope).

“Thank you, I feel much better now. You can stop coming up with these.”

The goof has the gall to look appalled. “I was going to cut you ten percent of my book commission but I guess that’s out. Hmph.”

“I’m at the receiving end of all these pick-up lines. I should make twenty at least for all the nuisance I’ve put up with.” 

“All right mami, we’ll shelve this for later. Here’s the schedule for today. You have a 10 a.m. breakfast meeting with Dr. Park Shin Young, Lead Research Scientist of the project. Then you have a bunch of seminars to attend, which will go on all afternoon. There’s a bar right beside this venue.”

“How is that pertinent?”

“So you know where to find me.” He continues, unperturbed. “After which there’s an evening meeting with the whole team to demonstrate the product and a marketing meeting right after.”

“Am I required for the marketing meeting?” Your expertise is limited to the technical field. PR work isn’t your cup of tea, but they stubbornly demand your presence. 

Jake exhales. “We’ve been through this. You CAN doze off during the meeting, but you have to be there. Just pretend you’re a college student, sitting in one class, completing assignments for another.”

“But if I’m there I feel the need to pay attention.” you whine.

“Clearly you weren’t one of those college students,” Jake says, perusing through his diary, “Stop being a pedant and do one of those things people do. Loving their jobs and whatnot.”

Before you can retort a reply, the driver pulls up to your destination and you exit the car. 

Eleven at night is when you finally check in to the hotel. The tedious day warrants your heels coming off before you even reach your floor. There’s an irritant drumming, from the balls of your feet right up to your temples, that beg for your attention. Setting your footwear on your bags, you massage your feet for temporary relief as the lift took you closer to a more permanent one.

Once your suitcase gets parked in the closet, you head to the bathroom to soak your day away with the bath bomb kit you were gifted in one of the seminars. The ball fizzles as soon as it hits the water, dispersing in tiny bubbles and a heady aroma of vanilla and lavender. The soft amber tones of the walls, the lambent gold lighting, and the ambrosial air put all your senses at ease. You sink in; the bathwater permeating warmth through your skin. Crackling bubbles with every move; the water teases your neck, soothing the laceration with every lick. Every pulse point on you is enhanced - you let yourself float wherever your mind takes you. 

A familiar face makes its presence known. You allow yourself to think about him, after pushing his visage away all day. Something about him… felt like home. Soothing, comforting, always speaking in dulcet tones unless something humorous pulled out a loud laugh. Even that wasn’t jarring; it was the exact opposite. Felt like sunshine filled your lungs every time he cracked up. Made you want to keep talking to him, keep him amused and entertained. You can’t imagine he converses with every stranger like that. 

But maybe he did; maybe this is some unspoken celebrity culture you were unaware of. 

All you know is that this was a once in a lifetime experience. There’s no way you are encountering another personage ever again. There’s no way you’re encountering him again. Luck can only thrive so far. 

So when you exit the bathroom, clad in a towel, remnant bathwater dripping from every end, the last thing you expect is Jungkook, spread out on the bed, casually flipping through his phone like it’s his own abode. 

“J-Jungkook?”

Y/N. In his room. In a towel. Dripping wet hair. Emanating a delectable aroma. 

Y/N. In person.

He is dreaming. He has to be. He's been thinking of you ever since the flight, so now he is delusional. Nothing else. There’s absolutely no chance that you’re in his room, let alone… like this. 

Right?

“What are you… what are you doing in my room?”

Wrong. 

Jungkook knows he should say something. He should not be gawking at you like he is doing now. But God. You look so pretty, eyebrows arched up in confusion, jaw about to be unhinged, hands fluttering around not knowing what to do. 

He forces his body to action.

"Y/N!" He exclaims, finally averting his eyes to face the wall. 

Pause.

"Wait, what do you mean MY room? This is my room!"

You’re baffled. "Huh? How is that possible? This was given to me!" 

“I really don’t know, Y/N, there must have been some confusion! Please, you have to believe me!” 

Jungkook wants to turn around and face you. He desperately wants to clear the air. He can see that this looks bad. He obviously looks like an enamored creep, waltzing into your space. You probably think he does this all the time. Many a time people have misunderstood him, his celebrity status not earning him many points. You must think the same.

And now you’re going to tell him to get out and never see you again, he hypothesizes. His brain is working overtime trying to remedy the situation, without noticing your now relaxing demeanor. 

“Oh, okay.”

“I’ll fix this, I’ll go to the reception and fix this. You don’t worry, I didn’t see anything, you can trust me, I’ll go an-”

“Hey, hey,” your tone gentle, “it’s okay, trust me. Just, let me get dressed and I’ll come down with you.”

Your soothing response almost has Jungkook on his knees. Whoever orchestrated this meet, he is just thankful for this good turn. Anyone else would go berserk, and rightfully so. 

But you’re not anyone else. 

He isn’t just anyone.  

Technically, he isn’t a stranger, you try to justify. You should have been more shocked, enraged, or at least doubtful of his intentions. But you weren’t. You had accepted his explanation, let him stay in your room while you changed in the bathroom, and now are en-route to the main desk to rectify this error.

The air around you two is strained; he won’t even look you in the eye. Any question you have is replied to concisely, leaving no room for a chat. Nothing to disperse the tension between you two. 

Like now, in the elevator, Jungkook has done the math and maintains the maximum distance between you. Opposite ends of the diagonal of this lift, his peripheral vision probably barely picks you up. However, his evasion helps in a way--you are able to study his full form.

He is dressed casually, and any lesser man would have seemed casual enough. On him, it is a whole new game. Ripped jeans hugging his sturdy legs, the slashed fabric allowing you a peek of his dangerous thighs. A plain white t-shirt tucked in to show off his lean waistline. The only thing holding you back from having a full-blown wet dream, wide awake, is his chestnut overcoat, saving his modesty and yours. 

Jake was right, eye condoms are the need of the century. 

To be fair, Jungkook had the worse end. He saw you scantily clad, post-bath glow and everything. You wonder what is going through his mind. 

Definitely nothing like the debauchery unfolding in yours. 

He has probably seen his fair share of women, and one hot to trot lady isn’t anything new. If anything, him dodging you is a sign of his civility, something you are lacking apparently--ready to jump his bones.

Stop thinking about his thighs, you whore. Get back home and trusty old Vlad the Impaler will take care of you.

The employee’s jaw almost hits the desk as Jungkook explains the situation. 

“Ma’am, Sir, we are extremely sorry about this confusion. We usually keep another key for family members, but somehow you got them both. We are deeply apologetic.”

“Yes, it’s okay, I’d just like my room key now and-”

“We will give you the best of our service to make up for this disorder. Not that we didn’t plan on giving you the best anyway, but now it will be top-notch! Please allow us to have your room cleaned again ma’am. Kyuyoung-ah! Get the people to prep 5338 and set 5337 again, and add more flowers!”

“Hey, that really won’t be necessary, we can just go back and forget about all thi-”

“And!” She continues, relentless, fully intent on doing her job, “Here are coupons for our round the clock pub! The ambiance is phenomenal, and our bartender makes a mean drink! You can use the facility for free during your stay. Hope this compensates for our gaffe. Once again, we are extremely sorry!”

She extends two passport-sized coupons that you hurriedly grab, wanting this quandary to end. 

The walk back to the elevator is less tight-lipped, only because Jungkook starts his deluge of apologies. Even though you had felt the same way on the flight, he was going overboard. You quickly assuage him and deflect his concerns.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. It really is. I know it was a mistake.”

“I know, but I shouldn’t have just walked in like that. I should have checked.”

Your expression is the visual form of a question mark. 

“Do you go around making sure your hotel room doesn’t have a surprise occupant?”

You’re taking this too lightly; it's obvious you are doing it for him. He can only laugh, broad delicious shoulders loosening in relief.

After a delay, you add, “You can’t help it if fate wants us crossing paths like this.” 

The quip makes Jungkook lose a beat. He cocks a brow in surprise - at that juncture, his features lose all boyish charm and turn unquestionably irresistible. 

Then, in a flash, the expression is replaced by his usual grin, back to his boy-next-door spirit. Are there world records for this speed? Jungkook needs to sign up to one.

Collecting the stars floating around your head, you return the favor, thankful that the barrier is now broken. 

After a quick break of courage gathering, you turn to him. “How come you’re staying in this hotel? Thought you’d be home.”

A thought is building in your mind; that this is too personal a question. But before you can take it back, you hear a chime. Jungkook moves. And somehow, you are moving with him. 

The elevator door opens, and people walk out. 

But that’s not where your attention is. 

You are focused on the sole patch of your body in contact with Jungkook’s arm. 

The palm of his hand sitting at the small of your waist is what had guided you away from the elevator. Even through the fabric of your t-shirt, his hand is sending goosebumps all over your body. The air feels twenty degrees too hot for you.

Jungkook is simply being his chivalrous self, while you are ready to get arrested for public nudity.

Woman, you are a disgrace. Get laid.

Jungkook will high five himself once he gets to his pad. 

Is it right to get so euphoric about the smallest act of intimacy? That too with a near stranger? He has no answer. You are special to him; that much he knows. And someone up there agrees with him as well, letting him run into you again (albeit under crude circumstances; he’ll take what he gets). In this proximity, he can hear the slight gasp that escapes you once you recognize his hold, feel your muscles tense, smell the flowery fragrance you still carry. The fragrance that takes his mind on a rewind routine; one he forces to a halt. He feels lewd for taking pleasure in that misfortune, but he can take pleasure in the present. 

Entering the elevator, Jungkook has taken note of one thing: the roles have been reversed. On the downward voyage, it had been him avoiding you. Now, even with the closeness, you refuse to meet his eye. Something on the carpeted floor has your unrelenting attention. Letting his gaze dip to you, he bit back a smirk. Good to know you are as affected by him as he is by you.

“It’s a shoot.” 

You relent, looking up to him. “Huh?”

“You asked me why I’m here, it’s a shoot. The site is close by, so we don’t waste time traveling. Once the shoot is done, we will get back home.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” 

You beg your grey matter to find some topic of conversation to halt the blood rushing to your cheeks. The atmosphere is frozen again, but not like last time. Any unease earlier present has drifted. The tension that once kept you from closeness now keeps you from moving apart. His hand sits unmoved, continuing to rest on your hip. Jungkook can hear the loud thudding of a heartbeat, but he cannot discern whether they are from his heart or from yours.

Continuing after a pause, “I will be here for a few days now.” he adds, the suggestive hint of the words masked by his innocuous smile. 

“Ah.” You lamely add. You ought to kick yourself - but at this closeness, you might hit him too. 

The span of your separation is contracting, even though none of you move. Like the land underneath you is shifting, because even Mother Earth can’t handle the sexual tension in this confined space. 

“Ma’am, Sir, you’re here!” 

The booming voice of an employee disrupts the scene. You jump, wondering how you didn’t hear the door open, while Jungkook takes a graceful step back unscathed. 

“Your rooms are ready, please follow me.”

The walk back is quiet, except for bashfully exchanged glances and racing pulses. When you finally reach your respective rooms, he speaks again. 

“Want to accidentally cross paths with me at the bar?”

The heat reaches your ears. A moment of silence prompts you to look up, and you are held hostage by his eyes. His gaze flickers, intense and probing. Then, as if it never happened, his eyes narrow and his smile softens, harmless and easy. Again, this has to be witchcraft.

“Maybe we’ll let destiny decide. Hasn’t failed us so far.” 

Now, alone in bed with nothing but your thoughts, you wonder when it will ever happen again.

Three days. Three days before it happens again.

Three days filled with conferences, a ton of files, and a lot of battery acid disguised as coffee. Apart from the success of your work, the highlight of your time is when Jake tried to fix his shoe heel at a meeting and ended up gluing his fingers together. In a quiet room filled with immersed employees, he had yelled, “Superglue, my ass!”. 

The punctuation was not vocalized. 

Tonight was your last night in Seoul. It was supposed to be a night to yourself, but an office party pulled you out of your cavern to get dressed. You put on an elegant dress, a black and silver number, only to find the ‘party’ was the most monotonous excuse of networking. High-end businessmen exchanging cards over non-alcoholic fizz was not your idea of a party, so you quickly excused yourself. 

The coupon still weighed heavy in your purse, carrying memoirs of the last time you saw him. You had wanted to go earlier, but always held yourself back. What if he wasn’t there? What if you missed your chance? Why did you have to sashay away with a cool statement that night instead of clawing your way through the lust-filled air and settling things then and there? 

You supposed a drink at the hotel bar on your last night couldn’t be a bad thing, even if Jungkook didn’t show up.

So here you are, sipping on your wine and trying to appear nonchalant as you look out the window overseeing the city’s skyline. One ear is trained to the door of the pub, the slightest peep from that corner alerting your antenna. 

So far, no sign of him. 

This won’t work, you tell yourself. Second time’s a charm, third time’s pushing it too far. 

But as you wave the bartender to top up your drink, the corner of your eye catches movement; one, two, three heads appear through the door. Signature multichromatic mops of hair make their way in, forcing your pulse to marathon mode. 

And then you hear it. 

You hear his trademark cachinnate echoing through the structure. Multitudes of contrasting sentiments fill your gut. Are you sensing relief, that fate served its purpose without fail? Or is it the anticipation of how events will unfold? A sense of titillation, that a three-day old bond makes you feel more than year-old relationships you’ve had? You pry your eyes from that direction, trying to appear aloof when you are anything but. 

When you think you’ve gathered your composure, you look up. Like a hare falling for its bait, you are trapped, because he is looking right back at you.

Jin and Jimin are laughing about something that happened on set today, but Jungkook only has eyes for you. He can’t believe his luck. 

The past few days, his schedule had no give. After every shoot, the only thing he remembered was taking off his shoes and falling into a deep slumber.

So today when the shoot wrapped up earlier, Jungkook grabbed his trusty wingmen and open bar enthusiasts to utilize his coupon, and possibly test his kismet.

“Wasn’t she on our flight?” Jin observes, tracking Jungkook’s sight. 

“Oh yeah! Dude, is she the one?” Jimin keenly notes. “How do you keep bumping into each other like this?”

Jungkook downs his whisky, the burn felt from the throat to his diaphragm. “I don’t know, hyung. I don’t know what to do.” Beckoning the bartender for a refill, he tears away from your sight. 

 “Okay, liquid fortification is all good but how about,” Jin stops briefly to pluck the coupon out of Jungkook’s hands, “we handle the drinks department while you attend to her?”

Jimin nods in assent. “The worst thing you could do is spend time with her slurring and garbling while she ditches your sorry ass.”

“Hey! I won’t do that. Just, ” Jungkook gulps, “I don’t know... We’ve met like, hardly a few times. It really doesn’t make sense. What if we’re not on the same page?”

Jimin frowns, and even Jin seems unhappy with his reasoning.

“Things don’t have to make sense. You’re two consenting adults. You like her. By the way she’s eyeing you right now, I’m sure the feeling is mutual. You said it’s easy to talk to her right?”

Jungkook pouts, but sees his point.

“Then go with that. Don’t chart out a plan, just go with your heart.” Jin adopts a soft smile of encouragement. 

“Meanwhile we will grab the others and exploit this coupon to the full extent!” Jimin gleefully appends.

Jungkook’s eyes crinkle as he laughs with the other two. They are right. Carpe diem, right?

Finding you again, his breath hitches. You look beautiful. The sleek black dress with silver embellishments over the torso. It hugs you in the right places, accentuating your already alluring frame. Your shoulders bare, elegant collarbones waiting to be tasted. Hair tied up, exposing the delicious curve of your neck, a stretch Jungkook wants to pepper kisses onto, without missing a spot. You look exquisite against the backdrop of the night.

Carpe noctem it is. 

“Did you really dress up to use the coupon?” The tongue-in-cheek query breaking your line of thought.

A breathy chuckle leaves your lips, hopefully masking the frenzy in your heart. 

“I had a party. A very dull party. Figured I preferred my own company over that.” 

“Do you prefer your own company over mine?”

He’s still standing, tall frame waiting for your permission to occupy the next seat. God, he looks amazing.

“Not at all.” The words leave huskier than you intend, but they convey the message.

He takes the seat, a mere step away, his cologne wafting over to your side. The alcohol buzz makes the scent feel stronger, every bone in you wanting to dive in nose-first. 

Apparently you have been staring, because he nervously chuckles “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Should you go the modest route or fuck it?

Fuck it.

“You look... great today,” is all you get out. Stupid brain spewing half-baked goods.

Understatement of the year. He looks like sin incarnate. All black attire highlighting his golden skin, the dichotomy of his whole look has you understandably tongue-tied. Black jeans - no rips, sadly- with a dark grey high-neck t-shirt, tucked in of course, because pain is the only constant for you. A black trench coat is thrown on top to seal the look. The obsidian outfit sends desperate need through your body, an intense desire to rip it all off surging through you. Somehow, through all these layers you can sense his fit body, his rippled muscles, his sturdy pecs, like they have an aura of their own. 

“Ah, thank you. You look amazing as well.” Halting a moment to sip his drink, he resumes.  “Sucks that you dressed up for nothing.”

“Well, you liked it. So it's not for nothing.”

If looks were potent, Jungkook’s own could set you on fire. Gaze coolly raking over your figure, the tick in his jaw betrays his reaction. A chill passes through every part of your body under his intense scrutiny.

“Are there other things you would wear… if I liked it?” He carefully treads.

“There are certain things I’m wearing right now that I’m sure you would appreciate.” 

If not for the shrinking distance between you two, you couldn’t have caught the low hiss. His animalistic need, usually kept well under control, is raging against its bonds, screaming to let go. Your exquisite gown, flowing down your curves, accentuating the swell of your ass - God save this dress from his feral hands. Against his will, he restrains himself. He would make this a lasting encounter. 

“How many drinks have you had?” He needs you to remember every single moment.

“Two glasses of wine, don’t worry. You?” 

“A shot of whisky, that’s all. Haven’t even finished my second drink.”

Gone were his cherubic appearance and dimpled smiles; the man in front of you is oozing pure sex appeal. His clenched jawline, furrowed brow, and perfectly placed tresses add to his raw masculinity. The cusp of your thighs is damp; if this is his effect here, what will it be behind locked doors? You wonder whether this is the same man that gushed about old-era video games in the flight. 

“Well, if you are wearing them for me, I’d be a fool to miss them.” he brings you back to the present. Twinkling eyes match your eager ones as you give a small nod.

Every step you take shoots a thrilling tingle through your spine. Every inch of distance closed forces you to close the next with doubled speed. Every foot forward adds to the thick air, laced with hunger, desire, and an inordinate amount of trust placed in the hands of a stranger. 

The first time you two walked back to the elevator, his move had caught you unaware. 

Now, the arm wraps around your entire waist, body flush against his, yet you yearn to get closer. 

Last time, you couldn’t match his gaze, skin burnt a crimson hue. 

Now, your eyes are locked together, any movement in your surroundings be damned.

Michael Jackson rising from the dead and performing Thriller wouldn’t tear you away from your current view (sorry MJ, maybe next time).

When the doors close, he places a palm on your bare back, bringing you to his chest.

“I’ve wanted this so bad, ever since I met you. It’s insane.”

The hand caressing your back makes you sigh. “Not if I wanted the same.”

His grip tightens. “The things I want to do to you...” eyes searching yours, ”tell me you can handle it.”

“Oh baby,” you drawl, “I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever it is,” your lips hover on his, “I can take it.”

The elevator doors opened too soon for your liking, and Jungkook drags you through the corridor. You’re practically hanging on to him, feet barely responsive, the faint buzz of wine making you giddy. His hawkish gaze soaks in everything you do, memorizing every response to his touch. 

You lean over to lay wet kisses on his neck. Pleasure searing through his veins, Jungkook’s knees almost buckle. He pushes you against a wall and locks you in with his form.

“Uh-uh-uh, honey,” he tsks, “you’re not making this easy on me?”

You pretend to ponder. “Well, I didn’t plan on making it easy.”

He smirks, all sex, and the wetness between your legs is making its presence known. Leaning into your ear, he whispers, “Unless you want me to have my way with you right here…” and all your brattiness dissipates. 

Satisfied, he grins. “Your place or mine?” 

“Hmmn, depends.”

He cocks a brow. “On?”

“Am I gonna be able to walk tomorrow?”

That damned smirk. “Your place it is.”

Jungkook’s lips are on yours the moment your door is locked. He cages you against its frame, teeth clashing and biting anything they find. You let your hands roam all over, searching for something to hold on to. A throaty sound leaves Jungkook when your digits card through his hair and tug on it, a sound you gladly swallow.

Time seems to have taken a break. Your thoughts are blank. You chase the kiss like it's the only thing you know, the only thing you’re born to do, your sole mission in life before you die. The bruising pace Jungkook set is eagerly matched by you. Gravity is slowly losing its meaning, and you’re nothing but a stray entity floating in space. And this kiss is your only source of air. 

Jungkook pulls you towards him, closing the nonexistent distance between you. Heat rises from his chest, the feeling is hypnotic beyond reason. A taste of you has ruined every other flavor. He kept his eyes half-open, sneaking peeks at your flushed face whenever you come for air. His fingers explored your body, grabbing your ass and pulling you into him. Your clothed crevice jolts at the friction, hips hounding for more.

The moan that leaves you gets muted, because Jungkook takes this opportunity to take control. Tongue forcing its way in to explore every corner of your mouth, it melds with your own muscle. If this were a dance, it would be a fierce tango, oozing with sexual tension. Breathing is now trivial, this kiss is imperative. 

Jungkook’s hands grab your hips and twirl you, both of you now facing a full-length mirror. You can witness your neckline being abused, mulberry blossoms left in place. The sight has your sex clenching, and lips liberated, you couldn’t stop yourself from mewling.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m going to make you scream so loud, the hotel reception will hear you.”

With your head spinning in lust, you try to form your words right. “An- And what? Discuss how a second room for you was - oh god - was useless?” 

Jungkook pauses to admire his craft; your neck, shoulders, and collar are now littered with bruises, like a garden of hyacinth at his disposal. The view is maddening, your lusty gaze locked on to him in the mirror. His mane is tousled, no doubt your handiwork, and his hand is tracing the outline of your dress. 

“That cursed day,” He chokes out, “You were so fucking hard to resist you know?”

You turn back to face him, hand reaching back to undo your halter neck, “You have me now.” Stepping back, you let your gown fall.

He froze. You are standing in front of him, robed in only your black lace-embroidered strapless bra, and matching panties, each adorned with a white bow. The swell of your breasts barely caged in the cups, making Jungkook drool at sight. All the wind was knocked out of his lungs; you look like a prisoner’s last meal, waiting to be devoured. 

“On your knees.” he commands.  

Not a second is put to waste. You begin undressing him, unbuckling the pants and aggressively pulling them down. Next come the boxers, and you are faced with-

Wow.

You mean this in the nicest way, but, what a dick.

He is already hard, the mushroomed tip angry and red, leaking a drop of precum begging to be tasted. The girth exceeds your expectation, already visualizing the delicious visual of your cunt stretched thin. He is going to reach places even Vlad the Impaler couldn’t; you are already brimming with anticipation for the final act.

And his thighs. Nothing angelic about them. Taut. Muscular. Sinewy. Something uncivilized in you wants them to trap your frame between them, caging you, pinning you down. You press kisses on his inner thigh, letting your tongue poke out when you hear him exhale. A sharp bite shocks Jungkook, but you only smirk.

“Wanted to do that since I saw you.” 

The stare that meets you is practically challenging you to try that again, and perhaps reap some delicious consequences.

You bring yourself back, giving his cock the full attention that it deserves. Looking up, you see his half-lidded eyes, assertive and arresting, compelling you to go on. 

You bring your palm up to him. He raised a brow in question.

“Spit for me.”

Jungkook almost busts his load when he hears you. “Fuck, so dirty.” he garbles out. Rolling his neck in an attempt to divert his blood, he takes your hand and drops a thick glob at the center of your palm. 

A throaty moan arises from you, and his dick is harder than ever.

“Go on baby, show me you can suck dick like a champ.”

You give him a confident look; you’re about to rock his world. Starting with small licks, you tease the slit and taste the pre-cum lodged in it. Meanwhile, you work the spit along the shaft; you spit on it again, the original amount insufficient to cover the length. You can feel his dick twitching against your attention, eager to be sheathed. Interspersing with some long drags on the underside, you zero in on the pinched skin under the head. 

Jungkook is staring at your jerking him off. The sight of you, clad in lingerie is blowing his mind. If that was not enough, the mirror in front is providing a sumptuous secondary perspective. The smooth stretch of your back, the swell of your ass, the panty fabric barely able to cover the expanse, everything on you is making him short circuit. Seeing you on your knees, your deferential nature stirs something in him. If he doesn’t control himself, he will bend you in half and ride you to sunrise. He doesn’t want to scare you, but fuck, his depraved early man instincts are telling him otherwise. 

“What are you- ohhh, holy shi-”

Instead of slipping his cock fully into your mouth, you hold it up, and pay careful attention to his balls. Jungkook’s hands come to rest on your head, a telltale sign of his unraveling. With a smile, you let your tongue swipe through every nook and corner till they are coated in saliva.

“You think you’re such a fucking tease, ” He grabs you by your now unraveled tresses and pulls you back, “Ease up baby, your throat is in for a treat.”

In one quick swoop, he lodges himself at the base of your throat, provoking your gag reflex, but you restrain the urge to pull back. Breathing through your nose, you suck and swallow whatever you can; his girth isn't giving you much to work with.

Jungkook growls. “Such a tight fit. Like you’re meant to be like this. Forever.”

The last word slips out unwittingly. 

Alarmed, his eyes flit down to gauge your response, but all you are doing is looking back at him. 

Fuck, your dovelike eyes are captivating. They look so angelic, a complete contrast to the perverse posture you are in. Not an ounce of displeasure in response to his words. Pure, unadulterated affection for him. Only for him. 

“God, you’re going to be the death of me.” Jungkook husks. “You’ll do anything for me, you said?”

Muffled whimpers impart your compliance, and you bob your head up and down for good measure. The tip of his cock hits every ridge of your throat, the vibration releasing more fluid down.

“Pleasure yourself, baby. Touch yourself, but don’t you cum.”

Your brow distresses further, a disgruntled whine leaving you and reverberating around him. Already so turned on, the lightest friction would make you combust.

Jungkook’s teeth clench. “Edge yourself for me, sweetie.” 

It's like your body is tuned to his command. Slipping two fingers under the band, you part and slide them on either side of your throbbing nub. Despite you avoiding any pressure point that might push you over the edge, the pleasure threatens to tip you over. 

You look over for his approval. Swallowing, he nods. Your self-stimulation is making him dizzy. It's time to get serious.

“Such a good girl. Don’t stop, okay? I’m going to fuck your throat raw.” Starting with mellow jerks, “Hope you don’t have to speak anytime tomorrow.” he rasps.

The carpeted floor grazing your knees only adds to the revelry. You’re not in control of yourself anymore. The back of your gullet is aching as Jungkook shoves into you again and again. An amalgamation of his salty juices and your dribble lewdly coats your chin and neck; you must look ravished. Everything with Jungkook feels augmented; every single motion of his making your sex clench. 

He is close - you can feel his grip on your hair tightening. 

“Can I cum on you?” words slither through his clamped teeth. You frantically nod. 

With a loud grunt, he pulls you off and releases all over your chest, a stray pump landing on your chin. Thick liquid, dripping from your jaw onto your collarbones and breasts, the whole scene is filthy good. Your unfilled cunt is aching to be replete with the cum. 

Post-orgasmic glow is dazzling on him--hair drenched in sweat, tufts sticking to his forehead. His breathing is heavy and resonant as dilated pupils take in your soaked state. Bending down, he crooks a finger under your chin, anchoring his attention on your dewy stare. The onyx embers in his eyes bore into yours, studying for any hesitation in them. A microscopic moment of tenderness, unspoken words exchange between you. 

Satisfied to find only searing hunger, his digits collect the beads of cum on your jaw, pushing them back into your mouth. Your eyes roll skyward, relishing the briny taste, nearly asking him to do it again. Leaning further, he grabs the wrist of your hand that is thoughtlessly rubbing your sex - you didn’t even realize you were still doing it. You feel drained, like you orgasmed vicariously through him. 

“My turn.” He wears a devilish expression on his archangel eyes.

Lips connect once again as he pulls you up. If he tastes himself, he is relishing it, with his tongue exploring the deep cavern. With wobbly ankles, you let him guide you to your bed, dropping on your back. He follows you, pouncing on you, plunging into your mouth again like a beast hungered. Bodies melting together like an icicle under the summer blaze, your hands hunt to frisk his skin. Realizing he is yet to undress, you yank at this t-shirt, attempting to liberate him from the offending fabric.

“Tsk, greedy.” he bit your ear, soothing the sting with a kiss. 

“Cruel is what it is.” You huff, like everything he’s doing is not a blissful affair. 

How do men do that? Violently ripping their shirt off and leaving a messy mop of hair in its wake, nevertheless looking like they could walk a runway the next instant. Jungkook was no exception. The moment he pulls his shirt off, you are rendered speechless.

Chiseled chest like the work of an artisan. Droplets of sweat race down the paths traced by the sculpted abs, an intense desire to taste them forming in you. He is a mesomorphic dream who puts Greek gods to shame. Swallowing, you let your hand trace the outline of his pecks, feeling him shudder against your touch.

“Jungkook, please.”

Who was he to deny you?

Leaning up to you with a wicked smirk, Jungkook drops a thick line of spit right on your hardened nipple. The concoction of his cum and spit soaks through the lacy material. A lone finger circles, avoiding the spot that requires the most attention. You arch your back, begging him for more, just more of anything. The wet fabric amplifies the emptiness in your cunt. 

“Aww,” he coos, clearly amused by your neediness, “undo this for me, sweetness. Let me see you.”

Moving at lightning speed, you unhook the bra, swinging it away to a corner of the room. 

“Oh no.” He mock-frowns, veins bulging on his arm as he controls himself. “Look at these tits, fuck.” Mind reeling with ideas, filthy ideas, of all the things he wants to do to you. “You’ve ruined everything else for me.”

You tremble. “Good, so have you. Want you for myself. Want you,” pulling him close, “to do your worst.” you end with a whisper.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens. “Careful what you ask for,” he grits before diving headfirst into your bosom. 

He licks and laves and bites and laps--your breasts are on fire. Continuing his marking spree, new blemishes make an appearance on your torso. Nibbling on one nipple, he pinches the other; pulling moan after moan from you. 

Your hips barely touch the bed, bucking up in response to Jungkook’s sinking teeth into your ample bust. He has decided to not leave an inch without his saliva, and like a man on a mission, covers every part with rapt attention. 

“Yo- You don’t have to--oh holy fuck--you don’t have to, cover me in marks you kno--ohh my go-” The sentence is spastic, piercing mewls breaking your flow of speech and thought. 

“These fucking tits,” roughly clasping your pert breast in his large palm, “they look so much better like this.” The proud smile he shows has not the slightest hint of regret. 

Catching a break, he twiddles your nipples, letting his other hand sit on your covered sex. He is teasing you; you recognize that. Just giving you opportunities to disobey, to take all the pain he has to offer.

It’s a good thing you like the pain.

You slowly roll your hips, trying to grind against his palm, taking whatever help you can get.

A sharp smack lands on your clit, shooting your eyes open - you don’t even know when they closed. Jungkook’s hand is soothing the site of the blow, the pain converting to pleasure under his touch. 

“Patience, sweetness,” the gravely whisper sending tingles down your spine, “such a good girl for me.”

You give him a slight nod - he smacks you again, once, twice, thrice, without a break. Your entrance is smarting, but you want to give him everything. Biting your lips to stop the labored moans escaping, you clench your eyes and savor the burn.

Your show of obedience has Jungkook’s heart thronging. Fuck, he was enjoying toying with you. Playing you like a fiddle. You produce every tone he desires in the form of wanton melodies, he wants to play them over and over again like his favorite song.

“How are we doing?” he asks, a shit-eating grin plastered on him. Before you could answer, his fingers shallowly enter your soaked pussy, still hampered by the cloth. 

“You- fuck, you said I was the tease here?” Your hands are at his wrist, begging to pull the scrap of cloth aside and have his way. 

He comes to face your sopping mound, pausing only to speak “Never said I wasn’t,” and starts pressing soft, feathery kisses. “That day, seeing you dripping in that towel, I dreamt of having these legs around me.”

“I swear, at least take it off - oh Jungkoo-”

Without warning, he kneads your ass and pushes you into his face. 

You feel like you’ve been on the edge for hours. The suckle on your engorged clit along with the abrasion of the lace gets you so close. So damn close. So, so clo-

The tightness in your belly finally snaps and you howl, gushing your vat of arousal onto his face. The high was more intense than you had imagined, so high that you wonder if you will ever find your way back to reality. You feel like a rock in space, aimlessly floating in the vast nothingness.

You dimly notice Jungkook toying with the lacy hem of your panties, pulling it back to snap it against your hip. The sting is soon forgotten, along with your panties flung across the bed, as he parks himself back between your legs.

“You smell incredible.” He approves, taking a long whiff of your honeyed center. “Look at you, so messy.” He licks a long stripe along your crease. “Messy girl, I should clean you up.”

“Wait Jungkook-” you oppose, lids heaving in pleasure. “I need you inside me, please. I can’t take -oof”

Gnawing at your sodden folds, he let his nose press against your clit. “You’re so fucking tight, you think you can take me?” He shakes his head. “Gotta stretch you out, gotta make me fit.” He presses his tongue against your nub, feeling it throb in anticipation. “And I think you can give me one more.” He ends, before invading your drenched channel with two fingers. You are putting up with his torments the best you can; walls fluttering against his lips, legs entwined behind Jungkook’s back trapping him between your thighs. 

“Ah! God - I, I can’t-” Your eyes are screwed shut, hands bunching the sheets in your grasp.

His fingers fluctuate between scissoring motions, their lengths opening you up for him and curling inside, fingertips finding the rough patch inside. He adds a third finger, pussy straining to accommodate them all. Your thighs clench in the burn, and he groans into your pussy at the pressure. Increasing the pace, he pumps into you harder and faster, sucking your puffy lips in tandem. 

“Please, please, harder - let me cum - please oh go-” 

“Fuck yeah baby, your pussy is just sucking me in. You like that? You like me shoving into your cunt?”

“Uungh yes yes I love it!”

“Doesn’t it hurt? Or are you such a slut for pain? Tell me, tell me you’re a pain slut.”

“Fuck, Jungkook, don’t you stop- I am! I am a pain slut! Your pain slut!”

“Goood girrrll,” he husks out. Even though he is taking charge, your words are what control him. “Only mine. My pain slut will come for me now.”

A spray of cum ejects out of you, coating Jungkook’s chest and inundating your legs. The coherent part in you recognizes that you just squirted, but the neanderthal side shuts all recognition of anything that is not Jungkook’s cock. Even after two climaxes, you are hungry to get more. More of him. 

If you don’t fuck him now, you will lose your capability to reason. 

Limbs still heavy and reeling from the ravaging, you pick your pieces and drag Jungkook to the headboard. 

“I’m going to ride you.” you declare and straddle him. 

Jungkook is staring fixedly at your still-leaking cunt. Running his tongue over his lower lip, and licking the remnant syrup of your release. You position yourself, letting the drippage fall directly on his erection. He twitches, eyes still feasting on the mess you are making. 

Finding purchase on his shoulders, you lower yourself. Jungkook’s breath staggers as you drag your inner lips along his hard shaft. You repeat this motion till your fluids drip to his balls. 

“Y/N, I swear to God, if you don’t stop with this-”

“You’ll do what?” you challenge, an eyebrow raised in response to his threat. 

He grabs you by your waist, jerking you up before bringing you down on his dick. Your cunt, creamy from his earlier ministrations, gives no resistance to his hardness. His cock twitches inside as you bottom out. Pulling you closer, he bites your lip and tugs at it. 

“I’ll do this.”

A sharp spank makes you clench around him, the supple flesh of your ass ricocheting in response. 

“Go on baby, ride me.” 

The low-grained command sets you in motion. Slowly gyrating your hips, you feel every ridge of this length inside. Jungkook’s grip on your waist tightens, and you’re sure you will see evidence of it tomorrow. Your grasp on his shoulders isn’t faring any better. 

“You’re so tight, fuck, and so wet. Who made you like this, huh?” A second spank punctuating his question.

“Oh God, you-”, you barely manage to recognize your own voice, “You, Jungkook! Only you!” 

“That’s fucking right, only me.” 

Hips snapping, he meets you halfway. Both of you are lost in each other, lewd sounds of your skin slapping and juices quelching barely muffled by your desperate whines and moans of passion. Eyes locked in like magnets, neither of you could look away. 

Jungkook pulls back a little, slapping your jiggling tit. Your sex clenches, and the following slap has you lodging yourself in the crook of his neck, searching for a reprieve. 

“Want some help?”

One swift move and you are on your stomach, face pushed into a pillow, and ass out. A final spank lands right in the middle, and you can feel it pulsate everywhere. He pushes back into your glistening core, taking control of your pleasure and pain. One hand carding through the nape of your neck, pushing you down, the other hand grabbing your waist and setting the pace. The new angle hits deeper, you feel so full. 

“Jungkoo--unghh I need to cum! Need to- umph- cum so bad!” You are wailing at this point, shame lying somewhere near your flung clothes.

“Fuck, babe, me too. Go ahead and play with yourself, nice and slow.”

It takes a few swipes for the tightness in you to detonate. Tears flood your face as you unravel, your orgasm crashing into you like waves of a tsunami. You clench tight, wetness flows out of your hole as Jungkook pumps in and out, chasing his high. 

He comes undone soon after, ropes of his ejaculate filling your insides. He stays in, plugging you as if to not allow any of it out. But as his member softens, he gives in, turning you on your back to meet his face. 

Butterfly-soft kisses are exchanged after the blazing encounter. He asks you if you’re okay between breaths, a tender murmur you almost miss, as if you weren’t screaming your lungs out moments ago. Nuzzling into his neck, you confirm.

A snort disrupts the silence. Looking up, you see Jungkook chuckling.

In response to your cocked eyebrow, he says “Want to talk about what a freak you are?”

“Want to talk about what a hypocrite you are?”

“Hey, you asked me to spit on you!”

You mock-gasp, hand on chest for the extra effect. “My breasts need medical attention after your attention! Freak!” 

Laughter echoes in the room as you two tumble in the blankets, and you feel his release seeping out of you. Turning to him, you pout, “Your mess is leaking out of me.” 

Jungkook gets up to leave the bed, and you expect a wet towel coming your way. 

What you don’t expect is him parting your legs, gunmetal eyes following the rivulets escaping your abused hole. 

“Your cunt smells so good with my cum on it,” he purrs. 

He gathers the escaping thick liquid and pushes it back into your quivering core. 

Jolting with oversensitivity, you try to stall him but he is fingering you with a vengeance. The ache and soreness soon dispel, bringing forth a new wave of ecstasy. His unrelenting stare concentrates on the mix of fluids on his fingers. With a few strokes on your sensitive bundle of nerves and fingers stuffed inside, you come again, legs shivering and pussy overflowing, his juices intermingled with yours. 

You are dazed; you’ve lost track of everything. The room is spinning in front of you and your body feels like lead. All you can manage is to arch your neck, and plead, “No more, you freak.” 

Jungkook giggles, eyes crinkling in good humor. Ah, the duality of this man is a force to reckon with. You can’t believe this is the same man that fucked you into your bed like a primordial beast. There’s no way you can move anytime soon. 

After a clean-up interval, you are wrapped in each other's arms, melting into the embrace. His musky fragrance putting you at ease, you tuck your in the nook of his neck, basking in the aroma. Hands pressed against his broad chest, exuding warmth for you. His hand cradles your head, snuggling in closer till there is no space to cover. Sweet nothings whispered into each other’s lips, tender kisses exchanged in place of the scorching ones that had passed. You drift in and out of your slumber, fearing the sun would ascend too soon and break you apart. 

A dim glow from the other end of the bed wakes you up. On turning you find Jungkook, dressed in his now-wrinkled clothes, seated on the edge. His gaze, pensive. You lay a hand on his thigh.

“Oh, did the light wake you?”

The alarm on his face makes you smile. “No, your absence did.” 

The corners of his mouth turned up, eyeing you with softness. 

“I have an early schedule. I didn’t want to wake you, but, ” he lets his palm rest on yours, “I also didn’t want to leave without it.”

Neither of you know how to walk away from this. The silence is deafening, unuttered sentiments hanging in the still air. Jungkook’s chest is heavy. 

This is insane. He wants to lay you against a bed of flowers, treat you like the delicate petal you bear resemblance to, worship your body till the sun succumbs to your blazing passion. How is he to explain that his heart is beating through his chest for someone he knows for mere days? He rifles through his memories for a similar instance. 

He finds none. 

Maybe you don’t feel the same way. Maybe, you are blissfully unaware of the tumultuous emotions lurching in the pit of his belly. He can’t assume you will echo his lovesick needs, but he can’t let go. 

You inch closer. 

Fervid feelings die hard. He probes your eyes searching for an intensity matching his. 

You let your lips convey the answer.

Passionate as ever, you draw him into the kiss. His lashes flutter against your rosy cheeks. At the moment, there is no dominance in him. Almost like his tongue, dragging across your swollen lips, is healing the brutality of last night. If you pull back, he comes after you; an incessant tug of war no player wants to win. 

“Please Jungkook,” you choke between kisses, “Please tell me this isn’t the last of us.”

He is hovering on top of you, the galaxy in his eyes twinkling at your words. 

“Please, I don’t want this to end.” You continue against his lips. Head versus heart, you fought a losing battle; how were you to stall the inevitable? Fueled, you plunge your tongue into him, determined to make your ardor known. The void of ferocity is filled with slow sensuality; like he is the sole reservoir to quench your thirst. 

“Y/N”, he breathes out, “I feel like I know everything about you and nothing about you at the same time.” Resting your foreheads against one another, he continues. “I’m not about to let fate decide when we cross paths again.”

A grin finds your lips. “Destiny really pulled its weight here, didn’t it?”

He wordlessly nods, not wanting to break the tranquility in place. However, it is short-lived; his phone’s ringer makes sure of it. 

“Yeah, I’ll be right down.” Something the speaker says turns Jungkook scarlet red. “I said I’ll be right there!” he yells before ending the call.

“The members are asking why I wasn’t in my room.” he clarifies, waggling his brows.  You join his laughter, happy to have just the simple moment with him. 

After exchanging numbers (and a photo for keepsake), Jungkook presses one last kiss, lips promising to find each other again. Somehow, you don’t say goodbye. You just stare at his disappearing body, confident that the next encounter is not far. 

Jake is babbling about his night, how he managed to ditch the god-awful party and hang out with some overenthusiastic college-goers who paid for his drinks with their trust fund dough. This is usually the time you ask him if he’s proud of mooching off of children, but today his exaggerated narrative is cracking you up. 

His forehead creases. “What’s up with you today? You haven’t vowed to skin me alive even once.”

“You like it when I threaten bodily harm?”

“I’m kinky like that.”

You just shrug. Erotic images make a fleeting appearance in your mind, but they are interrupted by your flight announcement. 

“Aren’t you glad this is over? You can go back to overworking yourself in your office instead of a hotel!” Jake remarks, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “At least your back won’t break in the travel.”

Thinking over your experience in the city, you confess “Actually, I look forward to returning here.”

A thought slips in, curving your mouth into a smile. You quietly add,

“And yeah, my back was broken all right.”

Thank you for making it to the end! Please do let me know what you think!

[star-anise]

I read your post about trauma and I'm trying to make sense of my parents treatment of me as well as my own diagnoses. Is anxiety itself trauma? Or a result of trauma? Its the stress response itself not calming down. I think I was and am emotionally neglected. My parents are not sympathetic. I'm adhd anxiety depression my whole life. That post about learning new social situation techniques really resonated. What are the treatments for neglect? Besides plain old cbt and mindfulness and anti anxiety meds

Trigger warning: Child abuse, child neglect, emotional neglect

Anxiety can happen because of a wide variety of reasons, from medical to situational to genetic. It could happen out of the blue to a totally healthy adult. Or it might be a symptom of trauma and a bad childhood. PTSD used to be classified as a kind of anxiety disorder, but we now understand it's a lot more complicated.

I'm very sorry your family aren't sympathetic and don't get what's up with you. I want to make it very clear that it is not your fault that they aren't sympathetic.

It's not your fault for not explaining things clearly enough. It's not your fault for not being a more lovable child. It's not your fault for being emotional or oversensitive. It's not your fault for not communicating your needs in a way they can hear. Their treatment of you is not your fault.

That's important not just because it feels good to be absolved of blame. It's not a meaningless platitude. It's a nicer coating on what can sometimes be a very bleak truth. That truth is:

There is nothing you can do to make your family be sympathetic to you.

I am so, so, so sorry. You can spend your entire life turning backflips, you can learn interpretive dance, you can become the world's leading expert in your field, you can get hit by a car and find out you have cancer, you can be as sympathetic and understanding about their reasons for neglecting you as they could possibly want, you could do everything in your power to be a good child, and none of that will ever give you the power to make your parents be sympathetic to you and what you've been through.

Sometimes parents do learn and grow and change and work to repair the damage done while their kids were children. But that's because of their own issues and experiences and reasons, not because of anything their children have done. Many parents keep being oblivious and neglectful even when their children have become everything a parent could ever hope for.

Actually, an amazing number of my adult neurodivergent friends have had the absolutely excruciating experience of hearing their parents say, in essence, "Hey adult child! The other day someone I respect way more than you told me about [your condition], and I was astonished! They told me that thing you've been telling me for years, and it blew my mind. I now realize that this is a real part of your life! Wow, it sure would have made a difference if I'd done that thing you've been begging me to do for years now, huh? Hey, have you heard about this handy behavioural technique you've been doing every goddamn day of your adult life? It sounds like it would really help!"

Like, even if your parents ever Get It about your specific disorders and conditions, they're extremely likely to salvage their self-esteem by refusing to ever seriously acknowledge how much it's hurt that they've failed you.

And what that means is: You have to plan the rest of your life as if they will never be sympathetic.

That might mean never giving them any say over your medical care or personal life choices. It might mean not living with them, not turning to them when you need a supportive community, or not letting them play a large role in the lives of any children you yourself may have. It might mean having to build your own support network that doesn't include your family at all, because you can't count on them to care when you're in distress. It can really suck to have to keep giving up the dream that one day you'll be able to count on your family to nurture you emotionally, but I promise that it sucks less than being continually disappointed with no backup plan.

Researching emotional neglect can be really difficult because a lot of the best research psychology as a field has achieved on the topic comes from really extreme forms of neglect and abuse. Exactly the kind of neglect and abuse that society waves in the face of the "merely" emotionally neglected: "So what if you didn't get hugged enough! You had enough to eat, a roof over your head, and they never hit you! They weren't even mean or malicious! Stop whining!"

And... look, if you've just broken your legs and you're in a wheelchair, who would you rather learn about using a wheelchair from: someone who can easily walk everywhere all the time, or a double amputee who's been using a wheelchair for years? The first person can probably get around more easily, but the second one can tell you a lot more about the specific challenges and skills that will be central to this phase of your life.

That's the frame I propose for research: Your life might not have been as bad as the case studies you read (though it's probably worse than your family is willing to admit, because invalidation is itself a form of emotional neglect, and this is so common there's even a poem about it) but the issues they encounter and the skills they require are probably useful to you, too.

With that in mind, check out books about early childhood neglect and trauma like The Boy Who Was Raised as a Dog by Bruce Perry, which talks about the parts of the brain and developmental stages that can be impaired by toxic stress in childhood, and the various forms of treatment that can address each one.

As far as CBT, remember to focus on behaviour, not just cognition. Reading about using touch to self-soothe is good, but less powerful than using that knowledge to find a blanket you love to touch, and wrapping yourself up in it whenever you're upset. Neglect means that you failed to get repeated, predictable experiences of being comforted. Healing therefore means getting that practice in as an adult: Creating thousands of daily, repetitive experiences of being cared about. Caring about yourself, and finding people who will care about you.

Maybe also give Dialectical Behaviour Therapy workbooks a try? They're designed for Borderline Personality Disorder, which can be seen as a specific subset of complex trauma. Like, if the effects of childhood abuse and neglect were a rainbow, BPD might be red-orange. But what makes DBT useful is that it has examined which skills and coping mechanisms vital to emotional health people with BPD most commonly weren't taught/never learned/need more practice on. The curriculum might not overlap completely with your own needs if you fall into the yellow, green, blue, or violet aspects of C-PTSD, but it's a good starting place when you're inventorying skills and habits you want to strengthen.

Good luck? I hope this helps!

[yostresswritinggirl]

Albedo. I just rolled him and finished his quest.

I would love to talk about travelling with him, or at least being someone who brings in the ingredients for alchemy. Someone who goes out of their way for him and gets the best. Maybe the only gardener in Mondstadt to grow alchemical roots and grasses.

I'm happy for you, rolling the cute alchemy boyo ywy I only rolled in his banner to get Bennett in five rolls I'm sorry Albedo, my primogems are for Xiao and Hu Tao- *shot*

Back to business! I really, really like this cute idea awww thank you for distracting from the angst fics in my head haha (TUMBLR DIDN’T SAVE IT PROPERLY AND SO THE POST IS HORRIBLY SHORT WAIT- FIXED IT WOOHOO)

Albedo's Personal Botanist

Background

Most ingredients in alchemy usually come from ores and liquid ingredients formed by chemistry methods. Stuff like Tuttia, Bismuth, all that shindigs-

So while plant life can be useful for alchemy, not everyone recognizes its utility straight away, and provide for the common plants for arrangements rather than scientific inventory

I can imagine that you'd be a normal gardener at first but very passionate of their properties.

Might be a Dendro vision wielder too, the Dendro archon loves those who wield the power of knowledge, more so when they use it on nature.

You carry with you a lil book about all the plants and shrubs that you've personally cared for, down to their finest detail and properties. But you're a gardener, not a master of Alchemy, so some parts of the notes you couldn't really figure out yourself.

The first time you met Albedo, he was around a year into staying in Mondstadt. He was forced to go out and take a breather because of his workaholic schedule, and instead of relaxing in a bath, he ended up drifting to the market area to get more ingredients local to Mond.

Unlike the other flower stalls, he was pulled into yours because of the wide variety of your wares. Roots, grasses, shoots, plants you couldn't just find outside of the walls.

You were tending to your mini greenhouse in the back and left your botania book on the shelf outside, and this LIL SHI- Albedo, having no proper training for social interactions, straight up just opened that shit and read it all.

"Oh, hello there, mister- HEY, THAT'S MY STUFF, WHAT THE HECK"

Flustered, confused and alarmed, Albedo tried his best to quickly reason with your garden-spade-wielding self. And with his pretty boy self, you managed to calm down and listen.

You may or may not had smacked him with a bouquet of horsetail for good measure.

"Such vast knowledge and detail orientation, why waste away your talents in selling productive fauna when you can wield them into something more?"

Master Phytologist of the Knights of Favonius acquired!

Working with Albedo!

Your greenhouse in the Knight of Favonius HQ is most definitely connected to Albedo's laboratory! And very spacious too.

More than one occasion, you've seen the Chief Alchemist casually sneaking around the area, plucking a Flaming Flower or scraping dandelion seeds from the pot while you were busy tending to other flowers on the other side of your area.

65% of the time you caught him red-handed and you will be met with the rare sight of a fumbling, queasy Albedo.

30% of the time you just find out something is missing after checking inventory for the day, usually ends up with you hunting and shouting for Albedo. Because the guy seem to have a sixth sense as to when you find out his thieving adventures.

5% of all of that, Kaeya would be the one stealing from your 'safer' floras to woo a random citizen in Mond. And as a master of botany, your precious babies are always in tip top shape. Top quality bouquets all day, all night.

Those moments are the ones Albedo hate more than getting smacked with your spade. Those are your flowers, and by association, his. Grown to their maximum potential by your calloused yet gentle hands FOR HIM-

Kaeya: *reaching out to pluck a perfectly healthy glaze lily*; Albedo: *his short ass of a shadow looming over him*

NOW IT IS HIM WHO WIELDS THE POWER OF THE GARDEN SPADE

The atmosphere of your work area is significantly different from his own messy laboratory. The glass walls and roof that lets in just the right amount of sunlight, with a perfect view of the scenic landscape of Mondstadt and beyond.

When Albedo reaches a wall on his research, he picks up his sketchbook and just- waltz in to your workshop through the door connecting your workspaces.

The fresh air, the soft kiss of the sun, your humming, it was all a symphony of heaven concocted just for him.

He’ll find himself sketching your babies, dozen or more times you are included.

Your notebook’s illustrations are mostly courtesy of him, and he greatly basks in your pure admiration of his drawing.

To help him focus, you once took on the great task of organizing his laboratory, to no avail. Even if you manage to fix and align his inventory, it’s gonna go back to chaos after three days minimum.

It’s okay tho, it’s normal for him, more excuse to visit you-

Guilty, he wants your spacious and refreshing greenhouse and often asks for a redesign of his laboratory to share similar workspace with you.

Acting Grand Master Jean had to decline this idea just because it costs more than a million mora.

He’s definitely gonna sulk in your greenhouse after that, back leaning on the warm glass wall as he does nothing but sketch you and your plants the whole day.

Don’t stop him

Just admire the pout

Actually Working with Albedo! (Finally)

Whenever Albedo discovers/explores a new area, you’re always sure to tag along whether willingly or by force

YOU BET YOUR FROZEN ASS YOU’RE COMING WITH HIM TO DRAGONSPINE

DEFINITELY BY FORCE

I imagine that despite being his assistant/student, Sucrose and Timaeus are more focused on research and the application of Alchemy, so they’re not much of the resource gathering type. That said, Albedo is very thankful of your existence, it’s a breather to his already full schedule.

Albedo is both considerate and inconsiderate unconsciously : While he may run off to experiment on the traveler and leave you scouting the area yourself, he doesn’t willingly set you on fire from the inside.

Every time he comes back to camp after finishing the step by step experiment with/on the Traveler, he makes sure to check up on how you are doing.

TAKE NOTE: Our prince is very occupied and busy with his own work a lot, so he’s never really seen you in action when you go out to get the the materials he needs-

So he is purely horrified when he saw you hanging off the cliff with nothing but a rope around you to keep you safe, carefully investigating a petrified tree branch up close.

Suddenly, elevator.

Again, Imma bet, he’s gonna be accompanying you in all your expeditions after that. He’ll need to know where and how you acquire every ingredient outside of your greenhouse.

Does it require you to climb a mountain? Are there any Hilichurl camps nearby? Maybe mobs that are attracted to that type of flower?

He would be very attentive of your inventory reports and would recognize if a dangerous gathering journey is near. He’ll be right there with you.

Violetgrass x1000

He’s gathering more than a month’s worth just to make sure you don’t go back to make that dangerous trip. It’s very impractical, but let him rest his heart.

You and Albedo: Resource Gathering Expedition; Other Knights: Outdoor Dates Disguised as Work-Related Outings

Flower crowns are good and all but have you heard of flower bracelets?

Omg so cute hhh imagine a Flaming Flower Stamen bracelet for his Dragonspine expedition- it’s not gonna last forever but it’s so precious he’s definitely keeping that shit even when the heat already dissipated from it gah-

“Paimon wonders, what’s that thing around your wrist?”

“A flame bracelet, made to keep the cold away.”

“Woah! Sounds very useful! Sure would be handy for exploring, you think we can borrow it-”

“No.”

Something angst-y: Albedo has yet to make a Dendro affinity potion and he’s really, really devastated about it and himself. You’ll have to forcibly pull him out of his self-deprecation, force him to get a breather.

Overall, Albedo greatly appreciates not only your utility but also your consistent company. He values your tenacity and comfort, sharing unadulterated curiousity as you both venture the great unknown. There’s a lot of stuff he can pray about to thank whichever archon has graced you. And despite his Vision lacking the function to actually help in the advancement of his research, he is now thankful for it, for he has found with it a greater purpose: Ensuring the safety of his precious Gardenia.

I CANT BELIEVE IT, THIS THING WAS 30 TIMES LONGER BUT TUMBLR DIDN’T SAVE THE DRAFT PROPERLY AND HAD TO GET EVERYTHING BACK THROUGH MEMORY, AND MY MEMORY IS B A D. I’M SORRY I KNOW YOU JUST WANTED TO TALK BUT IT ENDED UP BEING SUPER LONG AND LOOKS LIKE A HEADCANON THAN ANYTHING, MY FORMATTING IS REALLY LIKE THIS AAAAAAAA- I hope you enjoy ywy I like your brain, it brings good ideas and gives me good ideas too!