#hes like a separate entity to me not even as in fear

[bigfanofwomen]

first time listening to tma i genuinely didn't give a damn about the main cast i had a Leitner Hyperfixation . so bizarre

[krossan]

A Brief AU Explanation

I noticed that there are a lot of new followers that do know Danny Phantom, and others that the know very little. I am also aware that I haven't fully explained - maybe NOT in too much detail - the "story" and plots of my AU. You only have the ideas that I've been telling of this story through illustrations.

This AU is all about reconnecting with one self, with Jazz and Dan as the main two of this particular game.

Jazz remains as the same character that is portrayed through the OG show. She has always been the psychology enthusiast of the group, the one that cares for others and help with whatever she can. For her, others come first. First being her family.

On the other hand, we have Dan, an alternate entity of Danny’s ghost half and Vlad’s. A new form of entity that lost his humanity. For him to show any form of emotion is null.

Jazz involvement in this has to do with her putting everyone else first and then herself, and being keen to the study of the human-psyche, and now ghost-psyche, she secretly partakes to the role of Dan’s therapist. This was kept in secret from the rest of her friends and Danny until she can gain more control over Dan.

This, of course, prove to be a VERY difficult task. With her having to hide her constant fears when facing that “particular someone”: he could go on a rampage, have uncontrollable outbursts, cause havoc, and that he could turn against her any day/time without any remorse. She knows this, but she also knows that deep down, her little brother is still there. She’s looking to rekindle that part of him again. Of course, never knowing at what extent this could go.

And this, apparently started to bear fruit, although at a slow pace. As Jazz stood closer and closer to him, she understood that he stayed alone his entire life, and after losing everyone he cared, his violent actions were his significance of showing the world "hurting". The hurt he have been caring so many years. Now he has that second chance. To “live” a new life and Jazz wants to help him out.

With this new information, each time Jazz got close to him, Dan, instead of seeing her as an obnoxious-human-parasite, he slowly starts bonding with her. His interest increasing each day he is with her and grows more comfortable being around her (something Dan originally despised).

***

Part of this AU, enrolls on a particular context that the ghost of a halfa is sentient. The original show as proven this*. When Danny’s ghost has been separated, his ghost has a mind of his own, but when staying together, human-ghost, the consciousness of the halfa acts as one. *Episodes in question: What You Want, Identity Crisis, The Ultimate Enemy

This part that the ghost plays on the known halfas is a mayor plot point from this AU. Let me explain my concept briefly:

This roll that the ghost is part of the halfa is the one that caries the power of the wielder (human). The human can transform into the ghost and vice versa. The ghost powers remain within the ghost half. The human half acts as a vessel/host to the ghost half.

All living things have the instinct of survival. And on this case, the ghosts would do ANYTHING to keep their host safe as they are the means of a linked connection human-ghost. Not unlike the rest of non-halfa- ghosts that their link/host relies on the Ghost Zone -since they no longer have a corporeal body, the vessel for their survival is ectoplasmic energy, the one that emanates from the GZ.

***

Since Dan is no longer connected to a human, he became a full-ghost. An entity that merged from two ghost halfas. He can sustain himself alone, but strangely enough, he building a bond with Jazz, it rekindled what Jazz intended, but in an unusual way. Jazz intention was to try and reconnect Dan with his long-lost humanity. Even if he didn’t have a human half, both his ghosts may have some little information stored deep within of what that used to feel like. And even though that started to give results, the ghost also retained that of his original purpose: Protect the host.

And as the bond Dan and Jazz grew more and more, unknown to them, it caused a physical manifestation: a white streak formed in Jazz’s hair. And even if this came up as a surprise to Jazz, she later discovered that this manifestation was much more than just physical.

Dan rekindled his humanity but he, unknowingly, intertwined Jasmine’s humanity to his. Her humanity is part of him. Jasmine’s emotions have an impact on him. Whatever she feels, he can sense it, let them be good or bad ones.

They both are this new form of halfa, both human and ghost are separate life forms, but from the ghost side -Dan’s perspective- Jazz is acting as his human half. His host. That’s is why his instincts respond to protect her at all costs.

No. This new form of a halfa representation doesn't mean Jazz has ghost powers. The one with that power is Dan. This bond is more of a psychic link.

 (i.e. In European folklore, you “could” say Dan is Jasmine’s "familiar", although Jazz is not considered to be a witch, but imagine the possibilities of this small plot causing people or ghosts to think Jazz is a witch… idk… random ideas)

This is why Dan is more sympathetic towards Jazz and why their bond is very important.

______________

It's worth pointing out that I don't have a specific name for this AU, like many people do when they create these stories. And NO. Please refrain from saying this is a romantic relationship. It is a sibling/platonic relationship.

[weatheringandweary]

Apollo's perception of Lester changing over the course of the series drives me absolutely nuts because it's one of the most emotionally impactful arcs in his character.

He see's Lester as a prison sentence initially. He's the husk that Zeus made of Apollo when he stripped him of his immortality, his domains, and his memory. Not a single thing about the mortal body he's placed in was his choice and he resents it. Apollo even refers to Lester as a distinctly separate entity at times. There is a clear disconnect between what he views as himself and his punishment, and the only times he acknowledges it as his identity is to be self-deprecating or dismissive.

Then halfway through his arc, at the lowest points in the narrative where he's lost nearly all of his abilities, he spirals into self doubt. Maybe this was all he really was. Maybe without the support of his powers and domains, this was all there is to Phoebus Apollo. He's accepting Lester's negative traits as apart of himself, vocalizing his fear of being useless and unworthy of godhood to the readers. While the first portion of the series developed Apollo's character in terms of him accepting responsibility, The Burning Maze is when Apollo's most significant internal changes take place.

He stops lying constantly in his narration by this point, and we get to see how he actually feels about himself and others. What he was hiding from the readers - most notably, was his feelings of inadequacy.

But by the end of the series, once he's rightfully Apollo again, he admits to us that it doesn't feel right. He suddenly realizes that he does miss being Lester; that the godly form he's wearing doesn't fit like he once thought it did. Despite the trauma surrounding his trials, being Lester was the first time Apollo was able to be authentically himself without fear of needing to put on a mask. He was braver, kinder, and more beloved when he wasn't putting distance between himself and others.

Because that's the person he wants to be.

That's the real him, Lester Papadopoulos.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

X♡X♡ [SEVEN DAYS] Day 3

If you gave him your heart, your soul, your body- what would he do to those things? Maybe it's time to see if he can handle your love for once, and not just the other way around.

Tags/Warnings: Porn with a lot of plot basically, inexperienced!reader, Dom!Jungkook, BDSM themes and elements, mild Angst, fluff, slow burn but we'regetting somewhere, they have mad chemistry but mc has trust issues, mentions of past domestic abuse (mental), Outercourse (basically non-penetrative sex except with a dildo), toys, Cumplay, it's messy smh, hand kink? Increased authority from kook

Length: ~5k words

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜.♡

A/N: you'll never be able to imagine how much I struggled reconnecting with this fic. This was torture. I hated this fic so much at some point. I'm not proud of this part but if I don't get this out I'll never be able to continue this series.

-> Masterlist

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Jungkook has really nice hands.

Not just in a sensual or sexual sense, but in general. They're big but not intimidating, because the way he uses them is never in a mean or hurtful way. They're soft, and kind, and they also look very nice. Masculine, and strong, veins underneath the skin sometimes a bit more visible than other times, but they also hold a certain softness to them. His nails are well taken care of, only his thumb sometimes giving you a hint of a nervous habit.

They're uniquely Jungkook. Rough, but not to be feared. Gentle, but with the potential to lead. Capable. Handsome.

They're his main way of exploring your skin too- his fingers often used to make shivers run up your spine, palms warm as they feel every curve of you. He doesn't need to look at what he's doing ever it seems like, hands having minds of their own every time they touch you.

Like a separate entity almost, listening obediently to their master's command.

You slowly wake up from your nap, feeling actually refreshed, when Jungkook walks in from the door, giving you a hint to what must've woken you up. "Oh- You're up." He smiles, walking closer with a plastic bag, though his first mission is to press his hands into the softness of the couch before he kisses your cheek. "Here- let me show you something." He impishly chuckles, sitting down on his shins, before he opens the bag on the bed.

You're in a state of shock for a good moment, not even having noticed him move.

He's got the audacity to laugh over your shoulder, front pressed into your back, hands teasing your sides as they sneak up your loose shirt.

"Bought one that's about my size." He purrs sensually, almost like he's mocking you. But it's not malicious- playful, if anything, but not mean in any way. "So you can call it.. practice." He explains, while you stare at the nearly clear pink dildo that's staring at you, still packaged together with other things in the black plastic bag in your lap.

"Jungkook.. when did you even buy those things?" You wonder, feeling almost scared to touch any of the things inside.

"Earlier, when you were napping." He shrugs easily, hand reaching past your body to shamelessly dump the contents of the bag on the bed, bag flying somewhere on the floor. "Anything look like an absolute no-go to you?" He asks curiously, and you look without touching.

There's an egg-shaped item there you're not too sure of what it might be. The dildo explains itself, clearly- and the other massage wand is also pretty self-explanatory. There's two bottles of lube- one pink, the other blue. A.. plug, with a pretty pink gemstone on one end of it. Leather handcuffs, with soft looking fur on the inside. Overall, nothing immediately makes you uncomfortable.

You don't know what gives you the confidence for your next comment you blurt out though. "Don't you have any toys?" You ask him bluntly. "Like, for yourself? Or do you just.. use your partner's body for stuff?" You wonder, and he looks at you with a sharp gaze, a smirk growing on his lips.

"I wouldn't mind using your body, that's for sure." He flirts, leaning his head a bit to the side. "Why would I need toys if I've got you?" He fakes innocence as he asks that question without expecting any answer- And for a moment, you don't give one.

But something about his flirty comment bothers you.

Maybe because you hear someone else in your head again- all the men who've degraded you over the course of time. Your ex. Your friends. Your father. You hear them laugh yet again like you're pathetic and worth nothing.

"I don't want to be used." You deny with a flat tone, and it's clear from the slight change in his eyes that he's now on high alert at your every word spoken by mouth and body language, so he can figure out what happened to change your mood like that. "I don't just want to be.. a toy you get bored off and toss away at some point just to pick it back up once you're interested again." You say, drawing a clear line.

You're not sure how he might react to this. You didn't want to make a statement like that, but you can't mask the truth. You really are scared of getting hurt at the end of this- you don't want him to just play around and then let you go.

You don't want to go. You want to stay- You want him to want you to stay.

He says your name to gain your attention, voice low and steady, horribly gentle- and it makes your eyes sting as you realize that this is the first time a man has ever spoken in such a tone to you. He notices the way your eyes begin to gloss over- and it hurts him too, the fact that you're hurting.

"This isn't just something fun to me. I think I might not have made it clear." He says, staying away from you as to not invade your little bubble you're in, letting you have your safety. "I don't know what happened to you in the past to be so full of distrust towards anything good offered to you-" He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "-but I promise you, this isn't just a game to me."

"Then what is this." You say quietly, scared. "I'm scared that we're not on the same page here and that we're walking down to entirely separate paths." You complain pitifully with your back hunched over and head hanging low.

"That's because we are." He chuckles softly. "I'm trying to hold your hand here so we don't lose each other- but you're not holding it." Jungkook offers.

"I don't understand-" you shake your head, when as you look up again, his face is right in front of yours, eyes looking at your lips.

"Then let me help you." He hums towards you, before his lips press onto yours. And your body freezes.

Because he's never kissed you like this before- tender, calm and without any lust in it whatsoever. In fact, your realize only now that you've never been kissed without any hidden intentions or something to gain in mind. This kiss is soft, it's no words needed, it's love confessed in physical form. You've never been kissed like this. Ever.

And even more so, you're pretty sure he hasn't actually kissed you at all either- not until now, at least.

And it's all so confusing now, because you want to trust him, you want to just lean into him and let him have his way with you- but the fear inside you is still there, clutching your limbs, leaving you with no way to move anywhere- neither away from him, nor closer. You're currently stuck in place, and it's only a matter of time until he grows tired of you and your constant push and pull behavior.

You're hurting him, you know this.

Especially because you're kissing him back, giving him hope for something you might not be able to give him. You're cruel, aren't you? And the worst is that he probably knows even that.

Because once you start to cry, once you sob and cling to him like a touch-starved pet, letting all of those pent up emotions out because who cares, he doesn't say anything, doesn't ask what's wrong. He just holds you, gives you that moment, keeps your pieces collected in his palms for you to put back together later with his help. And you're not sure how many times you can do this.

Or how long he's willing to participate in this.

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Since Jungkook didn't make a move the entire morning, you've been spending it entertaining yourself as to not get bored. Not in a sexual way-

but by simply trying to see how strong his patience is.

It's a new feeling you've developed after just two days of being with him- confidence, and trust in that he won't ever hurt you whatsoever. No consequences he could come up with would ever truly put you in harms way, you absolutely believe in that. But what's disappointing was how he didn't ever get past a clench of his jaw, or a tilt of his head. He'd just.. let you do whatever, and never do anything to somehow discipline you.

It made you wonder. Is he even such an intimidating 'Dom' at all, or did he just make that up?

However, after talking about it after lunch, he's finally opened up to you too- having told you that he's gonna trust you too, that he'll be more open with you and his own desires, while you'll have to be honest about when he's going too far or too fast. And you agree- you want him to trust you too, want him to relax more around you as well.

After all, he wants to get to know you too, right? Not just the other way around.

What you did not take into account though, is that now, your actions actually will have consequences- and he will indeed put you back into your place in one way or another. And even if in that very moment where you piss him off he isn't reacting- he will remember those actions to remind you of them, later, when you don't even expect it.

Just like now, as he's finished some calls he had to make, finally finding time again for you. "I'm sorry- I technically told the studio not to contact me on my break." He hums into your hair, as you sit with him on the small sofa in his office, having practically demanded his attention back on you the moment he'd put his phone down, and he'd been visibly amused by it. Unbeknownst to you, he's more than just excited- after all, it feels like your week is finally gaining traction, as you no longer step around in the dark trying to navigate around obstacles that aren't even there.

He's just been too scared to scare you. But by now, it's clear that you're not. And it makes him eager to explore now that he can actually see where he's going with you.

There's a hand under your shirt, cropped top and cotton shorts nothing more than decoration really, considering he's already seen you naked. It's nothing too sensual technically- but at this point, you feel like something might be wrong with you. Because even a simple touch like this makes you.. needy.

He reaches over to the side, plastic bag rustling- and now you're actually starting to get antsy. Because there's only one bag next to the couch- the one that's containing all the different items Jungkook had bought this morning as he'd told you. And that's exactly what he's grabbing for it seems like, as he moves his arms a little to take out one of the items you weren't too sure about- already unpacked for some reason, as he holds it out for your hand to take.

"What is that?" You ask, fingers running over the smooth, silicone surface, while he chuckles behind you, since you're still halfway laying against his chest.

"Something I always wanted to try." He simply jokes. "It's really fun, according to a friend of mine. I've never used it with anyone before, but I think you might like it.." He hums, taking the toy away from you again, before his free hand pats your thigh once. "..scoot to the side for me, yeah?" He asks, and you do so, sitting next to him now while watching how he finally reveals what this.. object might be used for.

He has to adjust the belts multiple times to fit around his thigh, plastic clipping into place, before his eyes find yours, lips turned into a suspicious smirk. "Alright.." He starts, leaning back against the couch, and it's obvious that he's now demanding respect and most of all, your obedience. He points at a spot in front of him, and without words, you know exactly what he wants you to do, his expression one of almost.. pride, as he watches you stand in front of him, instinctually knowing what to do.

"Undress." He simply says, a straightforward command that you follow easily, because shame is something that you refuse to let yourself feel. He's not one you need to be hesitant with- he's promised you his honesty, after all, and he's promised you that even if things get awkward, it'll never change his view on you.

And his view of you is one of love, that's very clear to see and feel.

So it's not weird to stand in front of him all bare, clothes on a small pile next to your feet now, as he smiles. "Come here." He urges with a softer voice, having clearly realized that you've accepted his invitation into a scene now- for the first time not having needed any cues. "Take a seat, princess." He almost teases, and you do so, sitting on the soft silicone toy hugging his thigh.

It's pastel colored, multiple hues swirling together into one another, creating wave like patterns. "There you go... So pretty." He chuckles, hands running over the length of your arms, causing goosebumps to erupt from the sensation of his warm palms. He's feeling your skin a lot more sensually now, clear intentions as he touches your hips and waist, thumbs almost massaging the skin of your lower stomach, moving from the inside towards your hipbones before repeating the action.

His hands are so close to where you'd love to have them, and yet, you try and be patient. Because if you're good, he'll reward you, right?

It doesn't take long for you to notice the way your arousal makes movement a lot easier- your core by now slipping around with every little jerk of your hips, making you anxious to move more. And finally, as his fingers grip your hips, he gets into a more comfortable position himself- the unoccupied leg casually stretched out, while his back rests against the sofa, giving him a good position to watch you. "Show me how those hips can move." He urges, and you instantly take that invitation, slowly moving to test the waters.

You don't care what you look like, or about the wet sounds coming from the toy between your legs- because the feeling is insane.

He clearly let's you enjoy yourself for now, giving you free reign to figure out yourself how you like it. Your hips are squirming from side to side, ridges and bumps of the toy an odd but definitely pleasant sensation as you roll your core over it, uncaring of your arousal already leaking onto his grey sweatpants.

And neither does he care.

Watching you chase your own pleasure on his leg is just such a treat to witness- especially when he holds onto you, before he lifts his foot, forcing you down onto the toy without any warning, earning a surprised whimper from between your lips as he lets you down- just to repeat the motion a couple of times, simply to entertain himself. You're just too cute, even while doing such a sinful act. And especially when you clearly reach your orgasm is when he truly can't help himself-

hands guiding your hips to keep moving despite your clear sensitivity, just to see you struggle a little, thighs trembling and hands gripping his arms.

He's letting you lean against him, hips occasionally moving just a little, clearly still needy to feel more- and he's actually quite surprised when your hand curiously runs over the inside of his thigh, hesitating just shy of his very obvious erection that's only somewhat contained in his underwear and sweats. "You can touch me, you know?" He chuckles, making you look up at him. "I'm all yours." He tells you, and it feels like he's offering more than just his body to you.

But you don't get to think for long, because he's already helping you lay down on your back on the leather couch, unclipping the toy from his leg before he looms over you, hand running through your legs. "You didn't think I've forgotten, right?" He chuckles darkly, while his hand explores your still clenching core.

"You don't think I'm just letting you act like a brat and not put you into your place?" He purrs, leaning back on his heels, before he takes out something from the bag, his phone as well from the table close by. You're pulling back your legs, unaware that you're still exposed to him, lower lips plump and red from the friction of the toy, skin glistening with your arousal.

It's playing right into his desires, seeing you so clueless about your own appeal.

You're watching him press a hidden button on the toy, the pink object buzzing to life once, red light blinking while he taps away on his phone. "Oh~" He hums, trying out somethin it seems like, as the toy buzzes in different patterns before it stills again. "Interesting.. That'll be fun in the future." He chuckles, before he leans over you, kissing you with playful intent.

You're not sure what he's up to when he pushes your legs back down to stretch out, running the smooth object between your legs to cover it in your slick. "You're always so worried you can't take it.." He teases, looking right at you before you notice him push the object inside-

the egg shaped vibrator slipping right in, almost suddenly, core taking it inside greedily- only the elongated part staying outside, something resting right on your clit. "Oh?" He jokes, brows raised. "Where'd it go?" He jokes, making you laugh now, entire nature of this whole scene awfully light in that moment, lifting your overall tenseness entirely at this point. And for a moment, all is fun and games-

until he leans back, sits down in the corner of the couch, finger on his phone suddenly doing something-

The toy inside you buzzing to live, and not on an easy setting, that's for sure. He's obviously amused by the way you squirm, hips jerking whenever you move in a way that forces the part resting against you to move. And he's having the time of his life, trying out different settings and rhythms while watching you suffer under his antics.

"You still need to learn." He chuckles, watching your legs jerk whenever the piece that's resting over your clit moves just slightly. "I don't have to touch you to gain my fill." He says, simply scanning your body with a warm, hooded gaze. "Hm? You've had such a smart mouth the entire day." He coos, almost feigning innocence as he looks at you racing towards your final high-

Generously turning down the intensity so that it's not that harsh.

You're slowly catching your breath, when his lips tilt upwards, and his finger taps around- buzzing intensifying again, catching you off guard, causing a yelp to escape you as your hips lift off the couch.

This is too much. Or not enough? You can't take this, there's something strange happening with your body as it moves without your permission, turning over into all fours, front laying down as your hands frantically touch the inside of your thighs.

And Jungkook relishes in the scene you present to him, because there's a reason your fingers hesitate to touch your core, and he knows it.

You can't take it out. Not physically- that you can, if you really wanted to- but mentally. You know he's put it there, and he's the one in control. This is your punishment, and in an odd moment of realization, you accept it, thighs trembling as your body reaches yet another, warmer orgasm that causes you to cry out, voice sounding foreign to your own ears as your hips jerk, your knees pressed into the leather below the only thing holding you upright-

Or maybe it's Jungkook, who's leaning over your back, arm keeping your front elevated as it rests against your collarbone.

When did he move?

When did he shed his top?

Your core feels empty, and your legs feel wet. Is ge not wearing pants anymore? You can feel something touch you, hot and heavy against your thigh, and it must be him.

You want him. Where'd that toy go that was inside you seconds ago?

You’re still breathing heavily, cheeks still wet from the tears you didn’t even realize had fallen from your eyes. Your lashes are still coated in them, wet and heavy, when Jungkook kisses your neck from behind you, a reminder that he’s still there.

Just like he always promises. He never let’s you feel lonely.

“That's it.” He praises. “Hold onto me like that. I’ll keep your body safe while you let go.” He chuckles, and only now do you notice the iron grip you have on his forearm over your chest, nails digging into his skin. You feel a bit bad for it.

Though you just lessen your strength a bit, not letting go.

Suddenly, his other arm moves, grabs something out of sight, before he runs the object through your slick-coated cunt and thighs, covering it in your arousal before it prods at your still clenching hole.

“You think I won’t fit?” He purrs against your neck, and you swallow thickly, a strange cocktail or anticipation and worry mixing in your body. “You think I won’t claim this cunt as mine at the end of this week?” He asks again, and you can feel the wave if cool excitement wash over you- starting at your very neck, before it ends in the tips of your toes.

“I’ll teach your body to take me..” He almost chuckles, pushing the very tip of the clear pink toy inside, before he moves it back out- Pushing it in a little further each time. “I’ll make sure to get you all ready for me..” he hums sensually, by now having learned of your little kinks you have, as the hand from his arm still keeping your upper body pressed against his own finds one of your tits, groping the soft flesh before his thumb flicks the sensitive bud once to see you squirm.

“I won’t let you forget any of this.” He threatens almost, and you whine when you feel him push the toy even further now.

You feel so full. How much more is there to go?

“Jung-” you whine pitifully, eyes closed as your hips can’t stay still, all of it a stark difference to the fast paced, almost aggressive orgasm he’s given you just moments prior. “I cant-” you start, and he laughs.

“Oh you can.” He tells you, before he gives the toy another push. “And you will.” He purrs, and its then that you feel the base of the toy against your lower lips.

You swear you can feel it in your stomach- and for some odd reason, you like it.

"You're made for me." He chuckles, kisses at your neck and cheek before he bites, toy leaving your cunt with only the tip before he moves it back in, feeling of a Rollercoaster ride making your insides jump and eyes roll back. You can't think anymore, you can only feel- and right now, you feel just so used in the best kind of way.

Somehow, he makes your worst nightmares come true- but they're not nightmares anymore, just dreams, vibrant and pleasant. Exciting. New.

It could be so easy to replace the toy with himself right now- but he doesn't, because that's one of his own rules he will never break. Your trust in him is precious, it's a gift- and he won't tarnish that by simply being greedy for more than you want to offer.

"Jung.." you huff, swallowing down saliva before you can say anything at all. "Jungkook-.. please-" you beg, unsure how to phrase it.

"What is it?" He asks, moves to nuzzle your neck so softly- a stark contract to his constant push and pull with the clear pink dildo he's using to give you a taste of his own length one day doing the same. Filling you up. Probably even better? You can imagine him all warm and slicked up from your wetness, stretching you open and making you feel so full you can hardly breathe.

"More.. f- faster-" you request. "Please?" You add on, and he chuckles.

"See?" His breath fans over your neck. "You can be such a good girl." He teases, pressing the replica as deep as it can reach inside you, base pushing against your skin. "Where were your manners today?" He wonders. "Will I always have to ruin this cunt to remind you where your place is?" He asks, and you nod, shamelessly so.

"Yes!" You whimper, mind somewhere else by now entirely as you struggle to keep yourself still. "Yes- I.. I forget-" you huff out, and he laughs as he runs his lips over your shoulder, piercing a distinct contrast to his softer lips.

"Then let me remind you, darling." He hums against your jot and sweating skin. "You're mine, in this moment. And I decide what to do with you... or to you." He tells you, and you nod, legs quivering.

Only for him to move the toy back to have it slip out, hole gaping at him, closing around nothing. The sigh is everything he ever needed or wanted- cunt all red and flushed, lower lips swollen and glistening, and he has to imagine his own seed staining your skin, mixing with your own arousal staining the couch and your legs.

His cock twitches at the sight, a drop of precum escaping him without control.

But what he does have control over is the rest of himself, as he pushes the toy back inside, causing your toes to curl, especially once he moves it in a faster, steadier pace. It short-circuits your brain, everything around you smelling of sex as he uses the replica to give you a taste of what he could give you.

Your arousal foams up around the base of the pink silicone, creating a ring of white as you cream up from his pace.

The orgasm you reach from this is different, as if it happens somewhere else in your body- though his hand is quick to flick your sensitive pearl to send you off with a proper goodbye, soil leaving your body as you quiver and lose all control one last time, body giving out as he lets you lay down now, muscles twitching from the overuse.

And it only takes him one good pump on his own cock to make him spurt his release onto your back, where his lips kiss up your spine in his post-orgasmic fever.

He's drunk off of you. He's never even had full on sec with you yet- and he's already addicted.

You've got no idea what you're doing to him.

◇━━━━━━━━━━X♡X♡━━━━━━━━━━━◇

In the bathtub, his hand is a lot softer as it runs over your body, cleaning you and nurturing this blossoming feeling you're growing for him.

You're both back from your respective highs, world slowly bleeding back into reality as you simply exist in the warm water for now. "Was that alright?" He asks you, and you nod.

"It was.. new." You say, voice echoing in the bathroom, together with the sound of water sloshing everytime he moves. "I didn't think I'd enjoy what you did- but I did."

"How so?" He wonders, wanting to know hour thoughts now that your brain is functional again. Feedback is important now more than ever after all- he has to still figure out how to navigate this new experience with you.

"I thought.. it would feel, you know, degrading." You explain. "To be used." You clarify, and he nods, carefully moving your hair to see the side of your face better. "But it didn't. It felt more.. as if I was.. of service? Is that the right word?" You wonder, and he chuckles.

"Its how I feel in my position as well, you know." He answers. "Knowing that what I offer gives you pleasure.. is enough for me." He shrugs, and you stretch your legs, cramps finally letting up. "You looked so pretty.." he teases, and you whine.

"I was crying like a baby!" You argue, turning around a bit-

Though you're caught off guard by the terribly soft look he offers you, hand reaching out to hold your cheek.

"Thats because you are my baby." He says-

Making you cry once more.

◇━━━━━━━━━━X♡X♡━━━━━━━━━━━◇

[tobi-smp]

you know, with hindsight now what it is I really do think a more literal reading of c!techno's chat would have helped his characterization a Lot

and mind you, this was originally intended to be the case, and very well may have been intended all along even if it wasn't usually emphasized within the lore

and don't get me wrong, I Get why it fell out of favor within the fandom. it coincides with a Very storied ableist trope that demonizes DID and disorders adjacent to it, and Can be spoken about in a way that is essentially indistinguishable from it depending on the word choice.

but the thing is ! not only does it not Have to be an allegory for DID, I straight up don't think it is At All.

because we Know what it's an allegory for. It's His Chat. there's technoblade playing the game, and there's the thousands of people watching with expectations and wants that he's compelled to meet (or, at the very least, pacify through Entertainment).

and this makes much Much more sense when conceived of as Supernatural. be that spirits, gods, demons, or anything that could fill that role. separate entities that, for whatever reason, only techno can sense the presence of and be affected by.

and of course, to an extent this is true for all creators. everyone had an audience that they were meant to entertain and the choices they made were influenced by that fact.

but technoblade came in with a Very distinct set of expectations that heavily impacted the choices he was Expected to make and the kinds of stories that he could tell. he was more or less a living legend in real life just as much as he was in roleplay, and these things were inherently connected.

and it's like !

when c!technoblade says he was peer pressured into killing tubbo at the red festival he Is technically talking about what happened within the roleplay. schlatt was demanding it from him, there's a sort of pressure there. but schlatt was also the dictator they were set to kill, and techno has never had any trouble fighting people he considered a dictator before, and certainly not Schlatt of all people.

but he WAS being peer pressured By His Audience. by thousands of people, most of which were demanding blood Because It Was The Expectation, because it'd be Fun.

out of universe technoblade made the decision he thought would be the most Entertaining, and he was right! consistently he made choices that would let him do the most bombastic Spectacles possible. And It's Great. he's Excellent at pulling dramatics and making a compelling scene that give other people room to work off of. in that sense I'd consider techno an Excellent actor, and I have to imagine that he was fun to work with.

the problem is when you then have to justify it from an in character perspective, grounded in those mushy things like Feelings with characters that can be traumatized and sustain lasting damage, Especially Without acknowledging the out of character incentive.

mind you, it's not Impossible to Create a backstory that could justify it. why a character as consistently powerful and feared as technoblade would feel pressured to kill an ally by someone he not only Can kill but Wanted To Kill. why a character as seemingly secure and in control as technoblade would lash out the way that he does to perceived betrayal, and yet consistently puts no weight onto having killed and permanently scarred an ally that trusted him.

what that'd need is tragedy. a storied history of being hurt and having to survive. building up To an untouchable god from a much much more vulnerable position. Long Lasting trauma that's lead to this deep insecurity and paranoia. and that's Possible and that's Compelling.

but it's just not in the text.

not only did we never learn basically Anything that c!technoblade was up to pre-series, we actually know Less by the end than when we started because of the sbi retconning.

it's a Theoretically Possible interpretation that's technically never Contradicted by canon, but would have to be created by scratch. it's a compelling idea for a fan fic (and one I'd like to read) and it's compelling for a theoretical recontextualization of the character, but it's just not In The Text.

meanwhile, we have the video above.

we have the Objective Fact that technoblade's decision making was often subject to the rule of cool (very Very effectively) to entertain his audience.

and most compellingly, these concepts Don't Need To Be Separate. in fact, in my opinion they're Stronger when you put them together.

because the thing is. it's Difficult to imagine techno as ever being in a vulnerable position. he is just Objectively more powerful than everyone else on the server, both in real life And within the lore. How could he have ever been afraid when he was stronger than anyone and everyone combined? when we saw with our own eyes that techno could face nearly the whole server at once and win.

but he Is a tragic character, at least he's meant to be. and that tragedy makes much Much more sense as something Inward.

technoblade as a character who Needs connection, who Needs stability, who Needs security, who Needs friendship and community and Love. but Lashes Out, Obliterates to the core of the earth, because of something that's not only out of his control but that other people Cannot Understand.

how do you explain to a child that you killed their best friend because a chorus of the undead called for his blood and you (in all the glory that he'd idolized) were unable to do anything but comply? how do you explain to that child that you beat him senseless in a pit as the restless dead jeered and laughed?

That's interesting. That's Compelling.

technoblade is idolized like a god, feared like a force of nature, and in an instant cut himself off from nearly everyone who'd considered him an ally. and that seems to be a pattern, over and over and over again. he's left isolated, and in return he faces retaliation, and in return he's always Waiting for retaliation.

and what do you say to someone who wants to kill you for being a monster? that it's Fine Actually because you only did what you did because you have a curse that compels you to? that the supernatural guided you to destroy their homes and kill their people? (rip jack manifold you will be missed)?

That Doesn't Quite Help Your Case.

technoblade as someone who is beholden to this literal cycle of violence and Loses those things that could ground him, community, stability, People, as a result. who Tries to overcome this very fact (to become a better person, in his own words as per the clip above), but is pulled back into it as a consequence of his own actions.

that's a tragedy !! that Makes Sense. that allows him to be Both this force of nature that other characters have to survive And A Person Who Is Hurt By The Same Conflict.

"I'm a person!" that fear of dehumanization makes So So Much More Sense when you see technoblade as someone who Already fears himself. who fears being a monster, who fears losing control, who has faced isolation again and again and again.

and, importantly, it doesn't have to be anyone else's Fault.

by making the source both Internal and Completely External (something that none of the other characters have any awareness or control over), you can Have techno as a tragic character without demonizing anyone else Or erasing the impact that c!techno had on them.

and in that sense, it Can be an allegory for mental illness, but not in that direct "oooooh how scary he hears voices" kind of way that people fear it looks. but in that sometimes people Will do things that can hurt others while not feeling in control. anger and mania and paranoia, things that you can't always Control and yet that impact that you have on other people still Matters.

and the answer to that is, often, vulnerability and accountability.

I think a lot about technoblade isolating himself so near entirely from the rest of the server, and slowly gathering a support system Back by the end. and I Really Do think that framing of it through this lens is a Very impactful way of breaking it down.

tubbo, tommy, wilbur, ranboo, niki, I think they'd All understand not feeling in control. lashing out, maybe even feeling justified in the moment, but hurting people they care about and furthering their own isolation.

There's Something There, and it's already In The Text. it just needs to be expanded on.

and why not do that ourselves now?

[ivycoveredstars]

Something clicked for me

“You don’t fear failure. You fear your own power”

I came across this video on TikTok

It started off okay, I usually stick around for his content as he’s a great storyteller and speaks on good things. But his messages are usually pushed to the back of my mind after I scroll.

This one though- It made something click for me

I have manifested many things, and my self concept is growing stronger everyday. But there has always been something that felt off. I tend to fall back into this pattern of wavering thoughts and doubts, even though I know everything I need to and have had great success with manifestation.

But it never felt right.

I tried reworking my thoughts around failure, and assure myself that the only way things fail is if I let them. But sometimes I would get so close to knowing something is mine 100%, and then I spiral, waver and lose my grip on my desire.

Now I realize I’m scared of my power.

“You don’t fear failure, you fear your power”

We don’t fear failure. If you don’t have an inherent understanding that you are the true creator of your life, failure is common. We always find our way through. It’s not new, so it doesn’t make sense that we fear it.

Power on the other hand, it can be new to many of us. People in power are able to do basically anything within the means of their power, which usually vast. They can control entire buildings of people. They can create laws that have to be followed, destroy entire populations, control who gets to live and who doesn’t. And that is scary. But power can also be beautiful.

We put power on a pedestal, specifically the power of creation. Religions worship great beings of power, who have created the entire universe and beyond, capable of erasing any and everything with a simple thought. Humans do the same thing with other humans. When we view these beings as magnificent entities separate from us, of course the idea of being like them beyond imaginable.

But power is easy, letting yourself feel worthy of it is the hard part. We have to stop viewing creation, power and success as this grand thing that only the ultra intelligent, talented and rich can accomplish. We create every day. We have power over so many things in our lives. We succeed with each thing we get done. We just have to now adjust the scale and view all things as smaller than us.

A finished painting usually gets all the limelight, but the painter is the one who made it. The painting isn’t really the art work, the painter’s mind, imagination and creativity is the true art piece. The painting is just a bunch of strokes coming together to bring what exists in the artist’s mind to reality. That’s exactly what our desires are as well.

You’re just becoming the painter. You’re seeing yourself as the spearhead of what you experience. It’s not this spectacular thing, everyone has the power to create.

I think of it as similar to the creation of false idols in religion. Those things may be made of gold, silver, diamond. Fancy clothes and bags may be highly coveted after. But none of it would exist without creation. Without the ultimate creator. And that’s how we have to view ourselves. None of our desires would exist without us. They wouldn’t be thought of. We have to treat them as such and put ourselves on the pedestal.

[autismprotocol]

TMAG Theory Board Update (EP 11-12)

Hi guys sorry about the late posting I've just started a new quarter of college and its been pretty hectic. also got into my school design BFA program so pretty stoked about that! Anyways lets get into the Episode Breakdowns because even though not a lot of lore related things happened I still have a lot to talk about

For the breakdown I'll separate each by episode in sequential order

What Happened in Episode 11: Marked

Celias Rude Awakening- we jump right into the weirdness straight away with Celia waking up on the side of the interstate. she indicates that this is not a weird occurrence and ends the scene by telling someone named Jack that she's "on her way." If you remember episode 8 after Celia and Sam talk to Gerry and Gertrude, she mentions stuff about wanting help with her own mystery. When Sam asks about it she says she's looking into Time travel, other dimentions and teleportation. Many people have theorized that maybe Celia is just a super heavy sleepwalker, but I think the she teleports random places out of nowhere. This could be a side effect of her reality hopping if this Celia is originally from The archives universe.

As for the identity of Jack I'm not quite sure about that yet. I cross referenced the name Jack with past episodes of TMA. The only thing that came up was Jack Barnabas from the statement about dating Agnes Montague (aka an avatar of the desolation and Jesus-like figure for the cult of the lightless flame) So Unless Celia is secretly Agnes of Agnes reincarnated , I can't find any way to link Barnabas to Celia. (if anyone has a theory feel free to send it my way.)

Sam Lore- this one is pretty minor story-wise but I thought it was interesting. Before the statement for the episode is presented we get some classic Sam and Alice Banter ™ most of it is pretty lighthearted but I noticed Sam mention something that could indicate he might be an amputee.

These could not mean anything and I find it weird that it hasn't been mentioned until now but thought it was kind of cool and I will probably be drawing sam with a prothetic leg in the future cause I really like this head-canon. It also begs to question if he is missing a leg. it might have anything to do with his past as a Magnus institute test subject but then again could just be a fun character detail added by Jonny and/or Alex .

The Statement- Getting into the statement we get another Ink5oul appearance. Also possible Ink5oul identifying as she/they. (and lets be honest being a fear avatar is pretty non binary core). I found this Episode gave me a feeling of a hybrid between the Vast, Buried and the Flesh some people are theorizing that is might be a new entity called the Deep but I think that the fear of the ocean could easily apply to the vast or buried. Not much to say about this story though pretty standard Magnus horror that also gave us a hint to what Ink5oul's goal could be/which entity they serve.

Post Bonzo- Gwen has a debrief with Lena after her first Externals Liason assignment and her meeting with Mr. Bonzo. Undoubtedly Gwen is still pretty shaken from her encounter, even arriving late to work due to sleeplessness. Gwen is able to ask Lena a few questions mainly she wanted to know who's name was written on the letter given to Bonzo

Lena is largely unhelpful but tells Gwen she should have worked it out by now and if not to pay close attention to the case load for the next couple of days. before the latest episode my guess was Klaus because that is the only person mentioned so far that the OIAR intends to kill. but more on that later

Marked- Now were getting to my favorite thing about this episode. This episode title can have two meanings. The first is the more literal interpretation. Tattoos are marking of the body and the case this episode was all about tattoos so easily a good name would be marked. But I believe this is a red herring meant to misguide listeners who have not consumed all 200 episodes of TMA because if you know the world of Magnus Archives the term Marked takes on a entirely different meaning.

In TMA the term marked is used to indicate that somebody has been influenced by one or more or the fears and are one their way to becoming an Avatar. I think this could be a coded way to tell the audience someone in the OIAR has been marked. I have two potential candidates

Alice Dyer- Alice has been having dreams about the Institute after her and Sam's adventure into the ruins. also she mentions feeling like someone's watching her (common to people influenced or fed upon by the Ceaseless Watcher/The Eye) My guess if she is marked it would be by the Eye.

Gwendolyn Bouchard: Probably the most likely culprit. The main way an entitly tends to mark people is through encounters with other avatars. Gwen has just had an encounter with Mr Bonzo last episode who I strongly believe must be an avatar of some sort.

What Happened in Episode 12: Getting Off

Aww Sam!!- Sam asked Celia out and it was adorably awkward. not much to say I just loved this interaction and I'm longing for a new Magnus brand office romance hopefully is wont be an agonizing slowburn that ends tragically like a certain pair of morons from Archives (I love you Jon and Martin but Jesus christ)

It's Bonzo time bitches!!- Probably one of the most gruesome Magnus statement I've ever listened to (good work Alex) Mr Bonzo completely annihilated some poor dude at his bachelor party. Based on the date of the Incident the I can confidently say that whoever Baz (the groom) was he was our mystery person the OIAR sent Mr Bonzo to get rid of. Along with some of the bloodiest imagery we learned a few things about Bonzo. The most interesting detail is that Bonzo has to be summoned by playing his theme song I think the CD of his theme song acts somewhat like the tapes did in TMA by materialising out of nowhere. Also fun fact you know that torn seam that is right down Bonzo's middle? that is actually is his mouth lined with rows sharp teeth so I guess I know that now (so fun) Moral of the story dont f*ck with Mr. Bonzo

Alice knows something: Theres been this recurring audio glitch throughout TMAGP thatnks to a few extremly observent fans we have started to relize that these glitches are not at all random and are actually letting the audience know when a character is lying (i actually reposted somones deepdive into all the istances of this glitch so far if you guys are intrested in knowing more) why i bring this up now is becuase since we know when any charater is lying we also know when they are being truthful if there is no glitch when they say somthing and at the end of this episode this interaction occurs

Alice goes ahead and makes a joke about this to annoy Gwen but the fact theres no audio glitch when she says "I know" means she does actually know who is behind the OIAR and is activly refusing to share it with Gwen or the others. What do you know Alice!?

and that's about it im already loving these next batch of episodes and am so excited to learn more (ERROR has to show up somtime )

thanks to everyone who resonded the poll on the last update I will continue to include drawings into the breakdown even if it takes me a little bit of time to post. anyways I wrote this all in one sitting and I'm about ready to pass out so thanks again and the ask box and comments are always open for discussion and theory crafting.

-Echo

[yuellii]

allowed heaven, fill the empty me

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 ;; a world of secrecy and stuttered glances in which you cannot proclaim the man that is rightfully yours ( but for some, he would rather die just to claim you as his )

feat. priest! zhongli, psychiatrist! baizhu, prison warden! wriothesley, master! ayato ( separately )

notes. completely SFW, zhongli’s is a bit suggestive; baizhu’s is written kinda darker, arranged marriage and non-sexual infidelity ( ayato ), religious themes ( zhongli ), manipulated dependency + family issues ( baizhu )

ZHONGLI.

He lights a dim candle in the darkness. Perhaps it was too much of an allowance from the ever-so knowledgeable priest.

But it allows him to see you, nevertheless; you, with your wrists bloodily bound in front of your body, rows of rosaries with crosses in between each bead. They’re tight, they burn your skin with a cast of holiness he himself bestowed, for any trace of the Gods would rightfully etch into the body of a demon like you.

And yet, you still flash him the sickest of grins, little fang in your mouth and eyes of the devil looking at him with such excitement he wishes was not there. “You came down here?” you almost laughed, wrists writhing against their restraints as you angled your head to tilt up from the cold, stone dungeon floor. “All the way down here, just to see me?”

It truly was such a long way down where he kept you for now, locked far below at the deepest dwellings under the cathedral. No one must know the head priest was keeping a demon on a leash under such golden grounds.

“I could have you crucified,” he threatens with a glare, though even he himself knows it is one not upheld.

You smiled, “But you won’t.”

He hated that grin of yours. It pulled at the black and gold robes that adorned his body in a way that was sinful—an entity in which his restrictions as a priest could not reach. There was a fire much more ferocious than this dim candle carried carelessly in his hands. Such a spark was gifted from yourself to his growing desire just to set you free.

“Come a little closer,” you called out, quieter than before, “won’t you, Father Priest?”

There was not any fear to be held against you, not with the gold cross hanging from his neck or the pure water he carried around protecting his aura. But there was a fear for himself. For if he found himself closer, still, he doesn’t know if he’d control himself to keep you bounded. This was the way of demons, so tempting—even to a respected man well under faith like himself.

Perhaps he didn’t know quite yet you already owned his soul the moment he spared you.

He found himself kneeling before you, suddenly not caring for the dirty stone coming in contact with the purity of his clothes. You, in contrast, we’re all beaten, bruised, and bloodied from being locked down here, bound by the ropes of the Gods that the priest himself tied on you. And somehow, the sight of you like this only made him crave for you even more.

“Closer.” His stomach dropped at the tantalizing smirk on your face.

And when the feeling of your breath hit his face only inches away, his heart raced, and that was when he knew it was too late. Your lips captured his like a kiss from Judas, the taste of iron immediately filling his senses. And yet, he found it delightful. So grotesque and so sinful, and yet he was relishing in the taste of your lips like it was the last supper of his faith. If the Gods could see him now, on his knees and mouth locked with the devil, he was not sure if he’d be begging for forgiveness.

And when you finally let go, pulling back your head to look at him, you could already tell from the shift in his eyes alone that he was now a man of sin.

BAIZHU.

“I got you something.”

A packaged wrap of paint was placed into your hands as your psychiatrist sat down on the couch in front of you. He crossed his legs with a small smile on his face, though his eyes were clouded with certain expectations. Scrutinizing gaze, it was akin to a vulture.

Your eyes considerably lighten up in naivety. “Thank you, Doctor! My parents wouldn’t let me buy this set…”

“I figured,” he laughed off. And he did so with that same smile on his face, eyes even closing to show a false crinkle at the corner of his lids—a fabricated happiness that gave you the impression of a boundary between patient and doctor. “I thought that maybe I could at least provide you something they cannot give. Or, they refuse to give.”

Key word differences, but he was far in too deep to have them matter too much. Then you beamed quite genuinely, “I can always rely on you.”

Good, he liked hearing that. Devotion was built on loyalty, and loyalty was built from a constant source of trust. That’s why he bought you those paint brushes last session, and that sketchbook the previous section. It’s why he keeps denouncing your parents to shift your reliance.

“So,” he started up. A facade he kept on to pose as your doctor, oh, how was he so lucky? “Anything new since we last spoke together?” ‘Together’; as long as he kept pushing the word—as long as he kept pushing the mere idea of it—surely it will stick in your head.

Your smile suddenly fell, and he took careful notice of how your hands suddenly grip at the paints like you value them.

He stops himself from grinning.

“Not a surprise,” you start, “but my father took away the sketchbook you gave me.” Oh, you poor thing. He immediately pushed out his bottom lip to resemble a pout. Surely, you’d see how much this saddens him. And so surely, you’d value the gifts he gives you even more. “I may have overreacted, and then an argument with both my parents started…”

“Oh no, not at all,” he dismissed. “They just don’t understand how much art means to you.”

Your face held desperation as he said that—confirming whatever thoughts you had in hopes that at least someone would understand you, if not your family. But he understands you, and he wants to make sure you know that. “Yeah, exactly!”

The doctor stood up. He made his way around the coffee table that was in between the both of you, stopping just to take a seat right next to you. You visibly tensed; he’s never been so close before. “Is this alright?” he asked as innocently as he could, placing a steady hand down on your shoulder.

You stuttered, eyes shifting away. “Yeah…”

And then he leaned in, using the length of his body against yours to pull closer until you were on his shoulder for some sort of half-embrace. “You need to learn that not everyone will understand you, especially when your parents are like that.” He spoke such mutters into your ear—a close proximity he was almost dying to have. “But, eventually someone will.” And that someone is me, and only me.

“I know you understand me, doctor,” you mumbled.

He could not see your face, but oh, he was glad you could not see his. Because your words, so unsure of yourself yet so naive, were like music to his ears.

WRIOTHESLEY.

“Careful, careful with ‘em, now,” the scruffy voice of the man behind you said, yanking at the cuffs bounding your wrists together. “This one’s the warden’s favorite.”

This was happening a little too often, happenings in which you were cuffed and brutally thrown down onto a cold chair in the prison administrator’s office. Being a criminal locked down here in the deepest depths of the Nation of Justice was no small feat, especially when it was kilometers under the ocean.

But how romantic is that? You, and him… oceans underneath.

“Aww,” you smiled, in sore pain from the way the previous guards threw you down. But the black haired warden in front of you sat with perfectly calm posture, the scars on his face only crinkling in his movements to sip at his tea. “I missed you too, Your Grace, but don’t you think you’re a little obsessed with seeing me?”

He did not have to look up to see the smirk on your face—it was practically audible via your words alone.

“A warden must check on his convicts,” the Duke merely replied. “Especially the most rowdy of them.” His tone when he said ‘rowdy’; that was the most interest you’d ever get from his voice. And yet, even as his eyes scanned his morning Fontainian newspaper in absolute boredom, you could tell. It was obvious with how much he called you in here, all the effort just to see you.

You scoffed. “You and I both know that’s far from true.” This finally earned you a glance from him—a glare, sure, but a glance nevertheless. It was like you succeeded, almost. “But anyways,” you dismissed. His gaze moved down to the table, right where you tossed a full pouch of Mora on top.

He gave it a toothy grin. “Heh, bail money or lawyer funds this time?”

“Both,” you shrugged.

Your eyes followed as he stood up from his chair, making his way around to the back of your seat. You wish you could move, you really did. But the very handcuffs that were restricting your wrists just now got pulled by the calloused fingers of his hand. “Where’d you even get money like this?” he questioned you so suddenly. He was bent down almost to the level of your chair, head right close to yours. And when you made the mistake of turning your face towards him, you could feel the cold air of his breath hit your cheek. “I’m sure the other convicts here wouldn’t just cough it up.”

“Well aren’t you touchy today…” you scowled. “And here I thought you liked me enough to just take the coins.” His grip was unwavering, and you felt your arms being pulled at your shoulders. Such a calm man, he was, but his strength could change that in seconds. “Then why have you been calling me in everyday? Where’s my Mora going?”

“I’ll buy you something pretty, don’t you worry.” There was a small chuckle in his voice. You didn’t particularly like the sound when it came from right behind you.

“A lawyer is pretty.”

“You’re not getting a lawyer.”

If you were able to turn around and glare at him, you would. “Why, you just wanna keep me here forever until I die?”

There was an oncoming silence that made your stomach drop. Surely. Surely not. Surely he was not infatuated enough to want to keep you imprisoned just because he wanted to see you every day. But when he spoke no words, and when you felt a coldness that creeped up your spine, his intentions as he stared down at your collar like a preying wolf were more than obvious.

“Oh. Oh, you’re sick.”

“Can’t help it.”

You were quick to thrash your hands against the handcuffs until he let go of you, but that wasn’t the case. And by then, all you could feel was the looming presence of the weight of his body pressed to the chair behind you. Because if you were let go from his place, he wouldn’t get to see you every day like he does now. And if you leave, well, there’d be this ocean separating the two of you apart.

And if you were freed, then… He wouldn’t get the authority over you like this anymore—archons, the twisted fantasy in his eyes as he watched you struggle in front of him—right?

KAMISATO AYATO.

Scarlet roses adorn scarlet letters in this garden of Eden.

What surfaced as a lovely night was truly a raging tempest, though he could not have it any other way. He kisses you with the lips of a married man, though he was already wed to a woman of status and riches. And you, all the meanwhile, felt like a homewrecker.

Of course, their marriage was arranged. Your lover was not a cheater. But if that was true, then why did you feel so dirty?

“The wedding was awful,” he groaned against your neck, arms snaking tight around your waist as he leaned into you for comfort. You could only hate yourself for feeling loved among his embrace; your fingers weaved through his hair, garden hedges shaded you from scrutinizing moonlight. Perhaps if the divine Gods of the moon could see you in the light, they’d be frowning. “All I could imagine was you walking down the aisle just to force a smile on my face.”

You could only mutter, “And how was the lovely bride?”

“I didn’t bother to pay attention, I’m afraid,” he sighed. You wondered why you cared so much about a woman you didn’t even know. Surely, she didn’t wish for an arranged marriage too, right? “I just wanted to get out of there.”

You stayed silent.

Perhaps he noticed it, the way you were tense. You were not like this before the wedding actually happened. And you were all for it—these stolen glances and longing gazes. A forced, loveless marriage with a woman he only met on the day of the wedding is a means to keep your relationship, sure; but the band on his finger spun you back to reality.

And that was when you leaned back, forcing his head to tilt up towards you. Your gaze, it looked so solemn. “What’s wrong, my love?” The shakiness in his voice… Perhaps he feared the same thing.

“I…” There was a lump in your throat. But when his left hand reached up to cup the side of your cheek—the stinging cold of his metal ring practically burned at your skin. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

He sat up straight immediately, eyes widening and hands locking around your body in a sudden panic that cut his breath short. And for the first time, he stutters in his speech. “What…?” There’s a breathlessness in his voice, one that forces you to bite your tongue. “Please, no, don’t say things like that—What are you saying?”

“This relationship,” you continued through gritted teeth, much to his horror. “Don’t you think this has gone too far? You’re married now!”

“If the clan let me marry you, I promise I would’ve—” His words were beginning to slur together; it was clear he was at a complete loss of composure and clarity. His eyes held a desperation you never wanted to see. “I promise, I tried!”

This was only a losing game. “But you couldn’t,” you solidified. Did your voice always sound this close to tears?

“Then I’ll try again!” he countered. His hands moved up to grasp your face, both of them holding your cheeks as if he waited any longer, you would disappear from his sight. Archons. You hated seeing him cry. “Tomorrow, I promise you. I’ll meet with the other clans and commissioners for however long it takes just to call on a divorce so we can—”

“But your reputation,” you argued. To that, he immediately opened his mouth again, but you cut him off. “Think of what the citizens of Inazuma would speak of you? Words denouncing respect and calling you a disgrace… I don’t want your name to go to shambles if it just means being with me.”

He wanted to say he didn’t care about his family name, he really did. But you both already know: He would not have married that woman and her status if it were true at all.

It’s you, or his family.

You both stay silent. The moonlight stretches overhead, shining down on the finale of sad, saccharine sin.

PLZ SUPPORT THIS POST I ACTUALLY RLY LIKED IT !! 🥹

[secriden]

so i wonder if anyone else has thoughts about mame's choices regarding sky vs tongrak's stories and how she tackled the complexity of loving and being loved.

when i first heard about love sea, i saw a lot of people say that fortpeat were just re-cast as sky and prapai but with tongrak being older and richer than mahasamut. personally, i think that's a pretty reductionist view because mame explored the idea of being afraid to love and be loved from very different angles and perspective in these two stories.

i will give that there are some similarities on the surface - peat's character does that whole 'pretends to hate it but secretly loves it' thing; the cat-like 'push and pull' thing and fort's character is still a overly excited, loveable golden retriever of a human being with a strong sense of self; also both sky and tongrak have had experiences which make them both fearful of 'love'.

but i think while sky's main fear is being loved, tongrak's is very much a fear of loving.

like, sky's story is very... raw. it's an exposed nerve, tender and painful and present. sky's fear is so immediately tied to his trauma which he's still in the throes of. the betrayal he faced was from the one who claimed to love him and it's telling that sky's first flashback is not triggered by his feelings FOR prapai but by prapai expressing his 'love' for him. this trauma is intimate and physical and close, but that means that the start of his healing journey can begin because of an external force (prapai) giving him that safety but also physically removing the threat. when sky begins to feel safe again, he is able to begin healing.

in contrast: tongrak's trauma is relatively... hmmm, separated (? not the best word but...) on a physical level. it doesn't make it less or even less painful (or more, or more painful), but his fear of love largely stems from how he sees the people immediately around him being hurt by love. he's internalised the idea that love doesn't last. mahasamut starts confessing his feelings pretty early on; like episode 4 mahasamut straight up goes, 'well you can't stop me from loving you' and tongrak's disapproving but he's not triggered. what's the difference between this and episode 10, i think, is that tongrak's actively fighting his own awareness of his feelings for mahasamut. it's why his fight or flight response is triggered by vie calling him out about his feelings in episode 8 and also why he tries to force parameters back into their relationship (my take: i don't care if you love me but i won't love you) in episode 10. but it's also why his healing doesn't actually come from an external force - yes, vie kind of knocks him out of his depressed stupor by hiding the bracelet, but note that tongrak's has that breakdown realisation ('please come back, i'm sorry, i'm sorry, can't you please come back to me? i'm afraid you'll end up hating me (emphasis added) if you love me') before he has that chat with vie. he's already realised that the root of his fear of mahasamut's love isn't the love itself, but the fear that if he admits his own love for mahasamut, it will eventually get betrayed. it's also why even after he resolves that he wants to try at a relationship with mahasamut, he still can't say it. at this point, his father's a non-entity in terms of the fear of him going after his loved ones - he's already been proven a weakling and a coward and also they're physically on the island so removed from jak that it shouldn't be an immediate fear anymore. no; this struggle is completely internal and it's why we linger on his heartbreaking attempts to confess (also, love sea had some pacing issues but i'm so so grateful they took time to show this part; bless fort for insisting on it!). tongrak's afraid to love but he pushes and pushes himself, and finally breaks through and its entirely on his own terms because of his own strength.

i'm not saying sky's weaker for (in a sense) needing someone else to rescue him before he could heal, but i think it just speaks to mame really telling quite a different story of healing with tongrak.

like... have you ever thought you'd healed from something and then it comes back in an unexpected way but then your response to the trigger is also different? the pain is there but it's... at once deeper but also more distant? a deep pulse rather than a high pitched shriek? and the way you go about beginning this new phase of healing is also different? i think that's whats happening here.

it's fascinating how us humans can fear vulnerability in so many ways, so many forms, on so many levels but i think the lesson mame's stories tell is that sometimes it really is worth it to become vulnerable. not with everyone, and not all the time (goodness, that would be foolish). but also, keep holding onto hope. keep looking for that right person, keep being kind to yourself and others. know that it's ok if your healing feels different, if you didn't catch it some point in the past, its not too late.

you'll be ok.

[thesparklingwriter]

taking fate into one's own hands

08—improvement

Word count: 2.5k

navi | taglist | masterlist

“Could you teach me?” you ask quietly, and Morax lets out a surprised hum. He seems to have a chivalrous nature you hadn’t earlier noticed—he walks you to your room. You returned form the harbour with nothing to show for the depletion in his own personal fund—apparently items made for the king are delivered directly to him.

“Certainly.” he says quickly. “Though I am not sure why you would ask for me.”

You sigh quietly. You had spent some time thinking, and your parents had never made a second attempt to contact you. It seemed like the situation was dire, and since going back is an option they will never suggest or accept, you want to be able to act alone and get the information you need about what’s going on. It may take years to become conversational, but a start is a start. And even further than that, any further separation from him now might lead to a regression in the peaceful truce you seem to have created.

“You should send a response to your parents. I will see to it that it is delivered and replied to immediately.”

You glance up at Morax, wondering how he knew what you were thinking. But he won’t meet your eyes, sensing your question. “The expression on your face is one I know I've made a hundred times. Do not act in a way that will breed regret. It is an ugly thing.”

“I will think about it.”

“Good. we can start your language lessons tomorrow, if you wish.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem,” he says, as you reach your room. “Shuì gè hǎo jiào.” you look at him in confusion, and the small smile on his face quirks a little. “An advance on your first lesson. It means ‘sleep well.”

You smile as you open the door to your room. “Shui ge hao jue.” you say back. Your tones are wrong, but Morax notes that even a stranger on the streets would have been able to understand what you're saying. He smiles at your closed door, and turns to retire to his room for the night.

~~~

“No abyssal movement?” Morax asks Xiao. Through Xiao’s reconnaissance and the little he noticed while in your kingdom, he has concluded that the crop death and freak weather conditions that lead to the decline of your kingdoms prosperity is abyss related. But he just can’t figure out why.

Xiao shakes his head. “Not from their entities. I am unable to locate the source of the issue.”

“The spread of the population is further out from the palace?”

“Yes, the crops on the outskirts seem to do better there, but the weather conditions aren’t exactly ideal. If the people can avoid famine, they will struggle with maintaining a safe place to live.” Xiao reports. His words confirm his suspicions entirely. You weren’t sent away because your kingdom wanted just the trade support from Liyue, but because the threat was from inside the palace. You were sent away for your own protection. But that begs the question: if your parents know the issue, why aren’t they doing anything about it?

“Work on getting closer to the palace. The quicker we understand what is happening, the sooner I can explain it to her.” Morax says, letting out a resolute sigh. “In the meantime, if you could aid in informing the traders that any excess produce can be sold to us for 3 times the standard price, that would be appreciated. I fear her kingdom is going to need more supplies than they think.”

~~~

Morax had agreed to teach you, just as you’d hoped, but you couldn’t sit around all day, waiting for him to find you. You were going to catch a headstart. You’d written a reply to you parents, asking them why they decided to send you away instead of telling you the truth, or how the abyss order came to the palace and your kingdom in the first place. You didn’t expect an honest reply, but it was worth a try.

The library is a grand and imposing room—floor to ceiling shelves full of books, with a dark wooden decor. You’re greeted by a slight middle aged woman as soon as you enter. Her dark hair and clothing matches the library’s interior, and her glasses shimmer with the warm glint of candlelight.

“Ah. Deus Auri told me I might be expecting you. I am Zhi. It is lovely to meet you.” She inclines her head towards you, and you return the gesture, bowing fully. She chuckles lightly.

“The pleasure is mine.” you pause. Deus Auri? Yet another name? “If you don't mind me asking, why does the king have so many names?”

Zhi smiles. “That is something he should tell you himself.” she smooths her slick black ponytail and smiles. “Here.” she hands you something that looks like a child’s book. “The mechanism on the back will play the audio. Try to recognise the characters from the sound.”

You gape at her. To be handed a child’s book in earnest was not on your list today, but you request a sheet of paper and something to write with, and you do as she asks. You tear through the first, having picked up some recurring characters and their sounds, as well as noting down some guesses. While you’re deep in focus, Zhi brings you more books, and you solidify your guesses. It's as you’re buried in a growing pile of books, and Zhi is in the process of adding more that Morax comes to find you.

“I see you have started without me.” he smiles.

“I have no other way to spend my time. I prefer to engage in fruitful endeavours wherever possible.” You don’t look up from your paper and charcoal.

“What have you discovered thus far?”

You clear your throat and look up at him. Once again, you find yourself staring at him in what must be his casual wear, his impossibly long hair tied back, but not in the usual intricate braids. He seems to glow in the warm lighting of the library.

“‘Shénme’ seems to mean ‘what’.” you say quietly, glancing at the scribbles on your paper.

“Correct. This method of learning is frustrating, no?” he says, pulling up the chair next to you. You’re quick to move your paper out of the way, more out of embarrassment than anything else. He's so close, too close even. If you moved slightly, your arms would be touching. He seems to be unbothered by the proximity, sneaking a glance at the paper you so unsubtly stashed away.

“Perhaps a little.” you reply. “There is a more pressing matter at hand. Why do you have so many names?”

Morax laughs at that, a deep, velvety sound you are certain you have never heard. But now you have, you fear you might spend every day trying to coax it out of him whenever possible. 

“I was of the impression we had closed this discussion.”

“We have not.” you scowl. “Deus Auri, Zhongli, Morax, Rex Lapis.. Your arguments do not work on me. How does one man find himself with this many…” Morax knew that at one point, your stubbornness would be directed at him more intentionally than you refusing to look or speak to him. He did not expect it to be like this, but he finds that he does not begrudge it. To see fire in your eyes again, not to preserve yourself but out of real curiosity, to see you comfortable enough to question him, to spend time in the library by yourself… The wilting flower that was delivered to his doorstep has somehow found a way to bloom, and he is grateful. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask, blinking at him.

“A man who has lived thousands of years must have the appropriate amount of names.”

“You said you’re only 3 years my senior.”

“In this particular lifetime, yes.” Morax smiles. He was not expecting to explain this to you today.

“You don’t mean to imply—”

“Reincarnation. Yes. before being the humble ruler of Liyue, I was their god—Morax. And then I was their sovereign—Rex lapis, and before all of that, when Liyue itself wasn’t a nation, and the first inklings of culture began to form, to the first ones, I was Deus Auri.”

You stare at him slack mouthed.

“So you mean to tell me that you saw the creation of Liyue?”

Morax sits back in his seat, his slightly relaxed posture so foreign to you that you resist the urge to gawk at him even more. “How else would you expect Liyue to be so connected to its roots?”

“Is reincarnation a gift only afforded to the gods, or are we mere mortals afforded the same fate?” you ask drily, and Morax chuckles again.

“Reincarnation cycles are typically shorter for those favoured by Celestia. Not only do we find ourselves living longer, but we also find ourselves reincarnated as few as years after our deaths. For mortals, like your parents or Alanna, for example, they might find it takes decades, or even centuries. By then, so much time has passed that it is unlikely they will be able to be identified by the family of those they loved. It is easier for those like us to identify mortals we have known and loved in the past—knowing life is ephemeral makes it easier for us to pay attention to the smaller things.”

You notice that Morax pointedly does not include you in his description of ‘mortals’ but you let it slide—you are edging closer to the information you seek, and it’s best not to get caught on tangents.

“Reincarnation stays within families, I assume?” you ask. Zhongli nods. “So if you were to find yourself reincarnated into a member of your extended family, how would you find yourself back on your throne?”

He clears his throat. “An insightful question. It can be a difficult process. One that can tear families apart.” Morax sits up, adjusting his billowing sleeves in an action you can only assume is his version of fidgeting. 

“You said earlier that you were fine with whatever I wanted to call you, but I have to insist. What do you want me to call you? I won’t take no for an answer.”

Morax meets your determined stare and sighs a little. “Let us make an arrangement. If you can make it through this lesson I will teach you to read the characters for my name.” 

You grin. You’ve made headway with him.

Morax, you learn, may be somewhat lenient with you in day to day life, however, when it comes to lessons, he is a force to be reckoned with. He is not loud or abusive, but he is firm, and if you believed you were stubborn, he has proved you otherwise.

“They sound the same to me.” you complain after Morax attempts to explain tones to you once again.

“You will learn to differentiate them, but you have to train your ears from the start.” he fires off another set of words that sound the same, and you shut off, refusing to listen any further. 

“I can’t bear any more today. I forfeit my prize. I give up.”

Morax sighs, taking the charcoal from your hands and neatly writing out two characters. He writes the phonetic pronunciation underneath each character, and turns it towards you.

“If you can pronounce this correctly, we can resume practising tomorrow. If not, Zhi and Xiao will teach you.”

You scowl at him, and the smile he sends back to you is placid, but if you’d paid closer attention, you might have noticed a hint of concern in his eyes. Has he pushed you too far? Is this a fair test? Tones are difficult for all learners, and had he not aided the development of this language himself, he might not have been able to grasp them. Your brow furrows as you try to match the tones to the sounds, and he watches you go back and forth between what you’re reading, and the sound you want to make.

“Zhōnglì.” You say quietly, and his smile deepens. “Am I right?”

“Perfect.” he replies quickly. You try your best to hide your pleased smile, but it’s impossible. Zhongli smiles, but for a different reason. You had gotten his name right, but he’d written the phonetics incorrectly. Either you remembered from the very first meeting you’d had all those days ago, or you knew his name from elsewhere. And considering that all those who used to call him Zhongli died before he was seated on the throne, he’s inclined to believe you know his name from somewhere else.

“So I’ll see you back here tommorrow?”

“Of course.” Zhongli smiles. “I wouldn't dream of ever abandoning my best student.”

~~~

“Zhōnglì.” You whisper to yourself, in the privacy of your own room, staring at the paper. His handwriting is immaculate—so calculated that you could have believed it was printed. But it doesn’t match the sound of his name. He says, you're right, and you flip through your memories to try and remember the sound of his name when he introduced himself all that time ago, but you just can't grasp it. 

You have nothing else to do, so you rewrite your notes from the day and stare at the reply to your parent's letyer. And stare some more. In fact, you stare at it so much so that you are sure the desperate pleas for more information are burned onto your retinas.

Alanna is quiet, busy reorganising your wardrobe and jewellery. Small tasks like this keep her occupied—until she picks up a teal blue necklace, and her thoughts start spiralling again. She scowls. Her focus is on you and making sure you’re happy, and she can’t do that if her mind is elsewhere.

“I’m bored.” she smiles. “Fancy getting dressed up for dinner?”

“Why would I do that?”

“For your dear assistant who cannot layer traditional wear and needs practice.” she smiles. “You know. Just in case.”

You sigh. You have never once been able to resist her smile, and the thought that she should have been the princess passes your mind again. “Of course. I shall be your doll for the day.”

Your meeting with Alanna’s comb is delayed as a knock on the door rings out. Perhaps it's delusion, but you’ve begun to recognise Zhongli’s knocks. Firm and resonant, you seem to hear them long after his fist has left the door.

“The king seems to believe that I have nothing to do with my time.” you tease as you open your door. He chuckles lightly as you register the piles of silk in his hands.

“The pieces you requested are ready. It seems the modiste likes you more than he likes me—last time I requested his aid for a festival he cut it rather fine with the delivery.” This is partially a lie. Zhongli requested that your pieces be finished faster.

“You should think of a name for this delivery service of yours.” You take the fabric from his hands and turn to place it on your bed. He makes no moves to follow you, standing at the threshold as if there is an invisible barrier. Alanna, once again, is nowhere to be found.

“Perhaps I should.” He smiles ever so slightly. Maybe it is more accurate to call it a twitch of the lips. “Will you be joining me for dinner?”

“Alanna believes I shall. She is insisting on using me as her mannequin for the evening, wherever she is. If I arrive with half finished makeup as evidence of my impatience you are not to laugh at me.”

“I would never dream of such a thing.” And the king of Liyue, leans ever so slightly against your doorframe as he crosses his arms.

notes: why is celeste even giving you the poll feature anymore when she knows you cannot be trusted.

Taglist: @tartigglez @ainescribe @blue-sapphire-ink @mikashisus @local-lover-boy @osmanthus-wine-addiction

[seraphivonne7]

Base Ideas For The Fallen Skies!SFOTH and Demigods

Listing who I need to yap about help me.

▷ Firebrand

▷ Windforce

▷ Venomshank

▷ Ghostwalker

▷ Icedagger

▷ Darkheart

▷ Illumina

---

▷ Ban Hammer

▷ Sword

▷ Valk

▷ Dom

Okay! Time to randomly yap and pretend I know what I’m talking about. Since this is me typing my thoughts out, everything I say in this is subject to change. Think of this rant as base ideas for the Fallen Skies!SFOTH and Demigods.

(Also, some parts of this will be canon information. Other parts of this will be HC’d information.)

Explodes. (obligatory exploding every post) Ahem.

So I’ve been thinking about fleshing out the SFOTH.

Obviously, all the SFOTH are base melee characters. They’re all sword wielders and cannot be separated into the three classes of melee, ranged or support. HOWEVER, their movesets will be completely unique to them (ex. Icedagger throwing icy projectiles as an ability).

Another factor! Titles are a fraction of their role (King Firebrand, for example). How I mostly weigh their worth as a SFOTH, like: what have they contributed to Inpherno, what great tales have they been a part of? Are they a god revered in joy, or a god feared?

Having thought about all of this for the past few days, I think I have a basic understanding of their general making!

Firebrand

▷ King of the SFOTH, God of Demons and Hellfire, The Benevolent King.

▷ Abilities are solely lava/fire-based. He can also manipulate the landscape around him, raise mountains and rip ravines into the world.

▷ His great sword is forged out of blackstone, lava and fire gemstones, decorated with the bones of an ancient creature. No one else can wield it because it’s too hot.

▷ He’s a grandfather and a sweetheart. Diplomacy over violence.

Windforce

▷ Goddess of the Wind, Sea and War, Queen of Chaos.

▷ Core abilities are wind-based. On a broader spectrum, she can manipulate the weather and oceans.

▷ Her double-bladed spear is forged out of wind, oceanic stone, sun gold, and lightning. It’s actually really heavy despite looking balanced ‘n light, and it can’t be lifted by anyone else (it can’t even be lifted by Ban Hammer or Firebrand).

▷ She got the title Queen of Chaos for a reason. She’s a tough-loving mother and a free spirit.

Venomshank

▷ God of Wisdom, Bringer of the Plague.

▷ Abilities are acid/poison-based. He can also reanimate dead bodies at will.

▷ His rapier is simply made out of bronze, ancient oak and green diamond. Simple and light! He’s also able to duplicate it and dual-wield two rapiers.

▷ He’s an eloquent tactician. He speaks only when necessary.

Ghostwalker

▷ God of the Afterlife, The Reaper, Soul Taker.

▷ His abilities are gravity-based, actually. And, of course, he can see one’s soul and take it.

▷ His weapon is generally a great sword most of the time. It’s forged out of lightsteel, blackstone, and most importantly, genesis essence. The genesis essence is what allows his weapon to shift into different forms, like a chained whip or throwing daggers.

▷ He’s silent. He watches from the sidelines and defers to doing his job as a cold-hearted god.

Icedagger

▷ God of Ice and Snow.

▷ Abilities are snow/ice-based, obviously! He can crystalize structures, throw icy projectiles around, even manipulate snowy weather. Other things maybe.

▷ His weapon is a balanced dagger forged out of frost opals, blue ice and sapphires---very pretty and delicate!

▷ He’s shy and cautious. He’s a bit insecure as the youngest, having no faith in his powers. However… Icedagger is actually extremely powerful.

Darkheart

▷ God of Tricks and Misfortune, Bringer of Death, Entity of Malevolence.

▷ Abilities are shadow-based. He definitely shadow walks and shadow weaves terrible monsters. Also, his curses!

▷ His great sword is forged out of blackstone, shadows, and poisoned gemstones. It’s decorated with the cursed bones of those who crossed him. Also, he can replicate and dual-wield like Venomshank!

▷ What can I say? He’s a silly little god who loves committing war crimes :).

Illumina

▷ God of Judgement.

▷ Abilities are light-based. And of course he can manipulate people in many different ways.

▷ His great sword is forged out of light, lightsteel, and amethyst. He’s able to replicate and dual-wield as well.

▷ He’s one manipulative god.

YAY. The SFOTHs now have somewhat base images. I can now die happy.

…

(Slowly turns around and sees the demigods. Proceeds to explode again.)

Time to apply my thoughts to them as well.

Ban Hammer

▷ Demigod of Strength, Warden of Banlands.

▷ His abilities are literally just brute strength. He can also summon lightning for attacks if he really needs it. Thank you to that one HC who brought this to light.

▷ His hammer is forged out of deep amethyst, blackstone and blacksteel. It can only be lifted by Firebrand and Windforce!

▷ He’s Ban Hammer. :] A chill dude until angered.

Sword

▷ Demigod of Justice, Defender of Inpherno.

▷ His abilities are light-based, uhm. Also strength-based…! He also has adapted himself into doing aerial attacks.

▷ His sword is forged out of light, lightsteel and audurite. It’s incredibly heavy and weighted specifically for Sword.

▷ Fallen Skies!Sword is quiet. He’s a serious fellow that’s never known anything else but training and duties.

Valk

▷ Demigod of Melody.

▷ His abilities are sun/solar-based! And since he’s not a SFOTH, he’s actually a support, using his voice to boost others’ abilities up to six times their strength.

▷ His microphone is purely made of sunlight. Only he can hold it.

▷ He’s very curious and outgoing. The life of the party with big dreams!

Dom

▷ Demigod of Harmony.

▷ His abilities are opposite to Valk’s: moon/moonlight-based. He’s also a support who can use his voice to physically attack others, plus he can throw up massive force fields!

▷ His megaphone is purely made of moonlight. Only he can hold it.

▷ He’s the quiet one who has dry, sassy humour. He’s also very wise and observant of everything around him.

THERE. Now I’m done! Base ideas are sometimes a pain. Help.

I actually wanted to create ancient stories regarding the SFOTH. Partly why I needed to make these ideas so I know what role they would play in these stories. I also needed a full scope of how powerful each one is so I can properly write them for Fallen Skies AU. AND ALSO, THE SCENARIOS?

▷ Icedagger freezing over an entire domain like WHAT.

▷ Can I get Darkheart casting eternal darkness over all of Inpherno.

ETCETC.

Time to go eat dinner goodbye. :>

[madwomansapologist]

rocky road — which soulmate!au would be perfect for them? + zagreus

rocky road — which soulmate!au would be perfect for them?

⤷ with: zagreus

See color for the first time when you touch them + Star-crossed lovers. In this essay I will-

Okay, hear me out. Zagreus is the most determined deity. That's a fact. He's literally compared to Sisyphus all the time. Even when things seem to work against him, when people he loves don't support him, when his own father fight him to death: Zagreus don't stop trying.

It don't matter what separates you both. Maybe you're a nymph that lives with Persephone far away from the Underworld. Maybe you're another chthonic entity that have so much to do to prove yourself for Hades. Maybe you're an hero(ine) on Elysium responsible for killing Zagreus again and again.

When you touched (maybe in accident during work, maybe during a fight, maybe you tried to help him while he died on the surface), colors exploded in front of his eyes. Since that, Zagreus knows he won't give up on you. He won't stop trying. It don't matter if he ends up dying just to see you for a few minutes, if Hades himself declare that you both will never be alowed to have a relationship, if you're the one killing him again and again: Zagreus will never stop trying.

Chaos can say that will never work, Gaia can wake up and separe you both, Cronos can get rid of his chains: Zagreus will never let someone else decide his fate for him. He would never challenge the Moires out loud, but he does beg. And the only person he actually fears is Aphrodite. Don't matter what she demands, Zagreus will do everything to be on her good side and make sure that she also likes you.

After all, the stars and the rest of the world can say and do whatever they want, but Zagreus got plenty of time to make you his. And he isn't a man give up on the first few thousand attempts.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[pikuna]

DanDaDan Fanfic - You, Me and I - Chapter 1

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: F/M Fandoms: Dandadan (Anime) Relationship: Ayase Momo/Takakura "Okarun" Ken Characters: Ayase Momo, Takakura "Okarun" Ken, Shiratori Aira (Dandadan), Enjouji "Jiji" Jin, Vamola (Dandadan), Sakata Kinta (Dandadan), Ayase Seiko, Turbo-Granny (Dandadan)

Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Humor, Yokarun, Youkai Takakura "Okarun" Ken, Protective Takakura "Okarun" Ken, Doppelganger, Soul Separation, Post-Space Globalists Arc (Dandadan), Dandadan Manga Spoilers, Pre-Relationship, Awkwardness, Yokarun is too honest and Okarun attempts damage control

Summary:

A lot of weird things had happened in Okarun's life since he met Momo.

Befriending ancient ghosts, stopping an alien invasion and being able to travel telephone lines. This has become his new normal.

But seeing a version of yourself holding the girl of your heart in a tight hug and purring like an overgrown cat was still very surreal, even for his new standards.

Could you be jealous of yourself?

Has been ages since I last wrote fanfiction, but DanDaDan just itched the right spot and I was very motivated by all these others fics I read over the past few weeks. I might be rusty, but I had fun!

AO3 link or continue reading the story below.

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A pained hiss escaped Okarun, as he removed the last patch from his face.

Inspecting the cut in the bathroom mirror, he could see that it was almost healed and wouldn't leave a scar in the morning. His ability to recover from wounds of all kinds was fascinating, all thanks to his Yokai powers. Although he never wanted to find out what the limit was. He almost did five days ago.

Taking in a deep breath, he started his evening routine. Washing his face, brushing his teeth, changing into his pyjamas.

And his mind wandered.

It had been a very, very long day.

During the whole evening he had been able to distract his mind with the cheery presence of his friends, the relief that they were all alive and well. Okarun enjoyed the usual squabbling during dinner and just goofing off with Jiji and Kinta talking about their newly acquired toy robots.

But now exhaustion caught up with him, both in mind and body. He couldn't keep the bad thoughts away. The fear, the...heartbreak he had felt when Momo had charged towards that alien and just...disappeared. They say you see your life flash before your eyes before you die. In that moment it had felt like a part of him had died and all the wonderful moments he had shared with her replayed in his head. And for a few agonising seconds he thought that they would not be able to make more memories in the future.

The thought still made his stomach churn and he quickly shook his head, as to get rid of this awful feeling.

To little avail, as something else crept into his mind: Reiko Kashima.

Momo had told him that she was the most powerful Yokai of them all and she had proven that by defeating the alien army effortlessly. And under all his bravado when trying to protect Momo from her, he had noticed how his own Yokai powers felt uneasy in her presence.

It was just by luck that Reiko stopped pursuing Momo on a whim. Something about her finding love? He still didn't quite understand what had been going on, but he was just glad that Momo was safe.

She always managed to get into some kind of trouble, either by being reckless or pissing some higher entity off. Okarun admired her brashness, it's just who she was. But sometimes he wished she would act more cautious.

'But can I actually blame her?' he thought to himself with a sigh. 'I wouldn't care about my safety either if Miss Ayase was in danger.'

A tingle washed over his skin and something akin to a hum echoed in the back of his mind.

His Yokai self agreed with that statement.

thud

His forehead met the bathroom mirror and he felt a slight pang at the contact, something he tried to focus on instead of all these very depressing thoughts running through his head.

Falling asleep would be such a challenge tonight.

______________________________________________________________

Finished with his evening routine, Okarun left the bathroom and walked towards the spare room. It was always either his room or the boys room when the other guys stayed overnight. Jiji and Kinta were probably already snoozing away.

On his way, he walked past Momo's room, where the girls were sleeping.

A faint light shone from under the door and he could hear some hushed whispers. They seemed to be still awake.

He stopped in front of the door and just stared at it.

She was in that room.

This time the feeling that washed over him was a more aggressive prickling.

He should be in there with her, looking after her. Making sure she wouldn't do anything reckless again, that she stayed with him. Holding her close, wrapping himself around her, giving her safety and comfort.

Shredding anything that would dare approach her to bloody pieces.

His eyes and hair changed to their Yokai colours for a moment.

With a frustrated sigh, Okarun pushed his glasses up and rubbed his eyes, calming his nerves.

It was an absolutely stupid need...nay, desire he felt to protect her. They were safe here and Momo had Vamola and Aira with her. And she could take care of herself.

But...

But what if next time there was not an all powerful Yokai that did their battle for them? What if they were not so lucky and went against an enemy they couldn't defeat?

What if I'm not fast enough?

Thoughts spiralling further down a maelstrom of all the worst possible scenarios, he didn't notice how the door slowly opened.

"Okarun?"

Being yanked out of his dark thoughts, a surprised squeak escaped him and he jumped a step back. Momo was peering out of the half opened door, smiling amused at his overreaction.

"M-Miss Ayase! Don't scare me like that," he whined, trying to stay quiet so as not to wake the grannies who were asleep in another room nearby.

"Your own fault," she chuckled, stepping outside into the dimly lit hallway and closing the door behind her. "Thought you would be snoring in a choir with the guys by now. Or are you trying to spy on us?"

The wide grin she gave him made it clear that she was just teasing, but Okarun still felt caught. He had been standing in front of her room like a creep after all.

"I-I...uh would never...," he stammered, one hand fidgeting with his glasses and looking away from her into the empty hallway.

"Then why are you still wandering around?" Leaning against the wall, she crossed her arms and tilted her head.

He kept his eyes glued to the floor and the second hand came up to his glasses to cling to them. They seemed like a safety blanket at times, giving his nervously shaking hands something to hold on to.

It was a simple question, but he didn't know how to answer it. He didn't feel like lying to her, but he couldn't tell her what was going through his head.

I want to keep you safe in your room.

I'm still angry at you for being so reckless.

I'm afraid that you could get hurt.

I want to hold you and tell you how much I love you.

Even just thinking the last statement made the back of his neck feel very warm. Yeah, he definitely couldn't say that out loud. So he just opted to silence.

"Okarun?" Momo finally spoke up after a very long minute. "You okay?"

The worry in her voice was clear and when he glanced towards her, he could see it in her face too. A deep sigh escaped him, as he mulled over something he could give as a response.

"Today was just...a lot."

Not a lie. But also a big understatement of what was going on in his mind.

Out of the corners of his eyes he could see how Momo raised her arms and let out a groan before flopping ungracefully on the floor.

"You can say that again. I'm sick of all these aliens and Yokai. Just one weekend without anything weird or supernatural would feel like a vacation by now."

Her whine sounded more like she was complaining about a very annoying school report than being attacked by monsters. Okarun couldn't help himself, but to chuckle at her theatrics. And she had a very good point.

"A vacation...would be really nice," he agreed, hands moving away from his glasses and looking at her with a smile.

"Right?" she jumped back up and clapped her hands together, getting very excited now. "Maybe we should really go somewhere. Like..," The gears in her head were working hard, before she finally got it. "The beach! Just relaxing in the warm sun and going for a cool swim sounds like heaven. And I finally could wear that cute bikini I recently got."

It didn't register with him immediately what her last sentence was, too dumbfounded that she was serious with planning a vacation trip and that in the middle of the night. But that was Momo for you, spontaneously deciding on things because the mood struck. He really liked that about her.

Then it suddenly clicked in his head what she had said.

"V-very good idea. I-I'm sure the others would like that too," he spluttered, face flushed.

Suddenly, the floor was very interesting again and his hands were back on the glasses.

'Calm down, calm down!' he chided himself, his inner voice sounding high-pitched from panic. 'You will not think about Miss Ayase in a...in a...'

It was no use. Images of Momo in all kinds of bikinis flashed before his eyes and she looked cute in all of them. He was such a horrible man for having these thoughts.

Unseen by him, Momo just smiled at his very obvious distressed state. It flattered her that just mentioning wearing a bikini would get him so flustered. But then her smile faltered and it was her turn to look bashful to the side.

"Well...maybe it could be...only us?" She hated how sheepish her voice could sound.

At that, Okarun snapped out of berating himself and looked puzzled at her. Was she...was she suggesting what he thought she was?

After glancing at him for a moment, Momo started playing with her bangs and tried to explain herself: "It's just...me and the others, we've been training together the past week and you were...," Knocked out and close to death. She sighed and wrapped her arms around herself. He wished it were his arms. Her eyes met his gaze. "I could do with some quiet for a day or two."

Momo sounded like he felt: Tired. Just tired from everything and wanting some normality. It warmed his heart that she wanted to share that feeling of normality just with him. Going to the beach, having fun and not a care in the world about aliens and ghosts. Just two normal teenagers. And maybe...maybe he would be able to get his courage together to tell her.

"I would like that very much," he finally said, giving her a comforting and reassuring smile.

She blinked at him, before a sigh of relief escaped her and she answered with a grateful smile of her own.

"Glad you agree."

Suddenly her attitude shifted and she gave him a wide grin, while putting one hand on her hips and pointing with the other at him. "And since I came up with this great idea, you can be in charge of organising it. Don't worry, as thanks I will cook you whatever you want."

Okarun let out an amused huff, actually glad she wanted him to be in charge. Momo had a rather careless attitude towards planning, saying it would all work out somehow. He, on the other hand, was already thinking about which train would be best to take and affordable lodges in the beach area.

"That's really not necessary Miss Ayase. I don't mind organising it," he tried to convince her, but to no avail.

"Nah, I insist on it!" she said, thumping her first against her chest. "Come on, tell me what you would like."

That look of determination was all too familiar to him and so he just let his shoulders slack in defeat. It really was too late to argue with her about this. And if he was honest to himself...he always liked it when he got to eat food that was prepared by her.

"I think...I have come to really like your curry...," he mumbled and absently smiled, remembering how heavenly her curry had tasted after he had woken up from his coma. It had given him such an energy boost he had never felt before. The curry...and her note.

Oh

His whole body went stiff.

Of course the only reason he could forget about that at all was by having negative thoughts gnawing on his mind, leaving no room to continue agonising if her 'Love ya' note was meant in a platonic or...romantic way. But there it was again on the forefront of his mind, making his whole face flush with the possibility of the latter. Should...should he just ask? Would that be stupid? Was it obvious he should know the answer?

Debating with himself on what to do, he just stared at Momo with wide eyes. And she did pretty much the same, even in the dim light he could see that her cheeks were coloured.

I wish I could see her pretty eyes more clearly.

"Are you finally done with your yapping, you asswhipes? Some people need their beauty sleep over here!"

Both teenagers let out a startled yelp when Turbo Granny suddenly spoke up. They turned their heads to the bedroom of the grannies and saw the little maneki neko doll standing in the half opened door, glaring at them even more grumpy than usual.

Momo was the first to snap out of the shock. Anger turned her expression into a snarl and she pointed at the doll.

"No amount of sleep is able to fix that old hag visage of yours!"

"Rich coming from the gaudy hag! Be grateful I'm in no mood or I would teach you a lesson." While her voice was still full of venom, Turbo Granny did not sound as pissed off as she usually did. Maybe she really was just tired.

"Try me!" Momo growled and was ready to throw hands with the cat doll, only held back by Okarun who had managed to grab her by the elbow. Granny did not care for her challenge and shifted her focus towards Okarun.

"And you wimp!" While still keeping Momo from pouncing at Turbo Granny, his eyes darted towards the doll. "Get a hold of yourself or my spiritual powers will get into a tizzy. And then I have to fix it for you!"

With a frustrated cat sound she threw her little arms up, muttering something about idiot youngens. She did not further explain herself and just went back into the room, leaving the teenagers alone again.

"What is she talking about?" Momo asked, her previous fury replaced with concern. She looked at Okarun, but he was looking deliberately away from her, letting go of her elbow.

"Ahhh...no idea. Probably just grouchy because we woke her up," he tried to reassure her.

But internally, he had a bad feeling about this. The whole evening he had been shifting into his Yokai form partly for a few seconds. Always when his emotions got especially intense. What did Turbo Granny mean with the powers going into a tizzy? There was no use worrying about that at this hour. He probably just needed some rest and everything would be under control again. At least he hoped so.

"We should probably go to sleep too. We can talk more about the beach thing tomorrow."

Momo made an agreeing noise. Relieved she didn't keep probing at the subject, he gave her a small smile. "Goodnight Miss Ayase."

He turned around to leave, but he barely took two steps before she spoke up again.

"Okarun."

Before he was able to look back at her, he could feel her arms wrap around his chest from behind, her body pressing against his back.

She is so close.

Mouth open in a silent scream, Okarun went stiff. His heart was pounding so loud, he was sure the whole house could hear it. He hoped she couldn't feel how warm he got. Why was she suddenly hugging like this? Why now when he barely had the mental capacity to follow his foolish desires to hold her close himself? As much as he didn't want to, he had to get out of her arms or he would do something stupid.

Lost in frantic thoughts, he almost missed her whispered words. "You would tell me...if something is troubling you...right?"

The worry in her voice pulled him out of his flustered panic. With a glance behind him he could see how she had her cheek pressed against his shoulder. Her hair was pleasingly tickling the nape of his neck.

Making her worry was the last thing he wanted to, especially when there was no reason for it in his opinion. She should be sleeping peacefully and not stressing over him. He wasn't worth it.

His arms came up to hug hers that were wrapped around him, drawing soothing circles over the back of her hand with his thumb. If it was to calm her down, he didn't mind the closeness.

"I...have a lot on my mind," was all he admitted to. "But I'll be fine. Honestly, talking with you already helped me a lot. Thank you."

And it was true. She had cheered him up with her antics and idea for a beach vacation, given him something nice to look forward to.

Not completely happy with his answer, she grumbled against his back, but did not push him on that matter.

"You're welcome..." she mumbled. After giving him one last squeeze, she let go of him. He immediately missed her warmth on his back. "Okay, sleep well Okarun."

"You too, Miss Ayase."

They looked at each other for a moment longer. Momo looked like she was hesitating to do something, but in the end she waved at him, before turning to her bedroom door. He returned the wave and trudged towards the boys room.

______________________________________________________________

As expected, Jiji and Kinta were fast asleep and barely stirred when Okarun crawled into his futon. He just wanted to sleep, all of his body and mind were so exhausted. But apparently the latter was not too exhausted as to not edging him back to those dark thoughts he had earlier, back to worrying about things out of his control, of things that did not happen. This time he had a way to fight back: Thinking about how warm Momo felt against his back and that they would go to the beach, just the two of them.

It really had been so long since they did something together without someone from their friend group inviting themselves. He was happy to have so many friends, but he did miss the times when it was just him and Momo. The undefeatable duo. He chuckled a bit at the silliness of that thought. They would be pretty lost without the support of their allies. But one could imagine.

And so he slowly drifted off, lulled into sleep by thoughts of the good old times, the beach and Momo's warm smile.

After a while Okarun managed to fall asleep so deep that he did not notice the door opening and footsteps leaving the room.

______________________________________________________________

As soon as Momo had gone back to her room, Aira had started to interrogate her. Why was she out so long? What did she talk with Takakura about? She just deflected the questions with statements of being tired, but Aira only stopped when Vamola let out a big yawn. Grumbling, she settled into her futon, only wishing the alien girl a good night and ignoring their host.

Momo couldn't care less and just flopped onto her bed.

It really had been a long and exhausting day.

There was still some worry nagging at her about Okarun, but she would be questioning him about it more tomorrow. For now she was glad that her suggestion with the beach seemed to have brightened his mood. When she had seen him standing in the dark hallway he had looked so lost. So she had acted all silly to cheer him up and while she hadn't been serious about the beach trip at first, she was happy they both agreed it was a good idea. Finally she would be able to have some quality time just with him.

Blushing at that thought, she wrapped herself in the blanked and ignored her heart doing a little dance in her chest.

After calming herself down, she was able to fall asleep rather quickly. But as deep as her sleep was, so was it restless.

All the horrors of the day that she had been pushed away washed over her now. Scenes from the battles against the aliens flashed in her dreams. She was running, she was fighting.

She was afraid.

The door to her slowly opened. A dark and lanky figure entered the room quietly, carefully stepping between Aira's and Vamola's futon so as not to wake them up. It stopped in front of Momo's bed, red glowing eyes staring at her.

But she did not notice, trapped in her nightmare. Aliens slamming her against walls, punching her to the floor, squeezing her throat. She could only watch helplessly as the city around her was destroyed and her friends deadly injured. She tried to use her psychic powers, but there was nothing and she chocked for air. Tears were running down her face. She wanted this to just stop.

Suddenly a soothing cool washed over her. Nothing constricted her throat anymore, breathing felt so easy again. And then she felt a hand wrapping around hers. She whipped her head to the side.

It was Okarun.

He had taken her hand in his, smiling that bashful but oh so adorable smile of his. All the fear in her evaporated, replaced by a calming warmth in her chest. She smiled back at him.

Momo had been tossing and turning in her sleep, but now she laid there peacefully, the same smile on her face as in her dream. She squeezed the hand holding hers.

The figure sat down beside the bed, watching over her and letting her hold its hand the whole night.

[foursaints]

ok the topic of barty crouch jr and the bone motif came up, but his specific phrasing here is what really sticks in my brain & is the basis of my stance on barty’s story as an allegory for bodily autonomy. yes there is something obviously satisfying in a character who spent 12 years under imperius, his body used a puppet, choosing to murder his abuser through transfiguration rather than a more conventional method like the killing curse. this is the only instance of death-by-transfiguration in the series. but i think the way he phrases this (became a bone, not ‘turned into’) belies a deeper understanding of barty’s relationship to having a body in general.

barty crouch being denied bodily autonomy goes far deeper than the imperius curse. i see it as sort of a haunting refrain that characterizes his entire life actually. he goes from servitude, to imprisonment, to switching bodies with his mother, to the imperius curse (kept under an invisibility cloak— he can’t even see himself), to the polyjuice potion, to that ironic “death” by the dementor’s kiss; his body goes on without his soul. it’s worth noting that the only time barty appears on-page as himself his body is controlled (yet again!) and forced to speak under veristaserum. do you think there was a strange comfort in that, for him? i just mean that he’s never known anything else.

i want to look at this through a hypochondriacal lens, where the experience of having a body (or being embodied) is a contestatory relationship wherein the mind strives for order/structure/immutability but the body is inescapable— it brings disorder, change, and a continual loss of control. the body is both fundamentally unknowable and hurtling towards death and illness: the hypochondriac seeks to rationalize & control this, but it’s ultimately an exercise in futility. i see these anxieties really present in barty crouch jr’s character: someone whose body has been puppeted or transformed into a different shape more than it has actually been his own.

i’m not saying that barty IS a hypochondriac (he’s not), but that his character arc functions inside the same epistemological framework: one where the unruly body is a prison because of how it’s subject to/harbinger of continual change. but this relies on a really clear division of the body and mind as separate entities. or even, like, a division between the body and this more ephemeral idea of “the self”— a soul that resides in the body but is somehow separate from it (and we know the soul is canon in the world of harry potter). barty crouch collapses this dichtonomy in a really interesting way with his statement: his father became a bone. as in, he is no longer himself and he is just that bone now. barty is introducing the idea that the soul doesn’t really matter or even exist, and that once your body takes the shape of something you fundamentally are that thing, for better or worse.

and i don’t know! this strikes me, especially coming from a man who has lived twelve years as an empty vessel— why would he believe in a soul if his has been erased and overwritten so many times? his own sense of self is too stifled and warped and stunted. this is the same character who was able to embody moody so fully and convincingly that it was impossible for even dumbledore to tell the difference. i think this was possible because of barty��s weird relationship to embodiment, where his actual “self” is hazy and loosely defined— perhaps the result of so many years having it denied, stifled, or unable to develop— but he becomes whatever shape his body is taking. (it’s interesting to note, too, that barty didn’t say that he transfigured his father. rather, he “transfigured [his father’s] body”, and this was enough for his identity to dissipate and him to become something else). to barty, the “self” is not an independent entity that is subject to the body’s change and disorder— his “self” is the very body itself, and all the fear, and change, and loss of control that comes with it.

this is why the ending with the dementor’s kiss gets me so bad. if the body is all he really is, then this fate is the perfect closure. barty is finally reduced to all he has ever been: erased. an empty vessel. just the image of himself, with nothing inside it. what’s really changed?

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #36] DENIAL

warnings: drinking, star lovers (the drink), star lovers (the people), v wholesome! v lovely! loverboy jjk, the bday chapter

a/n: just one tonight 'cause im a bit pressed for time :( I'll upload some extra ones tomorrow hehe

wc: 9k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

"Stay," Jeongguk lazily whines into his pillows, hair a tousled mess, skin clammy and glowing in the dusky haze of an early spring morning.

Light pours in through his unclosed curtains, the city intruding on your peaceful state of slumber, stealing you from the sanctuary of shared dreams. His arm is looped around your waist, your back to his chest.

He's keeping you close. Doesn't wanna do anything, just doesn't wanna be alone. More specifically, he doesn't want to be without you.

Is paralysed by a new fear, it would seem; one in which you leave.

He wants to keep moments like these bottled up. Safe. Unbreakable.

An empty bed is really nothing to fear, but he's had a taste now of you with someone else. Has seen you with another man. Has met your ex. The guy you once thought was your forever .

Jeongguk isn't sure that he's capable of thinking that far ahead, but he has watched The Notebook upwards of a hundred times with Jimin. When he thinks of Noah, he thinks of Allie, and when he thinks of Allie, he thinks of you.

See, Jeongguk is more than capable of thinking that far ahead.

It's just that he was trained by the girl who used to hold his heart that forever was a silly concept. It's a slow process, but gradually, he is unlearning it. He didn't ever get his heart back from her; instead a new one bloomed in his chest where the empty space once was. It's armoured, this time. Little squares of silver glass act as a protective casing.

If it were ever to break, the pain would be catastrophic. He might just die.

And so Jeongguk would like you to stay.

As much as you'd like to, you know you can't - Danbi and Hoseok have pre-booked you in for a 'friend date.' Under absolutely no circumstances are you allowed to bail on it, even if it does mean leaving an incredibly sulky Jeongguk to survive his hangover alone.

You're not sure at which point last night you both decided that sex wasn't on the agenda. It was never discussed. Just never happened.

Instead, Jeongguk had kissed you.

Again, and again.

Until your lips were numb, and yet you could feel every deliberate coming together of your bodies. Soft declarations of affection, reserved only for the gentlest forms of love. Something of which you know better than pretend you could have with him.

It's well established, now, that Jeongguk is simply breaking down your intimacy boundaries. Is showing you that you can do all these things you deem to be intimate, without them actually having to mean what you think they do.

In theory, it's working. Kissing Jeongguk doesn't scare you.

In practice, Kissing Jeongguk does terrify you.

Not for the act itself. You do that willingly. Wantingly.

But for the fact that you're unable to think straight when you look at him, these days. It's not working. You can't separate the intimacy from the act, but you're so far gone now that it's almost impossible to go back, so instead you're stuck in this limbo.

You never want anything to change, but you're doing this all because you're trying to encourage change. It's fucked. Utterly, undeniably fucked.

These two entities - who you both are during the daytime, and who you both are when the sun goes down - are converging at rapid speed. It's getting harder to distinguish which is which.

All that's certain is that two orbiting stars will eventually, always, inevitably crash.

It's a countdown. Celestial union, or blackhole. Both feel equally terrifying.

Much better to pretend as if it isn't happening.

Easier.

"Can't," you whisper. Reinforce boundaries that have long since been broken. "Told you, I'm a busy girly. Book me in for a friend-date next time you wanna see me."

The phrasing is deliberate. A reminder of where you currently stand with one another, as declared by him more times than you care to remember.

"We had a night out," he sulks. "It automatically is a two-day affair. Always is."

"No, it's not," you softly laugh, getting out of his bed and finally putting your clothes back on. Your outfit from the night before is pretty basic, so you don't need to steal one of his shirts to protect your dignity. Disappointing .

You're out the door by midday, leaving Jeongguk to fester in his hangover pit alone - of which he does. For hours .

It's partially the hangover. Mainly the fear-induced paralysis that has overtaken his body. All he can do is stare up at the birds and wonder how the fuck it got to this point.

By the time Taehyung shows up at Jeongguk and Jimin's place that evening, Jeongguk's wearing clothes. Has managed to go a whole thirty minutes without complaining about his hangover. It's a record. Jimin knows. He's been counting.

It's bad. Skull-splitting, eye-dehydrating kinda bad. A hangover he wouldn't wish upon his own worst enemy.

This is a lie.

He wishes Seokjin nothing but hangover headaches for the rest of eternity. Scowls when he thinks about Seokjin. The tension of his muscles further exacerbates his headache. He knows it serves him right for thinking such negative thoughts - but as far as he's concerned, it's just another to be annoyed at Seokjin for. Prick.

Throughout the day, you've sent him pictures of your incredibly sorry state - glitter everywhere, hair piled on top of your head. Kind of matches his hair, of which is still tied in a scrunchie that you'd put him in the night before.

The last picture you'd sent through had dropped into his inbox fifteen minutes ago. Was read immediately.

Carrying a soda the size of your face, you're with Danbi and Hoseok, as promised, heading into a movie theatre downtown. He can't remember what you'd said you were seeing. Some superhero movie, he thinks, that he knows he'd care way more about if he didn't feel like such ass.

In fact, Jeongguk thinks he'd rather die than be at a movie theatre right now - but he also does like the idea of a dark room right now. Perhaps you aren't entirely insane.

Jimin had insisted on something 'healthy' to get Jeongguk out of his hangover slump, which is why, as Taehyung chucks his coat on one of the bar stools in the kitchen, he's stuffing his face with a chicken teriyaki wrap.

"Fuck me," Taehyung laughs. "A little worse for wear?"

Jeongguk just grunts. Hair all over the place, still haphazardly half-tied up by one of your scrunchies, he's covered in glitter.

There's no mistaking who he spent the night with - not that he cares to hide it. Can easily explain that you put the glitter on him, if anyone asks. The scrunchie, too. And if they don't? Fine. Let them assume what they like.

"How's DB?" Taehyung follows up, stealing a little lettuce from the chopping board, before plonking himself down next to Jeongguk - which earns another groan.

"Fine," he says through a mouthful of chicken and tortilla wrap. It really is not his finest hour. "Said she wanted to die just before they got to the cinema, so I'm sure she's gonna have a great time."

Funny, how those little phrases and intricacies of your identities seem to weave together these days. You're apparently constantly on the verge of death, and he's perpetually covered in glitter. Quite the pair, you make.

"S'pose that's what birthday weekends are for, aren't they?" Taehyung shrugs, not really thinking much of it, and not noticing the way Jeongguk seems to freeze.

Mouth full, wrap in hands, he almost chokes.

Jimin just asks, "It's Danbi's birthday? Why didn't you mention it? We could have-"

"Oh, no. It's not," Tae says, narrowing his eyes in confusion. He tilts his head. Why on earth would Jimin assume that?

The confusion is contagious. Not a single one of them understands exactly what's happening.

"Danbi's birthday isn't until the summer," Tae continues, a little caution in his tone. Has had it in his calendar since the first date. Is already planning a trip away for them both. Looks at Jeongguk, who is still frozen in position, like a frame in a cartoon that the animators forgot about. And then, he realises. "Gguk..."

"Oh, fuck," Jeongguk says. It's a miracle he doesn't choke, mouth still half full, even if he has tossed the rest of the wrap back down onto his plate.

The penny drops slowly, and then all at once.

"Oh, holy shit," Jimin says, getting to his feet, 'cause apparently the shock is that severe.

"You didn't..." Taehyung gasps, not finishing his question. "Gguk!"

"I didn't!" Jeongguk insists, swallowing down the bite of his wrap that had been suspended in his mouth for far too long.

And he really didn't - didn't forget , that is.

You've never told him your birthday. He's never asked.

"Fuck."

"Fuck," Jimin parrots.

"Fuck," Tae also echoes, but adds, "Dude... what the fuck?!"

Jeongguk stands. Begins to pace. Moves his hands in bizarre little motions as if he's trying to piece everything together.

Not once have you ever told him your birthday, he thinks.

"I swear, she never mentioned it," Jeongguk whines.

And he's right.

You haven't.

It's not without reason.

In a few short weeks time, it'll be a year since your first purple starfucker.

Though it was Hoseok's break-up you'd been commiserating, your own hadn't long since passed. The wounds still stung and it was better to lick salt off the back of your hand before a tequila shot than it was to sprinkle it in your emotional damage instead.

Drowning your sorrows had led you to Dionysus, your heart break just as fresh as the lemon that followed the tequila shots. The bitterness of the fruit didn't compare to the bitterness in your heart.

Hardly a surprise, though.

Break-ups are never easy - just like forgotten birthdays are always sad.

When your boyfriend asked to reschedule dinner plans and then showed up to your apartment at just gone midnight with no apology? No realisation of what he'd done so terribly wrong? A little ruby red rouge on his earlobe that you both knew came from the lips of someone else?

Oh, it was tragic .

Counter arguments of 'if it meant so much to you, why didn't you remind me?' frustratingly cursed in the dead of night, and pleas of 'I shouldn't have to beg you to give a shit about me' framed your demise.

And so Jeongguk has never experienced your birthday. Can't forget it, if he never knew it, you theorise. Not like Seokjin should have done.

Jeongguk doesn't know the flavour of cake you'd pick, or if cake is something you even choose to have on your birthday. He doesn't know how you do your makeup, 'cause he knows most girls go for glitter on their special day - but by that metric, every day would be your birthday.

You're thankful to have not had to discuss it. Part of the reason you like spending time with Jeongguk is the fact that he lets you forget ghosts of the past - and this time last year does still, regretfully, haunt you.

It's not like you properly celebrated Jeongguk's birthday with him, either.

Granted, it had been a boy's night - and a pretty quiet one, at that - but still. It was six months ago, though. Longer, in fact. So much has transpired since then.

The entire fabric of your friendship has been embroidered and embellished to the point of it being unrecognisable. What once was cheap tulle is now layers upon layers of glittering, sequin-emblazoned material, stitched with the finest of threads. There are constellations in your hems, and stardust between the seams. One of a kind. Impossible to replicate. Many will try; all will fail.

"Was it today? Yesterday?!" Jeongguk frantically asks Taehyung, 'cause he seemingly knows more. This acknowledgement pisses Jeongguk off. He should know this shit. Taehyung shouldn't. "How do you know?!"

"There's a bunch of birthday cards in their apartment-"

"Fuck," Jeongguk groans.

"Was literally yesterday-"

"YESTERDAY?" Jeongguk shrieks. Stops dead in his tracks.

If the Rock, Paper, Scissors battle had gone a little differently, he'd have known.

If he'd have insisted on taking you home, he'd have known.

So many tiny, meaningless decisions had led you back to his place last night. If he'd have been wiser or smarter, maybe he'd have realised. Maybe you had been giving him signals, and maybe he had missed them all.

And then his mind is jumping from conclusion to conclusion.

Did Seojoon know? Had he gotten you a gift? Oh, God. It's all so fucked.

But then he's thinking about Seokjin. Has seen white roses and a calling card on more than one occasion. Not for a while, granted, but he also saw the look on Seokjin's face when he'd insinuated that you'd moved on.

"Roses," he panics. Looks at Taehyung with such horror in his eyes, that it's a miracle he doesn't burst a blood vessel. "White roses. Were there any at their place?!"

"I don't think so?" Taehyung guesses, trying to remember what the apartment looked like when he last left. "I mean, I don't remember noticing any."

Jeongguk nods. Puffs out a breath from his marshmallow cheeks. Holds his knees as he keels over a little, body ravaged by a stress he doesn't quite understand. He resumes his posture a little too quickly, the pain of his hangover shooting straight back to his brain.

"Right. Shit," he curses. Then curses a couple more times. Pushes his hand back through his hair and then looks at his friends.

Though they're both well aware that missing a birthday is never good, Taehyung and Jimin are surprised at just how badly Jeongguk is taking this.

Feeling bad is one thing. Looking like he's just committed crimes worthy of jail time? A little excessive.

As Jimin smirks, Jeongguk snaps, "What?"

"Nothing. You're just acting like-"

"Don't," Jeongguk warns.

"-You're in love with her, or something."

He doesn't deny it.

Just rolls his eyes. Doesn't have time to waste debating the true nature of his feelings right now - especially not when he knows Jimin would never believe his denials, regardless.

"She never told me," Jeongguk steers the conversation away from matters of the heart. Wants to focus on logic instead. "Was with her all evening, and she literally didn't mention it once."

He explains the night before. Leaves out the part where you were his favourite date of the evening. Also leaves out the part where he held your hand on the entire cab ride home, and the way he'd kissed you once you were finally in the confines of his room.

There were no expectations; no illusion that it would lead to anything beyond a kiss.

And it didn't.

He'd kissed you just to kiss you. Slowly. Intentionally. Kept his dick well away, 'cause he knows how often the pair of you escalate things beyond the point of no return.

It had confused you at first. Made you worry a little - but the way he encouraged you back in whenever you pulled away let you know just how deliberate he was being.

"Shut up," Jeongguk had smiled into your lips when you'd given a small hum of perplexion. "Just kiss me."

And now he's standing in the living room, stroking at his bottom lip as if he's trying to remember the way you felt; if the poutiness has been from pleasure or disappointment.

"Okay. So?" Jimin just shrugs. Really does think Jeongguk should chill out a little, but knows that he won't. "She must have not wanted you to know."

Jeongguk doesn't like this. Scowls. "Why wouldn't she?"

"Some people just don't like birthdays," he shrugs again.

"Nah, Danbi baked her a cake," Taehyung interjects. Laughs to himself. Is disgustingly fond. "Danbi is great at many things, but baking is not one of them. I don't think she would have gone to all of that effort if DB doesn't like birthdays."

Just one look at you is enough to know that you're the kind of girl who enjoys birthdays. Of course you do. The pomp and pandemonium of party poppers? How could you not enjoy such occasions?

"Fuck," Jeongguk curses as he begins to pace once more.

On the one hand, it's not the end of the world - but on the other, he feels awful that he didn't make a fuss. Didn't get you a present.

But then there is also the worry - what if you had told him? What if he's just forgotten? What if the only reason you didn't mention it was because you wanted to see if he remembered?

The aching lull of his hangover subsides. Is overthrown by the stress of failure.

Jeongguk is uncertain as to whether or not you like surprise parties - but he does know the effort you went to for his final exam celebrations. Knows that what you did for him is likely the sort of thing you'd like to be done for yourself.

After all, people show their love in the ways they wish for it to be reciprocated. You're both acts of service kinda lovers. Nothing is too much trouble. Anything to make the lives of the people you care about easier. Better. Happier.

"Okay," Jeongguk eventually sighs as thoughts begin to formulate. "We need to do something."

We ? They think, but don't voice. This is not a group project. This is a Jeongguk thing.

"Yeah," he thinks out loud, totally in his own world. Jimin and Taehyung watch on as he triumphantly nods to himself. "Do something. Okay. Fuck. Do what? What would B like? Fuck."

And then he groans. Throw his head back. The motion is a little too fast. His hangover pounds, reminding him of his fragile state - so he reaches for the chicken wrap he was half-way through demolishing when Taehyung dropped the birthday bomb on him. A little bit of brain food will surely do him good.

"You know her better than us, mate," Taehyung shrugs. Knows what he'd do for Danbi, but also knows Danbi is the type to arrange her own surprise party. "You're the best judge. You and DB are basically attached at the hip these days."

"Okay, one - no we're not," Jeongguk scoffs.

"Yeah, you are," Jimin objects through a mouthful of chicken. Is glad he's not the only one who's noticed. Yoongi's been so busy with wedding preparations recently that he's not been around to shake his head in despair at you both.

"We're not," Jeongguk insists.

"Danbi reckons you are-"

"Oh my god, let me breathe," Jeongguk whines. Rolls his eyes. " You're the one who's always with Danbi."

Taehyung smirks. Raises a brow. "Yeah? She's my girlfriend, Gguk."

The silence that follows is left vacant by Jeongguk. There's no response he could possibly give that would convince either of his friends that he doesn't feel a certain type of way about you.

It's written all over his face whenever you walk into the room; how Jeongguk fucking glows in your presence, glitter sparking on his once pristine skin. You've corrupted him, and he hates to imagine life in which he doesn't notice specs of glitter on his skin in the early morning light. He's a better man for knowing you. He thinks his friends would agree.

Undeniably, they would.

"Whatever," he eventually dismisses. Sighs. "How the fuck do you throw a party for the living personification of a disco ball?"

"Maybe you don't," Jimin suggests. "Maybe she is the party."

Jeongguk isn't sure what Jimin means by this. "Huh?"

"I don't know," Jimin admits. "Just thought it sounded cool. Disco balls are, like, the centre of everything, right?"

He's not wrong - at least not in a party setting. The disco ball you'd been gifted for Secret Santa is proudly hung up in your bedroom, and whenever the light hits it right, the walls are dappled in the most glorious of sparkles.

You really are the embodiment of one, Jeongguk thinks.

And as if he's just been hit with a dozen speckles of refracted light, Jeongguk gets an idea.

"Tae, have you got the code for their place?" He frantically asks, to which his friend nods.

Jeongguk has your door code, too. Knows it from the times you've invited him over and told him to just let himself in. Doesn't want to admit to that, though, which is why he asked Taehyung.

"Okay, text Danbi," Jeongguk says. "We're breaking in."

"We?!" Jimin exclaims. "I'm not breaking the law just so you can get your dick wet-"

"Jimin!"

"What?" He feigns innocence, as if he's not airing Jeongguk out like a freshly washed load of laundry.

"This is not about getting my dick wet," Jeongguk says in disbelief. "We don't even fuck-"

"Bullshit."

"-And shut up, she's your friend, too. We're all breaking the law, because that's what friends do for one another."

"We literally all know you fuck. You've got an incredibly warped sense of friendship, Jeongguk," Jimin assures him. "And committing crimes definitely doesn't fall under the dictionary definition of it, either."

"It's not breaking the law if I've got the code," Taehyung interjects, though if he's being honest, he's not really sure of the law. Just assumes it's fine. "What are we doing, though? Why are we breaking in?"

Jeongguk declines to answer. Instead, says, "Text Danbi. Tell her we're going there. They'll easily be another, what, two hours? At the cinema, right?"

Shrugging, Taehyung supposes that the timeframe is probably accurate.

"Okay," Jeongguk nods, head down, brain trying to order things succinctly. "Let me just shower really quickly. How far out is the place you get your art supplies from, Tae?"

"About forty minutes," he explains. Jeongguk's been with him a couple of times. It's always been Taehyung driving on those occasions though, so he doesn't really remember the location. "It's on their side of the city."

The plan is beginning to formulate in Jeongguk's head. Dots are connected. One big idea is trickling down into achievable steps.

"Alright. If I give you a list, can you run there and pick some things up? Jimin, you good to come with me to their apartment? To set things up?"

He doesn't elaborate on any of his plans. Will just waste time if he does - and the boys know not to delay a frantic Jeongguk. Will just make him even more irritable, and he's unbearable enough with a hangover.

"You didn't throw me a party," Jimin huffs - but is reminded that Jeongguk did in fact pay the bar tab for a night of extremely heavy drinking in Dionysus, instead. A week's salary? Pissed away. "Yeah, fair enough."

"Anyways," Jeongguk adds. "This isn't gonna be a party. Just us three and those three, I think. It's a bit too last minute for anything big."

"What about Nabi? Hayun?" Taehyung innocently asks - but the glare thrown his way by Jeongguk for even thinking to ask such a question says everything he needs to know. Eyes wide, a soft smile on his lips, Taehyung holds his hands up. "Hey, was just asking!"

"Well, don't," Jeongguk offers.

There's an ambiguity to Hayun's place in Jeongguk's life, these days. A couple instagram reels sit unopened in his inbox from her, 'cause he doesn't care to entertain her. The last time he'd seen her was at the surprise party you threw after his exam. The same one he left early, 'cause you weren't there and it made him feel all funny inside.

On occasion, he wonders if he's being too harsh. Wonders if maybe he should just talk to her; explain that he's not the guy he was. No better, no worse. Just different.

"She said you've been ignoring her," Taehyung adds. Doesn't doubt it.

"We've just got nothing to talk about these days." Jeongguk shrugs. He's in no mood to even so much as think about Hayun. This weekend is yours. Thoughts about her aren't welcome. "Anyways, doesn't matter. She's not Byeol's friend. There's no need for her to be there."

Taehyung pushes it no further. Respects Jeongguk's reasoning.

"Right you are. Give me your list before your shower," he says, wanting to get a head start on whatever it is Jeongguk's got planned. Doesn't wanna be the reason it fails. Knows Jeongguk seems to have a lot of emotion riding on this, and he wants his friend to succeed. Thinks it's about time a little happiness came his way.

Just like Danbi thinks you deserve it, too - which is why she insisted on going straight home after the cinema. The plan had been to go for a drink, or grab food - but Taehyung's slightly ambiguous but very desperate texts were all she needed to see to change the plan.

"Careful," Danbi laughs with you as you meander up the stairs to your apartment, a little uneasy on your feet because you're still feeling a bit rough. Popcorn tub in hand, you've barely touched it - which is unheard for you. No matter how large the serving size is, you nearly always finish it before the films even started.

You just couldn't hack it today. Put it down to the hangover. The sweet scent of the popcorn usually has you salivating, but it made you feel slightly sick today.

"If you don't want it, I'll have it," Hoseok offers, not wanting it to go to waste. He's already demolished his own popcorn and half of Danbi's. Just loves it. Think it's the closest thing humans have got to magic.

"Not so fast!" You say. "I will eat it - just need my stomach to settle."

It's the only big symptom of your hangover that's still lingering. Usually, it's your headache that is the most stubborn - but the surround sound of the cinema bullied that right out of you. Showed no mercy. Forced you to confront it head-on.

"If you let it go stale before you let me have it, I'll end the friendship," he warns - and you do know he'll absolutely be a baby about it. Will most definitely have a little tantrum, but nothing that would serve to end your friendship. He might just not share his own food for a few weeks.

"I won't," you insist. "And hey - it's my birthday weekend. You can't be giving me ultimatums like this, Hobes. Totally unfair. You should be, like, worshipping the ground I walk on."

Danbi checks her phone as you and Hoseok babble nonsensically, tailing just a little behind you to make sure you don't see her message thread. Sends one to Taehyung.

Home soon x

It's reiterated to Jeongguk and Jimin, who quickly get into formation - which is really just a straight line blocking the view of the coffee table.

Nibbling down on his bottom lip, there's really no need for Jeongguk to feel such anxiety - it's just that he knows he shouldn't know about your birthday. Knows he shouldn't be in your apartment right now. Knows you won't be expecting this. Knows that he runs the risk of upsetting you, just in case there's a more substantial reason as to why you withheld your birthday from him.

"Fuck," he whispers, hearing the three of you amble up the stairs. "Do you think we should go?"

"Gguk," Taehyung deadpans. "It's a bit late for that."

"I know but-"

"Shush," Jimin laughs, as the sound of your conversation grows closer. "They're near."

Nodding, Jeongguk does as he's told, bottom lip kept stable beneath his top row of teeth. Tongue toying slightly with his lip ring, he doesn't even know how to explain what you're about to walk into. Decides it's better to just simply stop thinking at all.

The beep of your door code being entered echoes the thump of his heart, until the lock clicks. Bolt retracts. The door is pulled open, and Jimin counts a quiet, 3, 2, 1.

The way in which all three of them - Jeongguk, Jimin and Taehyung - burst into a chorus of 'happy birthday to you' is comical - all singing at slightly different tunes, volumes, and tempos. It's a jumbled mess, and they all refer to you by different names - but as you stand with a bemused smile by your door, Jeongguk knows it's worth it.

And finally, he begins to smile, too.

The anxiety and nerves are replaced with the unadulterated joy that comes with seeing you - and given the way you had said goodbye to him earlier that morning, he's glad that you seem equally as pleased to see him.

It's not that you'd had an unpleasant goodbye. Not in the slightest. If anything, it was too pleasant.

Jimin hadn't yet woken. The pair of you had been standing in his doorway; you fully dressed and ready to go, Jeongguk in a pair of sweats and nothing else, save for the scrunchie of yours still in his hair.

The pair of you had been a mess of giggles and 'go,' despite him pulling you back. 'I'll text you later' and knowing nods, but then 'wait, come back.' Grabbed waists and stolen kisses that neither of you had any business taking from one another. So many kisses. Pretty, dainty kisses, on his pretty, darling lips.

He'd held your hand as you walked away from him for the final time. Was a broken man when you eventually let it fall from your grasp, turning around with a coy smile as you headed for his elevator.

Glitter in his dishevelled hair, stars in his dark brown eyes, Jeongguk had been everything . Had been the boy next door, with his sweet giggles and appled cheeks. Had been the bad boy you know you should stay away from, with his messy locks and tattooed skin. Had been the mirror of you, with his glitter-covered skin and love-drunk gaze of adoration.

You'd spent a great deal of your time in the cinema fretting over it. Overanalyzing. Overthinking.

What if it was too much? What if he knew just how violently the butterflies had been swarming in your diaphragm? What if he'd just been reciprocating your actions because he hadn't wanted to make you feel bad?

Yet when you see him now, you know that none of those questions, nor their answers matter. Whatever is happening between you both simply doesn't matter.

You don't want clarification. Don't want to open yourself up to hurt. Just want things to stay exactly as they are.

Funny, really, how Jeongguk had been fretting just the same. Worrying that he had done too much. Is aware of how deeply intimate you regarded kisses to be. Should have held back. Should have fucked you last night. Should have done a bird. Stuck to the rules.

Instead, he had just kissed you.

Is well aware of the message it sends. Has been worrying that it perhaps isn't a message you wish to receive. Still doesn't know for sure - but knows that he'd like to keep things exactly as they are.

Just like you do.

Might be reading different books, but you're on the same page. It's like being in a mysterious book club. Just gotta wait until one of you decides to read aloud - but neither of you wants to be the first to go.

"What is this?" You laugh, utterly confused by everything in front of you.

Jeongguk, Jimin and Taehyung stand in a row, adorned in the silliest of photo booth props - party hats, feather boas, novelty glasses. The room around them is dressed to the nines - steamers, lights, bunting, things hanging from the ceiling - and there are half a dozen packets of polaroid film for your camera.

"It's your birthday party," Jeongguk says a little shyly. Looks behind himself, as if to check it's all still there. Smiles when he looks at you again. "You really thought you could get away with it, huh?"

Puffing your cheeks out with a little air, you scrunch up your face, surprised that he's scolding you - albeit very playfully - in front of other people. Flirts like this are typically reserved for your time spent alone together.

"Don't know what you mean," you smile, as Danbi and Hoseok encourage you further into the room. Looking around, you can't hide just how touched you are by the chaos surrounding you. There's something new, something different everywhere you look. "This is insane."

And it's only even more overwhelming when the boys part ways, and reveal the coffee table to you. On it are a dozen different papier mache shapes - Roman letters for your initials, ambiguous animals, and different-sized spheres - and what must be thousands of tiny mirrored squares. There are adhesives in abundance. Everything you need to make your very own disco balls - or some sort of iteration, at least.

"Guys," you say softly, appreciation lacing your voice. Have stars in your eyes, not just around them. "What is all this?"

When you pout in their direction, hands over your heart, Jeongguk thinks it looks like you might cry. Hopes you won't. Fears you will. Pulls you in for a hug to remedy it. The rest of your friends talk amongst themselves. Greet one another. Enthuse over the state of the place. Give you guys a second to one another.

"What the fuck?" You laugh softly into his chest. "Gguk, you didn't have-"

"Shut up," he smiles. Presses a kiss against your hair. Is discrete enough that no one notices. Smiles. "It was your fucking birthday , B."

"So?"

"So," he emphasises as he pulls away, holding your shoulders. "Birthdays aren't about the birthday person. Not really."

"No?" You laugh.

He beams. "Nope. They're for the people who love the birthday person."

It shouldn't come as a surprise that your best friend loves you. It should be expected. Shouldn't make you feel the way that it does. Oh, it's all so beautifully fucked.

"Kinda like a funeral," Jeongguk ponders out loud, not dwelling on the unintentional mention of love. "They're a time to show appreciation for the deceased. Birthdays are just the same."

Laughing, you shake your head, and let him manhandle you a little further into the room to have a better look around. "I don't think birthdays and funerals are that similar."

"Well," Jeongguk says. "You didn't tell me about your birthday, and I doubt you'll be the one telling me about your funeral, either. So they'll be similar in that regard."

Cringing, your shoulders tense slightly. Jeongguk simply rubs them, easing your awkwardness. "You've got a point."

"I know I do," Jeongguk laughs. Drops his hold on your shoulders to grab you a glass of the premade drinks. There are six of them. Long, not short. Purple. Raising your brow as you accept it, Jeongguk nods. Confirms your assumptions. "The long version of a star fucker. Star lover, I think we called it."

Fitting .

Joining your friends to sit around the coffee table on the floor, music humming from the speaker, you're lost for words.

There are no actual words that can be used to express your gratitude, you think. Nothing you can say to articulate how much this means to you.

"How did you even plan all of this?" You laugh, unable to contain your happiness.

"Don't look at us," Jimin laughs right back. Nods over to Jeongguk. "He's the mastermind, over there."

Glancing across to Jeongguk, you can't help but let yourself indulge in the nonsensical idea that his starry eyes are reserved for you, and you alone. He shrugs.

"You didn't give me much choice," he asserts.

"Wait," Hoseok interrupts, finally piecing it all together. Had just been in a bemused state of 'what the fuck' since arriving. Looks at you with horror. "You didn't tell him it was your birthday?!"

Awkwardly scrunching your face up, you shake your head. "I just didn't wanna be a bother."

It's not entirely a lie, but it is also an incredibly superficial explanation. There are layers to your reluctance to share your birthday with Jeongguk. Reasons. Past disappointments. Ones that Hoseok and Danbi are well aware of.

Even though he thinks of it, Hoseok doesn't mention last year. Doesn't reiterate his opinion of Seokjin being a heinous asshole for what he did.

Instead, he accepts your answer. Does tell you that you're an idiot, though.

"Hey," you whine. "It's my birthday weekend. You have to be nice."

"He's right, though," Jeongguk backs him up.

The smile he gives you is fond. Could call you the nastiest names he likes, but with a gaze like that? All you'd hear is a sweet melody reserved just for you, sung only by him.

Laughter echoes around the room as the evening settles in. All opting for slightly different shapes, your disco balls are truly an embodiment of who you are. Danbi is decorating a T, and Taehyung is decorating a D. It's all very vom-inducing - but they're too sweet for you to take the piss.

Jimin does it enough for everyone, anyway. Tells them that they're the most disgusting couple he's ever known.

Funny, how this attestation makes Jeongguk glance in your direction. Wonders what he'd think of you two as a couple. Knows that he'd probably also think you were disgusting if he saw how the pair of you behave together, sometimes.

Hoseok has gone for one of the animals. It's just the head. Can't decide if it's a cat or a dog, but decides it doesn't matter. Tells everyone it's definitely a squirrel. Nobody else can see his vision.

Jimin was going to do a J, but upon seeing Danbi and Taehyung's couple letters, opted for a cube instead. Disco balls go against all of his interior design desires, but he'll make an exception for you.

Traditional in his choice, Jeongguk is painstakingly trying to perfect an actual disco ball. Chose the second biggest size. Wanted to do the biggest one, but also wanted to use this as a practice run. Maybe he'll make a hobby out of restoring broken disco balls.

Beside him, you're also doing a sphere - just a much smaller one. Cuter. Daintier.

"That's so unfair," Jeongguk pouts when you finish your first row of mirrored squares. He's barely even begun. Wishes he'd set his sights on something smaller.

"Go big or go home," you remind him - then head to the fridge to get the jug of Jeongguk's special cocktail. Topping up everyone's glasses, you know exactly how this night is gonna go - and you couldn't be more pleased.

"You're trying to get me drunk," Jeongguk grins when you finally reach his glass. "Trying to sabotage my disco ball making skills, aren't you?"

"I'm doing nothing of the sorts," you assure him - but honestly, you think the imperfections, if any, would only add to the charm. "You made the drink. It's on you if you can't handle it."

"Oh fuck off," he laughs, challenged. Takes a sip. A really fucking big sip. Nearly finishes it. "I'm a bartender, baby. I can handle it."

Laughing, you pretend to have not heard the way he just called you baby. He was just messing around. Didn't mean it.

"Sure you can," you tease, filling his drink back up. And so he repeats it. Half-flirting, half-competing against nobody. And so you top his drink right back up again. "Someone's got something to prove."

A second night of drinking in a row isn't what you'd been anticipating, but you welcome it. Think that you need a couple of drinks to handle the confusion of how you're feeling. 

As the disco ball construction descends into chaos, and no one is quite able to get the spacing or positioning just right, you realise that this is the magic of a disco ball; how the broken can still be beautiful.

Yet when you look at your small creation, you're pleased. Sure, the lines are a little uncoordinated. There's a wibble wobble here and there - but it's yours .

Danbi and Taehyung manage to make theirs look pretty good, and Jimin's isn't too bad either.

Hoseok protests. Say they had it way easier.

"You chose that shape," Jimin laughs. "Don't blame us!"

For all of his artistic talents, disco ball crafting is not one of Hoseok's. It might also be that he's had six of Jeongguk's little cocktails.

He's had to remake the cocktail twice already, given how frequently you're all topping up for glasses from the jug. It's gonna be a messy night - but for once, there's no uncertainty over whether or not Jeongguk will be going home with you, for he's already here.

"It's my day off," Jeongguk jokes on the third remake. "Should be paying me."

"I'll make it up to you," you quietly promise him with a smirk, out of earshot from your friends.

He looks at you with inquisitive eyes as if to question what on earth you could possibly mean by that - and decides he's better off not questioning it. Will revel in the ambiguity of whatever the fuck is going on between you. Enjoys the flirt too much, especially when he's a little tipsy.

"Wait, wait - a little to the left!" Danbi instructs Taehyung as they begin to string up the makeshift disco balls in the meantime.

It's a labour of love, but it's worthwhile. Eventually, one by one, all of the creations take their rightful place, haphazardly tacked to the ceiling with tape that's a fair amount stronger than Jeongguk's washi tape. The sunset lamp you and Danbi rarely use is turned on. Pretty pink and peach reflections cascade all over the walls, dappling you all, too.

The clandestine touch of your hands as you pose for pictures is hidden from your friends.

There's an awareness that the way in which you're behaving is not normal of friends; that the lines between who you think you are, and who you truly are, have become blurred. There's a giddy silliness to it all, and it's why neither of you want it to stop. Childish, and stupid, it may be - but it's freeing, too. A farewell to the expectations that have kept you both in boxes for so long.

By the time you've drunk home bar dry, Hoseok is already asleep, and Jimin isn't too far behind. They're crashing in the living room, so you fetch their duvets and bedding, while instructing Jeongguk to go to your room.

"I can sleep out here," he offers. Doesn't wanna make things awkward for you - but you shake your head.

"Always save on the heating bill when you're here," you tell him. It's not a lie. It's also not why you want him in your room, either.

Thing is, you're both fucked. Jeongguk's mixing was getting stronger and stronger with each new pitcher. There's nothing either you can do to fight the drunken sleep that takes over as soon as you're beneath your sheets.

It makes it even more shocking that when you wake up the next morning, you're without a headache. If anything, you feel worlds better than you did the morning before and it worries you. Likely means that you'll crash later on in the day.

Jeongguk's not awake, so you slip out to grab water for you both. It's still dark, curtains drawn, but you can see light seeping in through the cracks. There are no curtains in your living room, and your phone is dead so you've no idea of the time. Dread to think of how long Jimin and Hoseok might have been awake.

"Oh, holy shit," you whisper in surprise as you walk into the living room, greeted by Jimin, sitting on your couch like a meerkat, posture perfect. He's wrapped in a soft blanket, face puffy from last night's lack of water and abundance of vodka.

"Mornin' DB," he croaks, channelling his best ET. Keeps his eyes glued to the television - where Allie and Noah are talking about birds.

"Notebook?" You ask, not that he needs to answer. You've watched more times since you've met Jimin than you have in your entire life.

He nods. Croaks. "You got any paracetamol? Dunno what Jeongguk put in those drinks but I think he might have been trying to kill me."

Before you can answer, a sleepy and dishevelled Jeongguk emerges from your room, shaking his hair out with his hand. He yawns, and says, "I was."

"Knew it," Jimin groans, flopping down to lie on the sofa. He's really not made for hangovers. "What were we even drinking?"

Jeongguk comes to stand beside you, hand on your hip as he reaches around to grab the phone charger plugged into the socket by the toaster. Speaks to Jimin as if he's not driving you insane. "Star Lovers."

He cements the name. Gives it delineation. A place in your life. Squeezes your hip as he says it. Wonders if you notice. If you're aware of his intentions.

You are - you just tell yourself he doesn't realise what he's doing.

"Tae and Danbi up yet?" You ask. Jimin just grunts. Is obviously feeling just like Jeongguk did the night before. "Where's Hobes?"

From the bathroom, you hear another grunt.

"You good?" You laugh, calling through to your fallen friend.

Another grunt.

"Put you down as a maybe," you say, but get him a Powerade from the fridge regardless. Pass it over to Jeongguk. "Can you give him this?"

Jeongguk looks at you with a little confusion.

"Don't wanna walk in on him if he's got his cock out," you say. In the past? Probably wouldn't have phased you. Now? Still wouldn't - but you don't wanna have to witness anyone else's cock right in front of Jeongguk, for some reason.

"Well, nor do I!" He protests, and passes it right back.

"Cock's not out," Hoseok whines from the bathroom. "Gimme fuel."

You narrow your eyes at Jeongguk, then proceed to deliver Hoseok's drink, only to nearly fall over laughing at his sorry state. He had somehow managed to retrieve his disco ball in the night, and is now hugging his ambiguous animal head tight to his chest, curled up around the toilet bowl.

"Think you killed our friends," you tell Jeongguk when you retreat to your bedroom, toothbrush in your mouth.

Jeongguk sits on your bed, shirt off, duvet pooled around his waist. Hair a mass, a lazily lopsided grin on his face, he's sin in the most heavenly of ways.

He shakes his head. Declares innocence. "They did it to themselves."

Now you shake your head. "You assisted."

"You're alive," he says. Is chancing his luck. Looks ever so pretty as he does so. "And I'm pretty sure you drank just as much as they did - so it's their fault. Not mine."

Humming some sort of disagreement, you leave the room to go and spit out your toothpaste, hopping over a still half-alive Hoseok.

When you return, Jeongguk's looking through some of the polaroids from the night before. You've no idea how many were taken - but imagine most of the new film is ruined with extreme closeups of Jimin and Hoseok's faces. They were doing that for, like, maybe ten whole minutes.

"Look at this one," he smiles, passing it over to you. "You should keep it safe."

It's one of you and Danbi, caught off guard, giggling about something. You rarely have pictures together - spend your time enjoying the moment instead of preserving it - so to have such a candid moment is precious.

Joining him on the bed, you don't really think much of the way you're sitting; staddled over his legs, looking down to where the pictures are on his lap.

"Hello," he says quietly.

"Hi," you whisper back.

"Come here often?"

"More than I should," you smirk, the double entendre dangerous for you both.

And yet Jeongguk licks his lips. Looks down to yours. Is shameless as he says, "Not enough. You should come here all the time."

"Well it's not like I 'come' anywhere else," you shrug, then cheekily correct yourself. "Sorry, not like I 'go' anywhere else."

Jeongguk is about to flirt back, but is thrown off by the way your body suddenly jerks a little.

Sucking air between your teeth, your hand presses against your abdomen. The swift pang of discomfort isn't unusual. You have ovaries. They don't always play ball. It's not the end of the world.

"You good?" Jeongguk asks, cocking an eyebrow. Strokes your hip. Wants to soothe whatever is wrong.

Nodding, you sweep aside his concern. "All good."

He doesn't buy it. "What's up?"

"Nothing," you insist - and you genuinely mean it. A skipped month here and there really comes as no surprise. Your body isn't a machine. Sometimes it doesn't do what you expect it to, but for the most part, you're fine.

It's not until Jeongguk's brows furrow, head tilting, that you think perhaps you should be concerned.

"When did you last-"

"It's fine," you dismiss immediately, not really wanting to discuss your menstrual cycle as a form of foreplay. 

Your body just does this occasionally. Nothing feels out of the ordinary. The pain was a little sharper than usual, granted, but you were also drinking the night before. Your liver is probably throwing a tantrum.

"B, don't fuck around with shit like this," Jeongguk says, his tone not one you're used to hearing. It's direct. Stern. A little sexy, if you're being honest, but the look on his face would suggest now is not the time for a little flirt.

"I promise," you say instead, giving him a soft smile, hands cupping his jaw. "If I thought anything was wrong, I'd be the first to freak out. Just a couple days late. No biggie."

Jeongguk nods. Is seemingly soothed by your touch. Knows that what you're saying is likely true. Knows that you'd have already been to a pharmacy by now, if you had any reason to believe your skipped period was the result of his cock.

"If anything happens..." Jeongguk starts, but trails off. You wait it out. Let him gather his thoughts - of which he eventually does. "Just let me know when you get your period, m'kay?"

With a nod, you promise you will. "If it's not here within a day or two, it'll probably mean I've skipped this month. I can take a test if it will make you feel better?"

Without hesitation, Jeongguk nods. "Why not just do one now? Get it over and done with?"

"Because if I do a test today and get my period tomorrow, I'll be annoyed," you laugh. A single day really doesn't make that much difference in the grand scheme of things. "Plus it's a Sunday."

"So?" Jeongguk laughs.

"Lazy day," you smile. "I don't wanna do anything that requires heavy thinking - and let's not forget how much alcohol I've had in the past 48. I've definitely killed off any lingering pests."

Jeongguk scoffs. "My sperm aren't pests."

"Pests are annoying," you say. "And you are also annoying. Do the maths."

"You're literally sitting on my lap," he shakes his head.

"You can be annoying and sexy."

"You're unbearable," he tells you, but the softness of his smile and the dimples in his cheeks would suggest that he doesn't think that in the slightest.

Nudging your nose up against his, you smile. "And yet you're holding onto me for dear life, aren't you?"

His grip only tightens. Hikes you further up his lap. Reaches down to discard the polaroids. Gets you right where you belong. "Think your blood alcohol content is high enough to kill pests, still?"

"So you admit it?" You tease, ignoring his question. "Your cum is an annoyance?"

"I'll admit it if you stop begging for it every time we fuck."

"Let's try now," you whisper. Let your nose nudge a little further against his. Don't kiss him - but you could . It drives him insane. "Let's see how I do."

He's about to lift the hem of your shirt. About to retrace the steps of a dance you know by heart at this point. Is about to disregard any and all of his initial panic of the morning - but then you're both distracted by a subtle thud.

Glazing over to the wall between yours and Danbi's room, it doesn't take a genius to work out what's happening. There's a second thud. A third. Fourth. A sound that is a little different, but incredibly human.

"Oh, fuck," Jeongguk laughs.

Whatever is happening in Danbi's room is exactly what was going to happen in your room.

"Oh my god," you laugh along with him. "Shit - Jimin."

"Let's go," Jeongguk taps on your thighs for you to get off, and you do so without hesitation.

The flirt had been fun, but it's not worth the humiliation of Jimin finally hearing you fuck. Jeongguk adjusts himself. Only has a semi, so it'll go down fairly quickly. Nothing to worry about.

"Oh thank God," Jimin hisses when you get to the living room. "Thought it was you guys."

"We don't fuck!" You both say in unison, and then look at each other as if you're offended by the quick denials.

"Right, yeah," Jimin mocks. "Totally believable. Good job, guys."

"Shut up," Jeongguk laughs, coming to rough house with a very delicate Jimin. They're as boisterous as brothers; testament to their friendship formed before they were tall enough for roller coasters. Gets him in a headlock. Jimin bites his arm. "We're just friends."

Jimin says something, but is still biting Jeongguk's arm, so it's completely muffled. With a big grin on your face, you just turn the TV up and plonk yourself down beside them. "Grow up."

And just like your denial earlier, Jeongguk and Jimin pull apart to look at you with great offence, and both say, "You grow up!"

You're certain that the boys will never outgrow how childish they are, and it worries you that the same could be said for you and Jeongguk.

Looking up to the disco balls in your living room, you notice the small swirl at the bottom of Jeongguk's mirrored tiles forms a small heart, and wonder how intentional it was.

He'll never tell you. Will keep it a mystery.

The world's worst kept secret: how much Jeon Jeongguk adores you.

A silly little thought to have. Implausible. You've seen him around girls he's loved. Don't think you into that category.

The most stupid thing at all is that you're even thinking about it. Why would you care to be loved by him? Why would you want your favourite person in the whole world to adore you? Why does it make you feel all nervous and yet remarkably calm all within the same second?

And when you look over time, and catch his eyes, why does his smile make your heart hurt?

But then your ovaries act up again. Give you a little pinch to remind you they're still there, even if they're not doing their job properly.

That must be it, you think. Just heightened hormones from your cycle being out of sync.

A knock at the door startles you from your thoughts, but Jeongguk offers to get it. You let him. Watch on with great curiosity as he takes a second to assess what's been delivered. 

He looks down. Shakes his head. Scoffs. Lets out a laugh that sounds anything but humorous. Pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

Is bitter - jealous - as he simply says, "It's for you."

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

[shadowquill17]

End-of year Director's Cut ask game!

Aaaand this question is about my fic your fangs in my neck (like an anchor like a vow). This is for @nuttersinc who asked:

your fangs in my neck: how did you come up with the premise? And I loved it, it was so hot and also so touching ❤️

Thank you so much for the question! I'm so happy you liked the fic. 🥰

The way it happened was, I had been thinking about writing a vampire fic for Dead Boy Detectives very early on.

But, fun fact, at the time I had immediately decided I wanted to subvert the trope of "prim posh repressed white boy = vampire, rebellious fun angry bisexual = werewolf", and I wanted it to be switched. (I might still write a fic about that, actually. Just have to find the right idea for a smidge of plot... but also @jube-art has a whole bunch of AU fanart with vamp!Charles and werewolf!Edwin here and here, so if you like the concept, RUN! 😜)

Anyway, despite my best efforts to subvert the trope, my brain was apparently feeling lazy, because it just LATCHED onto the idea of vampire!Edwin. The repression, the starvation, the fear of imposing on Charles with his feelings/needs... you know. Some of the messages I sent @lolotr at the time said, and I quote:

"oh god vampire Edwin is so tastyyyyy"

"and I know I talked a lot more about Charles being the vampire but goddamnnnn Edwin being the vampire works so well with the themes, fuck"

Also I just looked it up and I'm pretty sure I also saw this fanart by @kazalmilk around that time, and I think it kind of encouraged a vibe of "Edwin drinks from Charles and H A T E S that he has to" (that's what it did in my brain, at least).

Then I agonized over what Charles could be. He could be a ghost, but then the conflict would have been about Edwin drinking from someone else, and I ended up rejecting that option.

He could be a werewolf, but I was still kind of mad at myself that I was writing vampire!Edwin before vampire!Charles, and I didn't want to give in FULLY. 😜 Also, werewolves are mortal, and I didn't like the idea that 1) they hadn't spent 30 years together, because I didn't want to reduce their long history to only a few years and 2) I didn't want their future to not be forever.

I also toyed with the idea of making Charles an angel, like in this gorgeous fic by @shanastoryteller (I'm oversimplifying, just go read the fic, it's excellent). But then there was some other issue with the concept that made me lean away from that as well. I think it was something about how I didn't want to separate them that much? Like I didn't want Charles to be Heaven-related with Edwin being a vampire, because then their whole history would have been changed.

I was still just playing with the whole thing, writing bits and pieces, absolutely not convinced it would ever be finished or that I even had a solid story to tell (well, beyond that thigh-biting scene 😁).

But THEN I wrote the pub scene. And completely without thinking about it, I wrote Charles turning around to snarl at that guy who was flirting with Edwin, and suddenly there was fire in his eyes and he had a sword and a CROWN?!

And I went, okay, that feels right. Of course Charles deserves a crown. What kind of entity could have a crown? And with a bit of research I found out about Devas from Hindu mythology. That gave the crown a shape, because suddenly it was a mukut, and it gave body to Charles' supernatural nature.

The more I read about it, the more right it felt, and from that point on I knew I had the fic. 😊

Thank you so much for your question @nuttersinc, I really appreciate it! I hope you liked my little rambly answer. Happy New Year! ❤️💕💖