#how the fuck do you draw patterns. i dont know

[gelarshiesprofruitboarder]

some random doodles,, woah

[butch-bakugo]

Its not a shock to me that most "transandrophobia doesn't exist" people are trans women, mostly white trans women. They have a very specific image of what a trans man looks like and it's only two categories: the hyper fem, tits out, make up, twink trans man who doesn't pass nor try to and the hyper masculine, bearded, t'd up, all the surgeries, big buff trans man who you could never clock. They genuinely think every "transandrophobia truther" is lieing about not getting privileges they don't fucking have.

They genuinely believe every trans man passes and therefore we get male privilege and they get backed up by trans men who do pass and think a cis man making rape jokes with them and asking about their lift set is male privilege. Lemme shatter the illusion because as much as you like to scream about some wide spread privilege that doesn't exist, most trans people, in general, do not pass. This is especially true for trans men due to the hyperfocus society puts on feminine features. I have never met a fully passing trans man and I've met over a hundred personally irl. never. I know they exist but the fact y'all think we, en masse, get male privilege is factually just fucking wrong.

Trans men are not more acceptable or palatable to transphobes. Trans men are not more likely to pass. Trans men in mass do not get male privilege by virtue of our lack of passing and our medical history. Most trans men are still affected by the gender pay gap and thus can not afford surgeries.

You do not acknowledge the existence of non-passing trans men, only uphold the voices of trans men who pass and have the money for surgeries (a small percentage) then wonder why trans men laugh in your face when you make claims about male privilege we do not experience.

We are more likely to be conversionally raped than you. We are more like to be forcibly detransioned than you. We are more likely to experience domestic violence than you. We are more likely to experience hate crimes than you.

Trans men's hyper visibility in online spaces dose not transfer to real life visibility. You are more likely to see white cis gay men and white trans women in any media or ever mentioned than even white cis lesbians or white trans men. Your rhetoric is the origin of the "theyfab" myth. Our issues are invisible to you cause you do not care about other trans people besides yourself and other transfems. Everyone and their trans mother knows about transmysogny and the issues you personally face yet you expect trans men to be silent about their issues and feel like they should be silent because they are men. Trans men are more likely to experience litterally all forms of violence over trans women in every single avenue of violence that exists; religious, sexual, domestic, familial, etc. We are more likely to be stopped and abused before we socially transtion than anyone else due to hyper vigilance of society over afabs. You can scream all you'd like about how we only bring up our sex/the gender we are often raised as when it's convenient but you always ignore those often traumatizing experiences when it's convenient for you.

Many Transmascs and trans men had a traumatizing upbringing because society views us as "bad women" and " bad women" get treated so much worse and by many more angles than "bad men" specifically because we were forcibly assigned as women. You take advantage of a lack of nuance in the community by trying to group us with cis men specifically because you group yourself with cis women. News flash, neither of us and our experiences should be grouped with ANY cis group because we do not have cisgendered experiences.

I seriously think you think you are the most oppressed group in the trans community and you are not, not by a long shot. You are not the most oppressed group in the transgender community and that's a statistical fact. The most oppressed group, by far, are two spirits and cultural genders by virtue of them being inherently indigenous and indigenous people being the most oppressed race of people in the community regardless of the location they are indigenous to.

You are literally taking advantage of the things that were drilled into transmascs at a young age to be seen and not heard and to be quiet and let others talk, that they are lesser than everyone. Everyday there's a new story in the community of a cis man or a trans woman getting a trans man/masc pregnant to hurt them or force them off t or to detransion, this is not a fucking accident. You are not men, no one ever said you were, but you sure love to silence them like they do.

I'm not quiet, you do not intimately know our issues the same way we do not intimately know yours, You don't get to tell us what we do and don't experience and the fact you'd rather cry wolf and suspiciously call us "bitches" than hear us out, tells me everything i need to know. That alt right to trans woman pipeline you said you escaped? Yeah, you didn't. Ur just an alt right trans woman, Try Again.

[catboybatman]

Why is DC's official merch on their website genuinly so ugly like is this not a company filled with artists?? Even if not, they couldn't bother hiring one (1) person for the merchandise department who knows basic fashion or graphic design??

[1ndivara]

ZEUS AND HERA, this is a redraw of the @namidew 's designs

(they are so PRETTY look at them)

[dexaroth]

i cant believe the day but i finally got a full tower pc. bought it already built and at a considerable discount of some 320 dollars off. its fucking huge and theres so many things going on inside... i was initially planning on choosing the parts myself but finding the graphics card was so hard and everyone else convinced me to just buy it built and honestly? good. id probably have fucked this up so badly by myself

i cant use it yet bc i took too long to buy the monitor that was also on sale and now its regular price -_- tho i managed to find a discount used one for now. well see how that goes since ill get it tomorrow. i tested it on out living room tv and it had some kaspersky thingy open and like thats so cute. i hope they left some treats in the browsing history for me to search through before i wipe it clean

[talaok]

The mission

Pairing: Joel miller x reader

Summary: Joel is the boss of a group of criminals in the QZ, and you're his little bunny everyone knows better than to look at, and this time, you wanna help him on a mission.

warnings: smut| the tiniest smudge of fingering, unprotected p in v sex, exhibitionism (yes again. dont look at me) and of course daddy kink

this is the fourth part to this but it can be read alone

"you want to what!?"

"I wanna help" you repeated, leaning back on his desk so you were right in front of where he was sitting.

"no"

"but-"

"absolutely not" he shook his head, not even listening to what you had to say.

You raised an eyebrow, getting ready to stand your ground.

"You need me" you said, making him look up at you, a mix of anxiety and frustration fogging his eyes.

"How would you even know?"

"David told me what you're planning to do"

You watched his fingers grip the edge of his chair to try and relieve some anger.

Fucking David. He was gonna have to teach him a lesson later.

"Still. We don't need you"

You huffed, crossing your arms,

"You need someone to distract the guard"

His eyes shut for a moment as he shrugged 

"I've got plenty of men who can do that"

A smug smirk tugged at your lips at his words "And that's exactly the problem"

You watched his brow arch in puzzlement

"You've got men" you explained "But what you need is a woman"

A chuckle fled his lips at your feeble attempt at convincing him "A man can distract a guard just fine, sweetheart"

"Yes" you agreed "But I could do it much better"

He leaned back in his chair, watching you closely.

"you could" he conceded "but not only would you distract the guard, but all my men. Me included"

You had to roll your eyes at that.

That must have been the worst excuse you'd ever heard

"You know I would be good at it" you continued 

"I know you would, baby, but you know I can't let you do that" he said, gentler now as his hand reached for your waist to draw slow patterns on it "You're too important, I can't let anything happen to you"

"but nothing has to happen to me, I just gotta distract a guard"

"it's still dangerous" he shook his head, "You've gotta understand baby, I-"

"please" you pouted, looking down at him with the best doe eyes you could muster

"bunny, I can't-"

That hadn't worked, so you had to retort to the only method you knew was fool-proof.

"please" you murmured again, placing your hands on his shoulder as you straddled his lap.

"please Daddy, just this once" you whispered, gently kissing his cheek before making your way to his neck.

"bunny..." he groaned, as his hands betrayed him and reached for your waist "I know what you're doing"

"'m not doing anything" you lied, going as far as grinding your core against his crotch while you kissed him right below his ear "I promise I'll be good"

"fuck- baby this ain't fair" he groaned again, his cock hardening in his jeans

"please daddy" you whimpered, passing a hand through his hair in that way you knew he loved "I'll do whatever you tell me to do" you promised "I'll follow all your instructions" The way your hot breath tickled his skin made him want to forget about everything and just take you right there and them "I'll be real good for you daddy"

And that was it.

He was 100% aware of having just been manipulated, but fuck- if you asked him with that sweet voice of yours, he would have agreed to jump off a cliff without a second thought.

"fuck me- fine" he sighed, inhaling your heavenly scent, as his fingers started already infiltrating underneath your top "But you're gonna do everythin' I tell you to do, ok? I don't wanna hear a single complaint"

Your grin resembled one of a child in a candy store

"yes daddy"

"and I know you don't like 'em but I'm givin' you a gun" he spoke, his attention not on your eyes but on your tits as he groped them underneath the fabric "we'll go over the basics again later" he spoke, before his gaze found yours, suddenly serious.

"and bunny, if anything goes wrong... if even one thing isn't how it's supposed to be, you run." he said "You get the fuck out of there, I don't care if it gets me and all my men killed. You save yourself first, we clear?"

You had to bite down the huge grin spreading on your face to try and at least look like you weren't jumping out of your skin in the excitement.

"Yes daddy" you nodded

"good" he murmured "Now c'mere you fuckin' smartass"

__ __ __

Joel had prepared you for the mission like you were about to go to war, you don't think he'd ever gone that long talking to you without touching some part of your body, and yet he'd spent a whole hour explaining to you what was gonna happen, and how everything was gonna proceed and most importantly, how no matter what, you had to "save yourself first"

But it was dumb really, your job was to do what you'd learned to do since you hit puberty: flirting with men to get what you want.

There's not a lot of ways a girl can survive on her own in a post-apocalyptic world, so the moment you understood the power you and your body held, you started using it to your advantage.

Which is why your task was a walk in the park.

The guard had forgotten all about what he was paid to do, which was paying attention to the security footage, from the moment you walked in, and all you needed to do was to put on a small little skirt and smile at everything he said.

There's only one thing men like more than a woman: a woman in distress.

Which is why you had made up this whole story about being new to the QZ and having gotten lost.

But hey thankfully, you'd stumbled upon this Fedra building and found "such a handsome, smart-looking man" that was more than eager to help you.

Joel and his crew had all the time in the world to steal whatever it was they were stealing, all the while you had fun.

You hadn't felt this ecstatic in years

You were basically skipping as you walked out of the building.

"there you are" you watched Joel breathe a sigh of relief as you walked over to where he was leaning on a black car "you got me scared for a moment bunny"

You frowned, peeking at the watch he'd insisted you wore.

"I was only one minute late"

He shook his head, grabbing your waist with both his hands to force you flush against him "and it was enough" he murmured, ignoring the fact that his whole crew was standing right beside you, and leaning in to kiss you as if he hadn't seen you for days.

You melted right into him, softly whimpering in his mouth when one of his hands traveled lower to grab one of your asscheeks.

You grinned widely as he leaned away, and he couldn't help but smile too watching that look on your face.

"get inside the car" he murmured, leaving another quick kiss on your lips before getting out of the way to open the door for you.

Surprisingly, he wasn't driving this time.

Just as you bent down to get inside, you heard him bark behind you at someone to his right "The fuck are you looking at?"

"N-nothing boss, I'm sorry"

Joel didn't answer, he only removed his hand from where he held his gun and got inside the car with you, shutting the door behind him.

You watched through the windshield, as the poor guy put a hand on his chest, probably checking if it was still beating.

"you scared him" you half scolded, half cooed as you wasted no time scooting closer to him

A soft smirk pulled at his lips as his thumb reached for your cheek to stroke it 

"what a shame" he murmured, kissing you.

As the kiss heated, his tongue infiltrating into your mouth as you moaned into his, you felt his hands take hold of your waist to guide you on top of him, and you gladly complied.

"hey there" you smiled

"hey b-"

An awkward cough made its way to both his ears

"Should I... give you some space?" the guy at the wheel asked.

Funny, you hadn't even noticed he was there.

"who's gonna drive the car if you do that?" Joel huffed a laugh 

"I just though-"

"start driving" Joel interrupted, already focused on you again "and keep your eyes on the road"

"yes boss"

And just like that, the car was moving.

"You don't mind Pike being here do you bunny? he's very discreet"

"I don't mind daddy" you murmured, not resisting anymore as you latched your mouth to that irresistible neck of his.

Just like every time you were in his arms, his scent and warmth wrapped around you like magic.

"good" he smiled, losing himself in your touch for a moment before he remembered something.

"What was the guy's name bunny?"

"mh?" you frowned, looking up at him confused.

"the guard, darlin', what was his name?"

You arched a brow as your left hand went to his hair as you inspected his face.

"why?" you asked suspiciously

"I'll need to take care of him"

"Daddy he didn't do anything wrong" you whispered, trying to reason with him.

"he looked at you didn't he?"

you couldn't help but roll your eyes "he needed to look at me to be able to talk to me"

"yeah but I'm sure he was doing a lot more than talking in that brain of his"

"daddy" you murmured, as your index finger traced his jaw "you can't kill every guy I come across on every mission "

"every mission? who said this is happening again?" he tilted his head, a soft amusement shining in his eyes

"I did"

"oh bunny," he smiled as he shook his head" this was a one-time thing"

But you both knew it really wasn't up to him.

Yes, he was his crew's boss, but you were the boss's boss.

"we'll see" You shut him up, crashing your mouth with his in a frenzy of clashing teeth and tongues.

The mission had gotten you so worked up you'd been wet since he first kissed you.

You couldn't help but grind on him to relieve some of the tension that had created between your thighs, before losing your patience and just deciding to get to the real thing.

He was groping your ass with one hand while the other busied itself with your tits when your left hand sneaked down his torso to find that hard tent straining from his jeans.

"Actually..." he breathed, as you undid his belt as quickly as you could "If this is what you going on missions gets me, I think I might have to take back what I said "

You let out a small giggle at that, "I thought you might say that"

He smiled too, but his mouth was back on yours as quickly as it had parted, tasting all that you would give him.

You made quick work of his zipper, and eagerly freed his cock from his boxers, making him groan loudly.

"fuck bunny" he breathed, glancing down to where you were stroking his cock with those heavenly soft hands of yours.

The fact that Pike was not even two meters away from you wasn't remotely crossing your minds.

You mimicked him and looked down at his manhood, and god it looked so delicious, but as much as you wanted a taste there wasn't really that much space for maneuver in the back of this car, and to be completely honest there was also the fact that your pussy had been screaming for any type of attention for some time now so-

"spit" 

You hadn't even realized his hand was in front of your mouth, but the moment you did, you complied.

You watched as that same now spit-filled hand made its way underneath your skirt and panties in no time.

He slathered the liquid all around your folds, making you squirm uncontrollably, before, without any type of warning, plunging two of his thick fingers deep inside your heat.

"daddy!" 

"she's ready" he decided, continuing to watch you as you slowly raised yourself to sink down on his cock.

"o-oh my god" you whimpered as your head fell to the crook of his neck.

He was stretching you so good... and god, but he was so deep

"fuck baby" he groaned, both his hands now on your ass to squeeze it however he pleased, "feel fucking perfect"

You softly smiled at that, kissing up his neck as you started moving with the help of his hands, which guided your movements a bit.

"I was good wasn't I?" you whispered onto his pulse point, before gently sucking on it

"the best" he promised, groaning a bit as you fastened your pace "my precious little bunny" he praised into your ear "always such a good girl"

The sound that was spreading around the car was filthy, but all either of you could think about was the other.

Your fingers were grabbing at the hair at the nape of his neck, while your other hand was grasping his shoulder for dear life as you bounced up and down on his cock.

"jesus you're so tight sugar" he groaned as you bit down on a spot on his neck "So perfect" he continued, watching you pleasure yourself on his dick "So beautiful" 

Your clit was grinding against his crotch and it was only making you reach your climax faster 

"and so fucking smart" he murmured "You're amazing bunny, you really are"

what before were soft breathy moans whispered in his ear, had now quickly evolved to higher and louder cries that were making poor Pike want to die.

"f-fuck daddy" you whimpered, leaning your forehead onto his to look at him in the eyes 

"you coming bunny?"

"mh-mh" was all you could muster

"yeah? then come for me baby" he ordered "Come around my cock"

And just like that, You did, you came, screaming his name at the top of your lungs as your movements got more and more sloppy

"Thank you daddy" was the only coherent sentence that came out of your mouth as your orgasm took over your body

"Whatever you want bunny" he promised, watching mesmerized as you came apart before him "fuck-whatever you want, you know that"

And you did know that, because as he'd proven times and times again, for you, there wasn't one thing he wouldn't do.

__

if you wanna read more of Bunny and Joel → here

[sungbeam]

𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 — part two

nonidol!ji changmin x f!reader

messing around with demonic rituals isn't exactly how you imagined getting bound to changmin's soul. (note to self: salt circles don't work when you draw the pentagram inside it...)

▷ genre, warnings. f2l, technically a college au, demon au (it's different from night terrors i swear. also it's not as intense lol), comedy, suspense/mystery, swearing (a lot... sorry 😭), drinking, low fantasy/supernatural elements, mentions of chronic illness, mentions of rituals and pentagrams, self induced soulmates? 🤔 but ofc 😂, kissing, mentions of blood, very small amount of violence (like one scene), what is a mfking slow burn like who needs to take their time w falling in love i sure don't 🤷🏻‍♂️, one allusion to death

▷ part word count. 18.5k out of 34.8k / read part one here

a/n: HI IF UR STILL HERE THEN YAY 😭 PLS DONT READ THIS WITHOUT HAVING READ THE FIRST PART. ALSO, ENJOY!

PART IV: THE SPELL

THERE WERE ONLY SO many ways to make a boy squirm. On top of that, there were only so many ways to make a demon boy squirm. Halfling status was of no consequence to certain observations of patterns involving the laws of attraction.

Case in point: Ji Changmin's dilemma.

“You look a little lost, man,” Hyunjae chortled into his friend's ear to bypass the bone-rattling volume of the house music.

Shuhua's friend Yangyang had thrown quite the rager in his shared house with his roommates. There was probably about a hundred people shoved into the first floor of the house, with some littered across the lawn outside and the backyard, too. The five of you had arrived as a unit and donated a few cases of beer to help the hosts out, but proceeded to grab your own drinks, disperse, and mingle.

Changmin coughed as he blinked furiously out of whatever daze he'd been in. His neck and ears had turned a brilliant shade of vermilion, but the dim lighting was his savior tonight. Oh, to have the shadows on one's side. “What?” he stammered.

Hyunjae's smile widened at his flustered reaction. “I'm sure Yn can introduce you to whoever her friend is.”

The roaring in Changmin's ears dulled considerably. “What?” he repeated, but this time, the word had an upward intonation at the end. Now he was confused.

He glanced back to where you were standing further into the living room. Who?

Oh.

Changmin hadn't even noticed you'd been talking to another person. His focus had been… elsewhere. Not that said focus was anywhere inappropriate in the name of Friendship—of course, the burn in his throat was the alcohol and the tightness in his chest was the soul-bond. That was all. He hadn't been considering the dress hugging your figure or the way your smile brightened your face—no, really it was the entire fucking room. He didn't want to linger on the thought of that torturous car ride over either, with his body pressed against your side and your perfume so sweet in his lungs. Was it possible to replace the very air he breathed with it?

Essentially: he was not faring well tonight. What had gotten into him? He'd attended plenty of parties with you before, and he hadn't been this strung up before.

Or maybe he had… he wasn't so sure of a lot of things at this moment. He wasn't supposed to be able to get tipsy on this human alcohol.

Only a week had passed since the soul bond was forged between you and him, too. Though he knew it was supposed to be an emotional and metaphysical link, he was certain it had nothing to do in terms of creating things that were never there in the first place.

Hyunjae grinned at him and slung an arm around his shoulders. “Come on! We should go introduce ourselves.”

For a moment, Changmin cringed at the thought of him appearing beside you with all the swagger he knew he lacked. He took a deep inhale and glanced back over at you… something in his mind flipped like a switch. “You know what? Sounds like a plan,” he said to Hyunjae, plastering a typical dimpled smile on his face.

The two of them maneuvered their way over to your position. As he gained proximity, the tightening in his chest gradually loosened, a rope slackening. Despite the loosening, it didn't mean the weight had gone away. The weight filled him with something comforting like his heart and lungs weren't alone in his ribcage.

He kept his eyes glued to you as he and Hyunjae neared.

You must have felt his gaze because you turned around to meet his eyes soon enough. There was a dilation in those pretty eyes and a smile that reached them.

“What have you been up to?” Changmin shouted to you over the music as he sidled up beside you. Your shoulders brushed against one another and he fought the urge to pull your form to his.

“Nothing much,” you chirped back, sharing his grin. You gestured to your talking companion. “This is Leona, by the way! She's a friend of Indigo's.”

Changmin finally pulled his eyes away from you. Leona, as you had introduced, was not someone he recognized. He didn't know many of Indigo's friends, but she smiled at him widely. “Nice to meet you!” she said.

“Nice to meet you, too. I'm Changmin,” he nodded back.

“And I'm Hyunjae,” his friend chimed in, raising a hand in greeting. “Did you come with Indigo then?”

Leona nodded her head. “I did! She went to go find Juyeon, so I'm not sure where they are now, but Yn found me wandering and we've been chatting since.” She flicked her attention back over to Changmin, and he cocked his head at the sight of something peculiar. He could have sworn there was a flash of electric blue in her eyes.

“Are you a student here?” he asked. He couldn't have imagined the blue, could he? But if she was a friend of Indigo's, then there was a good chance he hadn't.

“No, I'm from out east by Blue Brook,” she said, shaking her head. “I'm just in town for a couple of days visiting with my, uh, sisters.”

No, Changmin was certain now. Leona was a member of Indigo's coven. Blue Brook was where Indigo was from, and it was well-known amongst the supernatural community in this state as a witch's county. There were probably a dozen or so covens in that one area, but Indigo's was one of the largest. And if Leona was a witch, that meant…

Leona arched her brows at him expectantly. Demon? she mouthed.

Changmin stiffened beside you, and your head whipped over to him when you read her lips, too.

You swiftly turned to Hyunjae. “Hey! I'd love a drink, Jae. Let's go get one!”

Hyunjae's eyes widened as you snatched up his wrist and started hauling him in the direction of the kitchen. “Wha—hello? Bye, I guess?” he laughed in disbelief, sending a wink at Changmin through it.

Changmin pressed his lips together. He knew why you had taken Hyunjae away, but that didn't mean he liked it. Should it not be his wrist you were holding?

“She knows?” Leona's voice tore him out of whatever jealous stupor he was in. That cloud had returned to his head, the tightening to his chest.

He held his hand to his brow. “Yes,” he sighed. “Is there a reason you needed to make it so obvious?”

She shrugged innocently. “He didn't notice.”

“He could've.”

Leona wrinkled her nose at him. “Oh, loosen up. I forget that folks outside of heavily concentrated paranormal centers are so uptight about their identities. It's your heritage, for goddess's sake.”

“You mean you forget that you're privileged enough to live in a highly concentrated paranormal area,” he nearly snarled back at her. Adrenaline rushed into his veins with an uncontrollable velocity and bite. He wouldn't have gotten so worked up about this normally, but he already accepted that tonight was likely going to be filled with the irregular. “If you said it even louder than a whisper, that could've put you, me, and her in danger.”

Especially with some lunatic running around targeting demons with energy-draining curses, he couldn't be too safe.

The witch made a face. “I guess I know why Indigo's no fun now, too. No wonder you're friends…” Her voice trailed off as her eyes found someone behind Changmin.

Changmin peered back over his shoulder and locked eyes with a familiar face in the crowd. Indigo's dark eyes widened considerably at the sight of him before she began shoving her way through partygoers to reach him. He raised his arm up like a flag to signal where he floated in the ocean of people.

The crowd quite literally spit the poor thing out and she had to grapple onto his arm. “Where'd she go?” she exhaled out, head on a swivel.

“She's right—” Not here…? The place where Leona had been right beside him was vacated, as if she hadn't been there at all. Why did she run from Indigo?

“Changmin.” There was a desperate strain behind Indigo's voice as she wrestled his collar with her hands and dragged him down to look her right in the eyes to ensure he was listening. “Leona has been releasing empitachynsia synthios in the party. I don't know exactly where, but I found one broken flask of it on the second floor with Juyo.”

Empitachynsia synthios? In the Old Language most covens grew up learning, that term translated directly to ‘acceleration of emotion.’ Based on the vague knowledge Changmin boasted on potions, empitachynsia synthios was a potent liquid that turned into vapor when exposed to oxygen, affecting those who inhaled it by escalating their emotions to alarming proportions.

Changmin's eyes went as big as Indigo's. “She fucking drugged the party with an airborne stimulant?”

“Just the second floor,” Indigo corrected with a grimace, but she released the vice grip on his shirt collar. “I managed to convince Juyeon that it was someone's dropped perfume bottle, but I left him with Lee Minho on the porch to clear his airways.”

Changmin's head swam. Lee Minho—black cat spirit—okay, then Juyeon was fine. He dragged his hands through his hair with a groan. “Hell, if I had known, I wouldn't have turned away from her like that. Sorry, Indigo.”

“No, no, it's my fault for letting her come at all,” she dismissed with an anxious flick of her wrist, then flexed her fingers to crack her knuckles. “She's been acting strangely for the past few days and I should have taken it more seriously, but I thought it was because she needed to relax a bit.”

He exhaled through his nose and braced his hands onto his waist. “Yeah, she's got a loose mouth though, that's for sure.”

“Good goddess, what'd she say?”

“Let's just say that Hyunjae could've found out who I am.”

Indigo's face ashened to a horrified shade. “Shit. I'm so sorry about her. This is turning out to be more and more of a disaster.”

You can say that again, Changmin thought, but he wasn’t about to put the blame on Indigo for something that was her coven sister’s doing. Though, he couldn’t imagine what manner of thought convinced Leona to release such a strong, and potentially dangerous, potion into a house full of young adults. It didn’t matter that some were horny or hammered—all that mattered was that there would be consequences to this, and it wouldn’t even be their faults.

Indigo recruited his help to locate the runaway witch and Changmin was swift to agree. There were only so many places in this house that Leona could have run off to, but the problem was the amount of people here.

As he and Indigo hunted, he couldn’t help but linger upon the effects of empitachynsia synthios that he was aware about—its presence in the air must have been the reason for his own unrestrained thoughts earlier, both in regards to you and Leona. He convinced himself that that was the reason, not the bond or any feelings of his, but the artificial intensification of whatever miniscule feelings that lingered. The potion could not work from nothing—that wasn’t how magic worked—but he could stomach confessing to a little bit of the feelings from earlier.

This, however, should have not been his main concern. If he had even gotten a little bit of the potion in his system, then what about you? Were you feeling alright? Were Hyunjae and Shuhua unaffected? Hyunjae hadn’t acted differently from his usual self; he hadn’t had much to drink either—that applied to you, too.

Changmin could only come to a shaky conclusion that even if all of you had inhaled a drop of empitachynsia synthios, the dose was not strong enough to have any noticeable effect on your emotions.

It was some divine fortune or providence that, not even ten minutes later, Indigo reported that one of her friends had gotten a hold of Leona in one of the rooms upstairs. With all of the panic that had plagued the two of them, Changmin and Indigo agreed to take their separate ways for the night and to be grateful for a swiftly concluded catastrophe.

The remaining adrenaline left in his system fueled him in his search for you and Hyunjae, wherever the two of you had ended up. The bond had squeezed his chest cavity all throughout the past ten minutes when he was away. His senses led him toward the kitchen, whose crowd was hardly any better than out in the living room. He couldn’t quite differentiate the pounding of blood in his ears from the heavy bass in the house speakers; he could hardly hear himself think. But his eyes found yours and Hyunjae’s forms squished together in one corner of the kitchen, and there was no need for him to think anymore.

Hyunjae noticed Changmin first and tore his attention away from his phone where both you and he had been hunched over watching clips of cats on Instagram. “Hey, done so soon?” he posed the question with a teasing lilt in his voice.

The teasing, though no fault of Hyunjae’s, made Changmin’s eye twitch. Even the suspicion that Changmin was interested in Leona left him with a sour tongue and clenched throat. “Indigo came by,” he said with little inflection to signal the end to that conversation. He inclined his chin to you, who had yet to raise your head. “Oy, Y—”

Your head lolled slightly onto Hyunjae’s conveniently-located shoulder, and the shift in angle revealed to your two friends that you had, in fact, fallen asleep.

Changmin and Hyunjae shared a fond laugh between themselves, glancing at one another in silent agreement. The former quickly pulled out his phone to snap a picture of you unawares, saving it to the group photo album of drunk mishaps.

“How much did she drink?” Changmin lowered his voice, even if the music didn’t give a shit whether you were asleep or not.

Hyunjae screwed up his face into something like unserious exasperation. “I dunno what she was thinking, man. We were talking and she drank waaay too much of the flavored soju. You know how that stuff tastes and goes down like juice.”

Changmin bobbed his hand knowingly. “I think I’m done for the night, to be honest,” he sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “I can take Yn home. Have you seen Shuhua around?”

“Just a few minutes ago.” Hyunjae slipped his phone into his pocket and carefully swapped places with Changmin. “She came by with Yuqi to get refills of some cocktail and said that a few of them were playing Speed downstairs. I’ll probably go join them. Have you seen Juyeon?”

The weight of your head settled comfortably into the crook of Changmin’s shoulder, and he couldn’t help but gently ghost his fingers over your nose to brush the hair out of your eyes. “Huh? Oh yeah, he’s with Indigo and Lee Minho.”

Hyunjae stared between you and Changmin for a pregnant second, but nodded afterward. “Got it. Well, get home safe, man.”

Changmin clasped his free hand with Hyunjae’s. “Same to you.”

When it was only you and Changmin, your living and breathing pillow considered his current position. He did intend on escorting you home—you grew drowsy when you drank a little too much, and as Hyunjae asserted, it was the flavored soju’s fault; but he was loath to wake you from such a peaceful-looking nap. He twisted his head in a way to peer down at your face, your cheek squished against the muscle of his shoulder and your lip gloss leaving a shiny smudge on his shirt sleeve.

He exhaled a careful breath, then gently gave your shoulder a shake. “Rise ‘n’ shine,” he sang. The grin on his face was remarkably large and unsuppressable as you stirred with a small whine.

“There’s a new picture in the drunk folder, isn’t there?” You glowered while lifting your head up and blinking to adjust your vision. You squinted your eyes at him. “You’re not Hyunjae.”

“Is that so disappointing?” He hoped his voice didn’t betray the miniscule shard of bitterness that just pricked his chest. He reached over and helped you with an errant strand of hair; there was no need for him to sulk when he was the one with you now. (Hell, did he think like this all the time or was the potion still in his system?)

You still couldn’t open your eyes much and you yawned. “No, of course not. What time is it?”

“It’s nearly half past midnight.”

“Not bad,” you said. You yawned again, gingerly dabbing at the corners of your eyes when they began to mist. “I think I drank more than I planned to.”

Changmin chuckled, “Yeah, I figured. C’mon—I’ll take you home.”

The pair of you departed out through a side door in the kitchen, a rather convenient exit that helped you evade wading through the living room crowd to get to the front door. The alleyway on the side of the house was illuminated only by a single light above the kitchen door to accompany the trash bins.

You stumbled alongside Changmin with your wits not having returned yet.

His hand bumped against yours. “Can you walk?” he laughed, glancing over at you.

“If I said no, would you carry me?”

Perchance his pulse jumped. “Sure.”

There was nothing, to him in that moment, more lovely than the way you lit up like the fucking sun. Even the shadows in the alley washed away briefly in awe of your elation—an elation he elicited. “Really?”

His cheeks dimpled and a laugh, breathy but giddy, tumbled out of his mouth. “Yeah. Hop on.”

Thus, Changmin found himself strolling along a deserted sidewalk with your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms draped loosely over his shoulders. You had your head tucked into the warmth of his neck as you focused on trying to arrange an Uber to come pick the two of you up at the nearest 7-Eleven; Changmin fought every instinct in him to be still, including his heartbeat. There would be no hiding, even if you were drunk and less observant. Something about your weight on his back eased the ache in his chest at the front.

The night had a bearable chill to it. He rather enjoyed the silence encapsulating you and him, and the shadows clinging to his heels as if they were his guardian. Every so often, he would step into the glow of an amber circle of light and watch your entwined silhouettes cascade across the sidewalk.

“How’s the Uber situation coming along, sweetheart?”

He held his breath until you answered. “Almost,” you murmured in a small voice, focused. The white light of your phone screen streamed up the underside of his jawline from where you held it and also clung to him. “Done!”

He smiled and refrained from turning his head; that would be a dangerous thing to do with your mouth quite literally against his throat. “Good job. When will they be there?”

“I scheduled it for 1:30,” you replied matter-of-factly. You turned your phone off to ease the light shining up into his face, and settled your head against his shoulder in a more comfortable position. “Minnie?”

Ba-bump. “Yeah, Yn.”

“I remember why I drank more than I intended to earlier.” At his quiet prompting, you continued, “Hyunjae was asking about you. It was… he was kind of skirting around it, but he was kind of saying that we’ve been acting weird lately. He mentioned something about you and Leona—I think he saw that she mouthed the word ‘demon’ to you. So I got a little worried and thought if I got a bit tipsy, he’d change the subject.”

Changmin’s steps faltered, but he recovered neatly. A lump seemed to have lodged itself in his throat and it was no longer because he could feel your breath against his pulse. “Is that right,” he muttered, clearing his throat uncomfortably. He had been so careful, too, and all it took was one, little word to shatter his efforts. “Thanks for getting drunk then,” he jested in an effort to lighten his own mood.

“Maybe he doesn’t actually know,” you said to him quietly. “It took you at least two tries to get me to believe you, and Hyunjae’s more of a skeptic than I am.”

But Changmin simply couldn’t be too sure. Of course, what you said held ground, but paranoia was often a pebble in his shoe. “Don’t… don’t worry too much about it, okay? I’ll figure it out as we go.”

“I’m here for you, too.” You lifted one of your hands to give his head a pat. “Well, I’ve always been here for you, but now that I know your secret, you don’t have to hold onto it alone.”

He couldn’t fathom how mere words could warm him from the inside out as if you had taken a handful of whatever sunshine you radiated and placed it in his core. When you had asked him that day why supernaturals were forced to hide their identities from humans, he didn’t linger on the idea of his words sticking with you. He supposed he had underestimated you in that way—you were his friend, and you cared about him as much as he cared about you. Of course you would take those words to heart.

And perhaps that was what eased his anxieties about Hyunjae for the time being. He and Hyunjae were as good of friends as you and him; giving him the benefit of the doubt was what felt right.

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

You hummed. “I’ll protect you, Minnie. Hyunjae—well, I guess it should be Leona, huh? Leona can catch my hands.”

Changmin’s joyful laugh echoed against the nearby houses. “Oh, you’re too cute.”

He felt your sigh even more than he heard it. “You’re always laughing at me,” you sulked. “I’m trying to be sincere here. Hey, that rhymed.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” He was not super sorry; the grin wouldn't leave his face. “Thank you, Yn. Really.”

By the time you and Changmin raided the 7-Eleven, caught your Uber, and returned to your apartment complex, it was swiftly approaching two in the morning. Your knees no longer wobbled like those of a newborn giraffe, so you walked beside Changmin to your apartment unit. The hallway, alight with its typical blinding fluorescents, was appropriately deserted and effectively made even the smallest of whispers ricochet like the acoustics in an arena.

Changmin had walked this path to your apartment door dozens upon dozens of times before, and though the scenery and the smell hadn’t changed a bit, the feeling that nestled itself into the very fibers of his being had. The ache in his chest, the inconsistent thrumming of his heartbeat, and his headspace had all changed.

Your keys rattled with a tinny sound as you isolated your apartment key from the others. You shoved the carved metal inside the locking mechanism, then sent him a sidelong glance. “Wanna come in for a bit?”

His mouth went dry and it was difficult to pull his lips into the shape of the words that he didn’t want to say. “You should sleep. We should both get some sleep.”

He liked to think he imagined the slow blink of your eyes and the way your eyelashes brushed over the fleeting disappointment in them. “You’re right,” you sighed good-naturedly. You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth as a thought occurred to you. “I do have to be up in a few hours; I almost forgot.”

“Why’s that?” he chuckled, and the image of your feet propped up on your desk as you finished a last minute reading for one of your classes painted itself in his mind’s eye.

“Ah, uhm, Chan’s driving me up to see my parents and his sister.” As soon as the words left your mouth, you wished you could reel them back into your throat.

Changmin’s expression shuddered as the carefully constructed bubble that had formed around his reality tonight burst. The brightness of the hallway lights were suddenly stifling, and he feared what exactly lurked behind its artifice. It reminded him so starkly of your childhood friend—the cordial and warmth he put on as a show a stark contrast to a foreign murkiness that lurked below the surface of the water. There were only so many ways to make Ji Changmin squirm.

He managed a smile to reassure you. You didn’t have to censor yourself on his account, and he wished to know how you filled your days anyway. “Oh, that’s cool of him. Hope you guys have a nice trip home tomorrow,” he said, then brought his arm around your shoulders to bring you into a partial hug before he could talk himself out of it.

You reciprocated the action, but with both of your arms, slotting your bodies against one another so you were two hearts and one body for a second. “Thanks,” you murmured into his shirt. “And thanks for taking care of me. I should be the one taking care of you.”

Changmin pressed his cheek to the side of your head, his arms locking around your waist. The hidden implications behind your words weren’t lost on him, which was why he had told you that he would be good about the soul-bonding thing; about taking care of himself, so that you weren’t forced to in the name of your own privacy and safety.

He was the hazard out of the two of you, after all.

“You do,” he assured you. “You do take care of me.” By continuing to be normal with him, by continuing to treat him as you had always done, he could rest easy at night knowing that he still had a place in your life despite being who he was.

Love was felt in his chest where you belonged—you had made the bones of his ribcage your home, kept his lungs from collapsing, and rested your head against his heart at night. The bond had inadvertently made him two halves of a whole, and he could no longer bear to be without the other half.

There was too much negative space, you thought, as you laid in bed that night (morning). The ceiling was a rather interesting thing to look at with its imperfect, popcorned edges and the dark masses lying in the bottom of the lights, the dead carcasses of foolish insects who couldn’t help themselves.

In particular, there was a distinct lack of someone else. It was strange how fast another’s presence could grow on you, but how could that be when the two of you had already been friends for a couple years? When had spending time with Changmin become essential to easing an unseen ache in your chest?

When you were in the 7-Eleven earlier tonight, Changmin had filled you in on what had really happened at the house party. The idea of a witch being in your midst, releasing a perfumed potion that could escalate someone’s emotions was a frightening prospect. How many other times had you been in similar situations and none the wiser?

And if that potion had worked its way into your system or Hyunjae’s or Juyeon’s or Shuhua’s, then how did it affect Changmin?

A mental image flashed in your head. The first time one possessed another’s body would almost always feel akin to a dream. You were looking at yourself from an outside perspective at the party, your head tucked toward your chest as you slouched over Hyunjae’s shoulder. The body you were seeing through had laughed with him—subconsciously, you knew, exactly which laugh belonged to whom. But when he had pulled out his phone to snap a picture, that was the moment it came together.

When you woke up on Changmin’s shoulder at the party, you couldn’t be too sure that it was a dream; it had felt too real. Your physical body had yanked your astral form back into its vessel right before your eyes opened.

You lifted your hand up to your face in the dark and graced your fingers over the path Changmin’s had when he brushed the hair out of your sleeping face.

That same hand fell onto your sternum, the hard bone at the very center where you imagined your soul to rest deep within. You wished you could wrap your hand around the line that connected you to him, because then, maybe you could cling to it… and maybe it would make more sense as to how your mind ended up in his body tonight.

PART V: THE DIABOLICAL

TRUTHFULLY, 8AM was too early to be pondering moral dilemmas. Options as to how you would tell Changmin about your out-of-body experience flipped through your mind like a deck of flashcards. You were a hypocrite. You were a massive, clown-faced hypocrite whose thumbs hovered over her keyboard as you debated on how best to start the text message:

Option 1: Heeeey, you know how I gave you shit about possessing my body without permission? Well… we're even now.

Option 2: Guess what lol I might be going insane but I might have had a dream that wasn't a dream about possessing your body.

Or, last and certainly least, option 3: I'm pretty sure I'm interpreting your gestures wrong because I have feelings for you. Also, did I mention that I possessed you during my nap last night?

When you were drunk last night, you couldn't be so certain. (Saying this was if sleeping for less than three hours would've helped clarify your memory any better. Drunkenness and sleep deprivation were more alike as states of brain rot than one might think.) Nonetheless, you determined that you were in the wrong—not because you possessed him; that was an accident. You were in the wrong because you had contemplated murder for Changmin doing the same thing to you.

The question was: how? How were you able to take your soul and jump physical bodies? Changmin said this bond was largely for the benefit of the demon, but he also mentioned that the only reason his experience occurred was because he was exhausted.

If control was the baseline of demonic magic, and Changmin was under the influence of a powerful emotional stimulant, would that justify how you were able to pull it off?

(And if he really was under the influence, did that mean you were getting your hopes up about your feelings being reciprocated? Option 3 was looking less and less attractive.)

You chewed on your bottom lip meditatively as the driver's side door opened to your left.

Chan sighed as he dragged his seatbelt over his chest. “I can't believe I forgot to get gas last night,” he said, cranking the engine. “I could've sworn I did.”

“Maybe you just imagined it,” you teased quietly. When you peered over at him, you couldn't help the frown tugging down at the corners of your lips.

The eye bags and puffiness weren't exactly subtle on him. You could acknowledge that it was rather early for both of you to be up and at 'em, but it was essential to hit the road early since the drive was almost three hours.

Chan gave his head a rough shake in the same manner as a wet dog would. “Guess so,” he said before a yawn cut him off.

“Are you sure you're okay to drive?” You plucked one of the paper cups in the cupholders and handed it to him.

He gratefully accepted the cheap gas station coffee and took slow, measured gulps of the scalding liquid. “I think I should be fine. You should rest; you didn't get a lot of sleep last night, right?”

As he began pulling the car out of the quaint lights of the gas station proper, you adjusted your sitting position. “Chan,” you mused, “you look worse than I do right now. Were you up late last night, too?”

“Maybe a little later than usual… I was just—y’know, preparing some things for today.” He nudged his blinker on and craned his neck to check for oncoming traffic. When it was safe, he pulled out onto the road.

At this point in the morning, there weren't many cars accompanying the two of you on your journey north. The sky was a blanched blue further enfeebled by the pale autumn sunshine. You would instinctively settle in to watch the passing scenery—mountain ranges, pastures, and the like—but you continued to keep one eye on your driver this time around.

“Preparing things,” you repeated softly, turning your phone off having long given up on deciding on a text message to Changmin. “Are you—are you okay? Is everything okay?”

He liked to fuss over you, but you weren't ignorant to his own struggle. Chan was the one who faced adversity, not you—at least, in your mind. Sure, you faced your own troubles, but it hurt you to see him hurt. The two of you hadn't been as close recently, which was no fault of yours or his; people drifted apart sometimes. That was the way of life, but it didn't mean your care for the other waned even the slightest.

Chan physically loosened up his tense muscles. “Yeah, of course. I promise that I'm fine.”

Your eyes shot wide open as they tracked a trickle of something dark and viscous seeping down from his nose and into the cradle of his Cupid's bow. “Oh my god.”

Your friend's eyes flitted off the road for a second. “What?” He brought a hand up to his mouth and pulled it away. “Shit,” he muttered and gritted his teeth. The blood had dribbled into his mouth now to stain the white of his smile a gory crimson.

“I think you need to pull over,” you fretted as you tore through the center console for tissues.

Chan clutched the ball of tissues in one hand and held it up to his nose. “I'm fine, Yn—”

“Pull over. Now.” There was enough force behind your voice to make him twitch, but you suspected that the slight tremor wasn't unnoticeable either. Just how much had he been overexerting himself lately? “I'm driving.”

He didn't have a choice. Defeat clung to the tails of his exhaustion, digging the grooves of his eye bags deeper. Chan didn't argue as he pulled off to the side of the road.

You didn't have to pretend to be even a little angry—you were frustrated, yes, but only because he was clearly not in the state to drive for three hours. It was irresponsible and stupid, you wanted to say to him.

But after swapping seats and glancing over at him in the passenger seat, you opened your mouth with no voice to use. Chan couldn't meet your eyes as he kept the bloody wad of tissue to his nose. You didn't have the heart to reprimand him, and he sure as Hell didn't need that from you.

You reined in your concern and resumed the drive.

Changmin wondered if texting you was too desperate. Before one judged him too harshly, there once was a time when he didn't think about interactions like this as if they were rocket science. There was a time when he could text you with ease and without stress.

That was no longer the case.

“Please tell me you didn't spend the entire morning on your phone. That's a horrible example for the kids, you know.”

Changmin had known Aunt Jenna and her husband Kian were outside the door before they could pull out their house keys. His two cousins, who were reading and napping, respectively, on the rug scrambled to their feet with screeches of welcome to their parents. Changmin pretended their pitch didn't nearly destroy his eardrums. “No,” he protested, “we finished their homework really fast, so we were just chilling.”

“Yeah, eomma. We were just chilling!” parroted the youngest of the two—Dae—as he clung to his father's arm like a jungle gym.

Kian gave a laugh as he waddled into the kitchen with his hands full of groceries and a kid. The second child, Julia, wrapped around her limbs around his ankle; hence the waddling.

“Just chilling,” Jenna deadpanned, unimpressed. She swiped the bags from Kian and set them on the kitchen counter, peering over at her nephew. “Well, were they good?”

Changmin dimpled, nodding. “Yup. I think they deserve ice cream.”

“Oppa gave permission!” Julia hooted.

“I've got it,” Kian mused, squeezing past his wife in the narrow kitchen space. “Kids, go grab your jackets and we'll go down to the store.” He glanced between Jenna and Changmin. “We'll give you two some space.”

As soon as the front door slammed shut and the sounds of eager children disappeared down the hall, Jenna joined Changmin in the living room. Today was the day Changmin promised his aunt he would watch her kids. Rather than being out the entire day, Jenna and Kian promised to be back once they'd completed their long list of errands. Changmin didn't mind watching his cousins for the past few hours; they were, over all, decently well-behaved. (Plus, it was easy to bribe them with the promise of ice cream for good behavior.)

Jenna hiked up one leg beneath her as she claimed the opposite end of the couch from him. “How are you? Has it fully faded?”

Ah, there was no beating around the bush then. He sucked in a breath, but nodded. “I'm pretty sure, yeah. I haven't felt anything for at least a week.” It was strange to go from a period of sporadic headaches to none at all. It was like waiting for a dormant volcano to suddenly awaken; would the curse strike again and how soon?

How did he even come to be cursed? Now that was the question of the hour.

“Good, good. I don't… I can't sense it from you anymore,” she said, nibbling on her fingernail. “You had me worried there, Changmin-ah. How's your friend? Her name's Yn, right?”

A smile crawled onto his face. “You and Mom are always so bad with names.”

“I got it right, though,” she pointed out, but didn't deny his accusation.

“Yeah, she's doing alright.” He licked his lips and became contemplative. At least, he was pretty sure you were doing alright. The memories of last night came rushing back at him in a dizzying whirlwind of laughter, thrills, and warmth; the undeniable wholeness in his chest, your lips at his pulse. He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck. “I'm trying to focus my efforts on the curse situation now though,” he said after clearing his throat. “I think that should take priority.”

Jenna gave a grave nod. “I'm inclined to agree.”

“Right. I reached out to that one guy you told me about.”

“Oh, the prince? Did he answer?”

Changmin hummed an affirmative. “You said he's a… demon prince. What circle is he from and how the Hell was he let out?”

Out of all the years Changmin knew his Aunt Jenna, it never ceased to amaze him that she was friends with a duchess of Hell. She was more of a social butterfly than his mother, but the extrovert quality didn't necessarily grant one the keys to class mobility and intermingling. Demon pride ran as dense as concrete most of the time, so it was a wonder that Jenna kept in touch with her highborn friend even after moving to the human world.

Jenna squinted one eye. “Ah,” she drawled, “pretty sure he's only second prince. His older brother's inheriting the throne to the third circle.”

Damn. A prince to the third circle, huh? Changmin chewed his bottom lip and his knee began bouncing up and down fervently. He was aware that there were plenty of the supernatural among him on campus, but he didn't go out of his way to interact with them. There had been a party here and there, but he couldn't get away with too much since his closest friends were all human.

“Well,” he continued from earlier, “he replied to my text and agreed to meet with me.” The task had been surprisingly easy. He imagined demon princes, or demon mobility in general, to be unbearably arrogant with each boasting an ego the size of the moon; however, this prince didn't treat Changmin any differently than if he were a classmate with a mutual friend. It was… nerve-racking.

“That's great! The hard part is over.”

Changmin made a face. “I really don't think that was the hard part.”

She flicked her wrist flippantly. “Nonsense. He'll be just as anxious to uncover the culprit as you are.” Jenna cocked her head to the side in thought. “And, well, who knows? Maybe he knows how to break a soul-bond.”

Changmin cradled his hopes for this interaction close to his chest as the day went on. He was supposed to meet this guy in the early afternoon at one of the music studios by campus—apparently, he practically lived there. Word through the hellfire was essentially that this prince was barely seen at his apartment, in class, or outside for that matter.

Suffice to say that Changmin hadn't a fucking clue what he was walking into.

He chained up his bicycle just outside the studio building with his phone's GPS open in one hand and the other absentmindedly rubbing at his chest. (It had been tight all day; you must really be at home, hours away from where he was.)

He glanced up at the unassuming brownstone facade towering above him. This was supposedly the place. The numbers 1117 were tacked onto the side for the building's street address, and Changmin triple checked that it coincided with the address sent to him.

When he was satisfied, he strode over to the front door and let himself in.

The interior of the building was a labyrinth of its own with white plaster walls that looked the same down every corridor. The building designer had left a small mercy, however, in the form of a large directory in the lobby with arrows directing the weary wanderer down a certain path depending on their desired studio number.

Changmin located the number and followed the signs. Before long, he stood before a sleek, black door with A8 emblazoned on its surface. He inhaled deeply, then knocked.

A long moment passed.

Changmin drummed his fingers against the seam of his pants and glanced up and down the empty hallway. Did he get the wrong room?

As if the demon prince could hear his thoughts (Changmin wouldn't be surprised if he could), the door opened. A light brunet poked his head out into the hallway, his eyes large like a doe's and paired with a rather warm smile. “Ji Changmin, I presume?”

Changmin cleared his throat, awkwardly bending himself at the waist in a hasty bow. “Yep, that's me.”

“Not here, not here,” Prince Kim Hongjoong of the Third Circle hushed with a grimace. He flicked his hand in the air, widening the opening to flag him inside. “You really don't need to bow to me, man.”

Oh. There wasn't anything Changmin could think to say except to mutter out an apology under his breath. He ducked into the dimly lit studio, and Hongjoong shut the door behind him. The studio itself was larger than Changmin expected with a small couch shoved into a corner, an expansive mixing desk with a couple monitors, a mini fridge tucked beneath, and a recording booth that spanned the entire back half of the room.

A demon's vision, even a halfling's, didn't worsen or get better with more light, but Hongjoong still turned it up. “Sit, sit,” Hongjoong insisted, gesturing to the couch in the corner. He took his own perch upon the office chair by the mixing desk.

Changmin stiffly lowered himself onto the edge of the couch and placed his bag by his feet. He placed his hands on either of his knees. “Ah, thanks for seeing me on such short notice,” he said.

Hongjoong nodded. “Sure!” That smile was both beautiful and sharp; Changmin couldn't put his finger on it, but it was the epitome of demonic royalty. Hongjoong's expression sobered slightly. “But when you said something about the curse going around lately, I did think that it would be best to talk about it as soon as possible.”

“Right, same here. Were you inflicted by it at any point?” Changmin decided that Hongjoong didn't look any worse for wear, but not everything could simply be observed upon the surface.

“I was lucky,” he replied, shrugging. “Probably because I don't go out much, but I can't be too sure. What about you?”

Changmin dipped his head once. “My aunt says I was, and I had been feeling more exhausted than usual and had random headaches. It's faded by now—but that's because I'm half-blooded.”

Hongjoong nodded his head in understanding. “Okay, glad to hear you're not doing too bad now and the curse was able to fade for you” —he paused, massaging his jawline, before turning to his laptop on the mixing table— “that clears something up for me, at least. Here—I’ve been putting together a document with my findings.”

Changmin stood from his seat and leaned over the desk to see the screen. It seemed that despite Hongjoong's lack of touching grass, the prince did get down to business. He wondered if all princes of Hell were so attentive to their species’ needs; cynicism though told Changmin that they weren't.

“Basically, with your testimony, it seems that whatever curse was performed was intended to only affect those of demonic heritage.” Hongjoong scrolled down to one portion of the document to add in this new nuance. He then worked his way down to a section where there were three images pasted side by side on the screen. Changmin recognized that they were books, but he couldn't identify their titles or purposes. “Which then narrows the curse's point of origin.”

Two images were deleted. The one left was a tome fitted with a dark colored cover. Deep purple veins seemed to scar the black and its edges were torn and crumpled like decaying flesh. There were letters engraved into the front—Changmin squinted to read them: nem focta diabolica. It was an old dialect, more similar to Latin than the more modern dialects used in Hell.

“‘For diabolical deeds?’” he murmured. His eyebrows creased. “That's the Book of the Diabolical?”

Hongjoong hummed, “Yes. You've never seen it?”

“Not until now,” he said while shaking his head. A shiver rattled down his spine and he braced his hand on the desk by the laptop. The Book of the Diabolical was one of the several forbidden cursed magic tomes that existed throughout the realms. Each tome was stuffed full of curses written to specifically target a species. The often lethal effects and methods of use were why most originals were banned and locked away. “But you said that my testimonial is what confirms that this was only targeted toward demons. Could we not have assumed that based on reports of who have been affected?” The reports had only noted a pattern of demon victims. If anybody else was affected, word would have likely been spread.

“Yes and no,” the prince replied. “We can make a judgment call based on reports, but your experience specifically is what gives us cause. If your mild symptoms are due to your half non-demoness, then we can now conclude that the curse is only supposed to work on demons.”

Changmin straightened as his mind went to work, putting together the pieces. “So now we just need to find out who is in possession of the Book of the Diabolical.”

A solemn nod. “I thought it would be easier to track down, but there's been nothing through my contacts about recent acquisitions. We know there are copies of the book that exist, too. It's just… ah, frustrating.” Hongjoong combed a hand through his dirty blond strands, a muscle twitching in his jaw at the thought.

It must have been another layer of aggravating to be a prince and have no control over the situation. Changmin truly could only imagine. “Do we know exactly which spell was used? I know it's energy-stealing, but the nature of it could lead us toward an answer.”

Hongjoong leaned back into his chair as Changmin settled his back against the edge of the table. “I do,” the prince said. “I consulted my circle's chief authority on magic and she mentioned that it was a spell that took energy in order to transfer it to another living being. The spell is also able to locate demonic entities without knowing them personally, so any demons within a certain radius of the spell would be cursed.”

At his own utterance, Hongjoong lurched into an upright position. “So we need to determine where the curse was performed!”

Changmin jolted slightly at his sudden exclamation. “How do we do that? Is it like checking for radiation poisoning?”

“Kind of. We'd just need a sample to match.”

“I'd offer my blood, but I'm not sure how potent the magic is any—”

There weren't many ways to describe what happened simply because Changmin himself couldn't quite wrap his head around it.

One moment, he could breathe perfectly fine; the next, he'd doubled over, desperately clawing at his chest as every ounce of air left his body and refused to come back. Black spotted his vision, narrowing his sight into a tunnel as his knees slammed against the ground.

His blood thundered in his ears as the pain in his chest seized his body whole. Someone had taken a knife and carved their way down the center of his chest.

Then, as quickly as it'd come, it was gone.

Sweat dripped down the sides of his face as Changmin greedily inhaled air into his lungs. Hongjoong was right in front of him, his arm hoisting his body into an upright position. He was murmuring something, but the sound was muffled… little by little, the pain and the blood in his ears dwindled to nothing but a terrifying dream.

Changmin grabbed at his chest as if he could feel the strained pull deep down where soul lived—where you lived—

His eyes shot wide open. “Yn.” The stabbing sensation that pierced his chest now was no longer physical agony but pure, unbridled fear.

He fumbled around for his phone and Hongjoong grabbed it from where it had fallen onto the floor. Worry creased the prince's brows. “Are you okay, Changmin? Who's Yn?”

“My—my soul—” Changmin dialed your number, half blinded by the sweat and tears blurring his vision.

Hongjoong seemed to understand. “Something happened to her?”

“I don't—I don't know.” All he could think about was the fact that you were with Chan and that he was afraid.

You and Chan arrived at your parents’ house just before the clock hit noon. Your childhood home was much like it was when you left and visited every break: half-dead azalea bushes and a rusted wind chime hanging over the porch; hallways and a stairway adorned with the occasional family picture and portrait from over the years; and the smell that clung to the walls, and when bottled up, would be called “home.” It had been where you and Chan spent so many of your formative years together running, playing, crying, and living.

Lunch was eaten at home, and while you stayed to help your parents out with a few errands, Chan went ahead to the nearby hospital to see his sister.

You followed behind him nearly an hour after he'd left, your stomach full and your hands buried beneath a basket of treats that your parents put together for Chaeyoung. Flowers had been considered, but then your dad reminded your mom that flowers could not be eaten, and that had marked the end of that conversation.

The room the nurse's station directed your toward was down a lengthy hall of clean white. You'd consumed media before—books, shows, movies—where a character had a distinct aversion to hospitals because it reminded them of a lost loved one or a moment of distinct pain and weakness. Whenever you passed by the open doors or closed curtains of these rooms, you couldn't help but wonder how many of these people thought the same.

At the end of the hall, you stopped before a closed door whose accompanying window was sealed off with closed blinds. You couldn't tell by squinting through the slits if Chan and Chaeyoung were inside, but there was a little whiteboard off to the side with “Lee Chaeyoung :)” written in dry erase marker.

You lifted your fist up to the door, gently knocking upon its surface. When there wasn't an answer, you took the gamble to let yourself in.

Either the hospital was generous this time, you thought to yourself, or Chaeyoung just got really lucky. The room was spacious for a single person, but there was only room for one bed. Shoving a second in here would have been cruel and unusual punishment. The television hoisted onto the opposite wall from the bed was playing an old episode of Friends at low volume, a comfortable white noise for the sleeping form tucked into bed.

You carefully tread over to the bedside where you saw Chan's backpack left on the chair. You set the basket as quietly as possible onto the nightstand, your eyes flickering over to Chaeyoung to ensure you didn't wake her.

Just as you were moving Chan's backpack off the chair, a book slipped out from the open zipper.

“Shit,” you whispered, barely catching it before it slapped against the linoleum. You'd seen a lot of books before, but this one… you peered at it with a small frown. It was incredibly worn at the edges and the cover design seemed to be something like human veins but in the color of a deep violet. There were words scrawled at the center, but you couldn't get a good look at them before you heard Chaeyoung stir from the bed next to you.

You shoved the book into Chan's bag and set the backpack down, simultaneously dropping your butt into the chair. “I woke you up, huh?” you winced.

Chaeyoung smiled sheepishly at you. Even with the nasal cannula and the formless hospital gown, she was beautiful. Though her skin was more blanched than usual, it didn't take away from the utter warmth she radiated in this sterile environment. In that way, she and her brother were so similar. “Hi, Yn-ie,” she mused. “And no, I was just pretending to be asleep.”

“Well, that's not very nice then. Were you planning to let me watch you sleep this whole time?” you teased back at her. Your lips pulled into a fond smile. “How are you feeling? Any better today, unnie?”

She lifted her hand up onto the railing of the bed and you gently clasped it with your own. Throughout the years, she had come to be almost like your own older sister figure, in a way. “I'm a little tired, but it doesn't hurt a lot, so don't worry. A little coughing here and there, but nothing a bit of water won't fix.”

You wished you could believe her.

“But enough about me. What's going on with you? Are you seeing anyone yet?”

You choked on your own breathing air, pulling a grin out of Chaeyoung. You had to let go of her hand in order to thump your own chest. “You sound like my mom,” you retorted as heat crawled up the back of your neck.

Chaeyoung made a movement akin to a shrug. “I'm bored; sue me… so are you?”

The silence in the room was enough to speak volumes. The way your mind immediately flashed to a particular demonic friend of yours made the tightness in your chest hum gladly. You rubbed the spot with the heel of your palm absentmindedly.

“Oh, well you have to tell me about them now,” Chaeyoung gushed, squeezing your hand. “You can't even deny it—your eyes just went so soft, Yn.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. How were you supposed to tell her that they were only feelings? The urge to tell her about the knot around your ribs was suddenly too great; it was like looking into Shuhua's eyes and denying everything to her. “He's,” you stammered, “we're friends.”

“That's usually how it begins,” she chimed in.

You fixed her with a look. “And he's…” How did one say “everything” without saying everything?

Chaeyoung grinned, knowingly. “I know you'll just deny it, but it's—” Her words broke off with a violent cough.

Your heart leapt into your throat as you scrambled off your chair to reach for the tissues on the nightstand. Her coughing fit raged on without a moment of mercy, not even to let her breathe air. Each one grated on you for your stupidity, for letting her waste her energy on coaxing an answer out of you.

She took the tissues gratefully, shoving them against her mouth as she hacked up globs of crimson red to stain the paper and sheets.

You began searching for water. Maybe medication. Anything that might soothe her for a second.

The door bursted open, and Chan and an older man with a white coat hurried into the room. You ducked out of the way as another nurse barreled in after them. The doctor and the nurse converged on Chaeyoung's bed and you held your hands close together by your chest as you stood next to Chan in the doorway.

“They heard her heart monitor skyrocket from the nurse's station,” Chan said quietly with his eyes on his sister's bed. His eye bags had not gotten better as the day dragged on, but you had been foolish to think for a second that this trip would make him feel any better. His hand gently warmed the place between your shoulder blades. “Come on. Let's give them the room.”

You and Chan ended up in the hallway just outside the door. Your back was pressed against the wall facing the window while Chan practically paced a hole into the floor.

Just a minute ago, he'd seemed almost resigned. But the energy around him had become frantic, frazzled. You grew wary and nervous simply by watching him, your fingers cracking knuckles and tugging at loose strands on your shirt sleeves.

He tore his hands through his hair for what felt like the fiftieth time, and you stepped forward. “Chan—Chan, please just sit down. You're going to tire yourself out like this.”

“Yn, I can't,” he said, and the tremble in his voice was unmistakable.

You grabbed his hands away from his head to force him to look at you, to stay still. “She's going to be okay.”

His eyes glittered with mourning. The jewels that welled up in his eyes poured down the slopes of his cheeks. “She's not,” he rasped, shaking his head. “They said she's getting worse and—and I—I don't know what to do anymore.”

There was a heavy pang in your chest, but you forced both you and Chan to the side of the hallway closer to some of the chairs left out. He balked, stopping in his tracks. “Yn, I don't know how to save her. I've tried everything.”

You squeezed his hands and your eyes began to sting. “I know you have,” you breathed out. “I know you have and I am so sorry.”

“I don't know, I don't know,” he sobbed. He hung his head. “It's my fault. I should've tried harder—I could've done better—”

“Chan,” you cut in, “why in the world would you blame yourself? You've done so much for her; Chaeyoung would never blame you for this, not ever.”

Chan lifted his head and you were so certain there was a glint of purple in his eyes, but there were so many tears it could've only been a trick of the light. “Can I ask you something?”

You nodded. “Anything.”

His fingers curled with yours and you believed that he was finally squeezing you back—that he was finally leaning on you. “Can you promise me that you're not chained to him?”

What?

You hardly registered what he just asked you when you keeled over. A searing pain ripped through your body and twisted around your sternum. It was as if someone had wrapped their hands around that central bone and was trying to tear it out of you. Your heart and lungs seized all at once—you couldn't breathe.

Oh my god—you couldn't—breathe—

Air rushed into your lungs all at once, and you found yourself grappling onto the sides of a chair. Chan was saying something to you—they were words, but words you couldn't hear correctly. …so sorry… can't… you… like me.

Your center of gravity tilted violently on its axis and leaned toward the ground. As blood pumped violently back into your skull, you could feel the cold embrace of unconsciousness pull you closer.

A pair of hands grasped yours again, and you felt something cool pressed into your hold. A cup? Water?

“Yn? Yn, can you hear me? I'm gonna call a doctor—”

“No, no,” you waved the comment away with a weak hand. Your vision gradually cleared along with the fog in your head. You groaned quietly, bringing the paper cup to your mouth and poured it down your throat. Your chest heaved with labored breaths and you slumped into the chair you were draped in. “I'm fine now.”

Chan's face was twisted into deep worry as he leaned over you. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Yn, I can't lose you, too. That looked and sounded awful. What even happened?”

You closed your eyes. “I… I'm not sure.” It was like that one time you had nausea while Changmin was possessing you. But that wasn't nausea; whatever the Hell that had been, it was closer to your heart being clawed out than a measly migraine. “Would you mind just, uhm, getting me more water, please?”

“Yeah, of course. I'll get you a proper bottle from the vending machine.”

“Thanks, Channie.” You blindly patted his hand, and heard the sound of his footsteps soften as he hurried away.

You brought your hand up to your chest and let the warmth of your palm soothe the ache that haunted you. What was all that? There was no way that could have been a heart attack. You hadn't felt it in the heart.

“Shit,” you huffed as your phone vibrated in your back pocket. With a slight grunt, you managed to maneuver your hand beneath your body to answer the call. “Hello?”

A heavy breath filled your ears. “Oh Hell… are you okay?”

Déjà vu, much? You pulled the phone away from your ear to see the caller ID. “Changmin? How did you” —the pieces clicked together in your mind and you straightened in your seat— “oh my god, you felt that?”

“Are you okay?” he repeated instead with more strength.

“Yes, yeah,” you exhaled. The pain was slowly receding to the edges of your memory and breathing gradually became nature again. “Did you feel it, too, then? Are you alright?” The though of him enduring that pain at the same time as you—your heart might as well have fallen straight into the pit of your stomach.

You definitely weren't mistaken when you heard a sniffle from that side. “I'm alright,” Changmin said softly. “I just—I needed to hear—I needed to make sure you were okay.”

A smile pulled so strongly at your mouth that the corners curled downwards. “Well I'm okay now. I promise.”

“When are you coming home? I… I need to see you.”

Your free arm wrapped around your stomach and wished it was his. Unconsciously, your eyes raised from the glossy floor to the presence coming back down the hall with a water bottle in his hand. (Was it survival instinct that had you looking at him in a light you never once considered before?) “Soon,” you promised with all the tenderness in the world. “Wait for me?”

“For however long I need to.”

PART VI: THE CURSED

Nightfall swaddled the world in its embrace when Chan pulled his car into the parking lot at your apartment complex. The headlights sliced through like twin blades across the sidewalk to blind the bushes lining the building’s perimeter. Sleep hadn’t claimed you at any point during the drive back down to the university, and you could feel the dryness begin to sting at the corners of your eyes.

You grabbed your bag from between your legs as Chan let the engine thrum beneath you. “Thanks,” you said quietly.

“Yeah,” he muttered back, dragging a hand down his face.

The drive hadn’t been much better. If someone asked you to point to the exact moment you were aware of the rift between you and Chan, you wouldn’t be able to tell them. There was a cloud of uncertainty, dark and stormy, that now blocked the radiance you were used to.

You glanced out of the window with your palm ghosting over your chest and you locked eyes with a figure loitering by the entrance to your apartment complex. The jump in your heartbeat was confirmation enough of who it was.

Fingers grazed over your shoulder—you shifted away, something you had never done before. A meekness took over your counterpart’s face. “There’s nothing I could say, is there?”

“You’ve never brought this up to me before,” you countered. At some point between Chaeyoung’s hospital room and the apartment parking lot, you figured out what Chan had asked you and who he was referring to. ‘Chained’ was an interesting word choice; you foolishly decided not to dwindle on it too long while you were within five feet of him.

It was a lot to think about. The chasm that gradually stretched between you had never existed before, and it cracked through the bridge that was your history with him. Your immediate thought was that the bridge was worth saving, but whenever you leaned over to grab the flayed ends, there was something in the dark that snapped at your fingers.

“He’s… Yn, he’s not who you think he is.”

You shoved the car door open. “I’ll make that judgment for myself. Good night.” Without another word, you stole into the night and let the door’s slam echo in the quiet.

As you made your way across the sidewalk to Changmin, there was an undeniable skip in that reliable rhythm called a heartbeat. The more you closed the distance between you, the less your chest ached and tugged. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you registered the sound of tires dragging over gravel and lights fading away, but if it wasn’t in your direct view, you didn’t quite care.

Changmin didn’t look hurt, at least from the outside. His dimpled smile graced his features as he took a few steps to meet you.

“Hey—” Your mouth muffled against the fabric on his shoulder as his arms scooped around you and pulled your body flush against him. An emotion bubbled up in your chest, then your throat, as you relaxed into him. The ache was gone, but he was here. You slowly brought your arms up around his middle and allowed the unspeakable to simmer.

You heard a small sound by where his face was tucked into your neck, and when the realization hit you, you could only laugh. “Are you sniffing me?” you snickered.

“You smell nice,” he sulked.

You patted his back. “So not only are we leashed, but you have also adopted the characteristics of a dog—”

“I’m letting go now.”

“Noo, don’t let go. I’m sorry,” you said and locked your arms around him. You both knew he could break out of your hold at any point, but in your arms, he remained. “Are you okay? You wanted to see me right when I got back.”

A breath was released against your skin, and it was so similar to the brushes of wind that he demonstrated early on as a physical manifestation of his power. “I needed to see you,” he corrected. “I needed to see that you were okay.”

The top-left quadrant of your ribcage fluttered. “I… yeah that was scary, wasn’t it?” you whispered. The phantom pain ignited within your breast for a moment, and you screwed your eyes shut. How could a single touch cause such physical agony? You were careening toward the truth you had been avoiding for hours now. You were peering into a dark chasm with no end to the bottom, but the longer you delayed, the longer it would continue to instill that fear and anxiety within you.

You cupped the back of his head with your palm, brushing your thumb through the strands of hair. “We need to talk.”

He hummed. “We do.” Changmin straightened and while one of his arms lingered about the curve of your waist, the other lifted toward your face. Before he could touch you, he stopped himself and pulled the hand back down to his pocket. “Are you tired? We could talk about this tomorrow?”

The thought of tomorrow morning’s lecture, but leaving the seat beside Shuhua empty, made your stomach sink. Your nod was reluctant. “I guess so… thank you for coming though. It was sweet—good. It was really good to see you. I—”

That hand from just a moment ago reappeared to cup the underside of your jaw and drew you over to kiss you.

(Under oath, Changmin would have admitted that there was a part of him that had been craving to kiss you since that day in his apartment when he confessed that murder from your lips was damningly divine; but if you were to ask him now, he would have said he simply didn’t want to say good night yet.)

You weren’t out of your wits enough to be completely slow as to what was happening. His touch was hesitant and bereft of the full strength he wished to impart. The brush of his lips against yours was fleeting and he was pulling away all too soon.

Cheater. You grabbed a handful of his hoodie in your fist and yanked him back over to you. You’re not getting away with that.

He stumbled in surprise, slapping his palm against the wall over your head. That arm was looping back around you in an instant, and your chests pressed together as if connected by opposite poles of a magnet. He was better this time around—sloppier, more fervent. His fingers dug into the meat of your waist, his mouth bruising against yours.

You wondered if a few minutes spent devouring the air between each other was enough to carve the other’s name into your mouths permanently.

His mouth glistened in the low light when you pulled away to relieve your lungs. Changmin’s eyes were hooded, pupils dilated to the black of deep space: consuming, but wondrous. “Another thing to talk about tomorrow then?” he exhaled out against your skin.

You nodded—that was a given—and you watched his eyelashes flutter as he leaned in again. Something deeply satisfied purred in the recesses of your center, somewhere only one’s soul might dwell. (Love was felt in your chest where he belonged, after all.) You breathed him in as he kissed you once more. It wouldn’t matter if the invisible string that tethered you to him eventually faded because your souls were far too comfortable with each other to ever let go.

The sun hung midway between the sky's precipice and the horizon, washing the world beneath it in a whimsical filter of gold. While Mondays were usually a lighter load for you, today happened to be the one you stacked all of your academic appointments onto. It wasn't until about three in the afternoon that you were able to see Changmin again.

You stepped out of your department advisor's building with your hand raised to shield your eyes. Waiting for you at the curbside and straddling his bicycle was the other half of your soul bond.

“You like guys with bikes?” Changmin grinned, half laughing as he nodded to you.

You threw your head back and couldn't fight the smile off your face. “You pick up all your girls like this?”

“That would be a yes, 'cause I only have one girl and I don't have a car.”

Your laugh bounced off the nearby walls and made Changmin's cheeks hurt from how wide he smiled. You made your way over to him, and he curled his hand around your waist, thumb rubbing into your hip bone. “Hi,” he mused.

“Hi.” Nothing had been said between the two of you since last night besides wishes of good sleep and to perhaps see one another in your dreams. (If dreams were considered a weakness to demons, it was safe to say that Changmin didn't give a damn.) You licked your lips. “So where do you wanna talk? Because we do have to talk about some things.”

“I know. Juyeon said he won't be home, so I thought we could go back and talk, and maybe… watch a movie, if that's cool.”

You snorted. “You kiss a guy once and he suddenly gets game.”

His eyebrows went sky high as he handed you his helmet to strap on. “Actually,” he scoffed, “we kissed at least f—”

“Ah!” You pressed your pointer finger to his lips, fixing him with a pointed look and ignoring the warmth in your cheeks. “That's semantics. Is this even safe, by the way?” you asked, gesturing to the back of his bike where he had a small rack installed over the back wheel.

“Yeah, you just need to hold on tight.”

You threw one leg over the middle and braced your feet over the two bars jutting out from either side of the back wheel. Your arms came around his nearly nonexistent waist, the side of your head resting against his backpack. “You just want me to hug you.”

Changmin laughed from the front. “You said it, not me!”

Who said sharing a bike was romantic? Certainly not you, but there was plenty of fluttering in your stomach that made you think otherwise. You didn't keep your face against him for long, and lifted it up to feel the wind across your cheeks and through your hair.

It was strange to think of him as a demon when you had known him longest as a good friend. There was nothing remotely unhuman about him, but what made someone a human? Was it physical traits or lack of magic ability? Was it the realm we hailed from or was it simply… prejudice and stereotype?

Whenever you thought back to that fateful night, you couldn't believe you'd harbored even an ounce of fear for him. A part of you thought he'd pulled all those stops to make you scared, but the other part knew that maybe they were necessary out of his own alarm.

When you arrived at his apartment complex, he locked up his bike in the room in the lobby. The two of you worked your way up to his floor, a light conversation bubbling between you about what movie you should watch after you filled each other in. Speaking about anything regarding the supernatural out in the open like this was not ideal.

“—it’s really not even that scary,” Changmin insisted as he fished around his bag for his keys.

You crossed your arms over your chest, unconvinced. “I know you've got a thing for Chucky, but—”

His mouth fell agape as he managed to grab his keys and shimmy open the lock on the door. “I do not have a thing for Chucky. That's just disgusting and perverted. I thought you were better than—oh. Shit.”

You were about to ask him what was wrong when you followed him in through the door. Seated on the couch was Juyeon, Shuhua, and Hyunjae, two of whom had their arms crossed and their faces fitted with matching masks of suspicion.

“Hi guys,” you greeted awkwardly and nudged the door closed. What were they talking about without you and Changmin?

“We’ve been expecting you—ow! We agreed that I was going to greet them,” Hyunjae hissed to Shuhua who had dealt a brutal blow to his ribs with her elbow. “Also, your elbow is so fucking bony—”

Shuhua harrumphed, sitting up straight with her chin inclined. “We’ve been expecting you. Juyeon purposely lied to Changmin so we could confront the two of you.”

You and Changmin exchanged nervous glances. Your counterpart then swiftly turned toward his roommate with an expression of betrayal. “You lied to me?”

Juyeon went doe-eyed. “I’m sorry, Changminnie—they made me!”

Hyunjae’s cough was annoyingly loud, and he thumped his fist against his palm like a gavel. What was this—court? “Ahem. We all agreed that we needed to catch you guys in the act and to hold an intervention. I tried” —he dragged out the word ‘tried’ as if he’d nearly died in the Sahara Desert while doing it— “to confront Yn about it at the house party, but then you went and got yourself drunk.”

Oh. You performed a mental rewind all the way back to last Saturday. Oh no.

You and Changmin gravitated toward one another’s side. “What exactly,” Changmin drawled with narrowed eyes, “are you holding an intervention about?”

“Guys, please. We’re not fucking stupid,” Shuhua huffed. “We know you’ve been sneaking around together. And whether you’re actually dating or just hooking up—”

You choked on your own spit.

“—we need to know if you’re committing friendcest.”

You had to hold back both a laugh and a tremendous sigh. This was about fuckass friendcest, not Changmin’s demonhood. You opened your mouth to relieve your friends of their concern when Changmin beat you to the punchline.

“We’re not sneaking around for that reason,” he said, his eyes flickering over to you. You felt the back of his hand graze yours, and you blinked at him. While it was true that the original reason you started sneaking around was not because of mutual attraction, there was a tablespoon of truth to that now. If last night hadn’t happened before this conversation, it would have been a lot harder for you to answer their questions, and if you had talked about the kiss before…

There was conflict across Changmin’s face as he warred with himself on how to properly put yours and his hunt into words that they would understand. There was undoubtedly a build-up of years’ worth of guilt mounting in him to put pressure on his reveal of the truth, but it was clear that he was still not ready for that conversation yet.

You stepped forward and grabbed his hand. “He’s lying. We have been dating,” you declared. It was an innocent white lie that was somewhat truthful. “We” —you cleared your throat as every pair of eyes darted over to you, including Changmin’s— “wanted to try it out. We only really have gone out a couple times though, and it hasn’t been long since it started. We’re sorry we hid it from you guys.”

Changmin’s eyes gleamed with gratitude as his fingers braided with yours and he cupped around your bound hands with his free one.

A beat of silence passed as the other half of your friend group exchanged glances with one another. Had they expected you to deny it?

At last, Shuhua broke out into an almost pouty smile. “I wish you guys didn’t hide it from us, but if you’re happy…”

“We hid it because we weren’t sure yet and didn’t want it to affect the group’s dynamics,” Changmin chimed in. He squeezed your hand at his side. “I mean, I’m happy.” He glanced over at you, cheeks dimpled. “You?”

You smiled back, nodding. “Very.”

Juyeon sniffled and clasped a palm over his mouth. “Ugh, this is so romantic. You guys look so happy together. I need to tell Eric and Indigo about this.”

“Man,” Hyunjae feigned exasperation, but even he couldn’t hide the large grin on his face, “I really thought this was gonna be more dramatic. Glad you guys really were just sneaking around and dating and stuff, and not like, hiding a body or anything.”

You and Changmin looked at each other again and produced similar sounds bordering on a suspicious level of nervousness. “Yeah… definitely nothing like that.”

The other three were, unfortunately, sharper than you liked to give them credit for. “Wait, what do you mean—”

“Bye now!” Changmin whisked you out of the apartment unit with a slam of the front door. Yours and his giggles wrapped around one another as you left, leaving your dumbfounded friends high and dry.

When you and Changmin had escaped to the end of the hallway by the stairs, you finally released the breath you had been holding. Keeping Changmin's secret was one thing, but lying to your friends was another. What you claimed back there wasn't a total lie, but in this case, perhaps ignorance was bliss. You didn't doubt your friends would be supportive of Changmin's heritage, but if it was something he wanted to continue to keep undisclosed, then that was his prerogative and it was not your truth to reveal.

Yours and Changmin's hands remained intertwined as you made your way back down to the lobby. Since his apartment was clearly occupied, you would need to find somewhere else to speak privately. The answer came in the form of a park nearby, who's trails and pathways were rather vacant at this time of day.

Changmin locked his bike and helmet up at the park's entrance before his hand found yours again. “We are dating now, right?”

You snorted. “That's the first thing on the agenda?”

“Well, yes,” he beamed boyishly at you, swinging your hands between your bodies. “Are you saying that what you told them back there was really a lie?”

“I mean, no,” you stammered. Heat prickled beneath the surface of your skin and you fought to avoid his direct gaze, so knowing. “We are dating, if you're okay with it.”

“Sure.”

“Sure?” you squawked. Such indignation in that pretty boy smile of his. Your expression flattened into a deadpan. “I suppose I do have something to confess before we put a label on it.”

Changmin smiled to himself. “This is the moment you tell me you're a serial killer, isn't it?”

“You're really sick in the head,” you joked back. “But no, I mean that… well—hear me out: that night at the party when I was asleep? I may or may not have possessed your body.”

Changmin halted so abruptly that you were almost yanked back into his body from your linked hands. “What?”

You squeaked out a nervous laugh. “It's not, y'know, that big of a deal. It was only for a few seconds, and it really could have just been déjà vu or something.”

“No. No, it makes sense.” He shook his head, then pressed the black of his knuckles to his pursed lips, eyebrows creased together in a pensive stare. “My mind wasn't the most stable, so I wouldn't have been able to stop you from coming across the soul bond. It's just an interesting notion to consider; I've never heard of a case like this before.”

“Ah.” You were glad he wasn't bringing up the utter irony of the situation. “Maybe you can ask Aunt Jenna, and I bet most demons don't regularly come across that potion very often.”

Changmin cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. “That's true. There is something that I've been meaning to tell you though. I don't know if you remember the random headaches I used to get” —you hummed your acknowledgement— “but it was apparently because I, and other demons in this area, were inflicted by a curse.”

Your face shuddered. A curse? How long had he been holding onto this?

His mouth set into a line. “I didn't want to worry you, but my being half human pretty much saved my life. It was… something from the Book of the Diabolical—a curse that stole energy from one being to transfer to another.”

The Book of the Diabolical rang a distant bell in your head. “That's really scary,” you murmured.

“I—I know,” he said, taking you by your arms, “but I'm working with another demon on campus to solve it. It shouldn't affect you at all because they've only been targeting demons, but—”

“That's incredibly worrying for you to say—”

He exhaled, “I know, I know. I can take care of myself though, especially now that I have this other demon to help.” Changmin's grip on your body tightened, but not to an uncomfortable degree. His possession of your gaze was even more secure; there was an urgency within him that compelled you. “I'm telling you this now because… because I can't stomach the thought of you getting hurt, and I need you to promise me to be careful.”

You brought your hand up to cover the back of one of his. “But you said this curse only affects demons,” you whispered.

“Yes, but” —he cut himself off, tearing his eyes away for a moment. He bit his lip nearly hard enough to draw blood. “I just have a very, very bad feeling about something.”

“Then tell me what it is,” you pushed. There was no way you could safeguard yourself if you didn't know what he was worried about.

Changmin considered you for a moment, then in a low voice, said, “It's about Lee Chan. I know you're friends with him, but I just can't put my finger on how he's connected to all of this.” Your eyes fell away from his, and his heart stuttered in his chest. His palm was gentle as he ran his thumb over your cheek. “Please. Please just be careful, sweetheart.” Please believe me.

At last, you nodded and slowly raised your head up to meet his eyes once more. “Okay,” you said, “I promise.”

There was a beat of hesitation in his heartbeat again—he couldn't bear to be without his other half.

Your conversation with Changmin was severed short when he received a call from his demonic friend—a Kim Hongjoong—about an update regarding the curse's residual essence. He biked you to your apartment complex first, walking you to your door. He left soon after, but not before bestowing a lingering kiss to your brow, the words between the stressed lines of his eyes imploring.

You promised to call him tonight, and you shouldered your way into your apartment. Your heart had not ceased to stop rattling in its confines since Changmin admitted his wariness about Chan. You didn't know why you didn't immediately agree with him then and tell him about your thoughts from the hospital day, but your thoughts whipped around in your mind, trapped in a violent rip current.

The reason you had looked away from him earlier was not because you doubted him, but because you feared those whispers of suspicion were quickly becoming your reality. It was a grave accusation to name Chan specifically, and to even suspect him having a hand in recent diabolical deeds, but you couldn't deny that your view of him was morphing into something else.

It wasn't right, you thought. Lee Chan was the sun—bright and warm. He wouldn't hurt a fly. Right?

You fumbled for the lights in your darkened apartment. It was strange that your roommates weren't home; usually they would have been. You suppressed a yawn as you failed to find the light switch for some reason. Had you been this tired all day? Your eyelids were growing heavier and heavier by the second…

“Shit,” you muttered as your foot hit something solid on the floor. Your fingers caught the switch and light flooded into the room.

A gasp tore out of your throat. By your foot laid the body of one of your roommates, her limbs splayed sporadically, but her chest still rising and falling with breath. (Asleep?) You lifted your head, and a dooming chill fell over you as you realized that the body on the couch was your second roommate; and there—the third's hand poked out from behind the kitchen counter.

There was another aspect to survival instinct. It launched into effect as soon as you spotted a figure emerge from your periphery.

You whipped around and reached for the door handle, but to no avail. A strong arm caged around your middle and slapped over your mouth. Whatever was on his hands—dry, chalky—dragged a cough from your throat. Though your heart pounded in merciless rhythm, it seemed only to work to your detriment.

“Can't let you do that,” said the voice behind you, gruffly. It was familiar.

The world grew darker… dimmer… your body's thrashing slowed. You screamed and attempted to flail around, desperate to get free. Why the Hell was your body getting weaker? Why—why were you tired—

Just before you surrendered to unconsciousness, the epiphany slammed into you like a truck. The worst part was it was way too fucking late.

If desperate people found faith, then Lee Chan was admittedly the most desperate of them all. Most people—humans, it should be clarified—found faith with the established religions of the world. There were truly far too many to count, but desperate and depressed ten year old boys were more resourceful than others gave them credit for.

The problem was that Chan was a creature made whole by the love imparted onto him by you and his older sister, as well as the neglect and hatred sown by his parents. It made for a dynamic persona—a soul torn asunder by the people he yearned for most. He wished his parents could have cared more, then perhaps he wouldn't have cared so much.

(Though, if they had cared even an inch more than they had, he wouldn't have traded their lives for Chaeyoung's in the first place… maybe he would have still done it, but he might have regretted it, at least.)

Wasn't there a definable point when a hero became a villain? No, he didn't like thinking of himself in those terms. “Protagonist” and “antagonist” were far too restricting. It was similar to the stigma surrounding the forbidden tome of curses in his possession; why was it forbidden if it was so very useful?

The only thing was that it lacked the spell he seemed to need most right now: a spell to convince you of the pure evil you had bound your soul to. Whether it was inadvertent or purposeful, Chan would do you a favor: by severing the demonic soul bond, he could save you—his beloved little sister. He could save you and protect you from an ill-begotten fate.

But even as he settled your unconscious body over the summoning circle sketched in confident, chalk strokes, he racked his brain for any possible reason why you were bound. To what end was your bargain with Changmin? Were you so desperate as to strike a doomed deal with a half-demon? He considered your face with a frown; even in sleep, your browser were furrowed with stress. He needed to get a move on.

The Book of the Diabolical laid open atop your desk where he had pushed it into the corner. The entirety of your room was rearranged in order to give him a wide berth to work—bed shoved to the far reaches, drawers and file boxes relegated to the closet. The middle of the room featured your body over his summoning circle, rounded out with burned phlox candles who's scent suffocated the room in its bitterness.

Chan hunched over the book and consulted the line of curse he had tabbed with a sea otter sticky note. Over the past several years of his life, he dedicated himself to learning how to decode the old dialect of this tome in order to use it to its full reaches. “Asmantha's star for summoning, check. Burned phlox, mhm. Conscious blood of the victim…” his voice trailed off as he caught miniscule movement from the corner of his eye. “You're awake already? What a weak spell.”

Your body stilled. “Chan…?”

“Just another minute,” he promised and reached into his backpack down by his feet. He withdrew a slim paring knife he had brought with him from his apartment. “This'll all be over soon.”

His eyes scanned over the lines of directions. Without looking back at you, he said, “I also wouldn't do that if I were you.”

You froze with your fingertips centimeters away from the edge of the summoning circle. If your nail had so much as crossed the line, your body would have been rendered paralyzed. It wasn't a pleasant feeling—Chan knew from experience—but it was a necessary evil.

“What are you doing to me? What is all this?” you queried, your voice as small as a mouse's.

He could feel your eyes go to the paring knife in his grip, and the thought occurred to him that it was troubling you. Chan turned around then with a reassuring smile, only to be met by your eyes, so round with fear. Oh. “Yn, this is for your own good,” he crooned sweetly with all the boyishness that you were used to. “I'm just doing you a favor. I know demon bonds are really hard to get rid of. They're nasty things, but I have a way to do it with minimal damage.”

You eyed him warily from your side of the line. “You mean a soul bond?”

Chan barked out a laugh. “Is that what he called it? Fucking disgusting,” he spat. Every molecule in his body boiled with anger—for you, of course. How dare Changmin fool you into some romantic vision of such a treacherous, vile thing? “I don't expect you to understand right now, especially if he's gotten into your head, but I'm going to help you.”

“Help me? I don't need any help—”

“You’ll thank me later,” he interjected with a click of his tongue. He nodded his head toward you. “Now hold out your hand. I just need a little bit of blood, and we'll be done.”

You scrambled backward on your hands. “What? No.”

Annoyance twitched in his jaw, but his chest twisted with something heavier. You were so far gone… if he didn't act now, it would be too late. “I'll come in there myself if I have to,” he replied and rose to his feet.

Wild, unbridled fear flashed across your face as your head swiveled around. You were trapped between a knife and the circle bounds, prey meeting predator.

Chan stepped into the summoning circle, brimming with determination. The spell's incantation swam fresh in the forefront of his mind, locked and loaded upon his tongue for the proper moment. His thumb ran over the flat side of the blade and he stalked over the chalk markings. “I only need a little,” he reassured you.

“Don't do this,” you sputtered, “please! You don't have to break the bond.”

Your words only spurred him on. Chan lunged for your ankle, and you rolled out of the way, the crown of your head narrowly missing the edge of the circle. It was to your slight advantage that he had drawn the thing so fucking large, but it only gave the lion more room to play with his food.

Rich purple fractured across his irises and you could no longer dismiss it as just a trick of the light. Stupid. You had been so fucking stupid.

He pounced again. The breath flew out of your lungs as you hit the ground, your hand grasping his knife wrist where it was poised above your cheek. Your entire body shook as you held him back. “Stop,” you cried. “Why are you doing this? Chan, we're friends.”

“That's exactly why,” he grunted and used his body weight and gravity to inch the blade down further.

Pure adrenaline was all that kept your limbs from failing. Sweat collected between the grooves of your palms and fingers, your heart racing at two hundred beats a second. Every ounce of energy went toward survival. “I don't” —you heaved at his wrist to get it to move away— “understand.”

Chan squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them. Tears had welled up in the linings, trickling down onto your face. Agony contorted his own, flushed, as he exerted every exhausted bone in his body. He'd used so much of his energy lately. “I can't have you end up like me,” he said through gritted teeth. “And if I can't save noona, I can still save you.”

He slammed the knife down.

Your head jerked out of the way, just as the tip of the blade crunched into the wood floor.

Before you could tumble out of the way, he snatched the front of your throat with his free hand and pinned you in place. Your hands whipped up to your neck, desperately clawing at his fingers and knuckles, your airways narrowing. Blood from his hand trickled down from your angry marks, a river of red flowing to stain your own skin.

“Please,” you choked out.

He didn't listen. You felt the bite of steel; blood, hot and thick, bubbled out of the cut and dripped down the side of your face onto the floor like a tear.

Chan kept his hand around your throat. His eyes, drowning in his own sorrow, never left your face. You once knew his eyes, but the purple that corrupted them struck you with fear. “Utimana catenia ab eterno effodiant sycut sol ad auroramae. Abi, daemon. Abi, daemon!”

You never thought you'd ever feel that same searing pain from the hospital ever again, but this was much worse. A guttural scream tore out of your throat with more wind than volume. Someone had dug their way into your body and was ripping their way out. They buried their fingernails and were shredding your muscle, cracking your bones apart, and they wouldn't stop until they saw the cold light of day.

The physical sensation—it was no clean slice. When a rope was pulled under strain, every fiber unwound until it snapped. You couldn't breathe. Every fiber of your being, physical and metaphysical, clung onto the soul on the other end of the line.

The rope splintered. Only then did you lay still.

Air once again flooded into your lungs, but your chest ached and ached and ached. Your throat burned from your crying. Your head hit the ground beneath you and you pawed at your sternum. The negative space was so damn loud. He wasn't there—he wasn't there—

“Yn?” A shaky voice, small and childlike. Chan's face appeared above in your line of sight with worry written stark over his face. “He's gone now.”

He's gone now. A cough boiled up in your throat, and you turned your head to hack up the residual blood. It was as if something truly had broken in your body. An entire piece of you was missing.

When you remained silent, Chan dragged himself up to his feet. “You’ll be grateful one day, you know? I'll clean this up and leave you be—”

You didn't have the heart or strength to lift your head, but you heard what happened next.

Chan's breath caught, followed by sounds of growling protest. There was a foreign voice or two over by the doorway. Take him to the Third Circle. We'll deal with him later.

The heart in your chest, its beats weak, stuttered into a pitiful skip as if it could sense the other half of it approaching. A face appeared in your view, his eyes wet and blood seeping from his nose. “Yn?” he rasped, wiping the blood with the back of his hand.

His blond hair hung in his eyes as you peered up at him. Your body relaxed in the presence of the one it yearned for most.

“I'm so sorry,” he said, his voice breaking, as he dipped his head to touch his forehead to yours. I'm so sorry I'm late, so sorry I let him hurt you. You could feel his body shake with silent cries. “I am so fucking sorry.”

“He said you were gone,” you managed to croak with your hoarse voice. Your nose and eyes stung with oncoming tears, and as soon as the dam broke, you could not reverse it.

“I'm right here,” he assured you. His arms wrapped around your body and pulled you up toward his chest.

“It hurts.” You pressed a hand to your chest where the gaping chasm now sat. You didn't know how deep your soul laid within, bruised and battered. “Are you okay?”

Changmin loosened a wet chuckle from his mouth, holding the side of your face tenderly. “I should be asking you that. I was so scared—Hell—” Loss was a unique feeling. It was strange because you were right here in his arms, but no amount of proximity soothed the visceral throbbing in his chest. He once was whole, one part loved and the other part loving. But what was done, was done: the goal you and Changmin originally had in mind was accomplished, but neither of you were sure that you wanted it anymore.

The two figures you didn't recognize approached the summoning circle. One was a boy who looked human enough, but with eyes that seemed too sharp. The other beside him was a woman with gray hair, styled to coiffed perfection as a bed for the pair of curled black horns jutting out from the crown of her head.

You struggled into an upright position and leaned back against Changmin. “And” —you cleared the congestion in your throat— “you are?”

“Kim Hongjoong,” said the former with a sad tilt to his smile. He gestured to the woman. “My colleague, Amari.”

“Prince of Hell and Magika Supreme,” Changmin muttered into your ear.

Your eyes went wide. “Should I bow?”

Hongjoong waved his hands in front of him. “No need. Are you feeling alright though? Soul bonds are… they aren't the easiest things to live without once you've had one.”

“You know what it feels like?”

“Definitely not,” he said sheepishly. “But I can guess. Changmin collapsed when he felt his end was devastated. I, uhm, imagine that your experience was similar.” The prince lowered himself into a crouch to be eye level with the two of you. “Your friend—the one who did this to you.”

Your throat squeezed tight with the phantom of his hand around it. “Chan?” you stammered. “What's happened to him?”

“We've taken him into custody,” the Magika Supreme replied with a low voice and perfect posture. “Did you know that he had a copy of the Book of the Diabolical?”

There was that title again. You shook your head, but pointed in the direction of your desk. “That thing? I didn't know what it was until now. He—he had it when I was at the hospital with him yesterday.”

“Do you know how long he's had it in his possession?”

You were about to answer, when Changmin cut in. “With all due respect,” he swallowed, “Yn deserves her rest, not an interrogation.”

Hongjoong exchanged glances with Amari, then nodded and rose to his feet. “Fair enough. We'll help you clean up and be on our way—”

“Wait.” You didn't expect them to listen to you. “I need to know what happened. I don't—I still don't understand.” When had everything gone wrong for your friend? In your mind's eye, you could picture the canyon that spanned yours and Chan's relationship, the tattered bridge hanging listlessly over the gorge. You could not banish his words from your head: I can't let you end up like me. And if I can't save noona, I can still save you.

Hongjoong pressed his lips together. “Your friend has been using that book of curses for a very long time to steal energy and transfer it to his sister. Recently, your Changmin and many others fell victim to one of them.”

Your hand fell over where Changmin's rested across your middle. Could he feel the guilt sloshing in the pit of your stomach like turbulent waves?

“We believe he targeted demons specifically because of a deal he made with a demon in his past.” A shadow fell over the prince's face, and you read the grave sadness embedded there. “He must have held a grudge against our kind since that rotten deal.”

It made sense. As much as it caused bile to creep up your throat, the pieces were slipping into place. The pure, venomous loathing he directed toward Changmin and the soul bond—if he had experienced a demonic bargain before, he would not only be aware of the existence of the supernatural, but the nature of such soul-binding deals.

Chan had done it for Chaeyoung—that conclusion wrung you through the deepest pits of Hell and destroyed you. He'd done it to save her life, but it hadn't been enough.

“What's going to happen to her?” The bloody tissues and crude scratches of her coughing crushed into your mind. “She didn't ask for any of this.” They said she's getting worse.

The Magika Supreme was the one who answered. “The energy Lee Chan stole and imbued her with was corrupted, which is unfortunately why Miss Lee's condition is worsening.”

An idea manifested in your head and you shifted to sit up out of Changmin's hold. “Then can you—”

“Yn,” Changmin lamented, predicting where your mind had wandered.

“—save her? Could you save her? Is there any way?” Someone titled with Magika Supreme must have the power or authority to achieve something like this. Chan's love for his sister fundamentally fueled all of his actions. Every malicious deed he pulled, every incantation he uttered, had been with the intent to save Chaeyoung from a fate she could not control. You wished his desperation hadn't shoved him over the edge; you wished he never had reason to get to such a point.

Amari paused, but not because she was uncertain of the possibility. She passed a glance to her prince, then to Changmin, before returning to you. “Of course, there is always a way, but it would require something in return.”

“Name it.”

Changmin grappled onto your arm. “Yn, you're walking into another soul bond. Please, just think about this first,” he implored, forcing you to look him in his wide eyes, dark and entreating.

It was reckless, you knew, but Chaeyoung was dying. Her brother tried all his life to lead her from a fate she couldn't control, but it only doomed her more. Were you simply continuing the cycle or could you do something good for her?

“The difference between your friend's magic—” you and Changmin's attention flitted over to Hongjoong, “—and the Magika Supreme's is that the latter won't be using corrupt magic to steal corrupted energy.” Hongjoong's smile was something warm and reassuring. What an effortless prince he made. “Whatever healing magic she'll use will work without crippling Chaeyoung's health more. Though, I can't promise about side effects; nature is a difficult divinity to fight against.”

Right. You blindly curled your fingers with Changmin's and the touch eased the throbbing in your chest. “What would you ask for in return?”

“You would be called to testify against Chan in our court,” Hongjoong stated, but not unkindly. “Take your time to think about it. I'm sure Changmin has my number.”

In the blink of an eye, Hongjoong and Amari were before you one second, then gone without a trace. A light gust of wind brushed past your face as the only evidence of magic being used. Beneath you, your floors were rid of the summoning circle and candles; and the Book of the Diabolical had disappeared from your table.

You and Changmin took your time returning your room to its former state. Your roommates outside in the main living space had all woken up from their forced slumber, their minds blank of the events leading up to Chan's ambush.

The emptiness in your chest left none to be desired. You sat in bed with your head against Changmin's shoulder, his hand playing with yours while your other rubbed your chest absentmindedly. No matter how much pressure you put, the chasm remained. Staying close to Changmin though remained second nature.

“What're you thinking about?” he murmured into your hair.

You tilted your nose up to graze his pulse. “How I'm going to tell Chaeyoung about this. She deserves to know what happened to Chan, at least.”

Changmin gave a slow nod. “I agree.”

Your eyes flickered up to his. “You're okay with me telling her? I can leave you out of it.”

“No, that's okay. She doesn't really know me,” he chuckled, that dimple impressing into his cheek. His smile widened as you leaned over and pressed your lips to it. “Are you feeling alright though? After everything?”

There wasn't much you could express with your words at the moment. How did one describe the loss of a friend? And how did one string together the words to tell someone that they loved them, that they were both the remedy and reason for the pounding of your heart? You did not know either for the time being. “It’ll take some getting used to.”

“What? The hole in your soul?” He pressed his palm flat against the center of his chest to feel the distant beat of his heart, slow, solid, and steady.

“That, and not being able to possess you.”

Changmin squawked in indignation. “And you say I'm the creep?”

“You literally still are!”

Both yours and Changmin's laughter lit up the dark, one spurring on the other. Though, if the shadows truly claimed him, then he was the night to your day; the other half for your whole; the one. Even if this entanglement began as an accident, all of the love you held for him was fully intentional. You would keep it safe in your chest, where he would always belong.

[the cast of incantations will return... maybe?]

a/n: IMPORTANT!!! i would like to write a follow-up/sequel to not only continue the plotline, but to also get a chance to better explore minor character dynamics, subplots with loose ends, and the literal fallout of these events because leaving it here is VERY unsatisfying. it would fulfill my creative needs esp since this was written under an extreme time constraint, but i also won't feel inclined to unless u reblog TT so pls. reblog and lmk what u thought ! thank u so much for reading :')

[creatingblackcharacters]

Where is the line when it comes to calling out how people draw black characters? Im genuinely asking. Just did some digging in the elphaba tag. 28/35 of the top art did a great job of depicting her microbraids. Of those 7 that did a bad job, all but 2 of them put in effort to draw microbraids, its just that some of those artists arent very good. So… theyre practicing. Additionally, there were 2 pieces of art (in addition to that 35) that were clearly depicting the musical and book art (obvious fans for years, from before cynthia was cast and the movie). So… wheres the line? Do we call out just those 2 who didnt put in a real effort to draw her microbraids? Do we call out all 7 who didnt draw them well? Do we message them privately, even though we really dont know them at all besides this one piece we happened to come across? Do we send them an ask about it and hope they arent malicious? It stands to reason that they KNOW they should put in an effort, theyre in the *obvious* minority of artists in this fandom so… odds are they do not give a fuck about depicting Black hairstyles well. I dont want to make a fuss where its not beneficial, especially as a non black person, for the obvious reasons of how fandoms typically treat black fans. But, there IS an issue, however small a percentage… so wheres the line?

I must admit, this one gave me an off vibe 😅 To one of your concerns, Let me put it this way:

"I know that Nazi will never change his mind, so I'll let him keep speaking loudly in the room where I and everyone else is sitting. It won't make a difference if I say anything to him. If we ignore him, he'll go away."

Is that true?

Or will speaking up let that Nazi know that at least ONE person in the room hears their bullshit and doesn't accept it? Will speaking up let the people in the room that the Nazi was targeting realize that everyone else in the room isn't also a Nazi that condones the way they're being treated? Will it allow them to feel stronger in speaking up? Will it at least show that you are not a fellow Nazi, because your actions are what deliver- and silence and tolerance delivers nothing, in this case?

"Making a fuss where it's not beneficial"- I always say here that my entire purpose is not to change your minds, but to shatter the excuse of your ignorance. I could have always just ended it with "everyone's a goddamn racist for funsies on here and I hate all of you"- because in my experience when we talk about "where's the line" on here, it's almost non-existent for the majority, not the minority! It's incredibly tempting to damn you all!

Instead, I made an entire blog to give people a chance. If I, who actually undergoes the very bigotry I teach about, have the grace to do that for you, I do believe that everyone else can reach inside for the strength to apply and hold accountable. There's always a benefit to speaking up against racism and injustice, even if it's not "changing their mind".

Now, if you genuinely just don't want to do that, then don't- but recognize that that's not because nothing can be done! That said, you don't have to fight every battle, and every battle doesn't have to be a fight! For those who you genuinely think are just "new" or "learning" artists, when you point out the issue, you can offer guidance. "Hey, here's an idea on how to better capture this braid pattern in a way that more accurately reflects Black hair". It doesn't have to be a "callout" off rip. If they don't take it well, then that's on them. That's a reflection of their character, not yours. And as a nonblack person, that is a role in your allyship that is important, because I don't expect Black people to have to show grace and teach to those who do wrong by us.

So no, I can't give you some statistically defined line of "oh this is antiblackness". because it's not that simple and it never has been.

[al6nst]

Hibiki Wataru Breeding and Bondage kink send tweet

goated send tweet

dont threaten me with a good time, nsfw‐streamer hibiki wataru .

mdni, 18+, nsfw content under read more

synopsis : your boyfriend, a famous porn streamer hibiki wataru, has invited you to his first anniversary stream, As his manager, you had no choice but to agree, but you didnt know you were agreeing to this.

sketch info : smut, cursing, bondage, breeding, gn reader, praise, kissing, overstimulation ( undescribed previous rounds ), you call hibiki hii to yk, save face. more creampies than imaginable, size kink

"'Who's the special guest'— " wataru repeats, "well, mm.. would you like to see them?"

the smell of sex was pungent and oddly sweet— the sounds of your breathy moaning and satisfying noise of coins being sent as WATARU held your masked face to the camera. You bite his thumb as it enters your mouth, staring into the lens, "hngh.. hii~ eek, hello, im.. fuck.. hii's manager." Your arms are secured to your collar. Your legs are wrapped around his waist, loose rope red hung loosely on your thighs and knees as his hips stutter. "so good."

He adorns a sly smirk on his sweat covered face. "You feel it all, dont you? fufu.." And he's right. Your eyes are rolling into the back of your skull as his cock slides in and out of your hole. his other hand is on your left thigh, drawing patterns on the soft, plush skin. "nh, should i snap a few photos, hm, hm~?" he teases, pinching your cheek. Wataru postions the camera to your entrance, it focuses on your swollen entrance and how it wrapped around and tightened on watarus flushed cock— his base is covered in a mix of his cum and lube, his length has a sheet of your shared juices staining the flesh every time he pulls out. you moan, shaking your head rapidly, "ugh, wait. hii, a second, please!" Your back and legs aches as he folds your legs over your shoulders, stretching your body in unimaginable ways.

— your hooded yet so round eyes, and still so soft as you look up at him, eyelashes fluttering, blinking away tears that blinded you so nicely. "so good f'me, hehe.. you like taking my cock, dont you?" he grins, moving his hands down only to have them graze angsinst your most sensitive parts "please— come on, more." You shakily beg your voice nothing but a whisper under the resounding squelch of your messy cum filled hole. wataru smiles softly, his hands are steady and quick, skilled enough to make the rope in your tummy snap. your toes curl as cum around him hard, mewling a thank you as you choke out a sob— hes really big, filling you up to the brim. his cock is kissing your g-spot with every thrust, wataru holds your hand as he shoots ropes of his cum in you with soft moans of your name.

his balls slap against the curve of your ass as more of his cum drips out as he pulls out again, your thighs quiver, and youre left unable to think. "One more round, what does everyone think?" he squints at you, waiting for you to nod. "And of course, let's ask my beautiful, pliant manager." Before he pushes himself back into you, he works dutifully on tying your legs together, securing your arms to your sides and right above your stomach. a bow knot is tied in the middle of your chest once he finishes. he rubs his tip on your slick hole, pushing his member into you with ease, his cum making it easier. you hiccup pathetically, gritting your teeth as drool spills from the side of your mouth. "Shit.. ah, hngh.. 'taru, please," begging for something, anything— you throw your head back, grinding into his onslaught of steady yet impatient thrusts. everything felt so much more real, you cant help but squirm and you feel something stronger in your stomach. "mm, last one, you're doing so good, stay still." his voice is soothing in your ears as he kisses its shell, with almost quivering hands, he pushes against the bulge in your tummy, you squeal, "no, no! dont press it.." your shaky moans drowned out by the obsene, wet squelch of your hole as you came around him again, your cum spraying out of your hole as you squirt again. " what a mess youve made of yourself, dear " wataru snickered.

his pelvis smacks into your butt and he holds your head up. kissing you "youre doing so good, so good!" with every word has a thrust to go along with it. the more you squirt, the messier your torsos and the camera get. "hic, dont move! hii, please, noo!" he smiles crazily at your messy state and pulls out, stroking his cock desperatly as he cums on your thighs and stomach, painting your skin white with glee. "Ah.. msnager, so good.. thank you, everyone, signing off for tonight." he mumbles into his mic, turning off the camera and shutting down stream before he lays next to your exausted body.

uh teah yjisnone ss hkrjble. i had so many fyas go perfect thsi but i didnt lol ill remake ti soon im sorry anon you gotta read this mediocre writingb im gonna eat myself alive

[pixiestickie]

so . i did something ^}*#*}*%+%

(more parts might come and if that happens this post will be the masterlist)

ramble ⏬

so . ok here goes nothing. first things first.

this is like the “fisherman meets mermaid and they are in love” AU trope but jamil isnt a fisherman: he pretty much retained his canon life, aka he is a servant and one day he found a merman and he just hangs around him to escape from his shitty life situation (and the merman is completey enamoured).

so, apart of NRC not happening, more details about the canon divergence should be revealed at a later date

thiat is the info about the au out of the way. ill just do personal rambling here esp bevause im insecure about some things about this so you can stop reading if you want.

this is a trope ive seen around a lot, especially on twitter, so ive had this idea since a bunch of months ago. i then proceeded to forget about it until i saw a twitter post about this same exact trope again except it was with fucking miguel o’hara but thats besides the point. the original post that made me get the idea were 2 ocs (they had the blood-cut-to-call-merman idea. I completely stole it from that. im coming clean) and i was like “wow do you know who else is a mermaid? azul fucking ashengrotto”

ok so no the art style i used. i started using it really recently to doodle stuff, since 2 days ago actually im so serious. i tried using it here as well bevause its an easy art style, really quick to draw with it and also looks good. or so i thought. because im now having doubts about wether it looks good or not and i fear it might just look weird. i kinda wanna hear if people prefer this art style or my “actual” one from my other posts

this style looked way better when i used it to doodle stuff, but i dont think im capable of using it in comic format. the style i was going for is mostly evident in the colored “poster” because ive actually redrawn the comic sequence a bunch of times so the style was lost there. I do like how the “poster” looks but im not sure if y’all would agree so id love to hear wyt

now the biggest part. ive never made comics in my life!! so these are going to look so damn akward. u can already notice it here!!!!! crowd starts booing

also i cant draw water and also i dont know how to draw azuls octo patterns bc the material we have of his design are so vague and fragmented but his patterns are not easy to draw so im struggling and i need to make a reference of him for myself 😭😭

[weirdmageddon]

I'm taking the plunge because why not:

What are some headcanons regarding small, silly things that happened during the 3 year trips on the Golden Yard and Meteor?

oh lets go i love this sort of ask. no meteor crew stuff sorry im kinda tired but

on the prospitian ship:

the crocodiles are never recovering from that shit bro. un-stonks

alchemizing sessions. probably with mundane household devices like toothbrushes or something. patterned toilet paper. davesprite absolutely remakes the sbahjifier for himself but i think he also likes to hand draw them from time to time. also john and jade alchemizing bathing suits and going swimming on lolar and hanging with the turtles. casey can come too. floaties on casey

the sbahj canon diverges. so many sbahj in-jokes exclusive to the prospitian ship. unfortunately the retcon make it so none of this ever happens :(

he’d never say it but davesprite likes it when john and jade fall asleep on him doing whatever, it makes his presence feel wanted and appreciated by the people he sacrificed his self and humanhood for good for. sorry for immediately going into davesprite but good god is he tragic. oh yeah heres more. he’s still part dave and shares the same history with john and jade that alpha timeline dave does. john gave him his shades on his 13th birthday in december 2008, he sent john the con air bunny and jade a physical copy of sbahj as furries in the mail. he is identical to alpha dave in relation to his friends before the timeline splits off. dont forget that 4/13/2009 was also his first time meeting his online friends john and jade in person, even after 4 months chronologically of sburb grinding—nearly a year with all the time shenanigans—and going back to day 1, since john and jade were dead in his timeline

tries not to cry cries anyway but only when he knows theyre asleep. pov when the weight of everything suddenly hits you (you are an emotionally repressed 14 year old)

also because he’s fucking fluffy and absolutely knows it and probably thinks to himself “yeah this is the best possible use for these otherwise pointless breast feathers” and yall already know he craves cloth mother plus probably has nesting instincts

(source)

adding on to that also i think people forget sprites are actually fucking LONG and his wingspan is fucking huge he could be a pillow and a blanket at the same time

i wrote davesprite jade cuddles and john thinking about mushrooms and davesprite thinking about how they contribute to the ecnonony

^ john toked too hard on the lowas mushrooms by accident one time

it feels like pajama parties would be a common occurence just the vibes im getting. literally jade is seen sitting on a pile of squiddles and theres plushies fucking everywhere you know they got up to plushie mayhem. do you think they ever alchemized them. look how lived in that room is they all contributed something

jade resumes gardening :) but theres no sun :( but she alchemizes some plastic plants :D but its not the same :(

canonically the imps in johns house just gave up tormenting him and started hanging out and having snacks on movie night

PENIS!

imagine looking up into the sky and seeing a giant casey the size of a planet sleep. jade resizes stuff for fun like this just to introduce some novelty to their lives

this is something

davesprite has beavis and butthead do america (1996) in his collection somewhere in his apartment on lohac

yall theyre watching johns fuckin spongebob dvd box collection. you KNOW john owns the spongebob squarepants movie (2004). and the best thing is it brings all of them together without any of them objecting. they all love spongebob

when the episode jellyfish jam comes on johns like “wow, pretty much this exact scenario happened to me with the imps.” (arthur flashback sfx)

DAVESPRITE: yeah well you didnt have a giant sound system did you

jade warps dave’s bro’s sound system from lohac and sizes it up. they put on stadium rave and the entire fucking house shakes

[seeminglydark]

I'm in love with Caro's style! It's a super cool mix of masc, fem, and vaporwave kind of look. As an enby who, at first, thought I had to look a certain way after coming out as non binary, I was wondering how Caro found their style after they started transitioning and figuring out who they were as a person.

Hello! So I did draw an entire four page little comic thingy to answer this, but I'm going to post it tomorrow cuz I wanted to draw a cute little cover for it ha. Figured I would answer you in text today though, and then you can have the visual tomorrow <3 First thing I'm going to say is that there is no 'certain way to look' for any gender identity or sexuality, cuz thats important, for those who dont wanna read through this text dump. Dress how you want forever.

SO! *rubs hands together* how Caro found their style! Background to those who havent read my comics, Caro grew up as a super high femme kid with crazy helicopter parents who controlled every aspect of their life, including how they dressed. They participated in pageants, modeling and wore a LOT of pink. Not that Caro didn't like pink, they did, but they liked purple better.

After Sully (highschool sweetheart) left, and Caro was on their own, they cut their hair off in a fit of rage and suddenly had to grow up real quick because they were on their own. Whats that got to do with fashion, RJ? Everything, dear reader! When they left, they had a bunch of Sullys shirts and his battle jacket. All 10 sizes too big of course, so paired the oversized tops with their own jeans, workout shorts etc. They had their cheer sneakers. And that is what they wore for a few months, til they got a job at the local gas station. The gas station employees were like, what is going on here with this little girl wearing too big clothes with a fucked up haircut, so, they pitched together and got this kid a proper haircut, during which Caro tearfully explains they arent a girl at all, they dont know what they are and everything is very scary and please dont fire them. Bev, one of their older co-workers decides they need better clothes and takes them to Seattle to thrift! Caro never thrifted in their life and found themself enamored with tacky 80's clothes and patterns, bright colors, funny tee shirts, etc. They worried, because maybe that wasnt what a boy would wear. Bev tells them theres no such thing as what a boy or a girl would wear, something Caro had never heard before, and that gives them mental permission to gleefully grab all the things they never got to wear growing up. They looked like a roller rink carpet threw up on them. they loved it.

The Gas Station Adults buy them a jacket that fits as well, GasCo purple of course, with their chosen name on the name tag. a symbol of acceptance. Caro started hearing things about genderfluid and nonbinary, and looking into what that meant, and what it could mean for them. Their podcast project, Mil-Liminal goes viral. Goldie, their agent, helps them get on low t. they realize how much fun body hair is and LOOK they can wear crop tops to show off their new tummy trail while still hiding their boobs. Whats even more fun? Getting tattoos. Taking their body back. Making themself into the person THEY want to see, and whats makes them the most happy. Still looking like an arcade carpet threw up on them, still loving it. They get top-surgery. Goldie asks them if they want to do a public face reveal. They've kept themself hidden this entire time, and realize they dont want to do that anymore. They shouldnt have to. They want to show the world this person theyve become. Which also means choosing a signature look for Mil-Liminal.

A Mix of their Highschool Varisty Jacket, and their GasCo Jacket. Sneakers. A nod to the pieces of clothing they always felt comfortable in.

Shorts and crop tops or mesh tops. Show off the tattoos, and the scars they earned becoming the person theyve always been.

Wear their identity on their sleeve, because not everyone can, but they are in a position where they want to make a difference and be seen for those who cant, cuz they know how it feels to be lost and scared and not have any idea how to move forward. Let their voice BE a voice.

A SnapBack. A call back to the first date with their highschool sweetheart, who listened, and put his hat on them and took them out and let them be themself, and loved them for it.

The most important thing to take from this anon, is that there is no Look. There is no way to dress or act or look if you're non binary, its not fashion. The same way clothing has no gender, anyone can wear whatever the fuck makes them happy. Put clothes on that, when you look in the mirror, you feel comfortable and happy. Its a very personal thing, and its about YOU, and how you feel. and your gender journey. Gender and Sexuality is as vast a spectrum as the human condition.

Thank you so much for the ask and inspiring me to make a look book and fashion journey post, I'll put it up tomorrow <3

[andromeddog]

Hi! Thank you for responding to my previous ask about helmets during wwi. I was also just wondering if u have any tips for drawing hair? this is for working on art in general and not a project. i have tried to use references and sketches a bunch, have practiced a ton, but it is still difficult. i was just wondering if u have any tips for drawing hair, esp male hair? thank you!!

oh wow anon hi again, coming in hot w an interesting question bc i genuinely don’t think ive ever consciously considered or examined the way to draw hair/the way i draw hair…. (apologies in advance this got really long)

ig first of all when u mention “male hair” u mean short hair? given the men i draw r p much all historical military dudes they tend to have short short hair so im going to assume u mean that (bc i know men w very luscious locks.) drawing it is something that took me a while to get used to…… when i was into golden kamuy my fave had a buzzcut and i was struggling to find someway to showcase that without it looking like a helmet (i started to figure it out towards the end) i think the big balance there is trying to manage level of detail. w some styles u rly dont need much (buzzcut is mostly about hairline and shape of the head, i break up the smooth silhouette by adding a few lines to suggest that it’s fuzzy or spikey) and others require way more attention (wavy/curly hair comes in a variety of shapes so figuring out the specific curl pattern ur going for is crucial, fine line between showing that accurately and just making a bunch of visual noise)

(also also this is just a fact of the media im into and to b completely honest w myself and you - we’re talking mostly white dudes here in this specific post, this is not a catch all for any hair type but esp more curly/coiled hair textures. i would recommend seeking out artists of color who have more experience w that bc i do b drawing a lot of white guys! and they are not the only type of guy!)

genuinely hair can feel like more of an obstacle for me, slowing down the process for what i would rather be drawing (uniforms) so im always stoked when i can just draw a helmet (sometimes, as previously established helmets r also my mortal enemy). often times ill start with the face but skip everything above the forehead until the very end of the line art, which leaves behind a very silly looking half decapitated soldier (there’s no tip here, just a weird quirk in how i go through a piece lolll) hair on its own is usually delicate and ive never once in my life been able to render something delicately, so thank god for gross war dudes who’s hair is messy enough for my style to finally make sense

IN GENERAL…..watch out when doing the lines, you don’t need to include EVERY single hair or EVERY single lock, blank space can imply they’re there and trying to capture every single centimeter of hair can be too much in the finished product. this is something i suffer from and have talked a bit about BUT it especially rears its head (lol) when drawing hair. i just get too lost in details and then i zoom out and have an insanely dense area of detail right on top of the head that distracts from everything else below it (aka basically all the stuff i WANT to showcase). the eye will automatically b drawn to that spot and no matter how nice the rest of the drawing is ppl will b more focused on whatever the fuck i did w the hair… being frivolous w lines in general can look good when zoomed in but when zoomed out can just make the whole piece…… busy

idk if i have “tips” so much as kind of a reference for how i would go about drawing hair…. here r some examples of hair i’ve drawn that i think dont suck complete ass with a wee bit of analysis. u can tell my absolute fav thing to do is put a lot of detail right where the hair meets the forehead- idk why i just think it makes that intersection more visually appealing.

when im beginning to draw hair i start w the head shape and where approximately the hairline is. then i kind of block off the general shape of the hair on top of that- getting an accurate idea of the boundaries and being able to fill in the details within that space. i try to identify the big “chunks” of hair, the major shapes/flow within the entire shape itself. longer/thicker lines segment those, and then i can fill in that space w shorter/lighter lines to show more detail (if im using a brush w line weight, if im doing mono line i feel my style skews more simple to make up for the lack of line weight)

the next step is a slightly more cleaned up version, getting a better idea of the silhouette and general hair direction. then its lines! and i spend 3 million years destroying my wrist and trying to make sense of earlier sketches…. esp w curly hair oh my god. truthfully i’m still trying to find a balance between “too much” and “not enough” when it comes to curls. again, i have a tendency to go overboard with detail!

also this is a personal plea, but if that hairline is receding, PLEASE for the love of god make sure to include that hairline receding. the hairline is one of those little things that can really help capture likeness; getting it wrong will result in a certain “off-ness” that can make u confused or frustrated as to why this guy doesn’t look quite right. u can also get one of those weird style conflicts where ppl who usually draw younger “””attractive””” men try to draw an older one and it’s very clear they r unwilling to do anything to make the older man look another other than like, 25. (or, from their perspective, unattractive) (i could get up on my soapbox about ppl’s unwillingness to even consider drawing features that aren’t like iphone face hot but that’s my hot take and no one asked) one thing i personally strive for in my work is an accurate depiction, or as close as i can manage w my skills being where they are, so i push that hairline back and i do it will all the love in my heart

ALL OF THIS TO SAY…… idk. this is just my general process, what i’ve been doing and what works for me. maybe it doesn’t make sense or won’t work for you. i will b the first to admit hair is not my strongest skill! i will also b the first to admit my work in general is far from perfect, i have a lot to learn in p much any and all conceivable ways!! but i hope this small novel helped even a little???? anyway have a great day anon mwah mwah mwah 💕✨🦆

[sshireens]

everyone and their mother likes a tudor silhouette for the lannisters and i understand why! BUT I DISAGREE! i see your sleeves (which are BEAUTIFUL i will never argue that) and your skirts and i raise you:

insane elizabethan gaudiness. skirts that force the riff raff to Keep Their Distance! ruffs god the RUFFS! embroidered and beaded until moving becomes a workout. stiff busks and small waists (looking even smaller next to that TENT of a skirt). ribbons and pearls and lace and rubies (RUBIES! DID SOMEONE SAY RUBIES? CERSEI I HAVE SOMETHING FOR YOU!) are these dresses not Dripping in luxury and finery? the silhouette is just slightly absurd enough to Stand Out okay you KNOW what era this, therefore the people of westeros KNOWWWWWWW who these people are the second they see that right angle waist. plus added benefit: those bodices are probably stiff enough to stop a blade. not that i dont literally gain years on my life every time i see cersei’s cunty chest plate.

i mean (yes these are closer to costume than recreation BUT YOU GET IT OKAY YOU UNDERSTAND) its theatric its dramatic it has me looking at paintings going What is the point?????? and then i remember the point is to stop the show and draw attention and really leave a mark and is that not the lannister way? now i am known to also be a pre-tudor Plantagenet era slim silhouette yards of fabric Typical Medieval Dress fan for cersei BUT CERSEI TRANSCENDS FASHION OKAY. this is her at casterly rock. this is THE WESTERLANDS. this is who she REALLY IS. i can see it in my mind like this is a vision i KNOW it to be true

i mean come on. guys its too easy. i can see her plotting scheming in a giant skirt and a beautiful ruff. she’s analyzing the minuscule beadwork of other court dresses trying to figure out what message she’s being sent (she is not being sent one). she orders EVERY detail of her own gowns to make sure she’s communicating properly back. ladies in waiting carry their own secret messages in beads and lace and decoration and cersei feels SOOO smart because they dont even know it. she wears gold and jewels in a pattern to mimic a maesters chain because at this point she deserves one. think also how easy it is to hide poison in this shit. so many stones that could be hollow. so many layers and folds. and listen when they’re kids and she and jaime trade clothes to pretend to be each other its EVEN EASIER cause nobody knows what you actually look like in this anyway

the wedding look went crazy okay. ruffs and the fucking. peacock head thing i can’t remember the name of. embroidered lions shimmering with ruby eyes and gold thread, dress tinkling with every move because its dripping in pearls and gold and emeralds. alright this fabric is Stiff with beading and stitching and Layers. you can’t look at cersei directly because the torchlight gleams off of her like some demented early stage psychosis medieval disco ball. golden haired golden dressed golden skinned Gold Gold Gold she exudes richness and beauty and fashion. this is fucking crazy to a baratheon court. she upstages the new king. she upstages the memory of rhaella. everyone sees now that she should have been a targaryen queen. DO YOU SEE IT. like i am such a zealot for this like this is SERIOUS TO ME. red and yellow and black and red and red and yellow and GOLD and in her insane mind these are snide allusions to rhaegar and elia and robert to everyone who can see her. and to jaime. this is a lannister woman marrying in lannister colors and she fucked her twin brother That Morning. okay that is also a silly little reference she’s making. THIS WOMAN IS CRAZY SHE DESERVES THE GAUDIEST FASHION HISTORICAL RECREATIONS CAN PROVIDE!

also if it were real (it is real. im grrm.) the allusion to elizabeth i the virgin queen sole female ruler… that just makes me giggle in and of itself.

i rest my case!

[talon-dragonbeast]

Hey , how are you ? Hope you are doing well. As a dragonkin myself , I wanted to ask you how you realised that you were a dragon and how it you find your dragon species and dragon body ?

hello! im doing fine, thanks for asking! lets see... before i realised i was a dragon, i kinda already knew i was nonhuman. being called a human never felt good for me, and id always had these instincts and impulses that didnt make sense for a human to have. i had a very active imagination, and i was always daydreaming about growing wings on my back or otherwise transforming into a nonhuman creature; winged creatures fascinated me. unicorns, dragons, pokemon, birds... i used to make little drawings of a lot of different creatures in the margins of my notebooks. i imagined myself as this creatures, and wanted to be like them. i sorta... trained myself to have wings, first in my dreams and later in real life, in the form of phantom limbs. they made me happy and i didnt tell anyone about them, so i didnt think much of it.

i found out about the otherkin community when i was 18, but i didnt think much of it to be honest. i thought it didnt fit me, and i left it at that. but eventually, i discovered that having phantom limbs wasnt... common, to say the least (i think my thought process was something along the lines of "yeah, probably everyone feels the constant sensation of invisible limbs superimposed over their physical body :) im normal :)"), and again i fell into the questioning hole. long story short, i thought i was a crow, then a harpy, then a monster-thing with wings, then i didnt know what i was anymore, and finally i thought "holy shit, i can be a dragon???", and that was that. not very exciting, i know.

as for my appearance, it was a Process. i knew i was a western dragon from the start: four legs, two wings, a tail, two horns, all that. the details were a bit harder though. first i tried on different colours in my mind, taking note of which ones felt right, "like me", and trying to see them on my body. i dont know how to explain it, but when i found the specific shade of blue my scales are, something clicked in my mind. it was like a "its me!" feeling. i found out about my half-feathered wings a bit later, i think a couple of months after my awakening? i always knew i had feathers on my wings, but i repressed it because i wanted to fit the specific idea of a dragon that i had in my mind. but eventually, i had to accept that i was a little bit weird and embraced my weird ass (affectionate) wings. all the other details i figured them out eventually or just... made them the fuck out. yeah, you can do that! you can literally just think, "hey, wouldnt this be cool?" and add it to your appearance. my little scale details? made them the fuck out. my lateral line? made it the fuck out. my chest scales? okay, i cheated a bit because i used my phantom limbs for those. but their colour? I Made It The Fuck Out. you can just do it. no one can stop you.

ill leave you a couple online dragon makers here so you can play with appearances and stuff. they were helpful for me when i was just starting, so i hope theyll help you too!

really good 3D dragon maker, with lots of options for body types!

2D builder, a bit more limited but still very good

i havent actually tried this one, but its a cool dragon maker game

flight rising dragon builder! it has tons of patterns and colours, but can be a bit overwhelming

and as always, good luck with your journey! :}

[emmetofthestars]

ok lets see how far i can go. im gonna startt. kim just gonna start.

fair warning this will either seem like incoherent rambling because my thoughts are hard to formulate or just me wanting to be rude about the sequels past we love katamari despite never playing them (i wrote this line after i finished the whole post)

anyways im about to list alot of king's outfits over the games and then rate them on 1) whether i like them personally (partly removed from context), and 2) whether i think they actually fit king. im doing this for absolutely no fucking reason and honestly im scared ill be very wrong or biased but im mnot being paid to do this for gods sakes im writign a tumblr post. i wont get cancelled for getting king incorrect. anyways

katamari damacy

(im probably going to switch between using game screenshots and transparent images)

1#: yeah i like it. he looks stupid and i like it. the cape and whatever the collar is called, in combo with the chain and gold accessories looks so silly. he doesnt look like a king besides the crown. he looks like he wants to be cool but doesnt know what that means but he knows nobody will question it cuz hes the king after all.

headdress: perfectly over-loaded. you have way too much going on. you dont need those blinking lights. and you really dont need those patterns and colors. can i try it on

2#: well its hard to say since this is the first one. and of course the first one fits him cuz. its the first one. but i think it gets his impression off very well. its a prussian blue v neck and a golden chain, with sort of maroon tights and a golden belt with the face of a lioness. bracelets and rings, and of course the triangle ruffle collar and purple flower pattern cape. its a mixed warddrobe, kind of silly, i think it works well with how you cant really take him seriously, too. rude and hurtful, yet also he. dresses like this. a kings crown, cape and collar, but his personal style underneath it. also expresses how he may be king, but hes not really taking that as being his role - rather, being himself means to be king. or being king is like, a side thing, not as important as just doing what he wants. maybe a bit of a reach, dont know if i managed to explain what im feeling properly... also, his actual clothing besides his headress isnt actually complicated, which is an interesting contrast. you would think he wants you to pay attention to his face, and not his body. he is egotistical, it makes sense that he wants you to look at him and pay attention to him in general, but the emphasis on his face is interesting.

headdress: absolutely fits. very extravagant in a way that works. the colors arent bright as hell either, which im glad they did because if they were neon and too flashy itd look too obnoxious. well itd look bad but also hes not about exactly "standing out". he loves attention, but he still has his style, and that style IS colorful, but not neon. i think it fits him well, it teeters on being over the top and subtle at the same time, like complex embroideries perhaps

we love katamari

1#: also like it. has the same color scheme of blue top and magenta purplish bottoms. though here its a bit less saturated and lighter in color. the flowers on the sleeves are a nice touch since hes no longer wearing his flower cape, and the golden ankle ring, as hes wearing nothing on his hands but his wedding ring.

headdress: neat!! i like this more than katamari damacy, but just because its kind of cute. well i like them both, but this one is easier to draw (lol) and the color scheme is nice. the lights are now flashing from the spaces of color, instead of looking like round lightbulbs, if that makes sense, and it seems more casual this way, somehow.

2#: it kinda fucks me up. but judging king in we love katamari, from how different he is compared to katamari damacy, this outfit seems kind of perfect to showcase how (almost eerily) laid back he seems to be in we love. his ruffle collar is now smoothed out, its wiggly instead of sharp. hes wearing a very wide sleeve light cyan top, a purplish flower on each sleeve, with a squiggly cut on the lapel, open to reveal his chest and a golden chain, with a piece that looks perhaps like a flower attached to it. he now has a band wrapped around his waist instead of the golden belt, with a golden lioness head piece holding it in place. lighter wine color tights. its so- i dont know. king starts off obviously excited at the fanbase and attention hes getting, so its curious he puts down the iconic outfit and gets into something so comfortable. he wants to stand out less, all of a sudden. its still very much a king outfit, but he dropped so much, i wonder why. hes laying back as usual to let prince do his work but hes really leaning into it now. not just that, but he seems almost less hurtful than katamari damacy. more open. hes still full of himself, but its toned down, muted. his occasional interjections talking about his childhood and papa are offputting in the sense that its unusual. and this outfit is unusual, too, in comparison. katamari damacys impression is that hes pompous but a bit silly (and also just a dick), we love katamaris impression is that hes egoistic- but aimless. he seems more forgetful and more lost in thought. the cape missing could also be symbolic of his openness, even if a bit cheesy. i noted that his cape might also hold some emotional weight similar to the crown, but thats based on my feelings.

headdress: reflects the casuality. its got a smaller color palette now, less patterns, and more flat spaces of color. reminds more of his headdress patterns in his childhood. its also longer now, but i dont have anything to add for that.

me & my katamari

this is where i start to get a bit iffy in general. the games are no longer directed by keita, and king doesnt actually progress any. he stays the same or changes purely because different people are writing his dialouge. me & my katamari seems to have no story otherwise, or cutscenes, even - so from here on i suppose i do get biased but there isnt much character to go off of. however- i did not play any of the games besides the first two, so i am watching gameplays.

1#: i think its alright. i dont really like the combo of colors, it feels weird with the super yellow thin cape, but it is a swimsuit style thing. i wish they changed the collar, though, or outright removed it. it feels wrong to be in there.

headdress: ehh too neon, doesnt help with colors.

2#: this is. alright, its ok. the swimsuit is relatively simple too, thought the yellow cape doesnt seem like something hed wear, especially since its supposed to be a swimsuit- a cape would make it very hard to swim, though kings zaniness could get him to wear a cape if it means looks over functionality. it isnt his normal cape of course, though im a bit sad the flower pattern is entirely missing here, or even a hint of it. instead its a swimsuit.. something... with wine and orange, and what looks like a necklace. its not a necklace exactly, but i dont know the name for this. its also got a lioness head. i dont really get the golden armband around his left arm, but eh. i think its passable overall but straying further from kings personality, though given he is just like. having a splash and having fun. and it is skin tight, which isnt really that important, but its not swimming boxers or something. swimming suit still with a touch of decency. i guess it wouldve been repetitive if this one also had a v cut, but to continue onward from we love katamari, if it had to be real casual and open as a sort of conclusion to we love katamari, i could imagine something similar to this swimsuit, but its a one-piece that covers his legs and chest but leaves his arms free. idk though. i also added this bit in an edit, so now im starting to think about actually sitting down and redesigning it, but im uh. not able to rn. and you cant save edits as drafts. oh well.

beautiful katamari

1#: really very stupid looking. i think the sleeves and puffy pants are very funny but boy i dont like this. dont really like the colors. id try it on myself tho. again, with the wiggly collar- this straight up just doesnt change in all games after we love katamari.

headdress: meh. not a big fan. its getting a bit boring now.

2#: not sure what to say. king wouldnt wear this. its really not his style. it looks more like a jesters outfit, and the lack of shoes makes it look even stranger. the weird random opening that shows a bit of his stomach is also a bit nonsensical, alone in terms of how the hell this piece of clothing works. the pants are too puffy- stripes arent something that make sense as a pattern for him. and the whole theatrics thing, with king talking to you from behind curtains he opens up, on a stage like background, feels out of character. hes not one for theatrics (literal). he likes admiration but he performs by showing off what he can do physically, not through theater or a play. not that its said he does, but the theater bit is just weird. doesnt fit him as a character.

headdress: in combo with the outfit it just doesnt make much sense, it doesnt really harmonize. its alot of shapes and colors, but not with much consideration. the colors seem to be random. the headdress and outfit are kind of at equilibrium with how much they catch your attention. obviously the headdress is more saturated and in game it has blinking lights, but you do have to look longer at the outfit, and it kind of sticks out with how it seems like such a weird pick for him. also it is just kind of a silly looking thing. maybe im just looking too hard though.

also ill b real im just getting more mad at the gameplay. the physics are missing and the katamari feels way too fast and responsive, which is frustrating me, and the game is basically back to basics with you and king and nobody else, which makes kings lines disappointing, but once again, i handle watching a game and playing it differently, and i already have bad feelings about the sequels besides we love katamari as they arent directed by keita, and king is such a specific character. the gameplay part is irrelevant though but it is making me want to watch it less. lol.

katamari forever

1#: curious! i like this outfit, removed from context. i cant say i like it as a king outfit at all, but i just like this type of outfit. fucking. no idea what that thing hes wearing at his collar is called but i have a little soft spot for that thing. hehe. dont care that its a king outfit though.

headdress: i like the colors! its mainly blues, purples and greens, but i like it. the patterns work fine for me. still boring though.

2#: this is hard. katamari forever has a bit more substance, but the whole plot literally is that king loses his memories. though he IS wearing this before he loses his memories. he has dialouge as he has levels, but technically, roboking is the main character in this. doesnt really matter, you can choose between either of their levels at free will i believe. thissss outfit is. sssssss. i dont know. the direction its taking with the fancy dandiness isnt out of place for *a* king, but it is out of place for *the* king of all cosmos. his suit and whole shebang being so bright is incredibly juxtaposed to his comfy darker pallette of katamari damacy and we love katamari - yet hes still the same character? hes not changed. he still belittles prince for low scores and small katamaris, still pretty egotistical. his outfit doesnt reflect anything on a deeper level. if anything just reflects a change in taste, but thats really not that interesting. theres cutscenes (finally) but these say nothing as hes asleep in those cutscenes. so theres nothing more to pull out of that. his responses to low or high scores seem to be mostly the same, and rather short, to be honest. when he requests something, its also pretty short. theres not alot to take out of that.

touch my katamari

1#: scared. scared of touch my katamari. i dont like this outfit but also i just dont like kings 3d model. like i dont need to tell you his face his scary and uncanny looking. its not that bad in this image but if you see even one closeup of his face its just. uncomfortable. his collar is sharp and triangle-y again, though.

headdress: i like the hearts hehe. thats about it though. dont like the fabric overlay over the texture, was kind of unnecessary. i want to spare you from looking at a closeup of the kings face though.

2#: man i dont know bro

im also getting tired and Hooo shit look at the time. i know i shouldnt do these things but you know how it is. i dont know why i did this, to be honest, but i just felt like talking a bit. my mind is a little too full on things around the cosmic family(s) and im already thinking more about queens family. oh well. i have no idea whether to tag this. i suppose i would conclude it here, despite the indeed dry touch my katamari review... this is just my little thing for me. im sure if i tag it with the katamari tag Nothing bad will happen. im going to sleep.

extra:

THIS IS AMAZING KATAMARI not tap my katamari. you can see the edge of the title literally right there in the image but i was too distracted by their whismy.

queen ❤️

amazing katamari is just a mobile endless runner so theres no story but i will say: i like this! its cute! its simple, and a combo of the katamari damacy and we love katamari outfits. yea its not special, but its ok! though again with the collar... would've liked if they kept either one or the other collar piece. but thats about it, no deep analysis. i just think this render and art style is cute in general, so exclude this from the review. headdress is neat too. again nothing special but atleast it isnt so neon, mainly pinks purples and blues. completely taking it as being cute art though.

bonus AGAIN:

roboking. there will be no outfit review its just king but robo. hes also an entirely different character anyway so an analysis doesnt make sense. but i like that his belt looks stupid and his colors go pretty well, purple yellow blue. and that his eyes are always angled down. i just like robots. all im putting him here for is to say i think his pathetic self is entertaining and i kinda wish katamari forever was better. it couldve been good. but yeah ending this off with sad little roboking. thanks for reading. bye bye