#i spent multiple hours on this and did more research for this than i did for some papers in college so take it

[kisses4reid]

understand? pt. 1 | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

summary - you’re a polyglot translator assigned to work for the bau in a cross-national case, and there’s a doctor who wants to impress you.

genre - fem!reader, SHE/HER r, fluff, meet cute, you know more than spencer and he’s attracted to that

warnings - you're both awkward, mentions of gross case file photos, little research about polyglots actually done so there are inaccuracies, cliffhanger for part 2.

w/c - 1.4k

a/n - thank you for the req anon!! there was multiple parts to this but i really like the first idea so that’s what this fic is about, might keep the other idea for later hehe. i did change some aspects. love you, thank you for the support <33 there will be multiple parts!!! stay tuned!!!

req - hi pia 💞💝🩷💓 how r u? i hope you’re feeling wonderful! this is my first time requesting smthg i apologize if i get something wrong! i’ve been having 2 thoughts about spencer x fem!reader, where reader is a russian translator and idk they meet cute or she has to work with the bau helping them on a case. just wanted to give these ideas to you, obviously feel free to do anything with them! i really enjoy your work and your writing is incredible! i have your notifications on so i am always reading whatever you post! have a great day pia 💝 lots n lots of kisses for u!

This was not what you expected. 

You, a woman in your late twenties that spent most of her time in a room listening to voices and decoding foreign messages, didn’t know what you expected. But this: a scary boss, an italian old man, and a skinny college kid, was not it. 

“Y/n L/n? I’m Aaron Hotchner, the unit chief, and this is Agent Rossi and Doctor Agent Reid.” 

You nodded your head, thick hair covering your top eyelashes as you glanced at the men. Agent Rossi shook your hand, and Dr Reid simply stood and gawked at you. To be honest, it made you worried. You had been warned this was a close knit team, that they trusted each other more than anything and that you shouldn’t get attached to any of them as you’d only be assisting them for one case.

Maybe they just didn’t warm up to new people. 

“I’ll do your formal introduction to the rest of the team now, if you’re settled down.” He asks cooly. You like the way his voice rasps, it’s assertive yet comforting. 

“Yes, of course. I can’t wait.” You smiled reassuringly at the unit chief, not ignoring the raised eyebrow you received from the silent young man now behind you.

Aaron Hotchner, your new boss for the next week or so, lead you to a large room with a circular table sat in the middle. There were two other women, one blonde and one raven haired, and another bald man that glanced at you immediately after you entered. They smiled at you and trailed your steps to where you stood beside the unit chief in front of a large TV screen.

“Everyone, this is Agent Y/n L/n. She’ll be assisting us with the Becker case you’ve all been informed of. She’ll mainly be our translator and interpreter, but she’ll also be useful for cultural identifiers and anything that we wouldn’t notice otherwise.” 

You nodded along, never being a fan of introductions since you moved to America as a small child. 

“This is JJ, our liaison, Agent Emily Prentiss and Agent Derek Morgan.” 

The ladies smiled at you, in fact all of them did. They were surprisingly open to the fact you would be joining them, the fact made your shoulders loosen and a breath to be let out discreetly. 

Next, you were on a long plane flight to Maine with Agents you had known for little under two hours, conversing about victim profiles and motives. The table in front of the ladies and your boss was strewn with victim files and gruesome photos. And while you weren’t a stranger to the dangers and violence the job brought, you had gotten comfortable with only hearing about it and not seeing it. So you opted to hover around the table and stay silent, you weren’t a trained profiler after all, just a translator.  

There was a wave of cologne that disrupted your senses, causing you to angle your head back, only to be greeted by the tall doctor. 

You smiled softly, assuming the closeness was due to the aeroplane's arrangement. Also because you got the vibe that Spencer didn’t like you. 

“Are you okay? You seem uneasy,” he asked. It was the first time you heard his voice. And it was as adolescent as you imagined for someone so young, but it had a sophisticated edge to it, with a honey-like undertone. Finding things in voices as if they were perfumes was something you unconsciously started to do since working as a translator.

“I’m fine.” You grinned reassuringly, turning back to focus on the team’s findings. 

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows slightly and stepped away, sitting down beside Morgan who had taken a seat at the back. Morgan squinted at his friend, noticing the rare confusion splayed on his face as he stared in your direction. 

“What’s up? Pretty girl got your tongue?” Morgan removed his headphones with a cheeky smile displayed on his handsome face.

“For someone who specialises in languages she doesn’t talk much.” 

Morgan smirked, “Maybe not to you.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong though.” Spencer ripped his gaze off the back of your head.

“You’ve been staring at her since she walked through those doors. You were so distracted you didn’t even greet her this morning.” Morgan pointed out. Spencer tilted his head confused, a small blush creeping up his neck. “I watched the whole thing from the conference room, so did JJ and Emily.” 

The tall boy slumped in his chair and forced himself to look out of the plane’s window, avoiding a reply to Morgan as he knew it would only result in more teasing. You were physically attractive, everyone could see that, but the thing that caught Spencer’s attention was your intelligence. He was no stranger to being a polyglot, he learnt languages for fun, but you were simply next level. Morgan studied Spencer’s face for a second before raising his attention to your hovering state. “Agent Y/n L/n.” Morgan called, causing Spencer to widen his eyes and immediately adjust his slumped position in his plane seat. You turned your head in surprise, slightly confused why you would be needed anywhere else than the files you had been translating for the past two minutes. Your heels were silent against the carpeted floors, but Spencer could sense your presence anyways. 

“How many languages do you speak?” The stoic man asked, his eyes darting between you and the doctor below you. You were not short, your genes didn’t allow for it, but you had noticed you were only taller than JJ and Rossi in the team and it felt foreign to not tower over everyone. “Um, I speak 8 languages fluently, and 4 languages semi-fluently.” You stated, readying to turn back to assist the team before Morgan spoke up once again

“Did you know that pretty boy can speak Spanish and German?” 

Before Spencer could help himself, he corrected the man, “And Latin and Russian,” Spencer turned his head up to you, “But I can understand more.” 

You smiled, genuinely impressed and confused on how a man that young could learn that much. But to be fair, you were in the same boat. The nickname got your attention, locking it in the back of your mind to remind yourself that the people you were working with did in fact have senses of humour, and weren’t just heartless officers. There wasn’t any reason to think that though, as you had been cared for with respect and even Prentiss made a funny remark beforehand. It sort of felt like a family dinner you were intruding on. “That’s impressive, Doctor Reid.” You reply genuinely. 

“I mean it’s nothing compared to you though,” his voice was pitched slightly higher and his hands started motioning to nothing in particular, “your brain is constantly changing from high activity to low activity when you're translating from one language to another. Your language network, the lateral frontal lobe, is constantly lighting up and dimming down depending on what language you hear, ordinary people’s language networks only turn on and off.” 

Morgan smirked and glanced up at your intrigued and surprised expression. You nodded, a small blush coating the tips of your ears as you responded, “Thank you.” You didn’t really know what else to say, which is funny for someone who understands so many languages, so you simply smiled and turned back to the table. Spencer slumped again, watching you walk away and asking himself why he would inform a pretty girl about her own brain, when she most definitely already knows about it. 

“Don’t worry too much, Reid.” Morgan called, grabbing Spencer’s attention. The boy raised a brow, not understanding. “She digs it, I can tell. But she’s just like you, knows how to speak in a million ways and still doesn’t know how to small talk.” 

You landed without any more awkward interactions, and got introduced to some sheriffs in Maine, one of them giving you a tighter handshake than the rest and a stare that could only mean unpleasant things. It wasn't something sexist or creepy that lingered in his eyes, it was more like hatred. Spencer took the sheriff's attention away from you after noticing what the whole team did, and asked him to show him the records they kept at the precinct.

Emily Prentiss came up behind you and placed a hand on your upper arm, squeezing it like she understood what you had thought you'd seen. Out of everyone else in the team, she would understand the most.

taglist (open!!): @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld

[dfortrafalgar]

Withdrawal

Four days off your hormone birth control pill left you with one unexpected side effect.

Law x Fem Reader

Warnings: MATURE 18+, MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS INTERACTING WITH THIS POST WILL BE BLOCKED, this is all smut like pureee smut, every generic smut tag needed is here, pinv sx, biting, dry humping, creampie, unprotected sex (dont), biting, wet and messy, etc etc bless

Also Posted on AO3

It had been a mere 4 days since you stopped taking a daily hormone pill to control your crippling period cramps.  After all, it was near impossible to get a hold of the same medicines aboard a submarine that spent ninety percent of its time hundreds of meters below the ocean’s surface.  As such, you exhausted the six-month supply of the tiny pills that you had brought with you when you joined the Heart Pirates, slowly counting down the days when you would inevitably run out.

You had discussed your waning pill count with Ikkaku on multiple occasions, and she relayed you with her own experiences in her teenage years.

“When I stopped taking hormone pills, my period lasted for, like, two weeks before it became regular again!” she had said, throwing her hands in the air in an exasperated display as she recounted her memories.  “It sucked.  My cramps were really bad, too, but they got a bit better overtime.”

You had assumed, due to very little knowledge otherwise, that your experience would be largely the same.  It made sense in the few biology books you had studied during your downtime spent on the floor in the crew library.  You would cease taking your daily pill, your hormones would fluctuate as your body adjusted to the lack of a steady balance, and eventually you would go back to living life as you did years before you began your regimen.  You read up on a few additional side effects along with heavier and longer bouts of bleeding and increased amounts of bloating and general discomfort.  Mostly changes in body mass and occasional reports of differing mental symptoms, which you had readied yourself for as your supply turned into a week's worth, and then down to a single pill, and then nothing at all.

You had Law, your sweet, awkward, broomstick of a boyfriend, to pull on his metaphorical physician’s coat and help you out when needed, as well.  He told you, based on his own research (that he didn’t start until after you told him you were down to only two months left of pills), that he could administer remedies if you had bad cramp flare ups or serious, debilitating bleeding.  He followed his reassurance with a tender kiss to your cheek as you smiled at him, thanking him for his generosity and understanding.

You swallowed your last pill 4 days ago.  So far, none of the symptoms you had prepared yourself for had made themselves known.  No bloating, no period (yet), no fluctuating mental state, no change in weight.

Instead, starting 24 hours after your first pill-less day, you were plagued with intense, irreparable horniness, which had now gone on for 3 entire days.

Three days.  72 hours of a persistent wetness between your thighs, a constant warmth fluttering deep within the recesses of your gut that had you clenching around nothing at all hours of the day.  You were able to perform your work just fine, but every time Law would pass by you in the hallway, his fleeting touches would leave electric sparks through your boiler suit, his metal-tinged smell lingering in your nostrils more than usual, his golden irises etching themselves into your eyelids.  You were acutely aware of the sensation of dampness increasing between your legs whenever he made contact with you, which was very, very often.

You and Law had fucked before.  You fucked as often as you could, which, given your respective roles aboard a pirate submarine, was only about once a week, twice if you were lucky (and this was already more often than Law could’ve ever anticipated).  You were no stranger to the primal want that made you salivate, endlessly craving the calloused touch of your boyfriend’s lanky fingers against your hips.

But this, the unabashed depravity that started after you stopped your hormone pills, was on a completely different level.  Each day seemed to get worse, more unbearable.  It was as if your body was screaming at you to pursue your lover and beg him to dick you as deep into his mattress as he possibly could.  The mere thought made your face flush with blood.  During the times where you were left alone in Law’s bed while he was out being a captain, you tried to tend to your needs with your fingers.  You managed once to make yourself cum three times in a row without feeling any sense of relief.  Post-orgasm euphoria would instantly be replaced with more intense lust and longing, leaving you frustrated and bewildered.

Had you told him about this?  No, of course not.  Had he asked you about your condition in the days following your cessation?  Yes, multiple times.  He was constantly pleased with your content, “I feel great!” responses, and didn’t press the issue further, knowing you would come to him if you started to feel discomfort.

But this was a ‘discomfort’ that made your pride as a pirate, as a strong, semi-independent woman, waver ever so slightly.  Simply because you weren’t really keen to beg like a pathetic animal in heat.  (That had only happened once in the bedroom between you and your stone-cold captain-turned-boyfriend, and not only had the words that left your mouth embarrass you to a previously unknown degree, but they left Law feeling unbelievably awkward.  The two of you ended up not having sex and instead simply falling asleep.)

Unbeknownst to you, however, your inner, wet, sweaty turmoil started to be noticed by the crew due to your wavering performance.  You were spacing out far more than usual, keeping your head bowed consistently, contrasting your former upbeat, hardworking, and friendly personality.  Multiple times, fingers had to be snapped in your face to grab your attention from the clutches of daydreams that had your eyes glazed over.

And what the crew picked up on, Law would pick up on, if he didn’t notice it first.

Four days.  Four days of this.

Your watch shift had ended for the day, allowing you to retreat to the captain’s quarters that you shared with Law, shedding your boiler suit for comfortable loungewear, excited to get off your feet and relax in bed with a book you had started in an attempt to distract your mind from your perverted thoughts.  You had just barely opened the page before the heavy steel door opened, revealing your boyfriend to you as he stepped into the room, closing and locking the hatch behind him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, plainly.  His face showed no expression, which was usual, but the aura he radiated sent a nervous chill down your spine.  It was somewhere along the tightrope between concerned and mildly frustrated.

“Yeah, why?” you responded, a fleeting attempt to match his energy.  You tucked your knees to your chest as the taller man approached the bed, flopping onto it and sitting cross-legged before you.

“It seems like you’ve been a lot more spacy these past few days.  Some of the crew told me it appeared that your work has been lacking, and I was wondering if it had something to do with your pill withdrawal.”

You bit the inside of your bottom lip, anxiously digging through your scrambled thoughts for a proper answer.  Before you had a chance to respond, however, Law continued speaking.

“If you’re feeling any signs of negative mental health, I want you to tell me right away.  I’m being serious, any signs of depression, anxiety, intense stress, nightmares–”

“I’m not depressed, Law, I promise,” you reassured.  This wasn’t a lie, you really weren’t depressed.  You were slightly anxious, yes, and definitely stressed due to the constant feeling of a throbbing pulse within your clit every single time you sat down, but you weren’t depressed.

“Something is clearly bothering you, though.  I’m here to help you.”

His affirmations once again made you falter.  Your eyes stayed glued to his, afraid to look anywhere else.

“I…” you began, voice low and wispy.  “I don’t really know how to say it…”

Your response made Law’s eyebrows cock in confusion.  “Say… what?”

You finally discarded your book to the side table, leaving your empty hands to fidget with each other.  “Uhm… what’s been bothering me.”

“Is it something that I can help you with, or is it something that you feel you have to manage on your own?”

Curse Law’s analytical prowess.  Sometimes you wished his rare moments of being a dorky airhead were more common, especially in situations like this.  Swallowing your pride, you replied, “The first one, I hope.”

“You hope?”

“Law…” you grumbled, dropping your head into your curled legs so that your forehead rested on your kneecaps.  It really shouldn’t have been a hard conversation, you knew Law would understand.  But the four consecutive days of nonstop horny fantasy and masturbation sessions that only left you more desperate had officially started to melt your neurons into mush.

“Can you please tell me?  At least so I know that you’re not in pain?”  Law kept his voice low and calm, but his face clearly gave away his profound concern for your sorry state.

You drew in a deep, shaky inhale.  Refusing to lift your head to meet his eyes, you finally swallowed your pride and revealed the truth.  “I’ve been hornier than I’ve ever been in my entire life for the past four days.”

Your confession was not at all what Law was anticipating, judging by his prolonged silence.  You slowly lifted your head, apprehensively searching for his eyes, which, when you found them, were slightly widened.  The tip of his straight nose was flushed a rosy pink color.

“Ohhh,” was all he said in response to your confession.

This didn’t instill much confidence in you.  With a dry chuckle, you quipped back, “That’s all you’re gonna say?”

Law rapidly backpedaled, shaking his head frantically.  “No, of course not.  Your behavior just makes… a lot more sense now.”

Uncomfortable silence filled the space around the two of you.  You could almost see the gears working in Law’s head as he struggled to figure out how exactly he could best help you with your situation, without outright saying it.  It didn’t matter how many times the two of you connected between his sheets, the simple word ‘sex’ left Law flustered and fidgeting like an innocent schoolboy.

“Is there…” he began, voice low.  “Anything you want me to do?”

“Do you want my honest answer?” you asked back.

The staring contest you were currently partaking in had both of your hearts beating a mile a minute.  He simply gave you a curt nod as a reply to your question.

You lowered your knees from your chest slightly, still keeping your arms wrapped around your legs.  “I want you to fuck me until I can’t stand anymore.”

“Damn.”

“You said you wanted my honest answer!” you cried out.  You loved your boyfriend more than anything in this world, but his awkward, stubborn demeanor would really get on your nerves in the wrong circumstances, such as this very moment.

“I know, I know,” he reassured.  He bowed his head away from yours, hiding his eyes under the brim of his hat.  “I just… didn’t expect that.”

“In my defense, I told you I’ve been painfully horny.”

Law pinched the bridge of his nose, once again repeating an exasperated, “I know.”

You lowered your legs further, keeping your hands on your kneecaps as you hunched your shoulders forward.  “Can you please help me?  Please?”  Your voice was low, airy, almost coming out as a whimper.  “It’s been four days, Law.  Everything I try to make myself feel better makes me more and more uncomfortable.”

Your tone really did sound desperate, and Law’s chest clenched at your demeanor.  He glanced back up at your face, your eyebrows scrunched in an odd agony.  He could almost feel the burning of your face from where he sat.  Out of all the withdrawal symptoms the two of you had discussed before your medication ran out, this was the last one that he would’ve expected, and clearly that was the same for you.

“I’ll see what I can do to help,” he uttered.

“You don’t need to ‘see’ anything, Law, I need your dick in me.  Right now.  You know I don’t like begging, you have no idea how embarrassed I feel, but I’m desperate, Law, I’m desperate!”  You were pleading with him now, officially losing your grip on yourself as you began to crawl towards him, placing your hand on his thigh and pushing yourself forward to bury your face in the junction between his neck and shoulder.  “I would rather be depressed.”

A dry chuckle from his throat broke the awkward, stifling atmosphere.  “Don’t say that, I don’t want you to be depressed.”  He rested his arm around your waist, gently pulling you closer to him.  It almost didn’t register how you were beginning to straddle his waist, your fluttering breaths ghosting over his jugular.  

You let out a pathetic whimper, both of your arms now dangled over his shoulders as your hips slotted against his, an uncomfortable position on the bed for both of you, but you were clearly out of your mind as you searched for any semblance of friction to satiate the red-hot need in your core.  Your muscles gyrated on their own, a weary moan leaving your lips, hoping to use the stiffness of his jeans to stimulate your clit from under your loungewear.

Law truly felt bad for your beaten state, and with your body pressed against his, he could feel just how flustered you really were.  With a tender kiss against the shell of your ear, he pushed you back onto the bed, swiftly removing your pajama bottoms and underwear.  A deep crimson blush spread across his tanned cheeks at the sight of you, a persistent, heavy, glistening moistness coating your labia.

“You weren’t kidding,” was all he muttered.

“You thought I’d make this up?!” you pleaded.

“No, of course not.”  He rubbed a calloused hand across your cheek, smiling sweetly as you turned your face to nestle into his touch.  “I’m just sorry it’s been so bad.”

“Apologize with your body.  Please.  Don’t make me keep begging, Law, I can’t take it anymore.”

Somewhere deep inside the stoic captain’s mind was a perverted beast that quite enjoyed the sight of you practically weeping and writhing under him as your body subconsciously demanded any stimulation as soon as possible.  A sadistic side of him wanted to keep you begging, wanted to break you until you sobbed into his chest, losing your humanity to your instinctual, hormonal urges.

But he loved you too much for that, at least in your current worked-up state.  He didn’t want to prolong your suffering.

Without wasting any more time as you lay completely vulnerable and demanding beneath him, he took his hand and trailed two fingers through your folds, stifling a sharp breath at just how wet you really were.  Sticky yet thin and fluid, your sweet, musky scent traveled to his nose and made his stomach clench.  He bit back any other witty comments that sat on his tongue and instead slipped his middle finger into your cunt, using his thumb to stimulate your clit simultaneously.  Your hands flew to cover your mouth, your eyes clenched shut as you involuntarily bucked into his hand, encouraging him to slip a second finger into you to increase the sensation.

“Law,” you moaned out.  One of your hands grabbed his wrist, stopping his movements.  He gazed at you, waiting for your next move.  “I’ve been doing that to myself and nothing’s worked.  I need you.”

The raven-haired man bit the inside of his cheek at your words.  He pulled his fingers out of your cunt, haphazardly wiping your fluids on his jeans as he reached for his fly and tugged on the zipper, the metal button following suit.  He slipped off the bed to let his pants and boxers fall to the floor before discarding his shirt.  You salivated at the sight of him (you felt truly helpless in your hormonal, sex-crazed state).  You tugged your own t-shirt over your head and threw it to the floor beneath the bed.  Law once again positioned himself above you, an inked hand idly stroking his half-hard penis as he surveyed your pitiful form below him, sprawled out, legs spread, mouth hung open as you took in shallow breaths.  He rubbed the head of his penis along your sopping pussy, rubbing your slick down his length with his hand.

“I’m gonna be honest,” he muttered, reveling in the scorching heat that traveled to his groin as his cock filled with blood.  “I didn’t think it was possible for a woman to be this wet.”

“How do you think I feel?” you quipped back, your mouth curling into a meager grin.  “I’ve been constantly wondering if I pissed my pants without realizing.”

Your words made a bark of laughter exit Law’s mouth, which eased your stress and made your own chest feel lighter.  He continued stroking your fluid over his dick as he responded, “This isn’t going to help you, I don’t think.”

You reached a hand forward and trailed it along his shoulder, tracing his tattoo in the process.  “I can’t even care anymore, really.”

Law supported himself above you with one hand, dipping down to plant a sweet kiss against your lips.  You pushed yourself up on your elbows to deepen the exchange, parting your mouth and brushing your tongue along his lower lip.  Instead of opening for you, he pulled back with a mischievous grin.

“You’re already begging for this, you’re gonna have to wait for whatever sloppy kisses you want.”

“You’re an asshole,” you retorted, but shuddered out a sigh at the feeling of Law’s dick parting your labia and slipping into your opening little by little.  The excess wetness produced by your own body made the ordeal much easier, which also made it much easier for Law to tease you in his own, stubborn way, finally looking past the awkwardness of your hormone-driven desperation.  He removed the tip of his cock from your entrance, making you grumble under your breath.  “You said before you would do anything to make sure I’m okay!”

“Well, you’re not in pain,” he responded, voice low and rough.  The sound made your hair stand on end.  “Since you’re not in pain, I feel a bit better…” he interrupted his sentence with another tease of his tip at your warm pussy, “driving you mad.”

You groaned.  “What do I have to do to convince you to just rail me already?”

Your man smirked above you.  “You’re getting bold with your language, sweetheart.”

Your shaking hands gripped his shoulder blades as you scooted yourself down the mattress in a feeble attempt to get his cock inside you on your own.  Law merely chuckled, dipping his head into the crevice of your neck, leaving sweet kisses over your soft skin before using his hand to aid his dick in entering you completely, biting down on your skin at the same time.  The doubled sensations made you wail involuntarily, one of your own hands slapping over your mouth to muffle your desperate noises as your eyes squeezed shut.  Law sucked on the bite he made, gyrating his hips at just the right spot where his public hair brushed against your aching clit.  The hand that wasn’t covering your mouth raked down his back, making him shudder above you, detaching from your neck and licking his lips devilishly.  

“Feel better?” he asked, voice completely casual as if he wasn’t balls deep inside you.

“I’d feel a lot better if you just–”  He cut you off with a sharp thrust, the sound of wet skin slapping making hot embarrassment rush to your face.

“Just what?”

“What happened to, ‘I’ll see what I can do?’  Or, ‘I’m sorry it’s been so bad?’” you asked with a quivering voice.  “No more sympathy for your suffering girlfriend?”

“Of course I have sympathy for you, dear,” he replied, trailing the hand he had used to gather your slick on his fingers to rub down your cheek and neck, leaving a cold sensation behind.  “But when you use words like ‘rail me’ and ‘fuck me until I can’t stand anymore’ it gets kinda hard to not torture you a little bit.  Makes it more fun that way.”

You couldn’t fight the grin that crawled across your lips.  “You’re a sick, sick man.”

“And you’re a desperate, relentless woman.”

Your conversation finally halted with another deep kiss from Law as his hips began a steady pace, stroking into your cunt with deep, powerful thrusts that were as slow yet impactful and left your toes curling.  Law, despite all his uncoordinated emotions, was very good on the backstroke.  You didn’t quite know if it was simply the way his cock was shaped, or his physique, or perhaps his unintentional movements, but each thrust sent shivers down your spine and caused your back to arch into the growing flames brewing in the pit of your stomach.  His lanky arms allowed him to support himself while angling his thrusts to also brush along your clit, aiding in your euphoria.  The mixture of the head of his penis constantly brushing against your upper wall and his coarse pubic hair and firm torso stimulating your clit was addictive and made your legs quiver.  (If you ever told Law that he was, in your eyes, a ‘Sex God,’ however, he’d avoid making eye contact with you for at least a week out of sheer humiliation.  You had to keep some things to your deranged imagination.)

Amidst Law’s movements above you, you angled your hips upwards and wrapped your legs around his waist, keeping his thrusts deep and deliberate.  Your attempts to keep your sounds to a minimum were futile when Law hooked his hands around the backs of your knees, removing your legs from his body and holding them up in the air.  Your body curled for him and he kneeled above you, still fully inserted.  The new angle was deeper than before and had your eyes glued shut, mouth hung open and lewd sounds escaping your lungs with every shuddering breath.  You held your legs in the air while one of Law’s inked hands traveled downward to your clit, resuming ministrations on your swollen nub that this new position didn’t quite provide.

Law wouldn’t admit it, but the absolutely depraved sounds of your wet pussy sucking in his dick with every thrust had him painfully erect inside of you.  He was sure you could feel the way his cock twitched every now and then with the way your face would contort in immeasurable pleasure.  Half of him was concerned that the soggy noises could be heard from outside the bedroom, either through the heavy steel hatch door or through the walls, but the other half of him was too focused on the electric shocks that sparked through his dick that craved for him to keep chasing his release.

Your own climax was rapidly approaching, Law’s thrusts growing slightly unsteady as his own impending release slowly creeped up on him.  His calloused thumb rubbing counter-clockwise circles against your clit was the perfect stimulation you needed along with his perfect cock, and before you had time to suck in another deep gulp of oxygen, your body was convulsing around him, hips gyrating around him as you desperately moaned, still trying to stifle your noises.  The squelching sound that emanated from between your bodies only seemed to increase after your orgasm, more fluid from your seemingly endless arousal making Law’s dick slip easier and easier through your tight folds.  The feeling of your cunt clenching around him made his throat clench, swallowing tightly as a building pressure formed at the base of his dick.  He felt it as deep as his vertebrae.  

His calculated thumb never ceased its motions against your clit, staying consistent throughout your orgasm.  Your fingers clenched the bed sheets beneath you as you pleaded with the man above you to slow down, that the pleasure from your clit was so good it was almost painful, but right as you began to release another moaning plead, a second orgasm washed over you, causing your muscles to rapidly convulse as your hips shook against his body.

“Fuck,” Law groaned out, his own bubble growing closer and closer to bursting with each of your gyrations.

“Law…” you heaved.  “Please come inside me.  Please, please.  I need you to come inside of me.”

Law swallowed thickly, eyeing your trembling form beneath him.  “Are you sure?”  The implications were slightly more concerning considering this had all started after you stopped a controlled hormone pill.  Getting you pregnant wouldn’t be ideal on a submarine, and there would definitely be a lot of discussion should that consequence happen, but at the same time…

He groaned.  The feeling of your pussy keeping him glued to your body was too addicting to say no to.  Law bit back his inhibitions and nodded his head.  He could already tell his own orgasm was going to be one for the ages, your desperate horniness seeming to affect him as well.  His hips were starting to stutter in their pace as his climax creeped up his spine and through his pelvis.

You covered your mouth as a sob left your throat, climaxing for a third time on the motions against your clit and G-spot.  The involuntary gyrations of your hips finally did Law in.  His hips snapped forward, dropping your legs to the bed and placing his hands on your lower stomach, pressing downward as he desperately rammed into you, moaning your name among a string of breathless curses as he released his cum inside your drenched pussy.  You were in complete bliss, never having heard such noises leave Law’s mouth during any of your other intimate sessions.  You didn’t think you’d be able to get off without his deep, gruff moans anymore.

Law finally stilled both his hand and his hips, leaving you twitching and completely fucked out below him.  His aching cock slipped out of you as soon as he pulled away, leaving you both feeling cold and very aware of the crazy mess the two of you had made on his bed sheets.  

“Shit…” Law groaned as he flopped backwards.  His feet were up by your waist, while yours were still draped across his hips, both pairs of legs parted.  The smell of sex permeated the air and you were positive you’d be able to smell it in the hallway if the door was opened.

You didn’t respond for a while, only heavy breaths entering and exiting your chest as you fought to catch up on air that had been violently forced out of you.

“Are you okay?” Law finally asked, barely having energy to pick up his head to gaze at you.

“Yeah… I’m fine.  You?”

“Completely spent.”

You shared a breathless laugh that lingered in the air, a soft pink cloud above you.

“I feel disgusting now,” you finally said after some more moments of comfortable silence.

“Good disgusting or bad disgusting?” Law asked back.

“Good, I think,” you replied.  “I don’t think I’ll be able to fuck for at least a month now, though.”

“You and me both.”  Law finally mustered up the energy to sit himself up on his elbows.  You did the same, though your arms were much more shaky than his.  “Have I ever made you come three times before?”

“Never.”

Law pondered your response for a few seconds before flashing a roguish grin.  “Damn, I’m good.”

“You can be prideful after you clean me up,” you groaned.

You wearily held your arm into the air, letting your hand flop back and forth as you waved.  Law chuckled, tiredly swinging his legs off of the bed.  He ignored your arm, instead choosing to scoop you up by your knees and shoulders, holding you close to his chest.  Your head plopped onto his shoulder, eyes closed and breaths finally steady.  Law gazed at the substantial wet patch that now tainted his white bed sheets, but kept his mouth shut.  Maybe six months ago he would’ve been disgusted at the mess you two had made, but with you fucked out and blissful in his arms and his own body tingling with a hot pink sensation that he couldn’t get enough of, he didn’t think it was very important.

With a hushed whisper, a blue glow enveloped the two of you and a swift hand motion teleported you to the bathroom.  Where, despite your fatigue, your sex only continued in the shower.

[swtsupernatural]

S.W || SILK & SHAPESHIFTERS

Sam Winchester x Thick!Fem!Reader

Content Warning reader being shorter than Sam, reader desc as having thick thighs, dean being annoying, swearing, reader wanting to fuck sam (but no sexual content in this fic)

Summary Fluff, (Sexual tension lowk) strangers to acquaintances to lovers(?) - You didn't work in the field. You did research. But when your good friend Bobby Singer asks you to help some friends of his by posing as a couple at a charity ball, you don't refuse.

W.C. 2.2k words

Ask anon: A: Hello hello! I'm back again; I'm going to change my request style a bit, how about a female reader with thick thighs? Make her with Sam please

Playlist: ♫ Bed Chem - Sabrina Carpenter, Shoot to Thrill - AC/DC

A.N. sam fic ! i am curvy so i was excited asf for this req !!! part 2 coming soon... ;) - claire xx

Being a Lore-keeper has its perks. It let you put your literary degree to some use, and it didn't usually get you into too much trouble. But, tonight it had. Bobby Singer was one of your favorite hunters; always treated you well, housed you in sticky situations, and sometimes had books or information you didn’t know about that he offered for you to borrow. Usually, he came to you for information. He didn’t hunt a lot, but it was still more than you hunted. But, when he and his hunter friends did go out looking for trouble, he often came to you for information. When he’d asked you to help out some of his family on a case that was real serious, you agreed begrudgingly. But only after Bobby told you your outfit, dinner, and drinks that night would be paid for by this said ‘family’ of his. 

You’d already done a bit of research for him about this particular case and even you knew it was a tricky one. You’d spent the last week trying to piece all of the information together — running it through your countless trusted lore books, sites you favored, and even paper clippings and newspapers from the library. The place in question was only a few hours from Bobby’s in some fancy estate you’d mapped out by memory the last few days. You were guessing it was your least favorite of the supernatural creatures you’d perilously studied — shapeshifters. They made your skin crawl, and were tricky when they came in multiple. The family you suspected they were impersonating were the Bradys, a rich family that had lived in South Dakota for generations and hosted fundraiser parties each year for some organization their rich friends ran. Some of the members of the family had been photographed partaking in some suspicious activity, activity of which the police deemed fine of course; but you were smart enough to know this was your type of problem. A few of them had also seemingly gone missing, and either mysteriously turned up fine, or were still a missing persons case. 

You decided to use Bobby’s as a place to get ready the second he offered, he lived closest anyways. You thought it was best to come over in the morning to talk more to him and whoever you were going on the case with, plan everything out. He’d been vague about who it was, though, and when you walked inside and saw Sam and Dean Winchester holding suits, a shopping bag, an EMF reader, and a pack of Coronas, you knew why. 

You’d never given the boys information directly — Bobby had told you he relayed much information from you to them in tricky cases, but that the older one, Dean, was too prideful to ask you directly yet. Of course, like all male jackass hunters, he had eventually asked when he learned what they were dealing with and all the intricacies that you were extremely skillful in. The catch was that you hated field work, but also loved an excuse to get dressed up. You’d told Bobby your dress and shoe size, and sure enough, the taller one was holding a dark velvety blue dress over his arm. 

“y/n, this is Sam, and this is Dean.” The shorter one, though he towered over you still, stuck out his hand, that jackass smirk on his face you knew he’d have. 

“Heard a lot about you.” He spoke, the smirk still on his, admittedly handsome, face.

You didn’t like having your guard up. You hated it really, but being in your line of work and constantly dealing with men who dismissed your intelligence made you rightfully put up walls when you’d first meet them. 

“Heard a lot about you too, but don’t think that means I’m your best friend now. I’m doing this for Bobby.” 

The taller one smiled gingery, letting out a silent laugh watching Dean’s ego deflate. You turned to him, sticking out your hand. “Sam. Nice to meet you. And uh, thanks for coming out on this case, Bobby said field work isn't usually your thing so we really appreciate it.” You already preferred him. A lot, actually. He was tall, and looked way too fucking cute in that oversized brown hoodie he still had on despite being inside Bobby’s fairly warm home. 

“We’re taking off at five so we’ll be right on time, okay?” Dean said to the two of you, rolling his eyes at how you hadn’t made any sassy comments at his brother. 

“Sounds good. May I have my items, gentleman? I’m not doing this for free.” Sam smiled again, more noticeably this time, handing you the dress and shoes, and a purse, which you hadn't asked for but were not going to turn down. 

“Thank you. So, the game plan is…?” “Game plan is you and I pose as a date and distract people while Dean sneaks around and corners a couple shifters, ganks ‘em, and then we get out before all hell breaks loose.”

You shrugged, looking at Sam, “Sounds good to me.” Of course he was cute and smart. God, you usually never let some guy get between you and case work, but he was making it hard. But if all you had to do was pose as a couple…

“Wait. If you needed me for acting I don’t know why you couldn’t call someone else.” 

“We don’t know who's a shifter and who isn’t. That’s the problem. You know their tells, what makes them tick, how to trick them, the layout of the place. Bobby's got some ear pieces for all of us so you can help me from afar, don’t have to get your hands dirty.” Dean grunted, losing his dark leather jacket and grabbing a suit, heading to the bathroom to change. 

“How thoughtful,” you mused, and he smiled annoyingly at you.

“We’ll talk more in the car, okay? Just get ready and we’ll be here if you have any more questions.” Sam said softly. HIs voice was deep and smooth, and it made you want to grab him by his collar and lock the two of you in Bobby’s guest room. Instead, you opted for pushing your thighs together and clearing your throat. “Sounds good. Thank you.” He smiled, going into the guest room with his own suit. You opted to lock yourself upstairs in the bathroom blasting music while you did your makeup in order to pump yourself up. You were a bit nervous, but you didn’t have to do dirty work, you got a nice new outfit, hopefully a nice drink, and a hot date? This was much better than how you thought your night was going to go — curled up on the couch, looking through way too many old files and books for another hunter, playing an old movie in the background and wishing you were elsewhere. You liked your job, you really did. But sometimes it drove you crazy how little you saw other people, people your own age especially. Tonight was like a gift sent from the angels. Well, ones that you hadn’t met; so far they had all been dicks. 

“y/n, ya’ almost ready?” Dean called up, just as you finished styling your hair in a classy style. 

“Coming!” You came down the stairs in a navy dress that hugged your curves pretty well, you thought. The dress was pretty low cut and the sides came up at a slit high up on your right leg. You honestly felt exposed, you usually didn't dress like this. Sam still had your heels, and when you came down, the first thing you saw was his eyes on your legs, stopping him from tying up his shoes.

You heard a low whistle behind you, and Dean’s gruff voice, “Damn, you clean up nice.” Bobby smacked him over the head with the book he was reading, going to the kitchen to get you an earpiece he had for each of you. 

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” You smiled, walking over to Sam on the couch. He was still occupied with your dress, and his eyes were making your face burn up. Your brain couldn't decipher how he was feeling based on his face… you teetered between him wanting to rip off your dress and stay home with you all night, or that he thought you looked…not good. You knew you didn't have skinny model legs, but that wasn't you job. Your job was to decode, translate, find, and relay important information to hunters, stopping people from dying. That was you job, and you were good at it. There was so much more to you than your looks, and if someone couldn't see that then fuck them. But, with how stuffy the room was and how close Sam was to you, you wrapped your arms around your shoulders, sitting a bit far from Sam asking for your shoes despite the voices in your head telling you you were fine.

“Y-yeah, here. I’ll put them on.” Your mouth opened to speak, but it was dry and nothing came out. Sam leaned down from the couch, sitting on his knees right in front of you. You finally stretched out your left ankle, and he slid on one of the black stilettos they'd picked out for you. He set down your foot after buckling the straps, grabbing your right ankle and moving it forward gently, causing the fabric of your dress to fall between your thighs on one side, and on the very back of your hip on the other, your leg completely bare. Sam finished tying up your second shoe, his eyes flashing to your soft thigh before clearing his throat and offering a hand to help you stand up. 

Once you were stable, you flattened down your dress. You looked up at Sam and pouted at how much taller he still was than you. 

“Aren’t these like…almost 4 inches?” Sam looked down at you and chuckled deeply. 

“Uh, yeah. They are. Disappointed you're still shorter than me?” You rolled your eyes and glimpsed over him — eyes trailing his fitted black suit, the fabric clinging to his chest and legs nicely.  

“What are you, like part giant? 7 feet tall?” You said it as a joke, but you honestly thought he had to be close to that. 

“Please,” Sam said, a bit close to your ear, leaning down to talk to you, “I’m…6’5. Just about.”

“Jesus…” you muttered, and realized you’d said it outloud. “Uh, we should get going soon, I think, it’s almost five, right?”

Sam nodded, squinting his eyes at your lower body so quickly you almost missed it. Dean put ear pieces in each of your hands and showed you how to use them. You followed the brothers out to their car and said bye to Bobby.

“Be careful, idjits. Keep in contact.”

“Will do.” You said, smiling to Bobby before getting in the back of the car, Sam opening and closing the door for you before sliding into the front seat a bit awkwardly from how long his legs were.  

“Ready?” Dean uttered, putting his elbow on Sam’s seat. 

“As ever.” You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, seeing Dean’s vividly green eyes through the rear view mirror. Shoot to Thrill by AC/DC came on, and Sam mused on your quiet singing.

“You like AC/DC?” Sam asked, turning around a bit to talk to you more clearly. 

“Yea, that, Metallica, some Guns N’ Roses, Rolling Stones....” Sam groaned, rolling his eyes, knowing Dean would have some stupid comment about that. 

“Really?” Dean spoke up, turning down the music a bit.

“Yes. Don’t cream your pants.” Sam smiled at that. It wasn’t super often that women Dean hit on shut him down as unreservedly as you did. 

“I know you got eyes for my idiot brother, but at least entertain me.”

“Okay. Who was the one that picked out the dress? And shoes? And purse?” You smirked at the back of Dean’s head. 

“Sammy…” Dean mumbled begrudgingly. 

“That's what I thought. Can you turn the music back up?” Dean’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. He’d never had someone come in his car and tell him to do something like that, but he did so without saying anything. 

Hours passed, and the Impala rolled to a stop in front of the biggest most obnoxious house you’d ever seen. 

“Jesus. Showoff much?” Dean voiced from the front seat, unbuckling and stepping out. Sam followed, opening your door before you got the chance. 

“So civilized.” You said poshly, seeing that adorable smile you liked seeing on Sam’s beautiful face. 

“Alright. You two go inside first. Use the earpiece to tell me when you know where one is, tell me which way to go. We don’t know each other, got it? You got your fake, y/n?” said Dean.

“My what?” Sam handed you an ID with a photo of your face, but it didn’t say your name. “How many of these do you guys have? Actually, don’t answer that.” Sam held out his right arm and you slid yours under his. He began walking, taking large spread out steps. You saw his face flash, knowing he realized you were struggling to keep up; not just from your heels, but from his obnoxious height. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, again, with that deep, smooth voice close to your ear. Fuck. This is gonna be a hard night. 

[number1jeonginstan]

HEYYY

My first time sending in an ask as an anon to you...sorry I haven't sooner.

Can we have a skz fluff (as your bf-established relationship) reacts to girlfriend who is a dancer (preferably ballet but if it's hard to write for if you don't do it, it can be general) who overworks herself trying to get something right, but she just can't get it and is getting irritated? Possible angst if some of the argumentative boys wanna argue her instead of comfort.

TYSM AND I LUV UR WORK

A/N: I’m so glad I could write for you!!! I really hope you like it, I tried doing my research and using my amazing ballet skills (aka watching the Nut Cracker since I was little) to try and describe it more!

WC: 1.4k

Warnings: None, just fluff and a bit of angst, but everything gets resolved!

Chan: 

You were in your studio, trying to perfect a sissone sur le point, and you kept messing up. As you slid onto your pointe, you kept slipping and you were frustrated. As you tried again, you fell to the ground, eliciting a groan from your lips. 

You had been at it for a while, barely taking a break to even drink a sip of water. You had no idea truly how long it had been as the only window in the studio was secluded. It wasn’t until you heard a knock on the door. “What!” you yelled, still frustrated from not getting it. 

“Y/N, are you okay? You’ve been in here for 4 hours.” It was then when you registered truly how long you’ve been practicing for. “Oh, I didn’t realize” you sighed, finally taking a sip of your water. “You can’t be doing this, it’s not healthy” he sighed kissing your forehead. 

“I don’t really think you should be talking Channie, you are usually cooped up in your studio working and barely ever sleeping,” your voice coming off a bit more condescending than you meant it to be. 

“Hey, I know I do that, but at least I take a break. You haven’t been on your phone since you entered here, I should know, I texted and called you multiple times.” 

“You did?” you asked, not believing til you checked for yourself. “Yes, now please take a break, eat something with me. You won’t get it unless you take a break and reflect, and get something in your stomach.”

You just nodded, taking his hand as you both exited the studio. You were grateful to have him to make sure you don’t overwork yourself, hugging him from the side and kissing his cheek. 

“What was that for?” he giggled, placing a peck on your lips. “Just because,” you grinned. 

Lee Know: 

You had spent at least two hours in the studio trying to perfect your gargouillade, you were struggling, constantly annoyed by how you were doing it, but it wasn’t looking clean. Again, you told yourself, and you could feel your muscles tensing. You just had to perfect it by the end of the day and make it look clean, but you kept failing. 

You gave up, laying on the floor, tired of exerting your body for two hours straight. Anger was ridden on your face. Minho entered the studio giggling, holding a container filled with japchae for the both of you, only to see the anger on your face. 

“Is everything okay?” he asked, setting down the food next to your bag on the bench. 

“No!” you shouted, still not wanting to get up. “I don’t know why I can’t get it to look good” you groaned, placing your hands on your face. 

“Maybe you need a break, overworking yourself will only make it worse baby,” he said while kissing your head, “not to mention so sweaty.” 

“But I have to get it perfect, I don’t know how you get your dances perfect the first time you try, it’s so unfair.” 

“Y/n, first off I don’t, secondly, I practice a much different medium than you. Yours takes much more core strength, and to build that,” he runs over, bringing the japchae with two forks to you, “is to eat good food.” 

 “Don’t worry, you will get it, I believe in you, now please eat.” He held a fork of the food in front of your face and you caved in, taking a bite as he fed it to you.

Changbin: 

“YAH!” you heard a yell from behind you, “do you know how much you’ve been overworking yourself?” 

Before you could even say anything, Changbin had thrown you over his shoulder, stopping you in the middle doing your hops en pointe. “Put me down!” you yelled, smacking Changbin’s ass in hopes he would. 

“Nope, take a break, your muscles will get too sore if you do this!” He yelled back, placing you in his lap. Before you could protest, he began massaging your calves, eliciting a groan from you. 

“See, I told you your muscles are tense, from now on you should listen to me” he grinned from ear to ear as you just nodded. 

Maybe all you needed was a quick break and a massage from your loving, but loud boyfriend. 

Hyunjin: 

You were on the floor, practicing your arabesque penche, trying to make sure you were not falling or tilting to either side. Your body needed to be stable, and you couldn’t possibly get it down. 

Hyunjin came into the room clapping for you, causing you to fall down. “What was that for!” you yelled, not meaning to raise your voice or your temper.

Hyunjin looked startled by your reaction and profusely apologized. “Shit, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to distract you.”

“No, I’m sorry I’m just really frustrated” you sighed, walking over to him and peppering his face with kisses. “It’s okay, I understand, now go back to dancing, I want to draw you looking beautiful” as he took out his sketchbook and pencil eliciting a giggle from your lips. 

Jisung: 

You were frustrated out of your mind, unable to complete your move properly, making you a bit angry. You just wanted to curl into a ball and never do ballet again at that moment. Han had decided to enter the studio at that exact time. 

He saw you curled up and decided to lie down next you. You didn’t notice he was there until you opened your eyes, flying back to see him. He erupted into a fit of giggles, “I didn’t mean to scare you, baby,”

It caused you to start laughing as well, being next to him while you both erupted into giggles was exactly what you needed to take your mind off of everything.

Felix:

“I can’t do this anymore!” you groaned while Felix came in beside you. “I’ve been trying for hours and I haven’t gotten it down.”

“What if I dance next to you, I bet I would look really good in tights,” Felix said, trying to imagine himself in a pair. “What, you don’t have to do that?” you quickly replied, not wanting him to struggle with you.

“But whatever we do, we do together, right? So come on, let me do this with you, or you can do it perfectly now and we can go home and eat brownies.” 

That was all the motivation you needed to try one more time, and you got it. “Felix, I finally did it!” you shouted, running into his arms. “I told you, you can do anything, you just have to get out of your head at times,” he said, kissing your face with a smile.

Seungmin: 

“If you don’t want to do it anymore, you should just quit. It’s only 16 years of your life down the drain,” Seungmin told you, watching you struggle. 

You had been complaining for hours that you couldn’t get your sissone sur le point to look right. It was too difficult and very few people could do it perfectly. “I can do it, stop bringing me down,” you groaned trying it once again. 

“Come on, you are the one who said you just wanted to quit, so quit.” Seungmin said out loud, trying to get a rise out of you “I don’t know why you are trying if you know you are going to fail anyway.” 

That was all the motivation you needed, you needed to prove him wrong. You had tried once again, finally successfully doing it. “Ha!” you screamed “In your face Kim Seungmin!” 

He just laughed “Finally, now can we please go before we miss our movie?” 

Jeongin: 

“Can I try with you?” he asked. “Are you sure, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” You were confused, you were stuck on the same move for days, constantly crying to Jeongin about how you couldn’t get it down. 

“Just show me one more time, please?” 

You did, landing perfectly. “I did it! Wait, WHAT!” you yelled, tingling Jeongin’s eardrums. 

“I told you, sometimes you just have to leave that pretty brain of yours.”  

[waywardmillennial]

Oooh can you please go on PH crew tangent because I don't think I realized why that's the most expensive show they make. Like I believe them and I guess the lore scenes take a lot of work but other than that idk why it takes them a year to produce 6 episodes.

Hey nonnie! Thanks for the message (based on my prev ask). I've been rotating it in my head to figure out how best to respond - sorry if this is a longer tangent than you were looking for!

To clarify: PH is probably the 2nd most expensive show that Watcher produces. The most expensive would be GF, and that's because they have to cover travel expenses for a whole crew for multiple nights at each haunted location (also GF has the most related "spin-off" shows with Debrief, Road Files, & Evidence Room making it, in Lizzie's words "a big unbankable bitch" of a show)

There are several reasons why it takes so long to produce six episodes of PH. Part of it is Shane's time being spent on nearly every other Watcher show in some capacity, so he has less time to spend on PH. It's also probably why PH has added so many more crew members - to give Shane more time to work on everything, which in turn makes it more expensive to produce

Also, each season of PH the average runtime has gotten longer. Season Six was the longest so far at about 4 1/2 hours overall, with each episode being about 44 mins - putting it on par with many network and streaming runtimes when you think about it!

I checked the credits for PH 6x06 and there are 22 crew members listed. For example, the episode was Written by Garret Werner, Researched by R.J. Blake and has three people working on the graphics (Mike Fox, Mattea Guldy, & Crystal Cheng). And this count of 22 people doesn't include the guests or voice talent for the episode, the puppet makers (Madison Girifalco and DLUX Puppets), or any of the above-the-line producers or show elements that have been locked in for years now, like the logos or stock sound effects!

And Season Six barely had any Lore!

Special Watcher Crew Shout-Out: Charlie Clay, Editing Wizard! She worked on almost every episode of Season Six, and when I checked 6x06 only one other editor (Frank Parker) is listed. I don't know if you've ever tried to edit video, but there are so many elements that go into it and she makes it look so good!

I also don't know if you're on WTV but we're getting basically a short film's worth of Lore at the end of each Season Seven episode (the two episodes we've gotten have both been closer to the 50 min mark) so of course that's more filming time and editing in post

TLDR; Each season of PH has increased in quality and runtime, adding more crew, because Shane is working on many of Watcher's other shows, but they're still producing a full season with a crew of about two dozen people!

Note: I did want to shout-out this comment from Shane in Pod Watcher #055, when he pointed out that PH and GF are both more expensive to produce than TS. I was a little surprised to hear this, since PH doesn't have the travel expenses of the other two shows. But PH has the largest crew out of the three shows (mainly in post-production) so that must be where the difference goes

Good for Watcher for hiring and paying artists and creators!

[okay some PH quality talking points because I couldn't resist]

DISCLAIMER: I love PH and Shane! He's so creative and what he made with the early seasons is very entertaining, so these aren't meant to be critiques. But if you look an early episode (I picked 1x02 because I enjoy it so much) you can see how the show has increased in quality as the years have passed

For example, The Professor's glasses had to be held on with gaffer tape, the theatre didn't have the Watcher logo on top yet (maybe it hadn't been finalized yet? not sure) and the Pile of Diamonds was a literal sock puppet

I love the Diamond puppet! and I would die for him and his crush on the God puppet!

But when you compare these Season One puppets to ones that Madison Girifalco made in later seasons, like Asmodeous or the Hippo, the increase in quality is obvious - and it should be! Because they chose to hire a professional who specializes in making puppets instead of Shane making them on top of all his other jobs at Watcher

The early seasons was when Watcher was just starting out as a company so Shane had to do most of the jobs himself. He's credited as Creator, Writer, and Editor of 1x02, but we know he also built the early puppets and theater himself, was writing and recording the music (with help from Patrick Volker) and so much more! (remember how he had to trigger the question lights himself and pull the curtain up and down on the rope he built in?)

And I support all versions of the show because it's what Shane wanted to make with the resources he had at the time!

I don't think I've seen anyone point it out but in Season Seven it looks like the whole theater got a facelift. It looks scaled up a little to fit the larger Professor and the constellations light up now! And the curtain rolling up is much smoother too

I don't know if this build was done by Shane or with help from other crew members, but it demonstrates that Watcher is continually re-investing into their shows to add to the production quality and I respect that so much!

Edit: Also good to note that Season One was only four episodes

/end rant

[pininghermit]

Being Nanami's Younger Sibling

Genre: feels and angst

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Sibling Reader (platonic ofc)

Summary: Admiring your older brother's every move was your birth right.

⚠️Spoilers ahead!⚠️

AN: I haven't read the manga. I've watched season one and I do not have the heart to watch season two without multiple breakdowns. So, please ignore plot holes, I am doing this because I googled the plot for fun (┬┬﹏┬┬). I want to do this series for some more jjk characters lmk if you guys are interested. P.S. I cried writing this.

Born out of a cryptic pregnancy, you were an unexpected addition to the family. Your brother, Kento, was just eight years old when you came into the world, and your life from day one revolved around him. Those tiny hands of yours reached out with joyful gurgles the moment your mom handed you to Kento.

He was always the cool sibling even when he kicked you out of his room or didn't take you on his friend's birthday party.

Like a devoted shadow, you were a clingy sibling with a tendency to follow your brother despite the stern looks or eye rolls thrown your way.

Maybe that was the reason that in order to stick by your quiet brother, you learned to fill the silence with your rambles. Even adapted to the shamelessness of ignoring your brother's apparent annoyance with you.

Your phase of copying him did not come as a surprise. Subtle side eyes, peaking over his side, waiting for him to pick something, all to know your brother's choices and making them yours.

Much to your rare embarrassment, you did end up copying your brother's high school hairstyle which remains a tragedy for both of you.

However, it wasn't your insistent following that endeared you to your brother or so you thought. Rather it was your failing grade in mathematics and a traumatic homework session with dad that led you to your brother.

Just when your eyes were full of tears as your tried to please your dad, scared of angering him further, your brother Kento looked up from his book. Sat next to you and taught you gently. Since that day, your brother became your tutor. A respite from your dad's hell tutoring.

That evening you promised to love your brother the most. Give him everything he wanted. Make him proud. You didn't say it out loud, those thoughts were too sweet to be said even by a loose tongued you. Laying in your bed, you looked up to your brother, quite literally, his bunk bed was above yours.

Sneaking you video games he had no interest in, asking for presents that you had been drooling over and he just ended up not needing, asking for your favorite foods on his special days your brother showed love in the most subtle but beautiful ways.

And when he became a sorcerer, your brother became your hero quite literally. For the first time in your life, you found yourself researching something with such passion.

He liked it. Your brother was noble. His heart found joy in saving people. He himself did not realize it for the longest time.

But then he left it all. You remember the ending years of your high school, when your brother took a normal job. Working fixed hours of the day. He needed it. Yet, it was not what he wanted. You could see it.

His eyes no longer gleamed at the end of the day. He was present. Yet, lost at the same time.

During the initial years of college, you lived with him. His apartment was conveniently close to your university. In those peaceful times, you spent evenings taste-testing his cooking, dragging him to college bars and then carrying him back because he drank more than the entire bar combined. Maybe an ordinary life suited Nanami yet, it was missing something as if an amazing cookie without a pinch of salt to bring out it's sweetness.

But it returned. The spark in his eyes came from the bloodied arm on Tuesday evening. Just like that, your brother went back to being a sorcerer.

So, despite the lingering bruises or rare injuries you supported him. What else could you do? You only followed him whatever path he went. Even the days when his blood scared you, you merely helped him with first aid or drove him to the nearest hospital.

You did not burden him with your fears, or your anxiety. His job was to protect the people, and your job was to worry for him.

But your tears did come. On instances when, you sat alone in a silent hospital corridor, you allowed yourself to be scared for your brother. You cried your heart out before wiping your tears and helping your brother with a simple soup that you cooked.

Maybe that day your brother sensed your sorrow. Perhaps that was the reason why he hugged you so tightly. Or simply ignored your soft sobs while hugging you.

But now, everything in the world feels different, foreign. It's as though the tether that once held you to this world has been severed. He never returned, and you were never given an answer. So you waited, evening after evening at six, but he never came back.

Your parents held a funeral, but you couldn't bring yourself to believe it. How could he be gone? He'd been by your side since your first breath. How could your world possibly exist without him?

Huddled in your childhood bunk bed, you'd look up at his empty bed. "Come back, please," you'd whisper, closing your eyes, hoping that when you opened them, it would all be a bad dream. You waited for him to come and take away the nightmare, just like he did on the nights when you couldn't sleep after watching a horror movie.

It became increasingly difficult to find joy in the world he had saved, as it felt so wrong without him. Did he know how much you treasured him? Did you hug him before he left that day? Was he wronged, was he in pain? You could never know.

You could have stopped him. He left in front of your eyes and you let him. Now you couldn't find him. No matter how hard you tried.

"Don't go where I cannot follow," your whispers were loud echoes in the quiet apartment.

[sailorkamino]

the force and plants (tech's pov)

wildflower masterlist

relationships: twi'lek!jedi!reader x tech [gn, neurodivergent reader, can be platonic or romantic]

word count: 1.9k

summary: You and Tech can talk for hours about your shared interests and curiosities. On your first mission to Felucia you go on a nature walk and explain how you perceive each batcher in the force.

warnings: tech and reader are neurodivergent, brief insecurities, mentioned sensory overload, tech worries his info dumping is annoying, reader befriends a snake, dehumanization/mistreatment of clones

mando'a translations: vod- sibling, ori'vod- older sibling

ryl translations: nerra- brother

Tech has never met anyone that shared his thirst for knowledge, then he got a jedi.

When you mention liking plants he tells you every fact he knows. When you fire back with plants he’s never even heard of he stares at you in shock. Later he uses his datapad to confirm everything you told him is correct. He doesn't sleep that night. Too busy researching.

The next day he sees the lockscreen on your own datapad. It’s you, a Kel Dor jedi, and a clone trooper with a gigantic white wolf. You notice his stare and smile. “Did you know loth wolves are force sensitive?” No, he did not know that. He asks you multiple questions about the force and the jedi. He knows Hunter told him not to interrogate you but he can’t help himself and you don’t seem to mind.

“I read that jedi can heal with the force. How does that work, sir?”

“Well first you use the force to assess the injury, feel how much damage is done and envision what needs to be fixed. Then you use the living force to speed up the natural healing process.”

“Can you read minds?”

“Yes but not in the way that you think. I don’t hear verbal thoughts, it’s more like feelings and intentions.”

“What is the force like?”

“It’s like a comm in the back of my mind, constantly flicking through channels. The volume changes but it never turns off.” Without meaning to his face screws up. That sounds completely overwhelming. He thinks about Hunter hiding under his blankets, whimpering from sensory overload after a hard training session. He frowns worryingly.

You smile as if sensing his concern. You probably can. “I know it sounds like a lot but once you’re used to the background music, you can’t live without it.”

You also enjoy mechanics but oddly enough you talk about droids like they're living beings. You confess that when you first joined the order, later than most and unable to speak a word of basic, you had a hard time making friends. You spent a lot of time with droids. Tech can relate.

Then you’re excitedly pulling him to your temporary quarters on Kamino, saying you have something to show him. “When my master found out I was joining a unit without an official medic he got me Pup.”

“Pup?”

“She’s an AZI series surgical assistant droid!”

He shouldn’t be surprised you’ve named your droid. And gave it pronouns. You never use CT numbers when referring to clones. If they don’t have a name yet you call them vod or nerra or even an affectionate name like dear one. But never by a number.

You even show him the inner workings of your lightsaber, all though Tech is a bit distracted by the fact the parts are all levitating. The way you explain your weapon as it’s a part of you reminds him of Crosshair.

You both have an interest in foreign languages and cultures. Tech explains that growing up the bad batch were completely isolated from other clones and most trainers. The little mando’a they do know they learnt from their ori’vod, 99.

Your conversations become a mix of languages the others fail to keep up with: Basic, Ryl, Dai Bendu, Mando’a, and even Huttese. You’re practically fluent thanks to past undercover work and Tech finds the crass language interesting. The insults are most creative.

When he sits in the pilot seat of the marauder for the first time you’re beside him with a smirk, “modify anything you want, just tell me how to use it.” He has never been given so much creative freedom before and it makes his mind buzz with ideas. When he tests how fast the ship can go his brothers scream but you grin in the co pilot's seat. Tech finds he quite enjoys your company.

Your first mission takes you to Felucia. It’s a success. The locals invite the you all to a feast that night but until then you have some free time. Tech wonders if you would be interested in helping him with those modifications you mentioned. Just then you enter the ship.

“I’m going to do some exploring if anyone wants to come. A local told me a lot of flowers are blooming right now.”

Tech’s head snaps up at your offer. Being raised on Kamino he has no real life experience with plants. It sounds most fascinating. He tells you so. You grin, bid goodbye to the rest of the batch, and the two of you are off.

He’s excitedly telling you about the medicinal properties of a neon colored flower when he spares a glance at you, his words trailing off awkwardly. Your back is to him as you kneel in the grass. Apparently the ground is more interesting than him.

The dismissal stings a bit but he tries to ignore it. He should be used to this kind of reaction by now. But… he learnt all this for you. He thought you liked plants. Maybe he’s the problem?

“Why’d you stop?”

The question makes him pause. He wasn’t expecting that. Maybe you’re pretending to care about his lecture to spare his feelings. Yes, that makes sense. From what he’s observed you care a great deal about other’s feelings.

“Apologies, general. I have the tendency to ramble.”

“I know.” You state neutrally. He gulps, feeling his ears redden in shame. Then you’re standing and turning to face him in one swift movement, a comforting smile on your lips. “I like it.”

For a moment he’s speechless. A feeling Tech is not used to. “Pardon?”

Then he notices something bright blue-green curled around your bare arm. Because you didn’t want to wear any armor for a nature walk. He has so many questions.

“I like talking to you. I always learn something new.” You calmly pet what Tech now recognizes as some kind of snake. “Your brothers don’t mind your talking either.”

He stares at you in shock. An odd warm, fluttery feeling blooms in his chest. Maybe he’s ill. You notice his stare and offer a shrug, like you soothe insecurities while adopting unknown creatures all the time. Maybe you do.

“This little guy was chilly so I offered him some body heat.”

You say it like that explains everything. Tech still has so many questions. “How could you tell he was uncomfortable?” He finally asks.

“In the force,” you answer plainly. “I can form emotional connections with animals. He's so calm because he can sense I want to help him.”

Okay. So you can communicate with animals. He’s adding that to his notes as soon as possible. Tech continues to stare at the colorful reptile. Where has he seen that scale pattern before? He made sure to research Felucia before their arrival so it’s reasonable to assume the snake popped up, but what is it’s name?

Tech frowns as he turns on his trusty datapad. He hates not knowing things. But before he can even open the app he remembers. Feluican tree viper. Venomous. He looks at your serene face in alarm.

“Don’t worry, Tech. He won’t hurt me,” you soothe, meeting his shocked gaze with a small smile. “I can feel your concern.”

He’s still put off by the venomous reptile wrapped around your flesh but he has to admit, it’s fascinating. He raises his datapad to take a pic. You wordlessly move the animal closer. “Thank you, sir.”

“You don’t have to call me that off missions.”

He hums noncommittally. The viper flicks out an orange tongue just as he snaps the holopic. “Do animals feel different than humans in the force?” He asks curiously.

“Mhmm it depends. All living things have a presence but creatures and plants are more... shallow." You give him a playful look, “I can recognize familiar signatures. I would never confuse you with a snake.”

“Do clones feel different from one another?”

“Of course they do!” You answer immediately, as if the question is ridiculous. “I could tell you apart blindfolded.”

He recalls a time the two of you were working on your droid when without looking up you greeted Crosshair who had entered the room. Tech didn’t think that much of it at the time. Growing up with a brother who can hear heartbeats and recognize scents he’s used to that kind of behavior. But now he’s curious.

“How do you perceive me?”

“You feel like… a tuned up engine.” Your eyes widen in alarm at your own words, the snake suddenly becoming restless against you. Tech is confused by your sudden change in demeanor. And slightly worried about the venomous reptile. If you get agitated while sharing an emotional connection with a creature, how will they react? For the first time in Tech life, he doesn't want to learn.

"Not in an inhuman way!” You splutter. “Your mind is just… a lot of working parts coming together. Is that rude?”

Tech has never been good at social cues but he is genuinely baffled now. Nothing about your explanation seemed snide or backhanded. “How would that be rude? It sounds like a fitting description.”

You take a calming breath as the viper slithers torwards your chest in an almost sympathetic way, small head resting over your heart. It's seemed to relax thankfully. It's almost like it's trying to comfort you? Fascinating. Your voice is meek when you answer, “well, some nat-borns treat clones like droids. I don’t want you to think I’m like that.”

Tech is caught off guard. Not only do you care about his emotions, you care what he thinks of you? That should be obvious. Why would he go on a nature walk with someone who views him as subhuman? Who doesn't respect him? He’s never been good at expressing himself so he just focuses on being honest. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t enjoy your presence. You have given me no reason to doubt your character.”

Your smile is gentle but meaningful. He awkwardly pushes up his goggles. Not one for emotional conversations he reverts to his comfort zone, researching. “What about my brothers?”

You hum thoughtfully as you bend down, allowing your snake friend to slither into the brush. You notice some fire colored flowers and plop onto the ground to get a closer look.

“Hunter is like… A calm forest.” You say, plucking a few of the plants. “Wrecker is fireworks.” You begin to tie the stems together with nimble fingers. “Crosshair is the air before a storm.”

Tech finds all your descriptions fitting. He's efficient. Hunter is steady. Wrecker is free spirited. Crosshair is harsh. That only leaves one member. “What about you?” He asks.

“Me?”

“How are you perceived by fellow jedi?”

“Well it changes from person to person but I’ve been told I’m bright and warm.” You explain as you stand. “My master once called me a shooting star.”

You suddenly thrust the hoop of flowers towards Tech. “It’s a necklace!” You explain proudly. He observes your innocent happiness as he dons the creation. He finds it hard to accept you’re the same warrior who took out 50+ battle droids only hours ago.

“Thank you, gen–” he cuts himself off, recalling your preferred nickname. “Thank you, Blossom.”

You positively beam. Tech is not force sensitive, nor does he understand the mystical energy field, yet he finds himself agreeing with your master’s assessment. You are indeed a shooting star.

[thegoldenavenger]

Whoops demon summoner au. Just about 2k and just an intro. I could be convinced to add more but this is what it is for now.

Liu Qingge did not fidget, and just as well: Shen Yuan was fidgeting enough for both of them. The room was dimly lit with clusters of candles around a bloody circle painted on the floor. The basement was on the small side and the stench of blood clung in the stale air.

"Okay, okay." Shen Yuan mumbled under his breath as his fingers flipped through the pages of his book. "It's just the sacrifice now."

Liu Qingge gripped the pig carcass in his hand and made to symbolically sacrifice it when Shen Yuan stopped him.

"Wait! Let me! Recheck the sigils!"

"You've gone over them three times." More, really. Liu Qingge had been the one on lookout while Shen Yuan scribbled and took photos and notes in the library they were both definitely restricted from. Then, every day leading up to today Shen Yuan spent hours bent over his journal writing and rewriting, making sure each sigil and rune meant exactly what they wanted.

"Yes but..." Shen Yuan bit his lip. "It's different."

Liu Qingge rolled his eyes. "I trust you. It's fine." He would encourage Shen Yuan's self doubts if it meant he'd give up on the entire summoning idea but Shen Yuan was determined to see the ritual through. He just wanted to be the one doing the summoning.

Luckily, the demon Shen Yuan wanted to research was Fire natured, with a metal secondary. Neither Shen Yuan nor Liu Qingge had a fire nature, but Liu Qingge's was metal and that would fare much better than Shen Yuan's Wood nature.  It was an argument they had gone over multiple times.

"You don't even like demon summons!" Shen Yuan had argued.

"It's fine. I'm better suited." Liu Qingge would not say that he'd compromise many of his long held rules to make sure Shen Yuan didn't jump into the jaws of a Fire demon named Xin Mo. At least Liu Qingge's metal nature would be able withstand the heat. Liu Qingge trusted himself that much, and Shen Yuan's scrupulous research for the rest.

If only Shen Yuan had fixated on a different demon. Something with a less foreboding name at least. But Shen Yuan had reason to believe Xin Mo could be a key in landslide research in the demon realm landscape. Whatever he meant by that. Suffice to say Shen Yuan was determined. Thus, Liu Qingge was also determined.

He decided not to give Shen Yuan any more room to quibble over minor details and dug the crude looking ritual dagger he held into the pig's throat.  Then he tossed the pig into the center of the circle. The blood spilled out around the corpse. Liu Qingge didn't pause, launching into the archaic, stilted speech Shen Yuan had made him memorise.

Shen Yuan shut up mid sentence for fear of influencing the incantation, but Liu Qingge could see the outraged look from the corner of his eye.

The summoning circle flared as the candles dimmed, a dense smoke filling the center of the circle. Low hissing started, a deep buzz that resonated in Liu Qingge's chest.  He finished the incantation and the incorporeal demon's hazy form spread outwards. Testing the boundaries of the circle. Like ink in a bowl of water it's thin edges curled around the form of the circle, twisting in little fascinating fractals.

Liu Qingge met Shen Yuan's eyes.

Then he stepped into the first ring.

The demon didn't have features as concrete as eyes, but Liu Qingge felt the full weight of its focus shift upon him anyways. An ethereal voice like shale falling along a cliffside echoed in the basement.

"So this is the little mortal who wants to play?"

The smokey form of the demon gathered into a vaguely humanoid shape in front of Liu Qingge. They were separated by the thin circle of protection Shen Yuan had drawn. Liu Qingge stared at where he supposed the demon's eyes ought to be.

"Will you show yourself?" He asked.

"Why would I do that?" The question could be mocking, but it was delivered in a honeyed tone. If Liu Qingge had even an ounce less self preservation he could be persuaded into thinking the question was honest.  Before Liu Qingge could answer, however, Shen Yuan made a quiet noise and the demon's focus slid off Liu Qingge like water.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" The demon laughed, or made a sound close enough to a laugh, as it's amorphous form drifted towards Shen Yuan. Eyes wide, Shen Yuan looked almost entranced, liable to drop his guard and be talked into something stupid like stepping into the circle. So Liu Qingge did it first.

He crossed the inner circle's barrier and used the ritual knife to cut a quick line across his palm. His blood welled immedietly with the cut, hot and red. The demon whirled, becoming dense enough it was hard to see through as it flew towards him.  Liu Qingge thought he could see the flash of fang or claw in the shadows and he steeled himself for a collision of wills.

A more practiced summoner might have a contracted demon, incorporeal but bound with, to help shield his mind from the full weight of a possession. Liu Qingge did not make contracts with demon summons, did not participate in summonings, refused to deal with demons more than using Cheng Luan to fight rogue incarnated targets.  That didn't mean he had no experience with this battle.

Liu Qingge held his hand out, his blood running bright against his skin. He leaned on his metal nature, like reinforcing a fence with steel supports. Sometimes he envisioned it like a coating of liquid silver over his skeleton lending him strength.  Calling on this, trusting in his own ability to withstand whatever heat this demon wanted to throw at him, he made his deal.

"My blood for your covenant."

"Qingge—" Shen Yuan's voice, panicked, was drowned out by the hissing of the demon.

"You want to play this game?" The demon's low voice asked. "Against me?"

"My blood," Liu Qingge repeated, "for your covenant."

The words were as ancient as the study of demons, and as such did hold a fair amount of power in their own right. Still, they weren't very precise. Shen Yuan, along with the ritual summoning he'd recited earlier, had meticulously written a bulletproof contract Liu Qingge had been meant to bind Xin Mo with. It was just so wordy though, and with more negotiation and words the less power there was to command. In order to just hold this demon's attention, Liu Qingge had to lean on the power of tradition and ritual.

The voice that had sounded bemused started to shade darker. "Imagine, a mortal, barely a breath's length of life when held to mine, a candle next to my flame, dares." The hazy apparition drew closer to Liu Qingge, the buzz of its power raising the fine hairs on his arm.

"My blood for your covenant." He squeezed his fist as he repeated these words, and the fresh pulse of blood seemed to incite the demon.

"You want my covenant then? My name?" It felt as though a shadowy limb reached out and gripped Liu Qingge's arm. Pressure closed down around him, but he tensed and withstood it, even as the blood dripped down his wrist.

"Give it to me." He answered, boldly.

He couldn't tell if the taste of blood at the back of his mouth was part of the name, but the fullbody heat wave was. His body flushed so hot with his blood that he felt it tingling in his extremities, the way he only ever felt when so furious that splitting his knuckles hour after hour at the gym could barely temper it.

It was, on the surface, exactly how one could imagine a demon named Xin Mo to feel. He leaned back into himself and his core to ground himself, letting the heat wash over him. Letting the rage course through. He had been angry before and he had learned how to breathe through it and let it go.  Except that what should be passing through him, what should be working with his metal nature to make him more flexible, was creeping into his joints. Locking them.

Even if he were to be overwhelmed by the demon's power and will, which he wouldn't be, he shouldn't feel paralyzed... he should feel liquefied, melted down. He inhaled sharply. Instead, he felt almost brittle. Like the fire wasn't heating him at all.

He thought, abruptly, of sinking his fingers into dough heated over the stove. As a child, eager to help, he had dug into the steaming ball ready to knead it. He'd been warned that it was hot but his small hands had frozen—the dough felt cold at its heart. Paradoxical, like when hypothermia made the body feel overheated.

It was like the earth cracked under him—a shift in perspective that had him reeling. His fingers were stiff, numb as static traveled up his arms in waves. With the new understanding he no longer could perceive the name as hot, or even warm, instead he was trapped in a blistering cold.

Dread crept up inside of him and he briefly thought that he should have let Shen Yuan and his wooden nature handle this. The cold only ever left him sharp and brittle. Shen Yuan managed to seem charming even in winter; red-nosed and endearing when he pulled off his gloves so he could use his phone better, leaving them for Liu Qingge to find and return.

The thought knocked him out of the freeze just enough. Like hell he'd have Shen Yuan put himself at risk just because of a little cold. As if fire was the only crucible metal went through, when quenching was just as important.

What had at first felt like heat and rage had revealed itself to be cold and fear. He could work with that. Being flexible and breathing through it was not the best defense any longer. You had to shut cold out, you had to overcome fear. He could do both, and with that, the demon's name fit perfectly in his mouth.

The approximation he could say out loud wasn't a true reflection of the demon's name, but it was good enough, close enough, that Liu Qingge could wind power into it. He repeated for a final time, "My blood for your covenant, Luo Binghe." With all the draw that he could summon upon the demon's true name.

There was the impression of surprised blinking, the demon pulled back just a hair. Then the apparition fell into itself, condensing into a wash of bubbling black shadow until finally it incarnated on the physical plane.

The demon incarnated was humanoid, with long inky hair. It was crouched, it's limbs were long, jointed weirdly like an animal or insect; something inhuman in their articulation. It's nails were sharp, a killer spur on each dewclaw wickedly curved in a scythe shape. It had a long thick tail and leathery bat wings that were mantled over its shoulders.

When it lifted its head its black eyes seemed confused.

"No one has ever actually understood my name before." It said. Incarnation had rendered its voice low and rich, with a subtle dual harmonization. It stood slowly, it's tail lashing as it found a balance on new limbs. It's eyes met Liu Qingge’s and stayed locked to him as it approached gaining a confidence in each step.

Liu Qingge still held his hand out in offering.

The demon reached out its own hand, curling its claws around Liu Qingge's wrist. It's thumb swiped at the rivulet of blood over his skin. This close, Liu Qingge could see that its eyes were actually a deep, dark red. Idly, he wondered if they would flash in the light like a wolf's.

It drew Liu Qingge's hand to its mouth, its lips black and parted to let fangs peak between them. Liu Qingge could almost hear Shen Yuan's voice but couldn't exactly make out any words. "I accept your sacrifice." The demon said and turned its head just enough that it's nose nuzzled against the thin skin of his hand. Then it's mouth fit over his cut, its wet tongue lapping over his blood.

Power rushed through him: a circuit closing.

They were bound.

[monster-slxt]

I've had this fantasy stuck in my mind for a while now.

You and a group of other volunteer researchers are sent to an alien planet to study its culture.

As soon as you and the other researchers arrive, you're all welcomed warmly by the planet's inhabitants.

You're all given a place to stay and are even treated to feast at night.

However, what you don't know is that you and the other researchers were not in fact sent there to study the culture. But rather were sent as a sort of peace offering, so the aliens wouldn't attack earth.

The species is actually on a decline due to less and less females being born each generation.

However, the aliens discovered that human biology was actually compatible with their own. Meaning it was possible for them to use human females to help increase their population.

So in exchange for not invading earth, the aliens demanded a handful of human women be sent to their planet as test subjects to see if it is truly possible for a human woman to conceive their young.

Of course your employers informed none of you about the real reason you're there.

Not that it matters anyways, because you'll all be too busy being fucked by multiple different males to even think of anything other than dicks.

Just a small housekeeping, since this is mainly a queer focused page I do try to keep gendered terms to a minimum, especially with groups, and I would appreciate if requests also tried in turn! No harm no foul anon, but note to anyone requesting that I'm not a man or a woman and I don't appreciate being lumped in with either groups👍 onto the horny!

We didn't see it coming. Not only was the government trying their damndest to keep it hidden from us, but the crew wasn't even only fertile people! We were all more than excited to get on with the xeno-anthroplogy that was sure to take place at this monumental occasion.

We barely had time to exit the ship before the aliens were welcoming us, clearly just as egear as we were. The day was spent touring the incredibly high tech society of our hosts. Of course even walking around we never noticed the lack of viable reproductive partners, we had no familiarity with their biology or culture after all. Our guides seemed to get more and more excited as the twin sun's set, ushering us to a grand feast. It was at thus point the members of our crew not brought as sacrificial lambs departed, slipping away silently and returning to their ship after signing the last of the treaties promising earth's safety.

The food was delicious, everything special made for us since no one was sure yet if our diets were safe for each other. Little did we know the food was special made with a hormone cocktail designed to aid in the breeding process, with the added benefit of being incredibly potent aphrodisiacs. We had barely even started eating when they kicked in and we were quickly moved into a private area to start the impregnation process. Of course only the most important members of this society, strong generals and political leaders, would be allowed first access to mating.

For hours we were locked in a breeding frenzy. Strange cocks never meant for human bodies filled each and every avaliable hole, pumping as much alien cum into us as possible. Still, it was always possible we simply weren't compatible. So we were quickly handed off to scientists to monitor everything.

But it was quickly apparent there was no need to worry. It was clear that our species were hyoerfertile together, every single human was knocked up with multiples.

[aelaer]

👀👀 tell us about your rp oc bestie :3

Sorry it took me a while to get to this - I'm honestly flattered that anyone's interested! This character was very important to me for a long time. Here's her portrait I made of her in 2016ish, and more about her is under the cut.

The MMO I played was LOTR Online, which started in 2007 and is still going with active updates even today. I started the first year it was out and played it regularly (obsessively even) until 2018ish. I can't remember how much I played the next two years but I haven't logged in for the last 2-3 years. I might in the future but for now I've had my fill. Highly highly recommend for any LOTR & Tolkien fan, but it can be a huge timesink if you're not careful about keeping track of time.

I'll explain stuff as if whoever is reading this knows nothing about LOTR for wider accessibility.

Anyway, in 2011 I switched servers to start RP and created Laerlin, a human (or as Tolkien calls them, "race of Men"). Her game class was "hunter" which is basically an archer/dps type, and in her story I made her trained in archery by her Ithilien Ranger dad (which is basically a specialist military regiment known for their woodland/stealth skills - they serve Gondor, the largest country of humans in LOTR). Since he was military, he wasn't around all the time so obviously the training was when he was like, on leave and stuff. She grew up with her mom in Minas Tirith, the capital of Gondor (and the big white layered stone city you may have seen in screenshots if you've not seen the films) while her dad was in service out in the dangerous borderlands of Ithilien across the river. I have a lot more about her background from pre-RP - happy to tell more if anyone asks.

ANYWAY. Starter characters in LOTRO start hundreds of miles away from Gondor (which wasn't even in the game in 2011) so 3/4ths of human RP chars need to figure out a story as to why they're in the starting hub (a mostly-human town called Bree) in the first place. I had a decently outlined backstory before starting RP that just grew in the telling as I discovered more about Laerlin through RP - if anyone wants to know more about her story (any part of it), just ask.

I figured since I rolled hunter and had that backstory she'd turn into some sort of hunter/adventurer in RP, right? Nope. The stories that ended up happening led her to becoming a healer. Now, healing in LOTR is very low magic, so game mechanics were largely ignored by RPers and anything resembling magic was very rarely used unless supported by Tolkien texts, at least in the RP hub. When I discovered I loved researching ancient healing methods (largely Roman surgery and American native herbal medicines, though I pulled from every old culture), I RPed healing as much as I could, and eventually Laerlin got the reputation of a good healer IC with a detailed player who would RP with basically anyone OOC. She ended up getting very busy and she got to be good through RP as opposed to all offscreen training, which I loved.

I did end up rolling a lot of "alt" characters to also RP with (I think my final count of characters was about 34 over 3 accounts - multiple accounts to RP more than one character at a time, either because one scene is slow or for storytelling purposes). However, Laerlin was always my main, the character I had more hours on by far, and what I got known by (and it's why Laer is still my online handle - it came from the first "Laer" character on my first LOTRO server and really solidified with Laerlin). Because I spent so much time on her in my earlier years of RP, she became pretty well known on the server.

The RP hub of Bree was well known for its town guards vs outlaws RP in 2011 as the head of the town guard was a very patient and tolerant player that RPed with even people I wouldn't RP with. Very nice guy. Because it was so active, Laerlin got a job as a healer in the town watch and got plenty of experience there, lasting until around 2014 after a dramatic firing that landed her jail time. She also eventually opened her own clinic (in player housing) after an RP adventure in the surrounding wilds led to a ton of gold (best excuse ever, I can't even remember who ran that adventure anymore). That got pretty decent usage considering it was outside of the main hub.

Laerlin also did a ton of travel RP. I'd just move her timeline around so I could say "okay in March she's in this area of the world, and the stuff I'm RPing in the hub is after her return". This allowed me to do travel RP and Bree hub RP at the same time. There were only a handful of arcs that I didn't do this and she was gone-gone from city RP. I took her all over the world - from Bree she went to the Shire, Rivendell, Forodwaith, Dunland, Isengard's surrounding areas, Helm's Deep, Dol Amroth, Minas Tirith, and several lands in between. She saw the aftermath of the battle of Helm's Deep as the wounded left behind began to heal, and was in the capital of Gondor when the siege occurred (in LOTRO RP, most players I was with put a long length of time between the two events due to waiting for the areas to be released, unlike the canon timeline - the whole game world's stuck in 7 months of time for several RL years, so canon dates were not strictly followed in RP). She ended up being very well traveled over her 7-8 years of activity.

Laerlin saw plenty of love. Her first fiance died (player went AWOL) within like, 6 months after her creation. She was with her second guy for like, 1.5 to 2 RL years - got married and all, became the hot gossip of the RP hub every now and again - but that ended in divorce. It's still pretty amazing how long that relationship lasted, in hindsight. There was also a tale of unrequited love afterwards from another guy that was one of the best arcs I ever did (and his player I still consider an RL friend - great guy). When I stopped RP, she was still unattached, but I like to think she eventually found love.

LOTRO has an amazing music system which uses these special text files written a certain way to generate a song with several different choices of instruments in-game. This created a lot of bands where players will write the notation for each part and play the song all together - and it often sounds absolutely amazing. But it's also great for RP, and my love for the system turned into Laerlin's love for music. She learned the lute, flute, and harp over the years and often played in Bree's tavern, or just outside. It was a great way to lure people into RP while playing with the system too.

I ended up DMing a lot of RP stories as I grew more confident as a RPer and storyteller. I'm not sure how many plots I ended up leading, but player count in the plots varied from 1-2 people to over a dozen people. Some plots were just for one or two RL days, and my longest one ended up being a month long with planned mini-events 5-6 days of the week (I'd never do that again, I was crazy).

She was also very, very flawed to start. I wanted her to grow through experiences to become a different, better person, so she started off as someone who was easily offended by anything she found uncouth (despite not being upper class, she was from the largest city in the world so definitely cultural clashes when she first came to Bree that took a long time to fully smooth out). More importantly, she had a prejudice based on her county's history with their southern neighbor, and a good dose of history and propaganda made her very disdainful of anyone from that area (Umbar, for those who know Tolkien). It took her *years* to get rid of it, and it was so satisfying to RP her growth. But she still maintained a bit of a short fuse that was triggered by some of the most minor things even in the end, which kept her interesting.

She didn't meet a ton of Tolkien canon characters. Barliman Butterbur was the most frequent since he owns said tavern that was the RP hub. Probably some background Shire Hobbits. In Rivendell, I think I was in plots where someone RPed as Elrond and I definitely had her meet Bilbo. She knew Halbarad because she was trusted by many RP Rangers who came into Bree and met him in one of those travel adventures. Erkenbrand was a major player in my Helm's Deep plot. The most egregious meeting was when she worked in the Houses of Healing after the siege and got to meet Aragorn. But by that time she had built 4 or 5 years of RP with his Rangers so it worked out well, like as a capstone to her long, long journey of growth and self discovery.

Laerlin alone saw hundreds of thousands of words of RP storytelling. Some of the RP was very silly, but a lot of it was poignant and really special. I'd never spend as much time online again as I did in the earlier years of RP, but I can't say I regret it, either, because I made a lot of friends and my growth as a writer was substantial. Because of all this, Laerlin will always have a special place in my heart.

But yeah if anyone has any questions about her (or any of the other... 34 RP characters...), or about what the LOTRO RP was like, feel free to ask. Or if you want to see any screenshots, I still have those on my old computer that I can pull up.

[the-rainbow-lesbian]

Hi @menalez, you know I thought I was being courteous by keeping quiet about my grievances with you and not airing them publicly but I guess that isn't mutual, if you really wanted to have a conversation with me you could've talked to me on discord, you're not blocked there.

when October 7th first happened I was unwell tbh and very confused, I thought the world went mad when a massacre against the Jewish state and Israelis (both Jewish and Arab but the majority were Jews and they were targeted for being Jewish) somehow made them hateful against Jewish people, even the diaspora, I was also very confused when the "feminists" of the world even the radical feminists remained silent on the mass rape used as a weapon against Israeli women or tried to deny and minimize it. This is gonna sound dramatic but I haven't been the same person ever since because I lost my trust in people, I don't trust anyone who has no sympathy for others based on their ethnicity and nationality.

and when I went to tumblr I saw that you were also sharing content from antisemites, although you tried to distance yourself from it, sure Hamas did kill babies and rape women, but it wasn't as bad as the media is making it out to be, as if there is a number of raped women and murdered babies that needs to be met before we recognize this as a genocidal act by Hamas? I tried to read what you shared and honestly the people you tried to refute (badly) made more sense to me.

I spent a huge portion of my time watching content about the conflict even when I am working, reading about it, talking to my friend about it, I sought out another friend of mine who is retired professor who has visited Israel multiple times to learn from her, I listened to Jewish people and Israelis and also to Palestinians, I shared articles from Palestinian authors and a Muslim woman about the war, I am reading a book by Mosab Hassan Yousef, the son of one of Hamas' founders, I didn't listen to the ones who cheered on October 7th which is fair, terrorists and their supporters don't have integrity. so even though you said I "admitted I don't know shit" and I am "willfully ignorant" I am really not, I am not an expert, I wish I could read and learn more than what I am already doing but I work full-time on 5-6 hours of sleep then travel on the weekends to see my girlfriend, so I am sorry I didn't know much about Christian Zionists? I'd rather not run on my mouth over something I don't know much about, it doesn't make all of my other opinions invalid somehow. I've always been the type of person who tries to do at least some research before forming an opinion and being outspoken about it.

you also said I am brainwashed by my country's antisemitism and I am "rebelling" (which is so fucking condescending I am not a child trying to prove a point) but actually I never agreed that the holocaust was good and that Hitler was a hero like the majority of people around me did, even if I had problematic beliefs I would never agree with genocide. it's also interesting that you refer to this rightfully as propaganda but do you know which news channel was funneling this and playing in my house? it was Aljazeera, and you share from them all the time without a hint of scrutiny, of course anything Israel says must be met with scrutiny but anything coming out of Hamas and Qatar is trustworthy even though both are islamofascist that don't allow any freedom of press, very interesting.

so mena, as an Arabic speaker why don't you look into Aljazeera's Arabic websites and articles where they don't sugarcoat the antisemitism for the western audience and share them with your followers? or anything from Hamas' leaders? are you intentionally misleading them or just lazy? not sure which is worse.

I do have sympathy for middle eastern women and that includes Israeli women! Which is why I'll never support an Islamic state, they are the worst for women. There is more going on in the middle east than just western imperialism, not everything is the west's fault and even if it was we should have more accountability and not just overlook terrorism and other problems we have, prophet Mohammad didn't need Zionism or western imperialism to massacre the Jews of Banu Qurayza, which was so horrific I decided to fully become an ex-muslim after reading about it and I was questioning my faith for two years at that time.

You accused me of supporting genocide which is..... wow there is a lot to say about that, but I won't get into it now, you said this isn't in character for me as an "empathetic and intelligent woman" you're right, maybe the genocide accusation against Israel is blood libel and unfounded, because why would I support genocide? have you tried to read anything besides Qatar and Hamas approved propaganda? have you listened to other opinions in good faith without plugging your ears calling them Zionists (as if it's a bad thing to want self-determination and not be a dhimmi anymore) and blocking them?

I don't know where you get the audacity to say that I am ignorant and should do the "decent thing" and shut up, do you have any Jewish loved ones? do you worry about them on a daily basis because of antisemitism and how antisemitic hate crimes have increased to an insane level? I can't go a day without seeing new incidents reported, which you have ignored of course, because the only good Jew to you is a Jewish person who just affirms your beliefs so you can delude yourself into thinking you're a good person, but after that you don't really care, do you think antisemites ask Jewish people if they're Zionists before they harass and assault them? get off your fucking high horse, I don't owe you shit and you have no right to judge me, if anyone should shut up it's you, the rhetoric and the blood libels you share is the same fucking rhetoric inciting the increase in hate crimes, sincerely fuck off :)

[joliemye]

I think the legend of Zelda is my special interest?

I'm not autistic, but I've never had something grip me so long as this franchise. It's been going downhill ever since I've played Breath of the wild in 2020. At first it was just a typical hyperfixation (although I did almost fail some of my high school classes because it was the only thing I could think about). But then it went on for months so okay... longer fixation than i'm used to but whatever.

I've hyperfixated on multiple other fandom since then, but unlike all of the times where my previous interest faded when I discovered a new one, Zelda just stuck. I still got excited seeing fanart and fanfics, I went out of my way to see any news from nintendo. I may have been less invested in it than in 2020-2021 but it's been at the back of my mind ever since.

Especially what helped me fuel and retain my interest in it was Linked Universe, especially in reading more about the lore and the other games. I have more to say on the subject but this post is already getting long enough and that's not the point.

Which brings us to today, in 2024. Calling TLOZ an hyperfixation would be just wrong, it's not what it is anymore. But it's definitely not a "normal" interest. When I hear someone talk about it, or see someone with merch related to it, I have to stop myself from coming over to excitedly ramble about it (or rant about totk). I've spent hours scouring wikis and watching videos about every game, their creation etc. I think about it at least once a day and will relate it to every new thing I love. And I don't feel my love for it fading any times soon. I've never felt this strongly about something ever.

I've had this thought for some times now, I had seen a lot of people say that special interests was a term that could only be used by autistic people, and I thought it hadn't been long enough for me to call it that and that special interests where something you developed when you were a kid. Well, today I did some actual research and

1. People with ADHD (me) can have special interests.

2. A special interest can develop in adulthood and I think almost 5 years is long enough to call it that, no?

[secretariatess]

Artificial Cont.

Next installment of the @inklings-challenge.

When the human authorities arrived,they took away the surveillance androids away to review any information we may have captured. They sat me in a metal walled room with a metal table and two metal metal chairs. On the table was a computer facing the human's side. I had to focus on connecting to the computer in order to share all the data I had of that time period for the human to scan and assess.

It was a silent process. I was not programmed to converse, and the researcher was not inclined to speak. He was too intent in scouring the footage for anything I may have missed- for any clues that would lead to the identity of the culprit.

He was getting a little fatigued from his work after a long time, and someone else came to replace him. His replacement leaned over the table, fists on the table as he watched the screen before saying anything.

"So not a thing," the replacement remarked.

There were a couple of taps as the original researcher showed him his lack of notes.

"Fitting," said the replacement, "as they're suspecting this to be another Scourge hit."

The name Scourge brought up a database in my memory. A criminal of New Boston, the Scourge graffitied walls everywhere he went, stole androids of all kinds, and was possibly involved with multiple disappearances of humans. Given that his crimes occurred all over New Boston, he was also either a hopper or multiple people.

"Are they saying this is confirmation of his arrival in this district?" asked the original.

"You know them," said the replacement. "They'll hold off admitting it for as long as they can. Don't want to admit they've been duped just like every other district. They want to be the ones to catch him. The ones to outsmart him."

The original gave a hollow laugh. "I've sat here for hours trying to find something and don't even have a hint of a suspect . . . and since you're here, no one else does either. The guy's, like, magic."

"Impossible," was the replacement's only reply. He shooed the original out of his chair and began the exact same thing the original did. The original called out some form of farewell as the door closed behind him.

"Chances are the dolt didn't properly check what he was looking at," the replacement muttered. "Maybe I should check your memory to see if he was sleeping."

"He was not sleeping," I said automatically.

"Shut up, 1121," the replacement snapped. "I didn't ask you to speak."

Humans often got upset at things doing as they were programmed.

The replacement was more vocal than the original, but he did not appreciate any response from me when one of his questions triggered me to do so. He spent a lot more time scouring my memories than the original, even cursing me when I had looked away from the spot that later got graffitied. A third later replaced him, but few words were exchanged between them. After all three determined I had nothing to offer, I was sent to the charging ports.

I headed up to the floor of the charging ports- pods to snugly fit one android each. There was a lock that connected to the back of the head where it charged and restored functions that were running too hot. Androids were shut off during the whole process. We only came back online when a human undocked us, and we were unable to say how long we had been shut off. Only certain androids were programmed with that kind of understanding of time.

As I headed to the nearest available pod, my path was blocked by another surveillance android. I could tell that she was unscrewed somewhere by her appearance. The pink hair of surveillance androids was too messy, her expression was not approved programming, and she also conversed.

"I had dreams," she told me. "When I was shut off- I had dreams."

She was malfunctioning. It happened from time to time. I reported it to the developers, as she likely did not report herself. Malfunctioning androids rarely did.

"Do you have dreams?" she asked me.

I did not respond. It was not in my programming to answer that question. That was a question for humans. I only stepped around her when the developers had sent the check that the report was received and I was not required to continue observing her.

They would arrive shortly to remove her from the charging ports and do maintenance. If that did not fix her, she would be pulled from the surveillance android crew. I did not know what would happen to her after that. We were not informed about that.

I stepped into a pod and locked in, shutting down.

[papasmistakeria]

Cursed Enterprise headcanon (maybe AU) cause my favourite series is now Enterprise and they're the closest to the 21st century so I can make millenial headcanons for them and it'd still be considered canon:

One time, Malcolm had the crew do archery for target practice and survival training. Ironically, the person who had the worst score was Archer

Archer lost Porthos this one time and he was depressed for an entire month. In a show of good will and friendship, T'Pol decided to make it her mission to find Porthos. She brought Archer the beagle back and he was so happy he cried and hugged her for an entire hour. 3 days later, Hoshi and Travis showed up with the real Porthos. Archer was left with one question; If that's Porthos, then who the fuck is the beagle that T'Pol brought? In the end, Archer gave up trying to figure it out and decided to adopt the other beagle

T'Pol was fascinated by the human custom of international communities discussion through means of forums as a way to recognize cultures. For her research, she signed up for Twitter. It was then she's convinced humans are fucking stupid

Trip had top surgery twice; First time when he transitioned and second time on his arm when he grew those nipples

Trip has spent most of his young adult life trying to lick his elbows. Nearly died twisting his neck one time

Malcolm had a Green Day phase and Trip laughs at him for it

Because he's smaller than most Security Chiefs, Malcolm is very resourceful in combat. Meaning, he bites and claws at people like a rabid animal. He also has near perfect voice imitation which adds to the long list of 'Things Absolutely Fucked Up about Malcolm Reed'. Some people thought he's a skinwalker or some demon

Whenever he's drunk, Malcolm shifts through 10 different personalities and accents and all of those are just Dominic Keating characters

Hoshi has a soft spot for rodents. She snuck in a bunch of her pet mice into the ship during launch and some of them escaped and at the same time, the whole ship power died and the only ones still active are weapons and warp. Turns out, some of her mice are in Engineering having the feast of their lives (they're chewing on the cables). Trip nearly had an aneurysm while the entire Engineering crew were chasing multiple mice away with brooms

Hoshi's role model is Hatsune Miku

Travis' role model is also Hatsune Miku

Travis plays Roblox. One time he made a Roblox game based off the Enterprise but then the captain found out and told him to shut it down. Nobody even noticed that Archer himself plays Roblox

One creature that Phlox absolutely cannot stand is the Earth Wasp. During his first few days on Earth, he thought the wasp was a bee and tried to observe it but instead it stung him and he hasn't forgiven it

Phlox is a big fan of Scooby Doo and has spent years trying to find a talking dog. He still believes Porthos has the ability to speak but hides it

Hayes is a Brony. His favourite is Applejack

The Enterprise crew has a Minecraft server for everyone. The Engineers are the ones who built every structure in the server. The Science and Medical crew are the ones making farms and whatnot. Command crew are the ones mining. The Security crew logs in every now and then just to blow shit up and ruin everyone's day

The only time Harris regretted recruiting Malcolm to Section 31 was during his first solo mission and somehow Malcolm managed to bite a Starfleet security officer's fucking fingers off clean and Harris nearly had an aneurysm trying to do damage control

Shran tries to learn about human custom through their history since he's a firm believer that history is the door to the present. The next time he greeted Archer, he did a dab and Archer cried

Shran went to visit Earth as a show of diplomacy and for a date with Archer. Someone offered to give him more money if he gives them some money and he mistook that for weird human hospitality tradition. He got scammed

There's a thirst trap of Soval somewhere and it's on Forrest's private tiktok account

[moonunwell]

Wrathion had spent the entire day yearning for this moment. Lately, their nights together were the only thing that could take his mind away from the horrors he'd been forced to research for the war against N’zoth. As he climbed up the wall to the king’s quarters, though, he could tell this visit wouldn’t be the reprieve he was hoping for.

Anduin waited for him on the balcony, rather than within his room. Looking especially pale under the moons’ light, the king sat on a chair, his forehead sweaty and his teeth clenched in pain as he applied a bag of ice to his swollen right knee. It took him a few moments to acknowledge his visitor.

“Wrathion. You’re later than usual.” He sounded nervous, as if he’d been caught doing something inappropriate.

“My apologies, I had an extremely busy day. And I’m guessing yours wasn’t too easy either.” Wrathion’s eyes went to Anduin’s shaky leg. There it was again – that vague sensation in his own knee, like borrowed pain. He tripped on his next words: “Are… are you –”

“It’s just pain. It’s not for you to worry about.”

An awkward silence followed. Wrathion fiddled with his left earring, desperately searching for a topic of discussion.

“I’ve never seen you use this balcony, come to think of it,” was all he could come up with.

Anduin cocked his head. “Funny story, one time Onyxia locked me here. She said I had to be put in penitence, though I don’t remember what for. She must’ve cast some sort of spell, too, because no one could hear me cry for help. Eventually I stopped trying. I was trapped here for hours.”

Wrathion blinked. “That’s not funny at all.”

“I know,” he sighed. “Let’s just go inside before someone spots you.”

He helped Anduin get up from the chair and through the balcony’s ornate doors. The human’s knee made an alarming creaking sound every time he moved it, and almost buckled multiple times on the short walk to the edge of the bed.

“I take it you’re having a flare-up,” Wrathion stated the obvious as he and Anduin sat down. “I apologize for the intrusion, but why not call upon your divine powers to make this easier on you?”

“It won’t work. Not when it’s the Light in my bones causing the pain.” He flinched as he changed positions, exhaling sharply through his teeth. “It’s started doing this whenever I do something bad. And…” He looked away. “And I just did something terrible.”

“Oh. I see.”

This was the part where he thought of some comforting words to say, or prepared for a prolonged debate on the ethics of the king’s latest executive decision. But, wait –

“Wait, no, that doesn’t make any sense.” He turned sharply to face Anduin. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but – *you* told me that *no one* can communicate with the Light itself. You said, and I quote, ‘it is a force so primordial it takes years of study and abnegation to even begin to comprehend it’. Not even Prophet Velen knows that much about it! So how come *you* can suddenly sense its judgment so directly? Have you become so powerful you can now… scrute the inscrutable?”

“That’s not a real word.”

“Answer my question.”

Anduin sighed and rubbed his face. “The Light is… a lot more complex than what fifteen year old me could tell you. Sometimes it manifests more directly in our world for reasons we don’t understand yet. It’s a subject of constant debate within the church. But… I don’t think it's too far-fetched. There are some ecclesiastical records of cases similar to mine. Moribunds who were saved by the Light and then claimed they could hear its voice through their healed body parts.”

Wrathion quirked an eyebrow. “What would that be called? A miracle? Is that what you believe yourself to be?”

“No – *I’m* not a miracle. But the way I was healed after the Bell incident was. So, maybe…” He was starting to get embarrassed. He laid face up on the bed. “I don’t know. It sounds so ridiculous now that I say it out loud. But… I just… I *know* what this feeling is. I can tell it’s the divine guiding me. What else could this pain mean?”

Wrathion hesitated before replying: “Not everything comes with a meaning. Maybe you’re just in pain.”

But he knew his words fell on deaf ears.

[timextoxhajima]

Sonder: Part II

Parts: I II III IV V

member: enhypen heeseung! x oc! woo ki yeom [3rd person pov]

genre: coming of age, slice of life, angst, romance

w/c: 5.2k

warnings: topics on religion, distressed relationships, mental health (I want to leave an a/n here that I grew up with my maternal family being Buddhists so what I've written is based off what I researched online and the way her family practised Buddhism. I'm personally a free-tinker and this narrative is not in any way meant to offend nor support any particular religion.), mentions of death**

synopsis: after being kicked out of her home, Woo Ki Yeom is forced to live life on her own. struggling to find herself in the midst of her chaotic life, she meets lee heeseung, who, like her, can't give any more fucks to life than she does.

"n. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own."

Sim Ji Yeon was the most perfect person to have existed in Ki Yeom's life. Under normal circumstances, the single child is the spoilt one. Unlimited attention from the parents or usually an unlimited amount of pocket money or allowance due to the guilt that piles up from the lack of attention. 

But Ji Yeon was the complete opposite. She grew up with an older brother - Sim Jae Yun, who loved her more than any other sibling Ki Yeom has ever met. Her parents, though spend alot of time working abroad, regularly comes home or brings them along to wherever it was they were working at and treats it like a holiday. They have a border collie that listens to everything they say and a family that quite literally never fights with one another.

All of her friends love her and she probably never feels left out at all. Her parents let her wear and eat what she always wants to and Ji Yeon doesn't spend more than a couple of hours loathing over how useless she is or how unhappy her life is. She never gets angry with the person who gets her order wrong or frustrated when the person infront of her is walking extra slow. She's so secure about herself that even when she's aware someone shits on her behind her back, all she does is smile her pretty smile and shrug her shoulders. 

And on top of all that, Sim Ji Yeon was happy.

During the five years Ki Yeom's family spent falling apart, Ji Yeon had extended a helping hand multiple times. But, it's in Ki Yeom's pride and anguish that these offers of help morphed into pity and sympathy. And one day, Ki Yeom just... gave up. 

Gave up trying to explain, or say 'no, thank you', or that she's not in the mood for a meal she knows Ji Yeon will pay for anyway.

So when Ms. Perfect drops Ki Yeom a text a day after her father had sent her a letter (albeit to the wrong address), her morning is ruined. 

Ji Yeon: Hey, how are you? Please reply me... It's been four years. Ji Yeon: We'll go out for a meal. Ji Yeon: I promise you'll pay for your own food.

Ki Yeom locks her phone and groans herself back into the pillow. 

It's not easy to pretend a friend of 15 years doesn't exist.

But Ki Yeom's phone goes off for an 11am appointment - which is earlier than usual - and forces herself out of bed first. Reply later.

She's pulls the door open, telling herself that she'll get a coffee and a sandwich on the way to work, but first-

Nearly slipping on whatever she stepped on, Ki Yeom stumbles backwards, only managing to catch herself with her legs awkwardly opened and her fingers gripped on the door frame. She looks down, and stares at the envelope with a shoe print on it.

It's the letter from her father.

She looks up and down the corridor - no one. Did the boy leave it here overnight? Reaching for it, she notices a light pencil writing on the envelope itself, right beneath the wrong address.

I thought I should leave it here anyway. It's yours after all.

Sucking in a deep breath, she stares at it. But her second alarm goes off, calling her to fling it mindlessly into her apartment and shut the door.

Lee Heeseung had chosen to come out on his own and live the life he had always wanted. Quiet, but determined, he wanted to experience being out in the open, making new mistakes and learning all the new things. He learned that life was short and that regrets would be regretful. So, with about a grand in his bank account and an apartment that he had found with the help of his brother, he moved.

But don't misunderstand him, no. He does not have the wanderlust for life the way he seems like he does. In fact, he's in an ironic paradox with himself - if that even makes sense.

Heeseung had an epiphany after enrolling in university - he was a sophomore student when he realised his life was slowing down. Slowing down in the sense that life didn't seem to have much to offer him anymore. It was just: class, study, nap, eat, study, sleep, and occasionally have a drink or two with his acquaintances (because it takes much more than a drink or two for Heeseung to consider someone a friend).

And then he thought, what would happen once he's done with university? Will he decide to do a phD or a master's programme and prolong this cycle for another decade-ish or will he graduate and work like any other civilian?

My, God, he thought to himself on one of those nights he couldn't sleep. Doesn't life have so much more to offer? Surely it can't be that everyone's lives and hours are the same everyday?

If you could condense his thoughts and feelings into a sentence, Heeseung was simply rejecting the possibility that life was mundane, and in a bid to force all of life's forces of nature upon himself, he chose to move out on his own.

His motto? Make me want to live.

Heeseung was almost baited upon finding that envelope. He only looked through them when he got home and was on the verge of ripping it open before he noticed he doesn't recognise the name on the envelope. He pauses, fingers dragging along the edge and making out the name.

Woo Ki Yeom.

The unit numbers were easily mistaken - he stayed in 07-33 and whoever this Ki Yeom person was, stayed in 07-38.

He considers tossing out the letter, or even returning it to the letter box downstairs that was meant for the 'wrongly delivered'. But on the way to the lift, he stops himself, and looks down the hallway for the 07-38 unit. Sucking a deep breath, he walks over and knocks on the door, hoping no one would answer and he would have the chance to rip open the letter and read it for himself.

But he's proven wrong when the door opens, and it's the girl he lost a washing machine token to. Just because he wanted to be nice for once. He remembers he hasn't gotten it back though.

"Oh, it's you."

She looks... tired.

"If you're here for the token, I don't have any extra to return. I can pay you a couple of cents or a dollar for it if you're insistent."

Heeseung quickly shakes his head and lifts the letter to show her.

"Uh, this came in my mail. I think they wrote the address wrongly."

She carefully studies the words written on it, and glances up at him through her lashes.

Heeseung panics.

"I figured eight just seemed the most similar to three, so. Are you... Woo Ki Yeom?"

A pause.

"Yeah, thanks."

Heeseung watches as she gently takes the envelope, finding the edge of the flap to tear it open. In a terrible bid to find an excuse to stay, Heeseung blurts out the worst joke ever.

"Mail's not that common nowadays. They don't have your number or email?"

A little smile tries to crack its way through when she finally pulls the letter out, but she doesn't even bother looking at him whilst unfolding the sheet of paper.

"Yeah, they don't have my number or my email."

Oh, my God, she hates me.

"Oh," He mumbles under his breath, wanting to dig a hole and slap himself over the head if he could.

But the girl goes quiet as she continues to straighten out the letter. Her eyes seem hesitant and afraid, like it was someone she was afraid to hear from or someone whom she didn't want to look for her here.

What if she's dealing with some illegal activity? And this is just being passed off as an innocent letter? What if this isn't even hers?

Heeseung rubs an eye and purses his lips, unsure of his presense as she starts to read the letter. He was expecting her to finish it, then thank him and close the door.

Or... start crying and rambling about a broken-up boyfriend... or a family member who is knee-deep in debt-

But he's startled instead, when she angrily folds it back up - or rather, crumples it - back into the envelope. She shoves it harshly back into his arms, which shocks him.

Heeseung's eyes widen as she pulls backward, the haphazard letter-in-envelope awkwardly sitting between his arm and stomach. Frowning, he wants to ask her about her attitude and lack of politeness, but he doesn't miss her eyes that are looking down. A sheet of tears have coated them. They got shinier in the last couple of seconds.

"Um," He carefully whispers. "You... alright?"

She looks up at him, and seems embarrassed for a split second.

"It's not mine."

Ain't no way that's not yours.

"Are... you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," She rubs her eyes. "Sorry, I was just busy making dinner. I have to go."

"Right," Heeseung subtly readjusts the envelope and nods.

With pursed lips, she looks at him one more time for acknowledgement. He's quiet, and careful, as he takes a step back and turns to leave, hearing the door close behind him. Heeseung looks down at the envelope and letter, hands slightly trembling at the thought of what content the letter could possibly hold.

Later that night, Heeseung was busy planning out his study schedule alongside his piano tutoring sessions when he notices the envelope and crushed letter sitting at the edge of the dining table. He thinks about the girl's reaction - the letter must belong to her.

There's a little voice in his head going, No! Do NOT read it!

But Heeseung is a busybody and nobody's around to stop him anyway, so he sets aside his headphones and walks toward the coffee table.

Dear Ki,

I'm writing to share that I've gotten a job. I'm sorry if the address on this letter is unclear, but I hope a kind soul will have it delivered to you if it's wrong.

I know what I say now can't undo what has been done, but I hope you will forgive me. I just want to know if you were doing well, and if you were eating and sleeping well. If you have enough money for your meals and for your rent.

If you wanted to know, your grandfather keeps your secrets for you very well. He hasn't once budged about where you work, only the estate where you live, and that's only because a parent knows how another parent feels when their child is not talking to them and fending for themselves.

Your mother and I want to see you soon, so please... write me back soon and we can talk about a meal or a cup of coffee or something. Let us make it up to you. Make things right. I don't want the way we last saw each other to be the way we end forever. We're always praying for you, Ki.

Love,

Dad

Heeseung is almost touched. He folds the letter back up and fits it nicely into the envelope. Then, he grabs a pencil and scribbles gently on the surface where the address has been written.

The next morning, Heeseung wakes up at an ungodly hour - His classes were at 9am. Who even puts a class at 9am? 

Grumbling his way out of bed and into the bathroom and then into the makeshift kitchen for coffee, he spots the letter. He can’t help but wonder what had happened between some parents and a child, for her to move out and quite literally hide from them. Why was she so angry? 

Later, Heeseung gently places the letter on the floor right outside her door. Whatever will happen to it is up to her thereafter. She can toss it up or rip it apart and set it on fire and it would be none of his business. If her parents had done something so unforgiveable, then maybe she should anyway. 

Heeseung straightens himself, then looks out the window to notice the clouds and impending rain. 

Ahn Yoo Hyeon grunts and sighs, tossing the wet wipes into the little trash bag she brought along with her.

"I hope you're eating all the good food up there where it's probably free of charge and not susceptible to import taxes," She winces and wipes the sweat off her chin. Struggling to stand, she takes a deep breath when she's finally up. The late morning sun beats down on her dark hair and her exposed arms, sweat dripping down her back and her chest inside her shirt.

Bzzzt. Bzzzt. Bzzzt.

Hurriedly grabbing another wet wipe to clean her fingers, she then picks the phone out of her pocket. She squints at the screen.

"Perfect timing."

"No way, you're there?"

"Mhm, just finished cleaning him up."

"Sorry I couldn't be there this year."

"It's fine. World won't stop just cause you can't make it this time."

"Anyway, the team's looking for artists. Planning on doing an international tour or something. If you have any names you'd like to recommend, send them my way."

"Interesting. What's in it for them and for me?" She snickers.

"You'll find out when you get me one or two," He pauses. "Say hi to him for me."

"He knows you'd be here if you could."

Yoo Hyeon looks down at the tombstone: AHN YOO KWON

Despite him being an unusual eight years older than her (with no other siblings in between), he treated her just like any other big brother would (as opposed to the other much-older brothers whom she knew treated their little sisters like princesses).

That was to say, he ruffled her hair everytime she had gotten it done, or stole her food without permission, or the reverse: she would rip the computer plug out from the power socket when he was in the middle of a game. He wasn't one of those 'golden-perfect' older brothers. He was annoying as fuck. 

When her brother had joined a gang, and even if, in fact, he did not, Yoo Hyeon knew that he had mingled with bad company. This was strange and highly unlikely from the start, because she belonged to a family that prized education, contribution to society and hierarchy. 

In hindsight, this could be why her brother even took a liking to those people anyway. Because he had found a place where he could be himself and not be bound to their parents' expectations. If he was born to be a criminal, then maybe it was, in some sick and twisted way, his calling. 

Ironically, it wasn't those people who got him in a coffin. It was a cat who had been beaten up and tortured by a bunch of kids. He had found them in the back of an alley in the middle of the night, thanks to the mewling and crying of the poor mangled thing. 

And upon finding them, you'd think that a 25 year old gangster would have the upper hand against the group of 15 year olds, but they were armed and he was outnumbered. 

They didn't have the intelligence to drop it and run, which was shocking by any measurement, because that's exactly what he had expected.

He was found with gashes to his arms, face and body. Broken ribs, and had died from blunt force to his head with a piece of debris left in that alley from a renovation project nearby.

And all those kids got were a couple of years in juvi because they were 'underaged' and 'misguided'.

The cat survived. And Yoo Hyeon cried to it every other day it felt worse than usual. So when even the cat passed just barely a couple years later, which Yoo Hyeon then found out it was an old cat, she felt like she had lost every remaining piece of her brother. 

Her parents may have forbidden them both to get tattoos, but she remembers the first time he showed her his first one. It was a little wave, the kind that a white girl would have on her arm, which was funny. 

Then over time, he decorated himself with them, since he no longer cared what their parents thought.

But these were all just fragments of memories now. 

Death is a funny thing, for with his death came Yoo Hyeon's call-to-action, and by 'action', she meant opening her own tattoo parlour without ever getting a single one on herself. Getting over it was one thing, but making sure that it was with reason is another.

Yoo Hyeon will carry this reason and mission for the rest of her life.

"Ki Yeom," Ahn Yoo Hyeon calls out. In between her fingers is a thin stack of papers. "Pay goes out today. Check your deck." 

You'd think the person who owns a tattoo parlour would be covered in tattoos, or at least, one. But Ahn Yoo Hyeon grew up in a household that condemned tattoos and in a bid to seal it with a nail (and by seal it with a nail, she really means offer a slap in their faces), she opened her own tattoo parlour without ever getting one. 

Whether this story was true... well, Ki Yeom had no way of verifying. 

"Thanks," She takes the deck and flips through them. 

Ms. Ahn had always been very perceptive - which is ironic, considering how little you can read from her face and her tone. So Ki Yeom isn't really surprised when the woman of few words starts another conversation. 

"You look troubled," She pulls off her sunglasses and her fringe topples over her forehead. Ki Yeom had wondered a few times if Ms. Ahn had a boyfriend. "Which is strange considering your paycheck this month." 

Ki Yeom looks up from the deck and looks at her for a moment. A knowing exchange. They are both children of family feuds that cannot be reversed.

"I wish I could give you advice," Yoo Hyeon lays a tiny smile, pressing the arms of her sunglasses against her own stomach to fold it. "But I'm not in any position to share any."

"Is it true? What they say about your family and that they didn't like tattoos?"

"Oh, they hated them. Thought of it as vandalism and lack of respect to the body. The funny thing is, I see what they mean. After all, it's a choice you make to permanently alter your body, even if it's minute and unnecessary. But it's not up to them to decide what strangers do to their bodies." 

Ki Yeom is slightly stunned at the honesty and openness.

"What, surprised I shared so easily?" Yoo Hyeon chuckles and reopens her sunglasses. "You did well this month. More clients are asking for you."

She holds out a hand for the deck, which Ki Yeom returns. "I try my best." 

"Do you still dream those dreams? The ones that give you your ideas?" 

"Sometimes. But it's not like all my ideas are from my dreams." 

She hums in response and slots her deck back into the folder. "Continue the good work. What you have... It's a talent that not many people have."

An awkward pause.

"Say, I just had an old client... Works for an art establishment over in Europe... He called and asked if I had any recommendations to let join their team of artists."

Ki Yeom straightens her tilted head. She turns and looks around, making sure nobody's eavesdropping.

"I'm- I'm just a tattoo artist."

"Whose job entails strangers trusting you covering their body in permanent ink. I think you'd enjoy this... challenge."

Another knowing silence.

"What is it that's keeping you here?" Yoo Hyeon squints, just slightly. She tilts her head now, as if trying to split Ki Yeom open and read through her memories like a book. "If the thing that's keeping you here isn't bringing you joy or any benefit to your life, then perhaps it's time to move on. Don't let the mistakes you couldn't fix create more mistakes in your life. Else, what's the whole point of the phrase 'Learn from your mistakes'?"

Her words are so sharp, so direct, so fast - it's like she had rehearsed them. They sit in Ki Yeom's heart and her brain and her throat.

"Drop me a text if you're interested. When you think the world is against you, that's when you know it's time to see the rest of the world and realise that the rest of the world actually doesn't care," Yoo Hyeon opens her sunglasses and fits them on her head. She turns around to the front desk and tidies up the remaining decks for the other tattoo artists. "And last I heard from this place, everybody seems to hate you anyway, hmm?"

Clearing her throat, Ki Yeom realises her palms are sweating into the deck.

"Thank you for the offer."

Yoo Hyeon picks up her purse, ready to leave. "You have only yourself to thank that the offer came by, else I wouldn't have even offered it in the first place. But I'll let you know... I'd be vastly disappointed if you reject it. Because then you just might have to work here for the rest of your life."

She offers an animated, stretched out smile, then turns and walks out the door.

The day passes like any other day, other than Ki Yeom's colleagues talking about their decks. Only Jun Yeol and Soo Min had the courage and were good enough friends with Ki Yeom to share each other's. Of course, Ki Yeom had topped sales again.

It was late and most of the other artists have gone home, leaving only them and one or two others with clients who have harder pieces.

"At this rate, you might as well buy the parlour and take over for Ms Ahn," Jun Yeol flips through Ki Yeom's deck.

"Speaking of Ms Ahn, I thought I saw her speaking to you this afternoon when she came in," Soo Min pushed herself over from her working space, the rollers making a frequent squeak-squeak noise as she rolls Jun Yeol's deck up in her hands.

"Oh, my God, I jinxed it?" Jun Yeol closes Ki Yeom's deck and places it back on her desk, arm resting on the edge and turning to look at her in slight disbelief. "Call me a sorceress."

"Soceror," Soo Min rolls her eyes.

"Words should not be bound by gender."

Soo Min glares at him. A cheeky silence as Jun Yeol gets up and snatches his deck from Soo Min's hands.

"She offered me a gig," Ki Yeom whispers, just loud enough for them to hear. Jun Yeol and Soo Min both turn to her.

"In some art organisation. In Europe."

"What?"

"That's crazy!" Jun Yeol's jaw drops, unfolding his deck and mindlessly hurtling it onto Ki Yeom's desk. "What did you say?"

"What's crazier is that she probably rejected it."

"I told her I'd think about it."

"Let me guess, until you die?" Soo Min raises a brow.

"You're a horrible comfort person!" Jun Yeol lands a palm on the backseat of Soo Min's chair and twirls her to face the opposite direction. "Well, what's keeping you thinking? What are the concerns?"

Soo Min squeaks back to face the party of two, looking around to make sure nobody else was listening.

"I don't know. I just... it feels so far."

"Isn't that the point? You're not happy here. Find your happiness elsewhere."

"Will you shut up?" Jun Yeol smacks her over the head, earning a harsh wince and a feigned punch from her. "It's a big deal. Not everyone can uproot and move away from a whole life they've known here. Plus, you have your grandfather, right? I mean I know you're not close but it's not like he's there. He's here. Everyone's here."

"She literally doesn't have any friends here - no offence - but if she can flourish elsewhere, I don't see why she should stay bound here like a poor dog chained to his-"

Then the parlour door swings open, the keychains hanging on the handle ringing as it does.

"Hi. I'm looking for Ki Yeom, I saw somewhere that she worked here."

Soo Min and Jun Yeol look from above Ki Yeom's head, then down at her face as she was backfacing the front door.

Ki Yeom didn't have to turn around to know who it was. She whirls around in the chair, standing as she does. "Who told you I worked here?"

Sim Ji Yeon forces out a sad smile, lips parting to find an answer. "I... I googled you. Took me a couple of minutes, but it wasn't that hard to find your name. Here."

Ki Yeom rubs the back of her neck, turning around to look at her colleagues. Jun Yeol rushes to her side, back facing the stranger as well.

"You look like you need help. Who's she?"

Soo Min shifts her chair so Ki Yeom and Jun Yeol blocks her from the stranger's vision.

"Uh... Long story short: Childhood friend. Fell out because... I didn't like that she was so happy and so nice to me and I felt like she was pitying me after I fell out with my family."

Jun Yeol scowls at her. "'Didn't like that she was so happy'? What are you, allergic to being happy?"

Soo Min swats him on the arm. "You were just telling her to stay here in this miserable place just a couple of minutes ago!"

"They are two very different things, bitch!" His eyes are about to pop out his head. "And did I just hear you call this place a 'miserable' one?"

"Alright, shut up. The two of you. I'm fine. I'll handle it."

Jun Yeol is about to protest when Soo Min reaches out, flicking her fist into his groin. He crouches over, cheeks puffed and lips pursed.

"I'll- I'll get you for that... later."

Then she drags him away from the front door's view.

Ki Yeom must admit, she's not all that surprised Sim Ji Yeon is here. She is persistent and diligent in all the right ways there is as a student and as a person, but that didn't mean that this personality trait wasn't annoying in other contexts.

"I know you've been reading my texts. I just wanted to know how you were doing. I don't know anything about you anymore and I just can't stand to know that... I no longer know anything about you and your life."

The street side lamp outside was illuminating the pavement behind her like she was an angel. Ki Yeom almost wanted to scoff at this sight.

"I don't know why it matters that you don't know anything. My parents don't know anything. Nobody knows anything, but I'm fine and well."

Ki Yeom can see that the words have stung her. Ji Yeon, like the last time she had seen her a couple of years ago, still looked as perfect as ever. Perfectly dyed brown hair, the type that makes her even prettier, but not bright enough for corporate jobs to turn her away. She has that clean girl look going on. White off-shoulder top and flared jeans and slip-on sandals. The ultimate casual pretty-girl look.

"It matters because I care. It matters because you basically disappeared, and for the last couple of years, I've been stuck wondering what I've done wrong. And if it was my fault that the friendship has turned sour."

"It's not your fault, it's mine. For being an ass."

"So at least tell me how you were being an ass. You have so much spine to be out here making a life for your own but you don't have a spine enough to tell me why I had to google you?"

Ki Yeom sharply tilts her head. "'Spine to be out here'? Have you... forgotten why I was even made to be out here making a life for myself?"

The taller clears her throat and looks down at her feet. "I'm sorry. That wasn't what I meant."

Something beeps from behind them at the cashier's. A client awkwardly passes them and leaves.

"Look, I..." Ji Yeon sucks in a deep breath and sighs, gently shaking her head. "I just want to know what happened. And if after all the clearing up, you still hate me and our paths have just... diverged too far and too long ago, then I will just have to make peace with it. But I can't just leave this... it's like abandoning my house without reason."

And the world is even quieter than before.

Suddenly, there's one more thing that is keeping Ki Yeom from leaving, and she hasn't even had this conversation with Ji Yeon.

Heeseung doesn't do it often, but he has his door slightly ajar so he can see if the girl has come home. He hopes she doesn't notice it, because he knows it's creepy and weird and he's kind of an ass because he just wanted to see if he could get a glimpse of-

Ding.

The lift doors open, and he can just barely make out a shadow passing down his corridor. He carefully places his pen down, and makes his way to the door, head carefully peeking out-

"You are quite the busybody, aren't you?"

She uses a fist to shove the door into the apartment, the handle jamming into his stomach.

"Ah-" He groans, clearing his throat and moving backwards, fingers gripping the door. "Well... Humans are only... curious. The letter yesterday was obviously yours."

She squints at him. "You read it, didn't you?"

"Well-"

She kicks the door, pushing him off balance.

"Yes," He quickly admits. "I'm sorry! It just... you crumpled it all up and threw it back in my hands and you looked like you were about to cry so I got curious and-"

"Breached my privacy and read a letter that you knew wasn't yours?"

"Euhhhhhhh..." He squeaks, slightly shrugging his shoulders. "I'm sorry. For what it's worth, I know it's none of my business. Your life is yours, and I couldn't care less-"

"So why were you waiting for me to come back?" She perks up a brow.

"I mean- If you knew someone was going through a hard time, wouldn't you care?"

"Not if this person meant nothing to me."

"You're kind of harsh."

"And you're kind of nosy."

"Okay, okay! I'm nosy and you're sad, I get it."

Ki Yeom rolls her eyes and turns around to make her way back to her own apartment.

"Just so you know! I don't normally care either!" He partially shouts down the corridor as she unlocks her door. "I just-"

SLAM!

"...Am kind of going through an exisistential crisis too."

Heeseung sighs heavily, throwing his head back in frustration. Stepping backwards, he gently gets the door shut, turning around to look at the pile of lecture notes sitting at his desk. There's a gnawing, frustrating feeling in his chest.

Why does it feel like the world is so happening, and he's just a boring loser trying to find entertainment?

He thinks that maybe this mindset is selfish, and that some people would rather live their life in quiet peace. But why does he have the hunger for stories, for gossip and to learn the secrets of others? Is he not worth life's ups-and-downs? Is he so mundane that he will live a mundane life and die a mundane death?

Pathetic, he thinks to himself. He dragged himself all the way out here to find himself, to figure out what life means... and yet he's finding it in other people's demise.

Perhaps this life wasn't for him. Perhaps he belongs in a sheltered home, away from life's trials and tribulations. Perhaps God knows he's too soft and fragile for it.

PART III