#footing requirements for shed

[allstyleshedsau]

[goldenstring6123]

Lnds: Them as human-dog hybrids!

Author's notes: A bit more of a niche HC~

Sylus as human-dog:

General Personality:

Aggressive and territorial both in human form and in animal form.

Usually prefers to be directly beside you at all times, sometimes positioning himself in between your legs if you're doing something that requires you to be idle.

Almost always in guard dog mode.

Comfortably switches from human form to animal form any time, anywhere.

In animal form, there's always a leash attached to his collar, in human form, he removes the leash but keeps the collar on. He likes it.

Wards of any other dogs that come in your way with a simple stare and a snarl. Other dogs shiver at the sight of him—even the more bigger ones.

if you get mad at him or scold him for being naughty, he'll ignore you which you will always let him get away with— but if he goes too far, he sleeps on the balcony.

You like grabbing his tail and muse yourself at seeing his super quick and funny reactions.

Dislikes

Dislikes play time with other dogs. When he's at the park, he sits under a tree and inspects the place as if he's a watchdog. If other animals pester him, he will bully them.

Dislikes being touched by other people even stepping a tad bit close will turn him aggressive.

Absolutely hates the vet; he's a menace to everyone except you; No vet would accept him; he likes only two specific doctors in Linkon city and both of them were old veteran women.

Likes

Likes bath time but likes giving you a hard time as well, when he's wet and lathered with soap, you will be too.

like's agressive play and you coddling him with belly rubs, back ear scratches. In the midst of play time he'll suddenly turn human and want your affection in another way.

Habits

At midnight, he leaves his very expensive and comfortable dog bed and sneaks into yours, come morning, you're face to face with his bare chest.

He doesn't let you off easily in the morning and even if he did, you still have to deal with his groggy ness.

He makes a mess when he sees that you cleaned your side of the bed when you wake up earlier than him and he just likes watching you clean it for the second time, ignoring your yapping and scolding.

A Major incident:

You once got mauled by another guard dog, unfortunately he wasn't there to protect you because you left him at home—stating it will just be a quick errand. when too long of a time has passed and you entered the house, the putrid scent of another dog had him barking loud. He sees you covered in scratches and bandages with blotches of red. He looses it and you can't calm him down no matter what kind of coaxing you do.

He turns human and catches you in your exhausted state, seeing the needle marks on your arm (from the vaccination), he was a bit relieved to see you got yourself patched up; He was still angry though. He helped you with the things you need to do and he puts you to bed, resting on the foot of your bed until he could hear you snooze.

At night, he hunts for that awful scent, searching high and low. The scent lead him to an abandoned shed in the forest where a stray and formerly detained human-dog hybrid resided. Needless to say there were trails of blood leading to the toilet and he was there trying to get the blood off by the time you wake up.

Zayne as human-dog:

General Personality:

A Medical service dog who is also the former chief cardio surgeon.

Often alert and active on duty when you are in your work mode.

A very intelligent dog, even if you aren't in any trouble, he'll bring your stuff like a pillow, a bottle of water, a bag of chips and so on.

He's very particular to the scent you give; although he can't describe it, he can smell your emotions and your physical condition.

He rarely barks at anything random and has a designated spot for doing his business. he is a low maintenance, well trained and polite dog.

Dislikes:

He dislikes any special cooked meals for him that has carrots in its ingredients. You can sneak in some when he eats in human form but when he's in his dog form, he can smell it no matter how well it's blended in the meat.

Also hates fast food, but likes the sugary sweet confections.

Likes:

In human form he likes reading, and rather than go to the dog park or the pet supply store, you bring him to a cafe or a bookstore.

From time to time, he likes being in human form for longer periods. and while he does, he likes to service you, helping you clean around the house, and perform check ups. If not doing anything, he's reading a book or watching a classic film.

He likes to keeps his bed in the same spot and only has specific areas in the house where he stays. Preferably in elevated areas like on the table or on the couch.

He likes to visit the park, but never really plays around. Small puppies are attracted to him but he only paws their heads before tending to his own business.

He takes it upon himself to go to the doggy parlor and the vet; sometimes he doesn't need you to accompany him. He takes pride in being well groomed; he takes it a step further by also taking good care of his human form. the downside is: it gets really really expensive.

A Major incident/s:

Rarely do you ever get mad at him except for times when you order fast food on your nights off. Before managing to take a bite of that double cheeseburger, he snatches it from you and lunges it around. Stepping on it. He hates fast food and he knows its not good for you.

As punishment you didn't let him join you for work for the next three days and he's left all alone in the house waiting for you to get home. He eagerly waits for you at the door and all you do is pet him before falling asleep on the couch.

Despite knowing you were mad at him and he was under punishment, he still drapes a blanket over you making sure you weren't cold. He sleeps at the foot of your couch and when he comes to, you were sleeping on the floor with him, cuddling and sharing the same blanket he draped over you during the night.

Xavier as human-dog:

General Personality:

An immortal police dog working with the Hunter's association.

Has a keen sense of smell and hearing as well as agility and speed.

In office down-times he naps— a lot, yet he never fails to perfect physical test. Somehow always in great shape both in dog form and human form.

When he has nothing to do, or there's too many dogs in the vicinity, escapes and sleeps in the flowerbed of the rooftop garden or ontop of a slate rock. In human form, he sleeps in a hammock behind the storage room which was conveniently placed by a former staff. (or so he says)

He will play dead on the floor if he's too lazy to walk so you have to carry him in his.

In your home, he's mostly in his human form. He still likes snacks but mostly likes to stick to you wherever you are. In the sofa? Sitting and resting on your lap. in the bedroom? At the foot of your bed. Toilet? He's outside the door. There's no alone time with him. Dislikes

He hates baths but likes being groomed. He's a very patient boy in the doggy parlor especially if they offer treats. Doesn't bite but will push himself into a corner or face the wall as if he's being punished.

People pet him a lot and he avoids it like a cat, sometimes play biting to tell people to go away. If people still manage to pet him, He'll make loud, whining noises and hide under your table.

Likes

He like's winning plushies in the arcade yet coats them in saliva so you can't exactly have that plushie to yourself. 3 days in and that plushie would turn into shreds because of his aggressive playing habits.

He loves treats, be it dog treats or pastries. Can hear a crinkle of treats inside your bag from 5 feet away. He'll be raising his paw at you once he manages to get your attention.

A Major incident:

You once got mad at him for slobbering and chewing up all over the paperwork on your table because you weren't able to pay attention to him during the busy office hours.

As punishment, you had to work overtime to accomplish and remake those files; all while ignoring him. Afterwards, when he thought you were done, you asked Nero to exchange patrol dogs for the time being.

Xavier was devastated and suddenly turned human, apologizing and saying that it wont happen again.

You ignored him and went home— him trailing after you just a few meters away. He doesn't enter your house when you get there and just guards your front door. When morning comes, he realizes that there was a blanket on him an a brand new plushie. Your door was purposely left ajar for him to enter.

Rafayel as human-dog:

General Personality:

A high maintenance fashion dog.

He's a runway pet, often working alongside clothing companies.

Though he is a human-dog hybrid, he's frequently in his human form to sign contracts and make negotiations.

He models both as a dog and as a human. He's very picky though, he only chooses the best of the best companies, ones that you would wear.

He has his own penthouse near the beach but people complain about him because he barks a lot, seemingly out of boredom. As a solution, he moves in with you!

He chooses your outfit for you, and digs out of your wardrobe every now and then, especially when he needs you to accompany him to a show or a party. Dislikes

He is more dramatic than you anticipated. If he dislikes the film or show he's watching and you were ignoring him, he would bark annoyingly, or whine a lot most likely rolling around and jumping on the bed to relieve his boredom.

He has problems with cats and can sense if one steps in within the perimeter of his residence.

In his dog form, he dislikes being in places or rooms with extreme temperature. be it super cold or too hot. Although he likes the summer, sometimes the heat is unbearable so he needs to cool off as soon as he goes out. Likes

He likes to make sure you look the best because you are a reflection of him; But he knows he looks better than you.

He keeps a few toys around and particularly likes the plushies, but above all he likes the to play around with the scrunchies you wear.

From time to time, he likes play dates with other dogs— his breed in particular is very quick to get along with other dogs regardless of species. He's quite fond of frolicking in the indoor dog parks of Linkon city.

Habits

He has his own bedroom in your apartment but you always wake up with him next to you either in his dog form or in his naked human form.

He needs full maintenance every few days, these involve brushing, nail grooming, ear cleaning and so on; It gets very expensive but he always pays for it. In human form he likes to pamper you as well by giving you massages, treating you to spas and salons.

He is a nightmare to deal with as a dog mainly because he sheds so fast; even if you cleaned the kitchen before cooking there will always be fur in your cutlery.

A Major incident:

You were always scolding him for his childishness but once in a while, it gets endearing except for that one specific day where he decides to chew on all your heels and shoes because you were going to meet up with the manager of that Chihuahua model.

Needless to say, yours shoes, including slippers, which you had to pay money for, were all ruined. Barefoot and all, you drove him over to his penthouse and left him there for a solid few days. No one complained of any noise because his neighbors were out of town.

He was angry at you for leaving him alone so he wanted to give you a piece of his mind, but when he arrive at your apartment, the first thing he sees were those chewed up shoes.

Feeling apologetic at the sight of your broken shoes in the trash bin, he gathered his connections and used some IOUs to be given some of the best and beautiful shoes in the industry. Needless to say you were quite surprised when there are a bunch of pr boxes blocking your door. That and Rafayel patiently waiting at the foyer of your apartment.

Author footnotes: Some of the text won't adhere to the format— Sorry about that! I'm still getting used to tumblr. Also, I wanna make a part two out of this. hehe~ Layout by me, using Canva premium | Do not repost | Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[the-griffons-saddlebag]

💎 𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗺! Starlight’s Reach
Wondrous item, very rare (requires attunement) ___ These long, silken gloves are dotted with silver stars. While wearing them, you can always see the stars in the sky, even in the daytime, and you can’t become lost by nonmagical means as long as you can see them. While wearing the gloves, you can use a bonus action to summon a javelin of starlight. The javelin appears in your space and moves with you, floating alongside you. It sheds bright light in a 10-foot radius and dim light for an additional 10 feet. When you summon the javelin, and again as a bonus action on each of your subsequent turns, you can make a ranged spell attack with the weapon, with a spell attack bonus of +8. The javelin has a range of 30 feet, but it can be used to attack a target up to 120 feet away: doing so causes you to make the attack with disadvantage. If the javelin hits a target, it deals 1d6 + 4 radiant damage, and a shimmering star appears fixed in space at the point of impact. The star sheds bright and dim light like the javelin, and it remains there for up to 1 minute. Hit or miss, the javelin then winks out and reappears next to you in your space. You can use a bonus action to dismiss the javelin. When you do, the shimmering stars created by the javelin each flare with a celestial light, creating 1-inch-diameter beams of energy between them. A star can have up to two beams of energy connected to it, and each beam must connect to a different star no more than 60 feet away from it (you choose which stars). A creature caught in one or more of the beams must succeed on a DC 16 Dexterity saving throw or take 4d6 radiant damage. The stars then vanish. After the javelin attacks for the fifth time, it disappears, and any stars created by it wink out without creating any beams. ___ ✨ Patrons get huge perks! Access this and hundreds of other item cards, art files, and compendium entries when you support The Griffon's Saddlebag on Patreon for less than $10 a month!

[dungeon-strugglers]

✨New item!✨ Crescent Pearl Weapon (scimitar), rare (requires attunement)

The pearlescent blade of this scimitar glimmers like the moon and its lapis lazuli handle resembles a starlit night sky. You have a +1 bonus to attack and damage rolls made with this magic weapon. In darkness, the unsheathed blade of this sword sheds dim moonlight in a 10-foot radius. The sword has a number of charges equal to your proficiency bonus and regains all expended charges daily at dawn.

Lunar Flash. As a bonus action while wielding the sword, you can expend one charge to cast the misty step spell from it.

Cosmic Cleave. As a bonus action while wielding the sword, you can expend one charge to suffuse the blade with moonlight. The next target you hit with the sword before the end of your turn takes an extra 2d6 radiant damage. 

When braving a land of monsters and ghouls shrouded by night, one's only respite is often the meager light of the moon. 

Some steadfast souls manage to harness the moon's rays, summoning its true strength and splendor for all to behold, and for foes to fear... - Huge shout out to our Patron & longtime Discord member Goblin Pink for writing up and sketching the initial design for this sword for last year's Swordtember! - 🖌🎨 Like our work? Consider supporting us on Patreon and gain access to the hi-resolution art for over 200 magic items, printable item cards and card packs, beautiful creature art and stat blocks, and setting pdfs with narrative hooks and unique lore!🧙‍♂️ Thank you so much for your support! 💖

📜 Credit. Art and design by us: the Dungeon Strugglers. Please credit us if you repost elsewhere.

[thewayhavenchronicle]

N Sewell's Big Secret - A Theory

So, I've been replaying N's route lately and an epiphany came to me last night when I was playing the end of Book 3.

It's in Book 2 I believe that you can ask Nate if he's ever killed someone while talking to him about how old he is. He frowns for a minute and says, "Not with my own hands, no."

Weird, right? After what we see in the mirror at the carnival, when he says he got turned at sea, it's clear that the image in the mirror was of that time right after he got turned. He's covered in blood, surrounded by bodies while wearing a British Royal Navy uniform.

Originally, since Falk declared N Not Guilty, I assumed that perhaps N had come to terms with the reaction they had to being a newly turned vampire. I thought maybe they'd lost control and slaughtered the men of the ship, or perhaps they'd been attacked and defended themself. A sort of Jekyll + Hyde situation where N doesn't consider their frenzied state to be truly Them.

BOOK 3 SPOILERS AHEAD

And then we get into Book 3, and it's really clear that N has not been to therapy enough to not blame themself if they'd killed that many people. They're overprotective and selfless to the point of self sacrifice for the slightest inconvenience and they blame themself for any little inconvenience that befalls MC. Clearly, they are not well-adjusted enough to separate something that happened in desperation and fear from who they truly are.

This put me on the back foot, trying to figure out what that could mean. If you are dating N, they tell you about their brother, M*lton, who was killed by vampires. They tell you about joining the Navy to seek revenge or to at least find out what happened to their brother. Makes sense.

The moment that made my theory CLICK in my head happens at the end of the book, if you ignore Rebecca's idea and go alone to the auction.

So, you get captured and the auctioneer person tries to sell you off for your blood. Just like the other 3 routes, N will come to rescue you at the auction, and they have a brief spat with someone in the audience who tries to outbid them.

[ID included on screenshot.]

This moment I originally thought was a pheromone thing. It doesn't seem like just a threat, as Nate seems visibly shaken and weakened by whatever it is he did. Also, the strange way the supernatural responds seems to suggest some kind of influence.

And then it hit me --- "Not with my own hands, no."

N's power is some kind of mind control / suggestion ability.

They never killed anyone with their own hands because they told the pirates / vampires to kill each other or kill themselves.

The theme of control comes up several times in N's route. N prides themself on being very in control of their body and their emotions, keeps their wants hidden and their true feelings locked firmly away beyond anything that is pleasant or kind. It makes me wonder if, aside from being able to influence people on command, if they can accidentally influence people when they get too emotional.

I also think it might require touch to really make the power work. They constantly keep their hands in their pockets and, while this is a normal enough idle motion, the fact that they touched the supernatural here and often put their hands in their pockets / withdraw touch when having a disagreement with someone suggests it might have something to do with it.

The amount of trust that UB must have in N when they have a power like that is enormous. It also sheds new light on the arguments that N and A often get into, as it seems that if N really wanted to, they could get their way every time via this weird power.

It also sheds new light on Rebecca's concern for N and MC. The assumption that MC is immune to this ability is there, but there's always the chance that they aren't, and Rebecca being worried about N forcing MC into doing things via suggestion seems to be very real.

It also makes me wonder if N has ever tested out whether their suggestion works on MC, or if they've thought about it with something small. Makes me wonder if we are entirely immune or if there's going to be some caveat like with M and their pheromones causing MC pain.

EITHER WAY, I feel like I figured it out. I'm losing my mind with the implications of it all.

[mwolf0epsilon]

Some mimics have specific jobs where interacting with people other than railway workers (while in their smaller size), is required to accomplish said job.

In Percy's case, he is allowed to join the couriers on foot to deliver letters! He's become quite beloved as a result, since everyone on Sodor is so used to seeing him about. In James's case, he's mostly used for advertisement stunts for the NWR. Mostly because people can't help be endeared by his attempts to be charming.

The latter wasn't always an official job, but Sir Topham Hatt ended up making it one since the little red menace kept managing to wiggle out of the sheds unnoticed, and managed to gather a lot of attention from curious onlookers...

— ☕️ Ko-fi | 🧡Commissions

[tomswifty-fr]

A Tundra dragon's wintercoat is thick enough to completely cover the webbed part of their wings when not in flight, protecting the exposed skin from frost. In the coldest parts of the Southern Icefield, all travel during winter is done on foot not only to avoid exposing the wings to frigid temperatures, but also because the coat can grow heavy enough to make liftoff difficult or impossible.

In most cases, the coat also grows over the feet, but the individual in this picture has trimmed it back to expose their claws. This may be done for aesthetic reasons or for the physical dexterity granted by unfurred feet. In either case, they'll need some sort of protection before heading outside.

Most Tundra dragons don't use specialized winter gear - their coats are more insulating than almost any other material you could get ahold of. In fact, cold-weather clothing for Tundras with patchy, shaved, or otherwise inadequate coats is often made from shed fur from the previous season! Blankets and other textiles made from Tundra fur are often passed down as heirlooms or given to leaving clan members (if they're leaving on good terms), as fur can retain the scent of the dragon who shed it for many years.

Non-Tundra clan members will wear garments made from shed fur as well, and they can be valuable exports if the clan can find a market. There are very few places outside the Icefield that get cold enough to require that kind of garment, so demand is naturally limited. The most common customers are high-altitude fliers, abyssal divers (the fur is not waterproof, but doesn't lose its insulating properties when wet), and the occasional collector or museum.

[stray-kaz]

Scent of Pine : a Shanks x f!reader Christmas drabble

Summary: Shanks has never celebrated Christmas before, but upon hearing about your favourite tradition, he makes it his mission to make this your best Christmas yet.

You blinked at Shanks, puzzled by his confusion.

"What?" you asked him.

"What?" he repeated. "A Christmas tree?"

You nodded slowly.

"Yeah... You never decorated a Christmas tree when you were a kid?"

He shook his head.

"No. We didn't celebrate Christmas at all."

Your jaw dropped.

"Never?"

Shanks' shaggy hair flicked into his face as he shook his head again.

"Never."

"No presents? No tree? No twinkly lights?"

He slowly continued to shake his head, his eyes fixed on yours. You sighed heavily and he cocked his head to the side.

"You're really into this whole tree thing, aren't you, love?" he mused, a faint smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

"Yes" you muttered, sulking slightly.

You waved a hand at him, dismissing the topic out of hand.

"But don't worry about it" you told him. "I'm a big girl now, I don't need a pretty tree, Shanks. I'll be just fine."

You made to walk past him, but he snaked a hand out and reeled you in by the waist, pulling you tightly against his chest. He cupped a hand on the back of your head and kissed your crown.

"Okay" he mumbled against your hair, narrowing his gaze at the wall opposite him.

You'd be fine.

Sure.

Christmas morning dawned and although you had assured Shanks over and over again that you did not, in fact, require a shedding tree to be happy on Christmas day, you woke with a gently gnawing ache in the pit of your stomach.

You missed your mother and father, your brother and your classic Christmas mornings. With Shanks, you had a home, but occasionally, old homesickness still tugged at you.

As you swung your legs out of bed and stood, you realised two things: one, that Shanks wasn't in the bed behind you, and two, there was a strangely familiar scent floating into the bedroom, sweet and cool, like the smell of the beach in the early morning.

You wrapped a dressing gown around your body, covering up your pajamas and padding to the doorway.

"Shanks?" you called out down the hall.

"In here!" he shouted back.

You rolled your eyes and followed the sound of his voice to the cramped living room, the old familiar smell growing stronger as you walked.

Your eyes widened as you rounded the narrow corner into the living room and saw Shanks hastily scrambling away from the six foot pine, a lovingly handmade star tipping back and forth at its top.

You stopped and stared from the tree to Shanks and back, glitter glue sparkling at you from the corner of your vision, having been sporadically applied to the star seconds before you entered the room. The tree's green branches dripped in decorations. Shells, bead necklaces, straw hats in miniature, carved figurines of sea beasts, pocket sized copies of Luffy's wanted poster, and red ribbons.

His gaze flicked from you to the tree and back to you, clearly anxious.

"I know it's probably not just the same, love, but do you -"

His question was hurriedly cut off by you crossing the floor to him and wrapping your arms around his neck, your fingers playing with his hair as the dressing gown you wore fell open to your sides.

"I love it" you said quietly, honestly. "It's the best Christmas tree I've ever seen. Thank you."

His shoulders relaxed and he leaned down to kiss you, his hands sliding over your bare waist and gently gripping.

"You're welcome, love" he murmured against your parted lips. "It was no trouble, really. You are the best gift I've ever gotten."

Merry Christmas: @writingmysanity @elizabeth-karenina

[coffeedepressionsoup]

Somebody Does Love | MYG - Now They Know

Pairing - Yoongi x F!reader

Summary - "What is grief, if not love persevering?" Two people are in love but that is not enough because sometimes loving requires courage.

This is the one where they shed some fear. Part 7 of Somebody Does Love.

Series Masterlist

Genre - fluff, strangers to lovers, eventual smut and angst

Word count - 2.4k+

Warnings - lil swearing, drinking, smoking, Yoongi!!, (crushing on Yoongi)!!

Ratings - 13+

Taglist: @majiiisstuff @starlighttaek8 @yoongrace @proudnoona @7ndipity

A/N - All apologies for the long gap. Partially proofed. I had fun, especially towards the end. Hope you like it!

If someone told you a week back that you’d be in your current situation, you would guffaw, roll your eyes and safely assume they were as delusional as you allowed yourself to be in your daydreams. Because honestly, what were the chances?

You gulped and blinked up from your cup of wine. 

Oh yeah. The wine tonight was your downfall.

Wine was your kryptonite. This is why you never drank wine in public, you remembered.

You could hold your hard liquor almost as good as the next person. But a couple of glasses of wine— how to put it delicately— made you unbelievably reckless. Not the kind that would compel you to drive along a cliff. It is more like the kind that catches you in heated embraces, often sans clothing, sometimes involving more than two parties, as you’d discovered first in your college days.

Former lovers knew of the effect wine had on you and would often use it in their favour.

Your friends knew what wine did to you as well. They teased you endlessly. 

And now, you realised why Hajoon had suddenly “misplaced” the keys to his bar cabinet and how conveniently Aera had picked up several bottles of wine on the way. 

Or maybe it truly was coincidental that they found the key after your third glass and your misplaced sense of vanity was trying to conjure excuses to justify the outcome of your present reality. Your mind was racing faster than your sanity could keep up with. Maybe your friends were not conspiring to make you fess up to your insurmountable, unadulterated crush. That would be juvenile. 

Your mind flashed back the last 12 hours.

While you finished packing the previous night, you were curious about Sammy’s uncharacteristic “hovering.” He had come into your room on at least three different occasions within an hour, twice asking if you wanted anything for breakfast tomorrow. Breakfast was clearly not what he wanted to talk about. And you also had too early a start to have any appetite. 

Now, as he sat munching on what you assumed was a protein bar, he asked, “Aren’t you taking these?” He was pointing at a pile of folded sweaters on your bed. You shook your head, chained up the duffle bag you had in front of you and placed it on the settee by the door. 

“It might get cold there,” Sammy mumbled with his mouth half full.

You had moved into the en suite, getting ready to brush your teeth. “Yoongi said it’s not as cold in April,” you mumbled back.

“Oh, then it must be okay,” he said with a chuckle.

You stepped out with the brush in your mouth, seeing Sammy sprawled over your bed. That tone was almost teasing. And you were in half a mind to ignore him. But the other half got the better of you. “What does that mean?” “What?” “Why did you say it like that?” “Like what?” he drawled bored, smirking down at his phone. You rolled your eyes and quietly went on about your night routine. It was simple enough. Brush teeth, brush out hair, wash face, moisturise face. You then put all your electronics on charge and got under the covers.

You had to kick Sammy’s horizontal body further down the length of your bed to stretch your legs out. You heard him grunt a little in response as he readjusted himself at the foot of your bed, legs dangling off one of the sides, as he continued scrolling on his phone.

After a few minutes, his gentle voice pulled you out of the slime video you were staring at. “You like him?” 

“Huh?” you hummed reactively before asking “Like who?” You knew who. You just wanted to keep a straight face, feign ignorance and avoid thinking in that tangent.

You thought this would draw a whiny reaction from your friend and the conversation could end in banter before it started, but instead, much to your dismay, Sammy answered, “Yoongi, you like him.”

You moved your phone slightly. Sammy was resting his head on his hand, supported on his elbow. He was facing you now. The sincerity in his eyes threw you off kilter a bit. This time, the tone of inquisition seemed to be missing. It sounded more like a statement, an observation, to be precise.

You froze up. Were you that obvious? It felt even silly to think about it at times. Most of all, despite being one of your usual confidants and current housemate, you actively decided not to tell Sammy anything about it for a few good reasons. 

They were friends, who worked together sometimes, and hung out, with a common circle, often. One of them was one of your closest friends. Irreplaceable. The other one.. You liked. Okay. Had a fat fucking crush on. You could get over that though. You at least had to try, right? You could not risk getting involved and become the source of any kind of discomfort if things went south. You had to try your best to get over it.

But you were not trying, were you? You were expectantly looking forward to a weekend getaway with him. Granted, there will be other friends and acquaintances as well. But you knew they were not the ones you packed one of your best dresses for. They were not the ones who you texted sparsely over the last few days with an arrhythmic heart. They were not the ones whose hands you daydreamed about holding either.

Sammy’s mock punch against your feet pulled you out of the spiral. You shook your head, as curtly as possible, trying not to immediately get too defensive. Afterall, a strong denial is an affirmation. “No man, what the fuck.”

“Y/n, you know I can see you around him, right?” his face held that sombre look.

“Am I actually that obvious?” you bit your lip nervously.

“So you agree you have been simping after him?” he asked, his face changing into a shit-eating grin

“You can simp after my left foot,” you muttered, throwing a couple of pillows at him as he chuckled.

“I think the feelings are mutual bro. I know you are holding back for whatever reasons. I just wanted to put it out there,” the sincerity crept back into his voice while he still had the hint of a smile.

“Sammy…” you drawled, now trying to pull the covers right up to your face but the man you were speaking to was lying on top of it. You put your hands over your face, trying to hide from the mirror your friend so unexpectedly held up.

“Jesus Y/N-ah, are you blushing right now?”

You groaned some more, making your friend laugh harder.

“Wow you have it bad!” he claimed.

“I don’t have anything bad. Why do y’all keep saying shit?” “Who all do you mean?”

You sat up against the headboard and tried to rub off the sleep and the alleged blush off your face. If he had caught on, might as well tell him all. And you did.

From the talking about your pets to the almost drunk kiss and the very brief hand action (read: grazing) while washing mugs. You also filled him in about your infrequent text exchanges. Sammy mostly barked out with laughter at most of your gushing. Sometimes he would interject and fill you in about the reactions he observed as well. 

You were almost up till almost 3 talking about your hesitations and fears about actively pursuing the inexcusable adoration you were afflicted with. You were reminded again how you were gravely wrong about Sammy’s probable viewpoint of the matter. You were reassured that no matter the course of action or their consequences, your friendship will remain unbothered.

Since you had an early start as well, you barely got a couple of hours sleep. The carry over lethargy from the previous day could have been another reason why the wine got you good. Or. Just conjecture. You were heady with the aroma of the man in front of you. And you never wanted to go another day in your life without that smell wrapped around you. 

The noise of the party inside felt muted for you. You remembered stepping out of the beach house for a smoke. You remember Yoongi following behind you. You shared the smoke you lit. Hajoon, Ae-ra, Jane, Taehyung and Hoseok had rushed out caught in a rabid, loud disagreement about the best texture of spaghetti or confetti, you weren’t sure. But before they walked out towards the adjoined beach, a couple of them had managed to bump into Yoongi in a way that led him to unintentionally cage you into the corner of the deck.

You decided to attribute the current adrenaline surge to the wine as you looked up at Yoongi, his eyes  intently searching for something in yours.

"Are you gonna keep staring?" you managed to ask without a stutter.

He blinks, parting his lips slightly, in an attempt to produce a response. An attempt he fails. 

You stare back, and after a few seconds, draw in a deep breath. You can see his gaze roaming your face as if he is trying to commit your face to memory. As you continue to stare at him, feeling the tip of your ears warm more and more with each passing second, you also glance over his sharp features, all the gorgeous details and perfect blemishes.

"Yoongi?” you ask again.

He hums in return as you notice his eyes flit between your eyes and lips. 

“I will count down from 5,” your voice was shakier than you imagined it would be, but you blurted out regardless, “If you don't move or stop me, I am going to kiss you."

His eyes widened for a short second before falling back to your lips. 

"5"

His tongue slipped out and ran down his lower lip.

“4”

His jaw clenched as he let out a shaky breath.

“3”

He looked back straight into your eyes.

“2”

He mouthed along with you.

“1,” you breathed out softly and reached for his lips. Before your mouths touched, you saw his eyes flutter shut. 

Soft. Expectedly soft.

The first moment your lips touched Yoongi’s you felt shivers run down your spine. It was a chaste peck, held in place for a few seconds until you moved away ever so slightly to try and see his face. When you saw his pouty face chasing after your flushed one, you angled your head slightly, ready to capture his lips properly in yours this time.

Your hands slipped around his waist, not clutching or pulling, just resting around him, tentatively, palms furtively placed at the small of his back. Even though the liquid courage allowed you to brave the first kiss and it had been met with nothing but enthusiasm, a thought at the back of your head continued to bug. What if you were reading the situation and the signals wrong? 

Well, you did offer him a chance to leave before you kissed him, didn’t you? You announced your intentions out loud, like a Regency-era butler, hadn’t you? Despite that, he chose to stay, didn’t he? As your lips moved alongside Yoongi’s and your mind spiralled about the legitimacy of interest from the man, you felt a hesitant bite on your lower lips. That is when you realised that you may not be the only one spiralling with crippling doubt. 

Something about the light nibble forced you to push your hesitations aside and try to alleviate any uncertainties the man in your arms might be having as well. You licked across his bottom lip in return. At the same time, you planted your palms on his lower back. Not with too much force but with enough firmness that would underline your enthusiasm.

Yoongi jolted slightly at the sudden onset of assertiveness. He felt shivers course through his body, starting from the points where your hands touched his torso. The thin linen t-shirt did very little to conserve the heat he could feel radiating off of him. Or it was just the flush that he felt from the first moment your lips touched. 

His startle also led the way to an inaudible gasp, which you took full advantage of, of course. You slid your tongue in and licked lightly over the tip of his. This was either asking for permission or a minor provocation. Yoongi did not dwell on which it was, as he moved his head slightly, readjusting your stances a bit and sucked your tongue into his mouth. 

It was your turn to gasp. Before you knew it, a faint whine resounded in your throat, swallowed partially by the Daegu rapper. It was almost involuntarily followed by a complaining moan as you felt Yoongi draw back slightly. You saw him draw in a shaky deep breath and then remembered you had to refill your lungs as well. 

However, before your eyes could focus back on Yoongi’s face properly, he dove right back in. This time he used his arms to cage your shorter frame against his. You smiled into the kiss and tightened your hold around him. Although your arms and hands around each other lay mostly quiet and unmoving, the passionate dance of your lips and tongue was accompanied by occasionally muted groans.

The next time you pulled apart for air, gasping, you looked up at his face, into his eyes. Yoongi was smiling, not directly at you, but he had a little loopy grin. When your eyes met, he rasped softly, “I waited so long to do that.”

You felt your face flush immediately but you held his gaze. “Me too, actually,” you confided.

The quick way that Yoongi’s eyes darted between yours told you that he was looking for any amount of insincerity. Not out of malice, but self-preservation. You understood. You remembered feeling the same in previous relationships and/or situationships. 

A foundational element of any interpersonal connection is trust. Once broken, it alters your worldview, and forces you to mend fences that you had spent ages taking apart. However non-committal a first kiss is, it still is a commitment to display your attraction, to flaunt the earnestness of your affections.

You let slip a tiny smile before you pecked him. Near his mouth, right next to his lips. That did the job, you supposed. You could not recall when, if ever, you witnessed a blush spread over a grown man that quickly.

“You want to take a walk?” you asked. Both of you could use the air, you thought.

Yoongi nodded, heaving a sigh. As you started walking towards the beach, he slipped his left hand into your right one and you interlocked your fingers, almost like a habit. 

[gemrose]

At some point in life, usually triggered by a challenging or painful event, one loses one’s sense of 'identity'. It can be hard and often a disintegrating experience even for the most self assured and confident. It's akin to losing one's footing in life.

There are stages in life, and every stage requires a different approach, mindset, openness. These are the defining characteristics of one's personality or identity. Some phases of life necessitate a different personality, and life readies you for it, by breaking down the sense of identity and its limitations. I'd compare it to a snake shedding its skin, just that it's not voluntary.

Over the years, if you stand back & look closely, you'd see that there is no fixed 'identity' that defines you. It kept changing while you witnessed those changes. Losing your individuality can be hard on the ego, but is liberating for the soul. Identity masks reality. This breaking of shackles and elimination of the personal is necessary for realising your true self that is boundless and universal. That realization however, comes with time.

What is disintegration of the ego, is integration for the soul. Therein lies your freedom. A drop loses its identity on merging with the sea.

~ Meeta Ahluwalia

[thirdtofifth]

Hellfire Golem Large construct, lawful evil Armor Class 20 (natural armor) Hit Points 241 (21d10 + 126) Speed 40 ft. Str 25, Dex 14, Con 22, Int 12, Wis 13, Cha 14 Damage Immunities fire, poison, psychic; bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing from nonmagical attacks not made of adamantine Damage Resistances acid, cold Senses darkvision 60 ft. passive Perception 11 Languages Infernal Challenge 17 (18000 XP) Body Of Flame. A creature that touches the golem or hits it with a melee attack while within 5 feet of it takes 10 (3d6) fire damage. Illumination. The golem sheds bright light in a 30-foot radius and dim light in an additional 30 feet. Immutable Form. The golem is immune to any spell or effect that would alter its form. Magic Resistance. The golem has advantage on saving throws against spells and other magical effects. Magic Weapons. The golem's weapon attacks are magical. Water Susceptibility. For ever 5 feet the golem moves in water, or for ever gallon of water splashed on it, it takes 1 cold damage. Innate Spellcasting. The hellfire golem's spellcasting ability is Charisma (spell save DC 16). The hellfire golem can innately cast the following spells, requiring no material components: At will: burning hands, fireball, produce flame 3/day each: flame strike Actions Multiattack. The golem makes two slam attacks. Slam. Melee Weapon Attack: +13 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 20 (3d8+7) bludgeoning damage plus 16 (3d10) fire damage. If the target is a creature or a flammable object, it ignites. Until a creature takes an action to douse the fire, the target takes 5 (1d10) fire damage at the start of each of its turns. Fire damage dealt by this attack, or from being on fire from it, ignores resistance to fire damage.

These massive golems resemble a walking funeral pyre, though one that burns hotter than any in the mortal world. They are created by devils with a pyromaniacal bent, and in fact can only be successfully created in the Nine Hells, with special clay found only there. They are not mindless, but are unsubtle either, preferring to burn their foes to death as directly as possible, blasting them with fireball and flame strike spells while closing in to melee. 

Originally from the Fiend Folio

[xelasrecords]

Locus of Pain

Kim Jihyun x MC

NSFW

MC doesn't tell Jihyun she's hurt. He finds out anyway.

I'm back with smutty and messy ambiguous relationships! With GE Jihyun's personality. I will forever campaign for his GE personality until it becomes mainstream in fics and I don't have to put a disclaimer anymore.

TW: discussions on adult child abuse, self-destructive thoughts and actions, brief mild gore imagery, self-harm

Words: 4.5k

Masterlist Read on AO3

She stumbled into the apartment with a pained grunt.

She ought to feel bad for staining the floor with her blood, but she had more important matters to attend to. Her back was burning with lacerations and every step she took was straining the bruises that had burrowed into her muscles.

She tried not to swing her hands too much as she headed for the bathroom, disposing of her jacket at the foot of the bed. For once she was thankful for Rika's cramped apartment. It could be suffocating at times, but it was easy to live in. Jihyun said Rika had a taste of unassuming minimalism. She thought building a gilded emerald cult with thousands of followers was pushing the definition.

Gripping the edge of the sink, she clenched her jaw and started peeling off her blood-crusted shirt. The injuries shouldn't be too deep since the blood had stopped flowing down her back like a free-flowing motherfucker. But as she pulled the shirt over her head, it tore the barely knit skin apart, and warm blood started to trickle down again.

She cursed her thin epidermis. It was not supposed to tear over a mere picture frame thrown at it, even if the frame was large enough to cover half of the bedroom wall.

Her father had excellent aim and strength. He had proven that to her many times.

Sometimes she fantasised about breaking his skull in with a scorching hot pan, wondering if his hair would melt from the heat or if his eyes would bulge out of their sockets. Would he scream for her help? Would he plead for mercy or curse her for being a demon spawn? Then, she could blame him for fathering such an evil inside her.

Her stomach curdled with guilt. The resentment was hers alone, and he had loved her despite her selfishness. She couldn't shed away the primal care she had for him. She was her mother's daughter, after all.

Twisting her body in the mirror, she made a quick work of cataloguing her injuries. Two long gashes that dipped into her flesh but wouldn't require stitches, one blackening bruise near her ribs, and several cuts and bruises that stippled across her back. She tested her breathing. No wheezing. No punctured lung. An improvement from the last time. Jihyun wouldn't need to know.

She stepped into the shower and washed off the blood. The cold water chilled her bones. But it had to. It was better to feel all of it. She had asked for his wrath and now she dealt with the consequences. Besides, it helped with closing the wounds.

After she put on a pair of shorts, she reached for a bottle of alcohol from the medicine cabinet. Sharp gasps escaped her mouth every so often as she tried to pour just enough. Medicine was costly and she shouldn't waste it. The burn blinded her vision white and she hunched over the sink, focusing on the cold ceramic under her fingertips and the slicing of tiles beneath her bare feet.

When her sight had stopped swimming, she took a deep breath and bent her arm behind her in awkward angles to slap adhesive bandages to the wounded area. She grunted in frustration. It was tougher than she'd thought. She was nauseous from constantly looking up to check her reflection, the evening autumn draft was pricking at her exposed skin, and the plasters kept sticking to the wrong place.

She glared at the mirror. Do not faint.

How many nights had she spent patching herself up? And yet she still struggled. Her lack of progress was almost laughable.

She didn't think there were any glass shards embedded in her though. One good thing that came out of this. She tried not to think about the larger shard she had pocketed when the picture frame glass shattered, now buried under the bloody heap of clothes.

She froze when she heard someone punching in the door passcode.

She was about to kick her bathroom door close when Jihyun entered and switched on the lights from down the hallway. Their eyes locked, and he stopped in his tracks. Her throat constricted.

This was not how she wanted him to ever see her.

His face grew horrified, and he dropped his satchel in his rush to get to her. She had a fleeting worry that his satchel might have dropped onto the blood-stained floor and she might have ruined his fine leather bag.

Jihyun stood before her, his mouth opened and closed. She schooled her face into indifference and waited.

"You—" he started, "what happened?"

The impulse to lie was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't find a good reason to when he had caught her like this. She doubted he would believe her excuses. The day had been long and she was so tired.

"A jolly good ol' catch-up with my parents." Her tone was casual.

Jihyun watched her with a worried frown, then squeezed into the small space and ran the tap water through his hands. He was moving with a surprising efficiency as he lathered his hands with soap before scanning her injuries and her first aid supplies.

"Please let me help." His teal eyes were desperate. She had forgotten how luminous they were from up close. "You can't do this alone."

"You shouldn't have come here tonight."

"I'm well-versed in healing people," he urged. "I used to heal my own injuries when I was with Rika. I treated hers as well. I know enough, so you can trust me." His fingers twitched, almost reaching for her before dropping to his side. "Please."

More than the fact that she was found out, she hated that she had made Jihyun worry about her. The only thing she excelled at was to instil negative feelings in people who cared about her. Always wrath in her parents, sometimes concern in Jihyun.

Jihyun had never lost his head at her, but she was waiting for it to happen. No one had the patience of a saint, not even him.

It was a pity she had condemned him to another relationship where he had to play the caretaker. Letting him treat her would be an appropriate compensation for his scare. "Go on," she said. "But I should probably lie down."

Relief flooded his face. "That would be the best. Can you walk on your own?"

She nodded, but he held her arm and assisted her to the bed. He sat her down, slowly, and helped her settle into a comfortable position to lie prone in. She buried her face into the pillow that smelled faintly of mint leaves. It was Jihyun's side of the bed. It comforted her that he was permanent enough in her life that she could find traces of him in her private space.

"Has it always been this bad?" Jihyun asked quietly. The feeling of his lithe fingers inspecting her skin with clinical precision was unfamiliar. His touches were always loving, adoring, not stiff with anxiety. He had never seen her with weeping wounds. She had never let him into the truth.

"Only when I deliberately provoke them. Mother goes off the rails, father blames me for not caring about my own parents, I try to save myself before things escalate." She raised her head and smirked at him. "I don't always succeed though. Got a picture frame to my back, as you can see. Took being backstabbed by your family to the next level. They were supposed to hang it where their guests could see, but I doubt they'd hang it without the glass now. People would ask."

There was a brief silence before he spoke. "That's terrible." His voice was soft, barely a murmur. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know they are violent."

She shrugged. "You're not the one who should apologise. And they will anyway, once they think I've iced them out for too long. Not that it means anything."

He shook his head, and strands of aquamarine hair fell across his forehead. They softened the distress that wrought his features. "You're not a mouse they can play with."

"No, I'm just their daughter they can hurt," she said. Jihyun pressed a bandage against the grisliest gash across her back and she winced. "Do you think it'll scar?"

"It most likely will. Had it been any deeper, you would have needed stitches." He paused, his palm resting on her spine. "Why didn't you call me?"

"It didn't occur to me," she lied. She wanted to lay down her defences and curl into his arms. She didn't want to keep fighting for herself. There were times when escaping was better than fighting for nothing, but it wasn't something she could ask from him. Her cage was her own.

Jihyun's fingers curled against her skin, and she could sense the waves of sorrow unfurling around her. "Can you think of me from now on? It doesn't have to be all the time, moments when you are hurt will do. If you call, I will come."

"I think of you all the time, Jihyun."

"Oh. I didn't know that." The surprise was evident in his tone. He applied another bandage to her back, smoothing it cautiously over the raw wound. "But I know no one is meant to bear their burden alone. You have been through so much."

"So have you, love. I'm not special." She gave him a bitter smile. "Now, why did you come here unannounced?"

Jihyun studied her for several seconds. "I wanted to see you," he said. "You've been withdrawn lately, so I thought something had happened."

She chuckled. "I suppose this counts as something."

"I never had to imagine you in my position before," he said. "I thought you'd confide in me when you're hurt. It's what you always urge me to do. You taught me to be more trusting. But seeing you like this makes me realise how much fear you and Jumin must have felt when I took matters into my own hands." He let out a ragged sigh. "I don't know how I would cope if I came here one day and saw you unconscious on the floor."

Lucky he wasn't here when she blacked out from a concussion a few months ago.

She made a dismissive gesture. "Do as I say, not as I do."

"Only if you let me do the same thing."

She levelled a glare at him. "Definitely not."

Jihyun snorted but worked silently after. The stinging pain was dulling into low throbs. She had lost count of the bandages he used, but it must have been more than necessary. She felt the adhesives even on the spots that didn't require them. Jihyun was being excessive. After everything she had gone through, she was confident that a small, uncovered cut wouldn't be her reason to die.

He should know. He had been stabbed and was still alive fretting over her.

She heard him uncapping an ointment and felt a cool sensation on her skin. He carefully massaged the salve into the bruises, sending shivers throughout her body. How nice he was. How patient. How kind.

When he pushed her hair aside to tend to the base of her neck, her breath caught. His fingertips sent fire down her synapses. It had been so long since they did anything. The distance she put between them was growing taut. The farther she pulled, the harder she would crash back into him.

Her arm moved on its own accord when she grabbed Jihyun's fingers and pressed her lips to the back of his hand. The strong herbal scent from the salve burned her nose, but this smooth hand was his. Hers.

Jihyun was always there for her to come back to.

He was not home. Home, to her, was not something that she ever longed to go. It was the misery that strangled her into obedience and shrunk her world into a dark, bleak place to survive in.

He was her sanctuary on a far-off island. Nothing could get to them when they were together.

Jihyun let out a light chuckle that sang to her heart. "Let me wash my hands. I don't want to make you any more ill."

She squeezed his hand. "I missed you too, you know. I'm glad you're with me."

He stilled, then crouched beside her head. He tucked the hair that obscured her face behind her ear and kissed her temple before gently wrestling his hand out of her grasp. The shape of his lips was just as she remembered it.

She watched him rinse the blood from her clothes and exhaled in relief when he didn't stray to her trousers' pocket. She watched him clean his hands with water trickling down his forearms, the brown sleeves of his sweatshirt pulled up and collecting water at the elbows. She watched him storing the first aid kit and medicines in the cabinet to her preferred arrangement. She watched him doing useless things for her.

When Jihyun climbed into the bed and rested against the headboard, she asked, "Do you know what the worst part of this is?"

He stared down at her, eyes carrying a heavy sorrow. "That your parents don't know how to love you?"

"Not even close." She rolled her eyes. "I've known that all my life. Not being able to lean against anything is the real tragedy. Look at me, I can't even sit comfortably beside you."

"But you can come closer," he said slowly.

She raised her brows but let him guide her to lie on his chest, his fingers resting on her bare shoulders.

He was clothed and she wasn't and it was something she needed to rectify.

She tangled her leg around his and relaxed her head against his beating heart. It was thrumming to a rising tempo that mirrored hers. She toyed with a loose thread on the neck of his sweatshirt. "I wish you weren't so good at fixing up injuries like mine. I wish you never had to learn."

"It's all in the past now." He slipped his fingers into the gaps between hers and clasped them. "I'd go through it again if I had known it would help alleviate your pain."

She snapped up at him. "Your martyr streak needs to stop."

"I have stopped. Just allow me this one exception." He planted a chaste kiss on her mouth, then cleared his throat. "Will you meet your parents again?"

She tightened the thread around her forefinger until it looked like diagonally dissected blocks of meat and she could barely feel its existence. "I know they do horrible things sometimes, but I can't cut them off. It's not that easy. I still love them. When they're not mad, they can be easy to love."

Jihyun frowned at her finger and gently untangled the thread before snapping it off. "That's what makes leaving harder, isn't it?" The haunting in his face revealed the extent of horrors that he had experienced. An angel with a darkened, torn soul who was still rising high above. He was not her. She liked that about him. "It's easier to hate someone when they have only been awful to you. It's their residual goodwill that gives you hope that they will change. When I look back to how stubbornly I stood beside Rika, I understand. Left in the dark, we cling to the light. We forget who trapped us there in the first place."

She didn't want to admit that Jihyun was right. That he was right, yet it would not change anything.

She wondered if she had been drawn to him because the subconscious part of her knew he would understand. Jihyun knew how to make her feel less alone in the guilt and resentment and twisted love that she couldn't untangle herself from. Most people were not like him. She learned from a young age that if people found out about the abuse, they would either urge her to leave—which added unnecessary pressure on her because it was never an option—or give her pitiful looks while stumbling over their words.

"Jihyun," she said.

He drew his thumb over her chin. "Yes?"

"Don't go." She pushed herself up and crashed her lips into his.

It was fervent, maddening, and she poured all the tension from their time of separation into it. The yearning to see him. The stress from her parents meddling with her happiness. Everything she had been missing after being alone for so long.

Jihyun reciprocated with more caution, treading her lips like they were a treasure trove. He gave in eventually when she didn't show a sign of discomfort, his kiss matching her intensity.

She bit his lower lip and slipped her tongue into his mouth. He gripped her shoulders, pulling her closer until she was pressed against him. His hands were not sliding down her waist and everywhere else like he tended to. He kept his hold staunchly on her arms even as he deepened the kiss.

It hit her what he was doing. He was being considerate of her battered body.

She let out a sob into his mouth. Nobody had ever cared for her like this. She could stand all the violence flung at her, but one act of kindness felled her to her knees.

Jihyun pulled away in an instant, his glazed eyes searching across her face and body. "Are you all right? Did I hurt you?"

She shook her head. "I was just thinking about you. You're wonderful. I missed you." Jihyun's expression was guarded, appraising her, and she let him. She had spoken the truth. She offered the truth so rarely that she would not omit more of it if it concerned his regard for himself. "I'm fine, Jihyun."

He gave a slow nod, and she tugged off his cashmere sweater. With a tender touch, she ran her hand through the ragged red patches of skin that stood out against his pale torso. Burn scars from a house fire. Both of them had childhood wounds woven into their very being. The past was made permanent on their skin.

Jihyun squirmed, seemingly self-conscious, despite her being familiar with the scars, but he made no attempts to stop her. He was beautiful, body and soul, she thought. He had more love and forgiveness in him than anyone she had ever known.

She trailed kisses along his jaw and sucked on the juncture behind his ear. He moaned and curved his body against her, and she smiled into his neck. It was amusing, the reactions that she could elicit out of him. No one could touch him as she could. He did not let anyone else know him intimately like this. He was only for her.

She suspected all of this played into his pleasure as well.

She twined her fingers around his hair, marvelling at the softness of it, and pulled it back to bare his throat. He had such a beautiful throat.

She didn't apply much pressure as she wrapped her hand around it, but his breath hitched. Her lips curved into a sly smile, her other hand wandering down his hard bulge. "I don't know why being choked always turns you on."

Jihyun held his gaze on her despite his reddening complexion. "I can feel you wanting me when you hold me like this."

"I do want you." She swung her leg astride him, straddling his hips and rested her forehead against his. The hard-on beneath her was hard to ignore. "It drives me out of my mind when I can't be with you."

"You shouldn't have pushed me away," he murmured. "I'll still want you, however you are, whatever condition you are in. You're always just you to me. Nothing can make me want you less."

"I'm sorry," she said. Jihyun closed his eyes, and she kissed his eyelid with a gentleness that she reserved only for him. "I'm sorry I left you alone."

He cradled her cheek, and she basked in the warmth of it. The safety of him. He was here and she couldn't fight the temptation to lose herself in him. "You didn't leave me alone. I belong with you. Anywhere you run to, you take me with you. I'm yours."

She tightened her hold on his throat to see his reaction. "You're mine," she whispered.

A slow smile graced his delicate face. "I am. I'm yours."

Jihyun drew her closer by the elbow and peppered kisses on her mouth, her chin, her throat, and her collarbones. He palmed her breasts and sucked her nipple while tweaking the other with his fingers. They hardened at his touch and she moaned his name, demanding him to be harder, rougher.

She needed to feel everything.

He bit her nipple and her hand slipped to the base of his skull, grasping at his hair. He was hers. His action and devotion were hers. It sent a deluge of pleasure down her core. Jihyun could be gentle, but he was also earnest to give her the satisfaction she sought.

She wanted him. She wanted him. She wanted him more than the freedom from her wretched life.

"I love you." She tipped his chin back. "I love you, Jihyun. Remember it."

He smiled up at her, his pupils blown wide with lust. "I love you, too."

She reached down and unbuckled his trousers. She had done more strenuous activities in a worse state, so fucking him wouldn't damage her already mangled body. But Jihyun stilled her wrist when he saw through her intention.

She narrowed her gaze. "I'm on the pill."

"You're hurt," he said. "I don't want to worsen your injuries."

"Have you not treated them?"

His grip wasn't loosening. "You need more time to heal. The wounds may open again."

"Then go slow."

Jihyun hesitated.

"Please," she croaked.

As soon as she uttered the word, she knew she had him. He sighed, but let go of her wrist. "You'll have to be careful. I'm stopping this if you push yourself too far."

"Brilliant."

Jihyun pulled down his trousers while she discarded her shorts. She lowered herself into him, relishing in the feel of him filling her. He ran his hands up and down her waist tentatively until he was sure that he wasn't touching any of the injuries on her back. Only then did he allow himself to move into her with practised ease. She held onto his shoulders and rolled her hips in tandem, burying her face into his neck and letting him control the pace. Jihyun had meant his warning and she was not eager to risk it.

It felt new. It felt familiar. It was what she had yearned for. His low grunts, her body slanting forward to hit the right spot, their skin sticking to each other in sweat and slick wetness.

Jihyun was slow, unhurried, with faint caresses down her back. His concern for her was easy to read. He was tracing back the pain that he couldn't protect her from. He might no longer bear a debilitating guilt, but she didn't think he could ever eradicate his need to shield her from misfortunes.

She couldn't blame him. It was the same with her, though the abuse done to her wasn't something that anyone could simply take away, and they both knew it.

She bit his earlobe, mumbling, "It's not your fault."

Jihyun tilted his face, and his lips brushed her cheek. "It's not yours either."

She stopped caring whose fault her source of agony was and thrust into him, picking up the pace while she dug her nails into his arms. He didn’t stop her, his hand snaking down to find her bundle of nerves instead.

She gasped and arched her back when he rubbed her. She was vaguely aware of the sharp jabs of pain in her back, but she welcomed them. Pain grounded her into him.

Jihyun's fingers were vigorous, and his thrusting was getting rougher that it twisted the coil in her lower abdomen. She writhed with need, whispering to him not to stop, and he listened, and it brought her higher and higher until the coil snapped.

She cried out in ecstasy.

Jihyun kept to his pace as she rode out the climax, not stopping despite her trembling legs and clearing haze. She focused on him overwhelming her in a way that annihilated her need for anything else. The alkaline tang of paint that lingered on him. His tightening grip on her bottom as she felt him reaching his climax. Him twitching inside her when he finally did, his muscles tensing as he came inside her. His pleasure-struck face that entranced her every time.

He was a marvel to look at, to have. He was hers. He had proclaimed it. He was the forest that shrouded her from the vultures circling above, the soft sand that sank her deeper into him with each pull of the waves, the hearth that kept her warm through the barren cold. With him, she could breathe.

She would give him everything he wanted. She would not let him go.

She slumped against him, their mixed fluids seeping down her thighs. He slipped out of her and she kissed the underside of his jaw. "I love you."

Jihyun's breath was still racing as he drew circular patterns on her shoulder blades. "Your parents didn't hurt you because you provoked them. They hurt you because they're abusive. It's not your fault."

She sighed. She had hoped he would let it go, but nothing could stop him once he made up his mind. "Knowing it doesn't make it any better."

"Do you really think so?" He ran his thumb up her inner forearm. She flinched and tried to jerk away, but he held onto her. The deepest scars had faded to silver, but the fresher ones were raised ridges along her skin. She had been careful, small cuts scattered on an easily hidden spot. She didn't realise he would notice. "Isn't this your form of penance?"

Her chest tightened. "It's the only thing I have control over. If I blame them and direct all my anger at them, I will hurt them. This way, the only person I hurt is myself. I'm not a weapon. I'm not a threat."

"Don't you think you've been hurt enough?"

She wore a thin smile and looked away. "Sure."

Jihyun's hands slid up her jaw and tilted her head back to him, his fingers resting on the pulse points on her neck. "You can be angry around me. It's natural to want to express your emotions. They're not something you're supposed to keep to yourself. Talk to me when you feel like turning to self-mutilation. I'm yours, remember? My ears are yours to talk to. My shoulders are for you to lean on."

She surveyed his pleading gaze with a twinge of pity. Jihyun was asking for more than he was supposed to receive. In time, he would see it.

Another waiting game had begun. She almost did not want to see the ending.

"All right. I'll do that."

-

Footnotes:

I went with Jihyun because I thought he'd be an interesting choice. The role reversal and all. He's forced to confront how he is seen through MC's eyes when he's involved in dangerous situations and refuses help.

MC's relief for living in Rika's suffocating apartment at the beginning parallels her feeling trapped in the familial cage that she doesn't want to leave. There's a reason why she doesn't move out of the apartment even after the cult drama is over. She's a bird caged too long that she can't take flight even if the door is open. She's not capable of leaving things behind, so she hoards everything she can (Jihyun) to herself.

MC thinking that her father "had loved her despite her selfishness" is the product of her parents' manipulation. Her belief that she's selfish if she feels negative emotions and wants anything at all is what drives her self-destruction, and ironically, her possessiveness.

With Jihyun, it's easy to make him fall into the rescuer role when the partner self-harms, so I was very mindful of depicting the discovery scene. I didn't want to romanticise it and make MC feel like if she got hurt more, she'd get more attention from him. Since this is GE Jihyun, he wouldn't default back to his old enabling methods.

I was dubious about making MC self-harm since I don't want this to be a gratuitous checklist of trigger warnings, but it makes sense for her to turn to cutting. If she has to be hurt, it might as well be by herself. Might as well be on her terms.

The nature metaphors are to show Jihyun's and MC's common interest in nature.

Are they actually in love or is it just oxytocin and loneliness? Who knows?

I felt pressured to write a romantic fic, but I haven't been able to these days so I turned to this. It brought relief somehow. This was cathartic.

I used to think I'd never write a possessive character in a non-antagonising light yet here we are. I compared this MC to the one from Wedge the Knife Under My Skin, but this one is blunter with her words and well, more possessive. She's bitter and sarcastic and resigned to her suffering. Fortunately, Jihyun is secure enough to see through her sharp defences.

The title is a twist on the locus of control concept in psychology, which is about a person's degree of belief on how much of their internal force governs their external life.

I don't know why I like to throw Jihyun into ambiguous relationships either.

Header Corner:

A quick process breakdown! Add a directional blur to the base footage > duplicate the footage, slightly shift the position and change the blur direction to get the hazy look > add a red filter overlay to fit the fic's bloody mood but retain the magenta in the background to resonate with the romance aspect > choose the appropriate angsty text and font!

Youtube | Goodreads | Letterboxd | Pinterest

[the-griffons-saddlebag]

💎 𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗺! Necromancer’s Lantern
Wondrous item, rare (requires attunement by a warlock or wizard) ___ While holding this grisly lantern, you can use a bonus action to speak its first command word. The lantern then springs alight, shedding bright light in a 30-foot radius and dim light for an additional 30 feet; the light is a sickly green. Speaking the command word again using a bonus action extinguishes the lantern. Whenever a Small or larger living creature dies within the lantern’s light, it gains 1 charge, up to a maximum of 4 charges. While holding the lantern, you can speak its second command word using an action to expend 1 or more of its charges. For each expended charge, a skeleton appears in an unoccupied space of your choice within the lantern’s bright light. The summoned skeletons are friendly to you and your companions. Roll initiative for the summoned skeletons as a group, which have their own turns. They obey any verbal commands that you issue to them (no action required by you). If you don’t issue any commands to them, they defend themselves from hostile creatures, but otherwise take no actions. A skeleton remains for 1 hour or until it drops to 0 hit points, at which point it turns to dust. While a skeleton is friendly to you, it has advantage on saving throws against any effect that turns undead. If a skeleton is ever not within the lantern’s light, it becomes hostile for the remainder of the duration, even if it later enters the lantern’s light again. The lantern can control up to four skeletons at a time in this way. It can summon up to a total of eight skeletons each day between dusks. ___ ✨ Patrons get huge perks! Access this and hundreds of other item cards, art files, and compendium entries when you support The Griffon's Saddlebag on Patreon for less than $10 a month!

[dungeon-strugglers]

✨New item!✨ Reforged Revenant Blade Weapon (longsword), legendary (requires attunement)

This longsword has the finesse property and you have a +3 bonus to attack and damage rolls made with it. 

You can use a bonus action to cause ghostly flames to erupt from the blade. The flames last until you use a bonus action to extinguish the flames, or if you drop or sheathe the sword. While the sword is ablaze, it gains the following properties:

It sheds dim light in a 40-foot radius and deals an extra 1d8 necrotic damage to any target it hits. This necrotic damage increases to 2d8 and ignores resistance and immunity if the target is undead. 

On a hit, you can force the target to make a DC 17 Constitution saving throw. On a failure, the target becomes enfeebled for 1 minute. While enfeebled, the target has disadvantage on Strength checks and saving throws, and deals only half damage with weapon attacks that use Strength. At the end of each of the target's turns, it can remake the save, ending the enfeeblement on a success. A creature that succeeds on this saving throw is immune to the effect for 24 hours.

You can see 60 feet into the Ethereal Plane and can make attacks with this sword against creatures on that plane.

As an action while holding this weapon, you can cast the etherealness spell. Once this property is used, it cannot be used again until you complete a long rest.

The shards of this shattered longsword have been assembled and held together by the ghostly force within. Some of its dormant power has been awoken, but the spirit of the revenant must be laid to rest for the blade to be truly restored... - 🖌🎨 Like our work? Consider supporting us on Patreon and gain access to the hi-resolution art for over 170 magic items, item cards and card packs, beautiful creature art and stat blocks, and setting pdfs with narrative hooks and unique lore!🧙‍♂️

📜 Credit. Art and design by us: the Dungeon Strugglers. Please credit us if you repost elsewhere.

[comparativetarot]

The Fool. Art by Claire Goodchild, from The Antique Anatomy Tarot.

NUMEROLOGY: 0

ASTROLOGICAL CORRESPONDENCE: URANUS

ELEMENT: AIR

COMPANION CARDS:  ALL OF THE MAJOR ARCANA

We begin our journey into the tarot with the character of the Fool. This card represents a place where time appears to be suspended. All possibilities exist here-you just need to put your best foot forward in order to start your next adventure.

The only way for the clock to tick onward once again is to decide which route to take. How do you do this? By following your heart and listening to your intuition, which of course is often easier said than done.

The Fool represents boundless new energy waiting to be molded into something amazing, but accomplishing this requires that you shed preconceived notions and fears. The moment leading up to the “leap into the unknown” is scarier than taking the actual jump. 

Keywords: Beginning, journey, adventure, innocence, free spirit, joy, originality, creativity, instinct, danger

[starsofjewels]

HPQD: Pets

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

This has been in my drafts for a hot minute, and I feel like it's time to have the second installment of the HPQD series before I start writing smut pieces 🤭. Enjoy xx

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Content: Language (Fenrir)

Barty Crouch (Sr)- Cat:

Contrary to popular belief, Barty will melt if you adopt an animal together. He grew up with dogs, as any good pureblood heir should, and a variety of kitchen cats and their numerous kittens. The moment you bring up wanting a pet he’ll scoff, and tell you he wants something that will be useful, and not simply another waste of food; an owl, perhaps, something bred to work. Of course, that’s not to say he won’t come with you to the pet shop, and the animal rescues, so that you don’t “make a foolish decision”. That is until the two of you come across a little kitten on one of your many trips to professional breeders. A perfect, grey little thing with darker stripes on her, the domestic tiger Barty would tell the breeder, who didn’t find it particularly funny. You have to take this cat home, you insist you do, and Barty agrees, more than happy to bring home his fluffy, weak little grey tiger. He spends countless amounts of money on this cat before it even sets foot in your house: the best, softest cat beds, the most expensive food and drink bowls, and luxury pet food that you are certain costs more than your trips to the market. It makes him happy, though, and you cannot deny him the pleasure of cradling the kitten in a towel and setting her down in your living room to explore your home, treating the thing as he would his own, human, child. You name the creature Lily (as in the tiger lily flower). Barty thinks he’s being quite clever, you say nothing. Lily, in true cat fashion, is not particularly stable in her showing of affection. She prefers you, but that may be because Barty’s office is quite cold, and he never lights the fireplace. Still, upon occasion Lily makes her rounds around the house, and you hear Barty talking to her as though she both understands and cares what he is saying. The cat, as it turns out, is a terrifyingly good mouser, and has even managed to snatch up a rat on occasion; you will never tell Barty how funny it is when he shrieks, finding a mouse running wild in his office, shrieking out for dear life.

Oh, Merlin! Darling, darling, come quick- There’s a mouse in the office! No, no I am not afraid of it, thank you, but I have work to do- And they carry all sorts of diseases. Can’t you teach Lily to leave them outside?

Fenrir Greyback- Tortoise:

The problem with Fenrir and certain animals is- well- wolves are natural predators. Cats? He will bark at it, make no mistake. Rabbits? Hamsters? Birds? You have about a day to bond with your precious pet, before it becomes nothing more than memories, feathers and fur. You suggest a dog, a new addition to his pack, he stares at you, half-offended: 

I’m a wolf! That’s essentially slavery, I can’t own a dog!

And so, you are left with limited options, and very little hope that you will ever find the pet of your dreams, much less something fluffy and cuddly. Fenrir attempts to fulfil your demands- Letting you snuggle him in his werewolf-y form. But he’s not always a wolf, and there’s a certain level of unnerving sentience when he looks at you, and licks you in some animal form of a kiss. By chance, one day at the office, you somehow end up in a conversation about one of your coworkers’ new tortoise, bought as a birthday present for her son. Just as you begin to question who would give a seven-year-old a rock with legs, you realise that a tortoise might just be the perfect animal for Fenrir, it comes with its own helmet, designed to keep it safe from predators. Your search for a tortoise ends in the local reptile shop, when you discover one no larger than your hand available for rehoming; a rescue tortoise, if you will. The operation to install a terrarium in your shed requires the assistance of a few of Fenrir’s Death Eater acquaintances, who teach you how to arrange the enchanted self-heating stones, and how you should properly assist the tortoise when it hibernates.

It takes Fenrir three full weeks of working in the shed to realise that his new companion lives there, and he freaks, like a child discovering a spider. He relaxes, eventually, in mild discontent that the reptile is taking over his space. He names him Lazy Fuck, but you call him Timmy. You can’t tell your new reptile-enthusiast friends the poor thing has such a name, after all.

God, does it do anything? All it does is sit around and eat that lettuce, lazy fucker- I have a name for him, Lazy Fuck! It suits him, doesn’t it? Well… you can call him Timmy, I’m calling him Lazy Fuck. 

Rufus Scrimgeour- Hunting Hounds:

Rufus is a little more serious when it comes to animals. He is a rather busy man, and his duties as Minister are much more important than taking care of a pet. After all, it wouldn’t be fair to leave the poor thing alone all day, and who knows how many nights, whilst you attend galas and dinners, and all of the perks that come with being the Minister’s little companion. You beg him for a dog, looking into doggy daycares close to the Ministry. A dog would need to be cared for whilst you are away, after all.He asks why you can’t just have a cat, or something small, and you give some vague response. 

Rufus caves solely on envy. 

He takes a weekend in the north, hunting, where one of his friends is accompanied by a small group of beagles. Because of those dogs Rufus does not win the competition they hold every hunt, and decides he must have his own pack of, much better, hounds. He gets himself a group of English pointers, which come in different, distinguishing colours, so he can tell them apart. More than likely, they all have classical names, from mythology, which he assures you are very well thought out- Think Marcus and Minerva, for the Roman gods of war and victory respectively. The house comes with ample space for the pointers to run about in the mornings and evenings, and upon disturbingly close inspection he eventually settles for a “luxury” dog care facility, the same one copious other ministers use for their own pedigree dogs. Rufus is rather happy with these dogs, but he quickly realises that it was you who begged for an animal, and he is not one to deny you. He comes home one day with a little, long haired dachshund, dressed up with a bandana in your favourite colour, and those tiny shoes rich people tend to buy for their dogs, named Frank Furter, of course. He will give in to the sausage puns, as long as they remain reasonably discreet, and you never tell people the dachshund has a surname. Frank stays with you in the house when Rufus goes out for his trips, running up to you with the prey his powerful siblings bring as though he helped.

I know you were upset the pointers are for my hunting, so I brought you a present. Look, don’t you love his little legs? He’s cute, isn’t he? Just like you, my love- here, I’ll put him down for you, why don’t you get to know each other?

Lord Voldemort- Guinea Pigs:

The Dark Lord’s household is cursed by snakes. He speaks to them in the darkness, large and small, and they come to him, as requested. They never hiss or bite in any way untoward, but you still find them everywhere. And it is not fair. He can call for serpents at any time, and yet you still have no pet to call your own. Nagini is long gone, returned to the ancient jungles, and mother to a clutch of snakes almost as large as she. He has his own history with animals, and not a pleasant one. As sure as you are that Lord Voldemort has matured from his days as the orphan, pre-magical Tom Riddle, something leaves you unsure. There is something odd about his behaviour, as he coos at the grass snakes who appear in the garden, and sneak into the warmth of your kitchen over the winter. Enough is enough, you deserve a pet too. 

Your home has ample outbuildings you can use to your heart’s content. He has no reason for them but simple storage, and merely batting your eyelashes and asking for one for your personal use will get you exactly what you’d like.

And you would like pets.

The Dark Lord puts his head to the table and groans when you ask him for animals. Eventually, he hands you pamphlets and brochures for all of the best Guinea pig breeders in the country. You may find it strange, but he has his reasons: Hamsters are irritating and die in odd ways, cats and dogs require too much attention, and he will not let you disgrace the name of serpents by trying to put one around your neck and wearing it as a statement piece to freak out Lucius Malfoy.

You get two female Guinea pigs- One black and white, the other brown and white, with fluffy hair you could brush if you so wanted to. They are named Lolli and Pop, and you will never explain why your new animal friends have such odd names; you just think it’s funny, but you pretend there is some deep-seated meaning as to why. 

The Death Eaters find it hilarious that the Dark Lord owns a pair of Guinea pigs, and even more hilarious when you begin fashioning tiny robes for your pets, complete with a selection of hats. He doesn’t particularly mind, not now that his followers have made it a point to give him Guinea pig-related items as opposed to candles and jewels. He has saved a small fortune on food and toys for your pets, after all.

Ugh- Another luxury grooming set from the Rookwoods. Is this amusing because of your little rats, or because I am hairless? Both? I thought as much. Put this with the others, and be thankful the money you are saving me on products for those infernal beasts is greater than a little childhood teasing. They said thank you? They cannot talk, dear.

Igor Karkaroff- Class Fish:

Igor despises all animals. He will accept no debate or argument on this. He hates them. There is no heartwarming moment when you bring him a stray dog and he falls in love with it, or an orphaned owlet you raise together- No animals. Full stop. You have very little options, as he will find a pet in your home in a matter of hours, and have you send it back from whence it came. But, you realise, he has no power over your classroom or your office. He may be High Master, but your rooms are yours to decorate as you see fit, and you want an animal. It doesn’t take very long to decide on either a reptile or something aquatic- Small rodents are noisy, and not much fun to play with during the day, anything too big is off limits completely. You think of a bunny rabbit, but it would be cruel to keep the poor thing in a tiny cage, when it should be out roaming the grass. It comes down to the popular vote of your upper classes, who all decide you should have an aquarium. Fish are more relaxing to look at, apparently. Working in a school with students whose pocket money amounts to more than your entire yearly salary comes in quite handy for acquiring an aquarium, an impulsive purchase from a boy’s mother, brought to you from years in their cellar, and very quickly you begin to amass a collection of items for said fish: live plants, gravel and even the fish itself. One of your juniors brings you a beautiful, red and pink betta fish in a little bag, and you are more than happy to take him in. Igor knows you’re up to something, now that you’ve barred him from entering your classroom, and have sworn all of your students to complete secrecy. He won’t ask, he assumes you’re having a moment, and are doing something odd- His current bet is painting your classroom orange.  

Although you are a little sad that your betta fish cannot live with any fishy friends, you understand that the creature will probably turn violent, and you cannot handle the possibility of explaining a fish massacre to a collection of twelve-year-olds.

The name of your new pet is put up to vote, again, and they decide, in shockingly agreeable fashion, that  it will be called Igor Sharkaroff, one of your personal favourite name options, and the one you voted for. 

Igor, unable to handle the mystery any longer, forces himself into your classroom, only to be met with his namesake fish. He rolls his eyes, tuts to you in words you know are swears and leaves, never to speak of the fish again. 

Until he finds out you've named it after him. 

Yes, I know I told you the classroom was yours to decorate, but I did not mean this! Ugh- No, the name is not funny, it’s a disgrace... Alright, it is a little bit funny, but I am not burying that thing when it dies. What do you mean, fish funeral?