#i went for free-associating

[beatriceportinari]

Another year, another outfit to die in! Happy birthday again Izuna!!!!!!

Like last year, I played with someone else's lines for these charming patterns, thank you so much Lena @elhnrt ! I had a ton of fun :D

Check the readmore for pattern references and explanations, there are some easter eggs in there :)

(x,x,x,x)

My goal for this piece, in addition to playing with patterns and textures and adding some Naruto references, was to add as many death flags as possible.

The idea of having Izuna in a fireman's coat is obviously not from me. I've always like the idea of Uchihas in fire resistant clothes, and the opportunity for a thick texture alongside a reversible double pattern is very appealing. I used the image of the second reference as a base, with skulls on one side and stylized lightning patterns on the other (visible inside the sleeves and collar). Both were common immagery of firemen coats.

The actual skull pattern is taken from the third reference. I'd seen this one before and before even learning anything abt it it was too beautiful to pass up. Those white and navy gradients are absolutely delightful and I enjoyed using my gel pens for them very much.... This particular type of imagery with skulls and bones in a field is called Nozarashi, inspired by Buddhist representation of death and transience.

The lightning pattern itself is a reference to water and lightning dragons :) Like Tobirama's iconic jutsu, it's one of the hints of what's abt to happen to our little guy. The scabbard is also decorated with dragon motifs for the same reason.

The background pattern is taken from the first reference, another fireman's coat with an illustration of Raijin, the thunder god. He is often representated with drums decorated with tomoes. It works nicely as a standard looking sharingan illustration, with a reference to Tobirama's hiraishingiris with the thunder imagery, like the thunder patterns inside the coat.

If you're interested in this I recommend the book linked in the second reference! It is entirely about skeleton motifs in japanese clothing of the early 20th century.

[avemstella]

And I told you one day you will see, that I'll be back I guarantee And that hell's coming, hell's coming Hell, hell's coming with me

- Poor Man's Poison

Egeriaaaaaaaa... I have so many thoughts about u that are probably going to be super wrong, but for the moment I can live in my Delusions of u being a morally... bankrupt questionable queen (also all my Furina headcanons).

though that new egeria lore via fontaine wings does mention her committing sins so I heeeeyyyyyy

[moodycarcass]

i feel like one of these days im gonna get badly yelled at an adopt designer for taking the "you can change the design to your liking" blurbs too literally

[kaleidoscopicbullettrain]

[shortqueershakespeare]

damn i'm so beyond the age where i would actively enjoy going to reading festival but the friday line up is so good ffs

[burntchickenlookingass]

No cuz im not done talking about ffcc

[orbiting-star]

I just spent the last 2 hours reading and fact checking the new Born Free article about big cats in zoos and my conclusion is: Born Free are full of shit

[fozmeadows]

The Parable of the Wolf

On a fine spring day, an errant young Wolf wandered away from his pack and, in a sunny forest glade, encountered a Hunter.

"Please don't kill me!" said the Wolf, as the Hunter raised his gun. "I'm not here to hurt you!"

"I don't believe you," replied the Hunter. "Everyone knows that wolves are vile, dangerous creatures. You have claws that rip and tear - how can I possibly trust you?"

"If I pull out my claws," said the Wolf, "will you let me go?"

"Of course," said the Hunter. "Why would I lie to you?"

One by one, the Wolf pulled out his claws. The Hunter watched with a lazy smirk, and when the Wolf was done, he lowered his gun.

"I believe you now," said the Hunter. "You're free to go."

"Thank you!" said the Wolf, who tottered home on bloody paws and told his pack of the Hunter's benevolence. "It's only clawed wolves that the hunters don't like," he said. "So long as we remove them, we'll never be shot." And though some wolves disagreed with this, the most fearful of them listened, and soon a third of the pack was clawless.

A month went by, and in due course, the young Wolf found himself once more alone in the forest. A twig cracked behind him, and when he turned, there was the Hunter, his shiny gun at the ready.

"Wait!" said the Wolf. "I've got no claws, remember? I'm not dangerous!."

"I'd like to believe you," the Hunter said, "but last week, I heard that a little girl was mauled by something with big, sharp teeth, and your teeth look pretty sharp to me."

"If I pull out my teeth," said the Wolf, "will you let me go?"

"Of course," said the Hunter. "Why would I lie to you?"

One by one, the Wolf pulled out his teeth. The Hunter watched with silent intent, and when the Wolf was finished, he let his gun droop low.

"I can see you're a well-behaved pup," said the Hunter. "Go, be on your way."

"Thank you!" said the Wolf, and lolloped home, his jaws dripping blood, to tell the pack of the Hunter's caution. "Something with fangs has committed a terrible crime," he said. "So long as we don't look like them, we'll never be mistaken for monsters." And though the eldest wolves exchanged worried looks, the younger ones listened, and soon a third of the pack was toothless, too.

Another month went by, until one day, drinking at his favourite part of the river, the Wolf realised he wasn't alone, and raised his head to see the Hunter walking towards him, his gun once more at the ready.

"This stream is in my territory," the Wolf said, panicked and puzzled. "What are you doing here? I have neither claws nor teeth, and pose no possible threat to you."

"You don't, it's true," said the Hunter, "but many among your pack have both teeth and claws. How am I to trust your good intentions when you associate with such creatures?"

"If I chased away the toothed and clawed members of my pack," said the Wolf, "will you no longer be afraid of me?"

"Of course," said the Hunter. "Why would I lie to you?"

"I'll do it, then," said the Wolf, and when the Hunter gave the nod, he hurried back to his pack, assembled all the obedient wolves, and told them what had to be done. Though some were troubled by the Hunter's presence in their territory, they all agreed it made no sense to have sacrificed their claws and teeth while still associating with those who hadn't - after all, their stance was a principled one, and what good was principle if it wasn't firmly applied? With that, they banded together to chase the other wolves away, and when they were finished, more than a third of the pack was gone.

His task achieved, the Wolf returned to the river, where the Hunter was patiently waiting, and told him the good news.

"It's done!" he said. "The only wolves left are those without claws, or those without teeth, or those without both, like me."

"I'm glad to hear it," said the Hunter. "I hope the others didn't give you too much trouble?"

"Some of them snapped at us, it's true," said the Wolf, "and others swiped at us with their claws. It was frightening; I understand now why you were afraid."

"That's good," said the Hunter, and tipped his hat as he strolled back the way he'd come.

That night, as the remaining wolves lay sleeping, the Hunter and his fellows snuck up on the den and started shooting. The Wolf awoke in terror and confusion to the sound of gunshots and the howls of his dying friends. Desperately, he tried to fight back, but his toothless jaws found no grip on the limbs of the hunters, and his clawless paws left not a dent in their sturdy coats. All too soon, he was knocked to the ground, and as he lay there, panting in fear, the Hunter came and stood over him.

"Why are you doing this?" cried the Wolf. "I did everything you asked!"

The Hunter shrugged. "At the end of the day, a wolf's a wolf. We never could've trusted you."

Horrified, the Wolf asked, "Then why did you have us pull out our claws and remove our teeth and chase away our friends?"

"Because you were strong together," came the reply. "Like this, you're weak."

"But you said you weren't afraid of us!" begged the Wolf.

The Hunter smiled, and sighed, and raised his gun. "Oh, little pup," he said, "this was never about fear. Why would I lie to you?" And before the Wolf could answer, he pulled the trigger.

[sheepispink]

thinking about Ghost whose never wanted to have kids, and so when your relationship develops past the stolen glances and quiet moments, he’s already prepared himself for rejection. Infact, he’s been avoiding you the entire week, always gruffly saying he has something to do before he’s off again.

You’re one of the few things in life he’s actually wanted, and that was terrifying enough to come to terms with, especially with the nature of his job. But now he has to let you know before it’s too late and possibly—well, probably—ruin the relationship before it even begins.

It’s late, the common room empty except for the quiet tap of your laptop as you finish up your work for the day. Thankfully, you don't even work on the field, serving on the communications and intel side of things. “Hey.” You perk up at his gruff voice, fingers immediately gravitating off the keyboard to focus on him as he moves around the couch, steps slow and calculated. “You free? I uh— I need to talk to you ‘bout something...” You’re awkward and now he’s even more hesitant because why are you fidgeting like that?

“So do i.”

“Oh!” You swallow, close the laptop and sit upright, quickly glancing around for any prying voices before returning to him once more. “You go first.”

With his teeth clenched, he looks straight ahead, avoiding your gaze. He’s not stupid, he knows how this will go; there’s never been any hope for him in a relationship before. His commitment is awful, he’s barely a man most would want to associate with and he’s definitely not one to father a kid. He’s almost regretting leading you on this far, even though you’ve made him feel far more alive than he’s felt in months.

“I don't think this is going to work out.” He states it as bluntly as possible, letting the words take the sharp fall instead of his heart all while your eyes widen in shock. “Listen, I’m not good at this whole relationship thing, and i’m not exactly the best at commitment. Even if this went long term, I don't even want kids anyway. And i’m not going to sit here and pretend to move this along knowing that—-“

“-Wait, that’s what I wanted to say. I don't want any either.”

“Huh?”

You’re both staring at each other, lips parted because the one thing you were both anxiously mulling over all week was shared between you two. “I don't really.. think I could mother a child.” You mumble out with a sheepish shrug, and Ghost just stares back because he can't even argue with that when he has the exact same reasoning. “Yeah.. yeah, same.”

Silence lingers for a few seconds till he just swallows, sitting back properly into the couch, tense shoulders melting into the cushions. “We sleepin in my room or yours tonigh’?”

“I’d say mine but you have a bigger bed.. and you’ll throw my plushies off.”

“That’s because the only thing you should be holdin’ is me.” It’s gruff, but also a little playful, a hint of a smirk behind his words.

“Bad at relationships my ass.” You huff, opening up your laptop again to hide the rush of warmth on your cheeks.

buy me a ko-fi!

COD masterlist

[thoughtportal]

This is a developing news story and may be updated as more information is obtained. If you value such information, please support this Substack.

On Dec. 1, a woman immolated herself with a Palestinian flag outside the Israeli consulate in Atlanta.

Now, according to the Atlanta Fire Rescue Department, the woman — referred to in their report as “Jane Doe” — is alive and “in stable condition” at Grady Memorial Hospital, where she has been since the immolation.

After repeated requests for her name, the department stated to this reporter in an email that it “does not disclose the identities of victims”. Repeated inquiries to Grady, which is a public hospital, went unanswered. The hospital houses the Walter L. Ingram Burn Center.

“Jane Doe” is 27.

When asked if they had made any comment to tell the public that she was still alive this entire time, the official at Atlanta Fire Rescue Department said they “shared the last updated with local media via email on 12/21/23. The release stated: ‘The victim remains hospitalized in critical condition. The security guard, who attempted to assist the burn victim, has been released from the hospital.’” Several internet searches on that quote produce no results. This would also indicate that "Jane Doe" went from critical to stable condition without public notice. 

Aaron Bushnell immolated himself at the Israeli embassy in Washington, D.C. on Sunday, explaining “I will no longer be complicit in genocide” and shouting “Free Palestine!” repeatedly as he burned alive. So, his case — unlike many other self-immolations including Gregory Levey, Raymond Moules, Timothy T. Brown, Malachi Ritscher and others — has received some attention. Thus, “Jane Doe” being ignored fits with the usual pattern. Bushnell is the exception — probably because he livestreamed it. See “Ignoring Immolators Lulls the Society to Sleep.”

As Bushnell was burning himself alive, an officer pointed a gun at him, barking orders as if he constituted a threat. A security guard, Michael Harris, sustained injuries working to rescue “Jane Doe” — but there were similarities, where she was actually viewed as a potential threat.

At one point, the police report for “Jane Doe” refers to it as being a case of “arson”.

Much of the media coverage and general discussion of her self-immolation in December focused on if she had done damage. The Atlanta Police Chief said: “We believe this building remains safe, and we do not see any threat here.” The Israeli government released a statement: “It is tragic to see the hate and incitement toward Israel expressed in such a horrific way.”

Police records indicate that they obtained a search warrant and entered an apartment they believed to be associated with “Jane Doe” — initially using a drone:

The drone was able to relay information as to the layout and the belongings inside. After it was deemed "safe" entry was made with bomb technicians. While clearing the apartment no improvised explosive devices were located.

The police report also noted:

During the search a Quran was found in the bedroom along with a [sic] Arabic dictionary and a Hebrew dictionary. The bedroom bookshelf contained books related to fiction and fantasy. A "Drug use for grown ups" book was on the bookshelf as well. Two journals were seized from the bedroom. A thumbdrive was seized from the bedroom as well. A laptop computer was seized from the kitchen counter. A copy of the search warrant was left in the living room of the apartment. The front door [of] the apartment was secured before law enforcement left the premises.

When pressed for more information in compliance with an Open Records Request under Georgia law, Atlanta Fire Rescue Department claimed: “There is an ongoing and active investigation for the incident in question, which is why the only releasable information has been shared via the incident report. Investigative documentation is not available for release until the investigation is closed.”

[dreaming-of-tae]

♡ skz finding out they're dating an idol

How'd They Find Out? How'd They React? How'd They Handle It?

➜ fluff/angst w/ comfort . gn!reader

ch : bangchan . leeknow . changbin . hyunjin . han . felix . seungmin . i.n

warnings : emotional conflict / angst , mild cursing / intensity: (very mild) , romantic themes , mentions of fame/idol industry pressures

[﹒notes] - My first straykids post!! hope you guys enjoy this as I put a lot of time in ✩ as of now my requests are open so if you have any requests feel free to send them in~ These headcanon/stories are written in a more angsty way, because of how serious being an idol is ♡

Bang Chan (방찬)

You and Chan had been dating in private for nearly a year. It wasn’t exactly a secret relationship, but both of you kept it far away from the public eye. You were always vague about your career, describing yourself as “in the entertainment industry” but never elaborating. You always told yourself you’d come clean eventually — once the time was right.

But the truth was, you were an idol preparing to debut with a major company. And when your group finally debuted, everything changed.

The news came out not from you, but through the industry grapevine. JYP staff began murmuring about a new rookie group shaking the charts — and Chan’s ears perked up when he heard your name associated with them.

At first, he thought it was a coincidence. Maybe someone who just had the same name. But then he saw the teaser.

Your face.

Your voice.

Your debut.

He watched the performance in his studio late one night, headphones in, heart pounding. He didn't even realize he was gripping the armrest of his chair until his fingers went numb. It wasn't just that you were an idol. It was the fact that you'd kept it from him — someone who prided himself on being open, trustworthy, and understanding in relationships.

When you finally walked into his studio the next day, it was quiet. Too quiet.

He didn’t yell. Chan never did. But his silence was louder than any shouting could be.

“You debuted,” he said, not looking up from his laptop.

You tried to explain — how scared you were, how much pressure you were under, how much you wanted to tell him but didn’t want to ruin your shot or involve him in any scandal. Your voice cracked, but you kept going.

“I wasn’t hiding you, I was hiding me,” you told him, near tears.

He leaned back, staring at the ceiling, exhaling slowly.

“You know I’d never be mad at you for chasing your dream,” he said softly. “But... I thought we were in this together. I thought we shared everything.”

That line stung more than anything.

It takes time. Chan isn’t one to hold grudges, but he feels things deeply. He spends days reflecting — not just on your relationship, but on what it meant for you to feel like you couldn’t trust him with something so big.

Eventually, he reaches out, asking to meet. This time, he's warmer, a little more relaxed.

“You looked incredible on stage,” he admits, smiling shyly. “I’m proud of you.”

He apologizes for his coldness, but also asks you to let him in — even when things are messy, complicated, or scary. “We’re idols,” he says. “We know this life isn’t easy. But I want to share it with you.”

From that point on, he’s your biggest supporter — attending shows in secret, leaving notes in your dressing room when he can, and giving you vocal tips late at night.

He doesn’t love that your schedules now clash and your careers are public property, but he accepts it. Because at the end of the day, you’re still you — and he’s still the guy who fell in love with you, long before the world knew your name.

Lee Know (리노)

Minho had always suspected you were “more than you let on.” The way you carried yourself, the way you avoided certain questions, the way your phone always lit up with messages from people labeled only with emojis. You were mysterious — something he found intriguing.

You’d been together quietly for a little over six months, and while Minho wasn’t the kind of guy to push boundaries, he was observant. Very observant.

Then it happened — your group dropped a surprise debut showcase.

And there you were. Center stage. Flawless. Charismatic. An idol.

Minho sat there in his dorm room, your face filling his screen, members buzzing around him, exclaiming “Wait — isn’t that…?”

He didn’t say a word.

Just stared.

And then left the room.

You knew you had to tell him — and you were already on your way over when your phone started buzzing. A message from Minho: “We need to talk.”

When you arrived, his expression was unreadable. Arms crossed, leaning against the wall like he’d been waiting hours.

“So,” he said, voice clipped. “Anything you want to share?”

You tried to explain — the contracts, the company’s PR strategy, your own fears. But Minho’s eyebrows raised.

“Don’t tell me it was all about timing. You had months.”

His voice was sharper than usual. He wasn’t angry in the explosive way — he was angry in the quiet, disappointed way that only someone who’s truly hurt can be.

“I don’t care that you’re an idol,” he finally said. “I care that you didn’t trust me enough to be honest.”

You stood there, feeling like the world had dropped out from under you.

But you didn’t give up. You reached for his hand. “Minho… I didn’t know how. I didn’t want you to think I was using you. Or lying. Or trying to compete. I was scared I’d lose you.”

Something shifted in his expression at that.

Lee Know doesn’t forgive easily — but he does listen.

It takes a long conversation, a lot of silence, and a few sarcastic jabs (“So do I have to call you sunbaenim now?”), but eventually, he lets down the walls again.

Minho is surprisingly vulnerable when you crack through the tough outer shell. He opens up about how he’s always struggled with trust — how hard it is to feel close to people when the industry is full of masks.

“But I want to trust you,” he admits quietly, “so let me.”

From then on, he becomes fiercely protective. He never shows it in dramatic ways, but it’s there — the texts checking in after your late-night schedules, the hand squeeze before a big stage, the teasing messages when you post a killer performance.

He’ll never say “I’m your number one fan” out loud, but he doesn’t have to.

He’s the one watching your fancams at 2 AM when he thinks no one’s looking. The one who subtly retweets your group’s success through fan accounts. The one who learns your choreography just to mockingly dance it in front of you — only to get every step exactly right.

Changbin (창빈)

Dating Changbin had been like finding home. He was warm, goofy, emotionally intelligent, and one of the few idols who knew how to switch off the performance face when the cameras were gone. You met him through a mutual friend, and your relationship bloomed over late-night ramen, playlists, and gym sessions.

He knew you were “in music,” but you always steered the conversation away when it got too close to your career specifics.

You’d rehearsed how to tell him the truth so many times. But your company’s unexpected early debut announcement forced your hand before you were ready. One minute, you were planning your next date with him; the next, your debut stage was trending on Twitter.

He didn’t find out from you.

He found out on Instagram, scrolling through hashtags, when a photo of you in full stage makeup from a press showcase filled his feed. He blinked, confused.

Wait. That was you. Center stage. Surrounded by dancers. Dressed in a designer outfit.

The caption read: [Name], center of [Group Name], the next big thing in K-pop.

He sat in stunned silence, your unopened text from earlier still sitting on his phone screen.

It read: “Can we talk later tonight? Please.”

You showed up to his studio hours later, already anticipating the hurt in his eyes.

He wasn’t angry — not in the explosive sense. But Changbin felt things deeply, and that depth was now tinged with betrayal.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked softly, fingers fiddling with the drawstring on his hoodie. “Was I… just someone to pass time with until you debuted?”

You rushed to explain — how scared you were of being seen as someone using him, how your company warned you not to get involved romantically before debut, how you’d planned to tell him when the timing felt safer.

“I didn’t want you to see me differently,” you whispered.

“I already saw you,” he said. “The real you. That’s why it hurts.”

Changbin spirals a bit. Not dramatically — but internally. He overthinks, questions every moment, replays your interactions, wondering if there were signs he missed. But despite all the confusion and hurt, he doesn’t give up on you.

He just needs time.

You give him space, unsure if he’ll reach back out — but a few days later, he does. He texts you a selfie of him holding up your debut album, captioned: “I still meant it when I said I liked you. That hasn’t changed.”

When you meet again, the air is gentler. You talk — really talk. He admits his insecurities. You show him your practice clips and share how long you’ve dreamed of this.

From that point on, he becomes your unofficial hype man. He studies your choreo so he can do your fanchants, sneaks your songs into his playlists, and even writes a verse about you for a mixtape — cryptic enough not to be obvious, but personal enough that you know.

His love is loud, even if his pain was quiet. And in the end, he never stops believing in you — or the version of you he fell for long before the lights hit your stage.

Hyunjin (현진)

Being with Hyunjin felt like walking through an art museum — every moment was soaked in feeling, beauty, and subtle intensity. He was affectionate, expressive, and deeply attentive. He'd write little poems for you, draw doodles on your hands when you were bored, and always looked at you like you were a masterpiece.

You adored him for that. And it made keeping your secret even harder.

Your debut had been quietly brewing for over a year, and your company was famously strict. Dating wasn’t just frowned upon — it was a career risk. So you said nothing, afraid to jeopardize your shot or his.

But when your group's debut MV dropped and the internet lit up with reactions, it didn’t take long for Hyunjin to put the pieces together. He knew your mannerisms, your eyes, the tilt of your head. He recognized you instantly.

But what crushed him wasn’t that you were an idol.

It was that he had to find out with the rest of the world.

You found him in his apartment the next evening — music off, curtains drawn, sketchbook open but untouched. He looked up when you entered, his eyes unreadable.

“Why didn’t you trust me with this?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You sat beside him, heart thudding, and told him everything — the fears, the company’s threats, the guilt. You confessed how each day that passed without telling him made it harder to come clean. How you hated yourself for not trusting the person who treated you like you hung the stars.

“I wanted to protect what we had,” you said. “But I ended up hurting you.”

He didn’t respond for a long while. Then, slowly, he handed you his sketchbook.

Inside was a drawing of you — in your debut outfit, mid-performance, surrounded by stage lights. But your eyes in the sketch were sad. Lonely.

“I drew this after I saw the video,” he said. “Because I knew you weren’t celebrating.”

Hyunjin is emotional, yes — but he’s also wise beyond his years. He doesn’t push you away. Instead, he leans into his feelings, into the pain, and finds a way to make art out of it.

He asks for honesty moving forward, no matter how difficult. And you promise.

He becomes your quiet anchor — someone who understands the duality of fame and intimacy. He starts leaving notes in your bag before fanmeets, texts you affirmations after live stages, and watches your content with tears in his eyes and a smile on his lips.

Sometimes, it’s hard — when your names are trending for different reasons, when rumors swirl, when the distance grows. But Hyunjin never stops showing up. He creates playlists titled “For When You’re Tired” and draws little comics of your imaginary life if you were just two art students instead of idols.

And though he found out the truth in a way that broke his heart, he still chooses you — every version of you.

The star version of you.

And the person behind both.

Han (한)

Dating Jisung was like living in a comedy-drama series with the most chaotic yet golden-hearted lead. He was silly, loud, unpredictable — but beneath it all, he had the most fragile heart and softest soul. He constantly sought reassurance and was always the first to make you laugh when things got heavy.

You connected through mutual friends at a casual get-together, and from day one, he made it clear how serious he was about you — in his goofy, offbeat way. You’d always deflected questions about your career by saying you were “training in music production” or “working behind the scenes,” and he never pushed you too hard.

Until your debut hit the internet.

Jisung wasn’t scrolling for gossip. He was looking for new music releases when he saw the thumbnail: your name — your face — and a “Debut MV” tag.

He clicked without thinking. Half-curious. Half-worried.

As the video played and your voice rang through his speakers, reality cracked open.

His first reaction? Shock — mouth open, hands paused in midair, eyes wide.

Then came confusion. And then silence.

When you texted him later that day with a simple: “Can we talk? Please.” — he didn’t answer right away.

Not because he was angry.

Because his brain was moving at 200mph, and his heart was dragging behind.

He met you that night outside the dorms — hoodie on, hands in his pockets, face unreadable.

“You’re an idol?” he asked softly. “All this time?”

You explained everything — the contracts, the NDAs, your fear of losing him. The guilt of holding something so big back.

His lip twitched. “You thought I wouldn’t be okay with it? Or… you didn’t trust me enough to try?”

The pain in his voice wasn’t loud. It was wounded, quiet, like a joke that didn’t land.

“I tell you everything,” he added. “Every stupid fear. Every song lyric I write. Every dream. You’ve heard me at my worst.”

He wasn’t yelling. He was disappointed. And that hurt more than if he had screamed.

Jisung needs time to process. He hides in his music — writes endless lyrics about masks, mirrors, and miscommunication. He makes jokes to his members to downplay how confused he feels, but you can tell it sits heavy on his chest.

Then one night, he calls you — just your name, softly.

“Come to the studio.”

When you arrive, he plays you a demo — raw vocals, stripped beat, lyrics that feel like reading his heart on a page.

“You danced in the dark / while I thought we were in the light / I loved you blind / but now I see in black and white…”

You sit in silence when it ends.

“I wrote it the night I found out,” he says. “But it’s not a goodbye song.”

You exhale shakily. “Then what is it?”

“It’s a ‘try again’ song.”

From then on, he’s different — more open about his fears, but also fiercely protective of your dream. He teases you about “idol mode,” helps you brainstorm stage names, even gives you random awards like “Best Outfit Slay” and “Most Likely to Outshine Me.”

He’s scared, yes. But love — real love — makes him brave enough to stay.

Felix (필릭스)

Dating Felix was like basking in warmth. He had that rare kind of energy — grounding, healing, and gentle. You met during a joint industry charity event, and your connection was instant. He was attentive, deeply curious about you, and always made you feel like the most important person in the room.

But from the start, you knew he was honest to a fault. Felix didn’t play games. He gave love openly, and he expected that same vulnerability in return.

Which is why you feared telling him the truth: that you were on the verge of debuting as an idol, that your company had forbidden any public or even private relationships without disclosure, and that you were falling for him faster than you ever expected.

Felix found out through a mutual friend — accidentally.

Someone sent him a message: “Isn’t this your girlfriend?” with a screenshot of a teaser poster.

Your face. Center of a highly anticipated girl group debut.

He stared at it, brows furrowed, phone shaking in his hand.

He didn’t speak to anyone about it. He waited until he could see you.

When you met up, he didn’t waste time. He held up the image on his phone.

“You’re debuting?” he asked, tone heartbreakingly calm.

You nodded, ready for the storm. But it never came.

He took a step back, swallowing hard. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You fumbled for the words — how you feared jeopardizing your career, how you thought if you waited just a little longer, it would be easier.

“But you let me love you,” he said quietly. “Without the truth.”

The pain wasn’t in his words — it was in his eyes.

Felix isn’t someone who gives up easily. But he also doesn’t let himself be treated like an afterthought. He takes a step back — not to punish you, but to center himself.

He talks to Chan. To his sister. He journaled a lot. He tried to understand whether your secrecy was about mistrust, or fear, or something else entirely.

Eventually, he meets with you again — on a quiet rooftop, where he used to go when the trainee life felt too heavy.

“I’ve had my own secrets too,” he says, staring at the skyline. “But I’ve always believed love needs honesty, or it won’t last.”

You nod, tears in your eyes. “I’m ready to be honest. Now. With everything.”

He looks at you then — really looks. And he smiles.

Not his fan-service smile.

But his smile. The one only people he loves get to see.

“You were always a star,” he says. “I guess now the rest of the world gets to see it too.”

From that point on, Felix becomes your safest place. He watches all your stages, encourages your self-care, and finds clever ways to support you publicly without ever exposing your relationship.

He’s proud of you.

And he reminds you every day: that you can shine in the spotlight and still be held in love — safely, quietly, fiercely — when the lights go down.

Seungmin (승민)

Seungmin wasn’t the type to fall easily, but when he did, it was intentional. You’d met him through a friend who worked in radio, and what started as casual banter turned into long coffee shop dates filled with dry humor and quiet companionship.

He liked that you were grounded. You shared thoughts about music, books, even your frustrations with the entertainment industry. But whenever he asked specifics about your work, you deflected — said you were “support staff,” or “still finding your path.” He respected your privacy. He always did.

That is, until your face showed up unexpectedly on a massive LED screen in Hongdae — part of a pre-debut countdown campaign for a new girl group.

It took him a few seconds to register that it was you.

Wearing stage makeup. In costume. Smiling like the whole world was finally seeing the dream you’d been hiding.

That night, you showed up to his apartment without asking. You knew he’d seen it.

He didn’t yell. That wasn’t Seungmin.

He opened the door, stepped aside, and let you in. The silence wasn’t cold — it was focused. You sat across from him on the couch, bracing yourself.

He finally spoke, voice calm but painfully steady: “How long were you going to keep it from me?”

You tried to explain — the non-disclosure, the risk of rumors, the company’s iron grip on trainee relationships. But as you spoke, he stared down at his hands, barely blinking.

“Do you know how many people I’ve pushed away because I didn’t think they could handle my world?” he asked quietly. “I chose you. And you couldn’t even give me the truth.”

It stung. Not because he was angry — but because he wasn’t. He sounded tired.

You reached out to touch his hand, but he gently pulled it back.

“I just need time to think,” he said. “About whether we’ve both been in the same relationship this whole time.”

Seungmin goes quiet for a few days. Not out of malice, but because he doesn’t do emotional decisions impulsively. He talks to his members. He takes long walks. He listens to music without lyrics — classical, instrumental, film scores — trying to find his own voice in the noise.

Eventually, he texts you: “I want to talk. In person.”

When you meet again, he’s still calm — but different. Not guarded. Resolved.

“I’m not angry that you’re an idol,” he says. “I’m proud. I’ve always known there was something special in you.”

He takes your hand.

“But I need honesty. Even when it’s messy. Even when it might hurt.”

You promise — this time without deflection.

From then on, Seungmin becomes your quiet protector. He won’t show it in grand gestures, but in consistent ones — sending you your favorite coffee before music shows, editing your practice videos with helpful notes, reminding you not to lose yourself in the chaos of fame.

He’s still skeptical sometimes — especially when fans speculate, or when your schedules keep you apart. But his love isn’t loud. It’s reliable.

And when he sees you on stage for the first time, he smiles — not because you’re an idol, but because you’re still you. And that’s who he fell for.

I.N (아이엔)

Jeongin had always been playful, gentle, a little shy in interviews — but in real life, he’d grown into someone confident and self-aware. He laughed easily, cared deeply, and had a surprisingly steady presence beneath the youthful energy.

You met him during a vocal workshop and bonded over late-night convenience store runs and shared Spotify playlists. He admired how humble and grounded you were — never knowing that underneath it all, you were hiding a career just weeks away from exploding.

When your debut came, it wasn’t a slow reveal.

It was a bombshell.

You were the surprise center of a new girl group with a viral pre-debut TikTok campaign. Fancams. Headlines. Trending hashtags.

Jeongin was in the dorm, half-laughing with Han over snacks, when Felix’s phone buzzed.

“Wait — isn’t this Y/N?”

And the room went quiet.

He didn’t text you.

He didn’t call.

Instead, he waited — unsure whether to confront you, or wait for you to explain.

You beat him to it, showing up the next evening with a bag of tteokbokki and a soft apology.

“I didn’t mean for you to find out this way.”

His smile was polite, but distant.

“I guess I never really knew you, huh?” he said, softly.

That broke your heart more than yelling would’ve.

“I didn’t lie,” you said. “I just… hid. Because I thought if you saw the whole picture, you’d treat me like a brand, not a person.”

His expression softened, but he looked down at his hands.

“I didn’t fall for a brand,” he whispered. “I fell for someone who laughed at my dumb jokes, who sang off-key with me at karaoke, who looked me in the eye like I mattered.”

You blinked back tears.

“And you still matter,” you said. “More than any debut. More than any stage.”

Jeongin surprises you.

He’s more mature than people give him credit for. After a few days of reflection, he comes to you — with questions, yes, but also with his heart open.

He asks about your training. About your fears. About your dreams — not your image.

Once he understands it wasn’t about deceit, but about survival, he forgives you. Fully.

And from that moment on, he becomes your safe place. He checks in before every big performance. Sends you goofy voice notes to cheer you up. Hypes you up anonymously online with burner accounts. Leaves little gifts in your locker when your schedules cross paths.

But he also keeps you accountable.

“When we’re together,” he says, “it’s not idol to idol. It’s just you and me. Real. No masks.”

He doesn’t treat you like glass. He treats you like a partner. Equal. Respected.

And when he watches you on stage, he claps the loudest — not because he’s watching an idol rise.

But because he’s watching his person do what they were born to do.

[muu-kun]

What Makes Your Muses Body Unique?

Simple premise. Give 5 (or more) headcanons about your muses' body. Hands, eyes, feet, birthmarks, tricks--anything! Tagged by: @tximidity

Features spanning across the ages: Past (bottom icon) and Present (top icon)

Heart shaped face seen in the detailing and relationship between the roundness of his face around his eyes and the angles of cheeks until they meet to form a pointed chin.

I've discussed it before, but I'm mentioning once more (as well as including an image) the fact he has what is known as clinodactyly. It is isolated to three fingers on each hand-- pinky, index, and ring-- with each one varying in severity from one another. All of which in that exact order. These fingers of his are also all double jointed. The bottom knuckles, however, in ALL of his fingers are bulbous in shape. They curvatures of them fit perfectly amongst each other like a puzzle. The same cannot be said about the top knuckles, though, as gaps surround his middle fingers on each sides.

He has a silly little scar at a place very few can see. One of which acquired from an injury sustained as a teenager as a result of doing something he had ought to not be up to in the first place. In an attempt to climb over a metal fence into an area he'd otherwise not been permitted into, and unsupervised at that, he managed to get comically stuck in his hurdle over it by way of his shorts getting caught onto a sticking out piece of metal. Rather than proceed with caution, he adamantly lunged downwards with all of his effort, slicing through his attire and that of the top of his gluteal cleft to the inches just above it. It isn't entirely noticeable unless one is truly looking in that area, and yet in knowing of it the male can't quite help himself from finding joy in its existence. Especially when considering the fact it acts as his nearly invisible tail each time he excitedly sways his hips as though he's wagging it via an energetic stim.

Another feature he finds to be a delight about himself is the fact he has an outie belly button. He's never wished to cosmetically change it in anyway as it has never caused him any pain or problems. He'll never be able to get a piercing there, no, but that's okay on account it looks cute as a button on its own already. It also rests perfectly within his softened stomach. It is where his fat cells deposit themselves most prominently, and has a tendency to consistently bloat forward due to a combination of stored negativity and a hormone imbalance. Muu always has, and always will, calls it his baby fat.

Speaking of body fat, Muu is otherwise rather lacking in that department as he is generally petite across the majority of his physique. Some of which is contributed to an active lifestyle dictated by consistently walking his dog, going on foot or by bicycle to places close enough to not require his vehicle, or public transport even, routine pacing in instances in which he's attempting to physically regulate out an intense emotion, a whole food diet centered on his entirely vegan lifestyle, and plenty, PLENTY of sleep. Muu's actively in bed by no later than 10pm an any given evening as he for one doesn't like to exist in the dark any longer than he has to, and also because he just is very invested in listening to his body for queues it needs an abundance of rest. Consider yourself lucky if you ever invite him to something taking place after eight pm, because by then he'd ideally like to already he in his jammies with the intention of unwinding and settling down for slumber. His slim frame is also a contribution of an underlying eating disorder centered on withholding food from himself whenever he's under the impression that he ought to be punished for his perceived failures of the day; however, he's growing more inclined to forget such a habit in favor of snacking on vitamin rich treats as hunger and hurt go more together than the version of himself who started up the habit in the first place knew about. He's also taking on the role of gentle parenting himself, which does sometimes mean sneaking himself vegan cookies to boost positivity while negative voice inside his head is distracted. All in all, he weighs an astounding 115lbs / 52kg. Already on the thin side, where one can notice it the most is in his teeny, tiny ankles. Them and his wrists are minute in their circumferences, which isn't entirely of any surprise as both his hands and feet are small for even a man of his stature. Fun fact: both his shoe size and his ring size are that of a size seven in traditional American sizing.

[no-144444]

chapter one: twists and turns - ln.4

summary: lando norris was a preppy asshole in secondary school, and you were the girl he despised. years later, you're a hot-shot sports lawyer rewriting the rules of the sport he calls home, and your paths cross, whether you want them to or not.

pairing: lando norris x fem! lawyer! reader

a/n: anything in orange and bold is the past

𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟𓆝

Lando stared at his alarm clock, waiting for it to go off in exactly one minute. He loved his off-season, but hated getting back into training. It made everything ten times harder, he was ten times more tired, and he had no more me-time.

Wales was nice, he thought, but after his exhausting day of test after test, all he really wanted was to be back in Monaco and somehow convince Max F to come over. He sat in his hotel room and felt that same pang of loneliness he’d been working his whole life to subdue. That feeling that settled itself deep in his chest and didn’t come out until he was with his friends or his family. He liked being with people, he was a people-person, but he also wanted something deeper. Something fulfilling. He looked out the window, Swansea was pretty beautiful, actually. The water was calm and the moon reflected off it, making it all look a bit more cinematic than it did during the day. His phone buzzed and he reached over his bed to grab it. 

Zak B: We need you back in Monaco tomorrow for a pretty exciting meeting 😃. See you there!

He groaned into his pillow. He was getting slightly disillusioned with F1. He had no chance if he didn’t win it this year, and no excuses. He just wanted the season to start already so he could get on with himself and prove that he learnt from everything last year. One chance. One more chance, or McLaren would drop him. 

𓆝 𓆟

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he walked into a Law firm, but it wasn’t this. His lawyers were all suit and tie-wearing, stuck up, and slightly pompous. This place seemed pretty fun to be honest. There were notice boards up for ‘trainee-activities’, free seminars on cool shit, and it was in the mountains, overlooking all of Monté-Carlo. 

“This way please,” a young woman directed him to a long board room, where half the grid already sat, with a large number of older drivers too, and all the current team principals, with some oldies as well. He sat between Max and Jenson, greeting them both. 

“What’s this about?” He turned to Jenson. He just shrugged and smiled. 

“Not sure, just got invited, said it was important,” he explained. 

Lando looked across the table at Oscar, who had definitely just rolled out of bed. He kicked him under the table, and brought him to full attention. 

“Ouch,” Oscar deadpanned, kicking Lando’s foot back. “What?”

Lando smirked, watching Oscar's reaction. “What’s all this about?” 

He shrugged. “Andrea just sent me a text.” 

Suddenly, another door opened and 4 people stepped out, but he couldn’t really make out who they were, but the room went silent anyway. One of them turned around and looked, smiling at some of the drivers, then turned back and sent more hushed whispers to his colleagues.

Another one turned around, smiling at the group. “You’re almost all here, so I guess we’ll get started,” he announced and all eyes were curiously watching him. “We know we’ve been pretty secretive about what this meeting is about, but trust us, we think you’ll be happy to know that it’s about the rules of F1.”

And then you turned around, and Lando’s world was flipped on its side. His eyes probably shot out of his head like a cartoon character, so much so that Oscar gave him a weird look. But he didn’t look at Oscar, he couldn’t. Not when you were right in front of him for the first time in years. 

“I’m Dr. Y/l/n,” you smiled. “This is Mr. Davidson, Ms. Riley, and Ms. Ray, my associates. I’m an expert in sports law, and Mr. Davidson here is my trainee. I’ve worked especially in Rugby and Rally Racing law, as have my three colleagues here, and we are here to speak to you about making the rules of F1, and motorsport in general, a lot more fair for the drivers and governing body,” you explained. “Any questions before we get started?” 

Everyone was quiet, and Lando was too busy looking at you to notice the question. 

“Great,” you smiled at the table. “I’ll let Mr. Davidson take it away,” you turned to him, and for a split second- Lando swore up and down- he saw him smirk at you. Lando wasn’t listening to the rule changes you all wanted to make, he was too busy watching you shuffle through papers and add notes as Mr.Davidson spoke. He had a scowl plastered on his face from the second that man opened his mouth. Yet, you stood there, laughing at his stupid law puns, helping him out when he got lost, and adding in bits he clearly had forgotten. You’d changed, clearly. Lando could remember doing a group project with you, back in Year 8, you were a fucking dictator. If he spelt one word wrong, misused one comma, you’d find it and berate him. The scowl only deepened.

“And now moving on to why we’re doing this. We asked the FIA about changing to a law-like system, and they were strongly against it, but we went to the owner of F1, Mr. Domenicali, and he agreed this needed to happen. We’re working with the FIA here, so don’t expect everything to turn out just perfect, I’m sure they’ll still be difficult to work with, but we want to get as close to fair as we can. Now, we’re handing out pages of paper to everyone at the table and we want your opinions on the rules right now, write specific rules that need changing and how you’d change them, give us your opinions on the system in place now and how we can fix them, we want as much input as possible,” you smiled to the group as the others handed out pages of paper and pens to everyone. George, of course, began writing a novel on his page. Oscar jotted down some ideas. Jenson wrote about 10 words. Lando just stared at his page. Then wrote:

Call me. XXX XXX XXX

And he held his paper up to be collected like he was in school. He saw how reluctant you were to grab his paper, but you took it anyway. 

You were less than impressed to see what he’d written and he could see it on your face. You looked at him for the first time, and all he did was smirk back and wave. You crumpled up his page and handed him a new sheet of paper. 

He was happy with himself. He missed this, these secret moments between you two, the ones that made him feel better about himself. He liked how no one saw, and no one noticed. He liked that it was just you and him, and nothing could change that.

𓆝 𓆟

“What’s with you and Dr. Y/l/n?” Oscar mused as they sat in the lobby, waiting to be given their ‘buddy’. 

Lando stared back at him. “What do you mean?” Oscar was like… the least socially conscious person he'd ever known, surely he wasn’t being that obvious, right? 

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “Do you think I’m fucking blind mate?” 

Lando shrugged with a hopeful smirk. “Yes?”

“Dude, come on. How do you know her?” 

“School,” he relieved. “But it’s not like we were friends. We just… knew each other.”

Oscar nodded, satisfied with his answer. If only he knew how complicated it really was. 

ᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺ

“This is Y/n Y/l/n, she’s new in school, please show her around,” the Principal, Ms. Browne smiled at Lando. “Your parents know each other, correct?”

In the loosest sense of the term, Lando thought. He knew who you were, he’d seen you at some parties his parents had dragged him to. You were like every other girl at the school, a prim, proper, prickly, princess. At least, that’s what his brain told him, because he’d literally rather do algebra than show the new girl around the school. 

You answered for him. “We do, yes. Thank you Miss.”

You were so polite. So polished. It pissed him off, and he couldn’t even tell why. He rolled his eyes and slid off his chair, mumbling a small “Come on, princess,” as he showed you to the door. 

You left the principal’s office behind him, carrying your books. He was short for his age, and he still sounded a bit young for his age, but you didn’t really mind. You knew he was into racing, and your dad followed his career more than he followed your life, so you hated him already. His rudeness and stand-offish behaviour just added fuel to the flames. 

“So, you’d you move here?” he asked, though he was clearly uninterested in the answer. 

“Work,” you answered simply. He nodded. 

“You sing, right?” he asked and you nodded. “What show are you doing?”

“Into the Woods.”

“Have you done it before?” he asked because… well he wanted you to keep talking. He didn’t want some awkward silence he’d have to fill with his own opinions and life, because there wasn’t much there. He wasn’t super into musicals (by any means), but he knew who you were, specifically because his mum was always raving about you to him. You were her friend's daughter, and you were apparently the next Broadway talent. He knew who you were. He knew every show you’d ever been in, mostly because his mum dragged him along when he wasn’t racing. 

“Nope,” you shook your head. “But it’s pretty simple.”

He nodded. “Alright, well, this is your dorm block. You have a map, and I am no longer needed. Goodbye,” he said, before walking back across the campus to his own dorm. His friends were much too happy to know how it went, walking the new girl around the school, it would’ve been cool if it were anyone but you. 

So he just put their gossip to bed by calling you socially awkward and boring.

ᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺ

“Mr. Norris, you’ll be with Mr. Davidson over here,” Sierra, Oscar’s trainee explained. Mr. Davidson sat opposite him with a smile. 

He lifted his hand to shake it. “Call me Liam,” He had a firm handshake, fucking hell. “I’m really excited to be working with you on this. I think you’re a brilliant driver.” 

Just then, Lando caught sight of you over his shoulder and again, all his attention went straight to you. Liam stared at him for a second. “Everything alright?” he asked. 

Lando nodded, his eyes trained on you as you gathered your things, he noticed the way your shirt clung to your body, the way your hair fell, the way your slacks were tight in all the right places. You were perfect. “Who’s Y/n going with?” he asked, without even thinking. 

Liam looked even more confused. “I didn’t you two know each other, small world, eh?” he questioned, chuckling. “And she’s taking the team bosses and some retired drivers. She’ll be at the same amount of races as us though, so you'll get time to catch up-”

“I want her,” he stated, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “Her or I’m not doing it.” 

Liam’s face fell, and Lando counted it as a personal win. Oscar covered his face with his hands, embarrassed by his teammates' antics. “Umm, I’ll have to go talk to her about that-”

“Go. I’ll wait,” Lando smiled, looking every bit the aggressor he was being. He looked smug. 

Liam got up and went into a room (what he assumed to be your office), and a few seconds later came out telling him to go in. 

He opened the door and popped his head in. There you were, sitting at a desk behind a large screen, glasses perched dangerously close to falling off your nose. You stopped your vicious typing to look up at him expectantly. “This a good time?” he smirked. You were scowling. You rolled your eyes and went back to your furious typing as he sat down. He looked around your office. Your diplomas on the walls, pictures of you at various events and charity fundraisers, pictures of you and your team (Liam was right beside you in every single one, but he let it slide for a moment). You had a whole life he’d known nothing about. A subtle ache settled itself in his chest as a sort of… guilt blossomed. You had a whole life he knew nothing about, and he had no one to blame but himself-

“What the fuck is your problem?” you demanded, turning your attention to him. 

He chuckled. “That wasn’t very professional.” 

“Lando,” you groaned, regaining your professionalism. “What do you want from me? I didn’t choose this job, I got chosen for the role. I’m managing a team of more than 50 people alone, while doing my duties to speak to all the team bosses and take some work off the plates of my employees. I cannot possibly also talk to you every few days about your experiences with the FIA and the rules,” you huffed. “You have Liam, he’s a great lawyer, trust me.” 

Lando’s mood soured at your casual use of his first name. “Then I won’t do it.” 

You sighed. “You’re only doing yourself a disservice by not doing it, but we can’t force you,” you went back to your typing for a moment. “Close the door on your way out and send Liam in, will you?” 

Reluctantly, he got up and left you to your typing. He knew you needed his opinion, he was one of the other drivers most heavily penalised last year. 

“I’ll wait here,” Lando nodded as Liam went back into your office. 

But he made a mistake. He didn’t close the door after him. 

“You two know each other?” Liams asked. You sighed. 

“Not really, just in passing.” Lie. “He doesn't want to do it, He doesn’t have to.”

“We need his opinion though,” he sighed. “I know he sucks but… we need him.”

“Well I don’t have the time, Liam. I don’t have the time anymore. He’s just trying to rile me up-”

“Maybe I could take the retired drivers off you and you could just do the team bosses and Norris?” Liam offered. 

You were silent for a moment. Then groaned. “I really don’t want to.”

Liam chuckled. “Well, we all have to do things we don't want to do, Princess.”

Lando saw red, but listened further. 

“I guess you’re right. Tell him I’ll see him in Australia.” 

“Alrighty, thanks boss.”

Australia. Right. 

𓆝 𓆟

Pole position, shitty weather, and a win anyway. Good weekend. 

He brushed you off as the celebrations started, but when he saw you chatting with some of his engineers, gathering information, he knew he should speak to you. He was pulled away by the media before he could, and you ended up sending Sierra to do his post-race breakdown. You’d already felt for Monaco.  

Shit.

𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟

twists and turns masterlist

navigation for my blog :)

[bunnygirllover45]

— CREATURES OF HABIT. ♱ TRIGGER WARNING(S): This one is about psychological training, pet play undertones (they're not undertones they're very on the nose but oh well.), slightly suggestive. dark content. Johann itself is a warning. WORD COUNT: 1k words. ADDITIONAL NOTES: First time writing something for this guy in a while, sorry if it sucks. I just enjoy writing psych yandere stuff.

The first months in Johann’s basement were grueling. The sudden change of pace, the claustrophobic sensation of always being surrounded by the same walls, you swore multiple times you were about to break, but each time you felt like that, Johann was always there to put you back in place like a beautiful —and fucked up— puzzle.

Then, one day, out of nowhere, Johann introduced some ‘mental exercises’ for you. He told you they were so your brain didn’t stagnate over time due to the confinement, but you couldn’t help but feel like there were some ulterior motives behind it.  Most of the exercises were simple, from just sitting at a table and drawing shapes on paper to following basic instructions, no matter what was going on, Johann never skipped the routine.

Today’s exercise was simple enough: sit down and obey. Johann was really patient with you, so despite your early nervousness, you always found yourself quickly getting accustomed to the session, trying your best not to overthink how utterly weird the whole setting was. Being mentally trained by your kidnapper—no. Scratch that; lover.

“You know about Pavlov’s experiments?” Johann asked softly, tilting his head to look at you. His brown hair fell over his stare, obscuring his expression under the dim light of the basement. His legs were stretched under the table, brushing against yours. “Pavlov discovered that dogs were prone to begin to salivate once they saw the trainers that often brought them food, it was an unconscious action they made.”

“They associate ‘this person’ with ‘food’. The same goes with sounds.” He explained carefully, playing with the chain of the collar attached to your neck, tugging it lightly in an almost mindless manner. “Notice how sometimes when you make sounds in the kitchen your pet always comes? It’s because they relate that sound with food.” 

A smile tugged on Johann’s features as he focused his dark eyes back on you, the intensity in his eyes made you shiver—you knew that look all too well, some wicked idea just sparked inside his twisted head. “I thought it would be interesting to try that with you.” 

The way he whispered those words with that tone of his that was equally aloof as it hid some of his excitement made you tremble, but a part of you felt curious about the idea too. Lately, you found yourself associating the sound of the chain of your collar with going outside, Johann always kept the collar inside the house but not the chain, which was saved for when you two went outside for short walks —for your legs sake, as he says—.

“What… did you have in mind?” You managed to ask softly, staring at him with expectating eyes. Johann almost shrugged nonchalantly at your question, his fingers caressing the length of the chain around your neck before settling on top of your hand, intertwining his long fingers with yours, his thumb now tracing circles on your knuckles.

“I don’t really know, why don’t we start with something simple?” his free hand reached to cup your cheek, tenderly caressing your skin, you almost leaned into it before he surprised you by suddenly snapping his fingers against your ear. The sound left you confused for a second not because of its loudness but because of how close it felt, you self-consciously reached to cup your ear, staring at him with a frown. “Why did you do that…?” 

“Sorry.” He chuckled, pulling your hand away from your ear to replace it with his own. “You know I don’t like screaming at you, so each time I want you to be quiet I’ll do that, okay?” 

“Each time I snap my fingers, you’ll be quiet.” 

A part of you wanted to protest, but at least you gave him the benefit that he hadn’t ever screamed to you before when you tried to escape or do something that slightly annoyed him, he was gentle, in his own twisted way, but Johann also had to establish some limits if he wanted to keep peace inside the little paradise he made only for you. “Snap equals quiet. Repeat that to yourself mentally until it becomes like second nature.”

As you got lost in your thoughts for a few seconds, you suddenly felt Johann’s hand tracing your thigh, up and down, his nails scratching your skin in a way that didn’t make it hurt but tingle, it was suddenly so overstimulating, the feeling of him tracing maddeningly slow circles on your skin out of nowhere.

Your eyes snapped back to him, but Johann didn’t seem to have any expression at all, he only looked at you with those empty black voids of his eyes, completely still in his seat. Your legs began to tremble as he traced closer and closer to the skin of your thighs, scratching softly, caressing in his own, tenderly violent way. “What are you…?"

Snap.

You jolted suddenly, your mouth closing shut at the sudden sound. Johann’s chuckle followed your reaction, and as you slowly opened your eyes again you found him smiling at you, pupils swallowing his already dark irises. “I’m glad to see it’s already working.”

“But-” Snap. “Quiet.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows at his sudden abuse of power, but Johann only smiled at you. “Don’t pout… I’m just having fun with you.” He tugged at your lower lip playfully. “You’re a quick learner, I’m proud of you.” 

A sudden rush of heat reached your cheeks at his words, and you found yourself looking away from him, but suddenly Johann caught your chin between his fingers, clicking his tongue. “C’mon… don’t look away. I need to know if the training is working or not.” 

“And don’t tense your jaw either, you’ll make your face hurt.” His big hand now cupped your face, pressing at the sides of your cheeks to unclench your jaw, you sighed in a defeated manner. 

Johann slowly stood up, walking around the table until he was leaning behind you, his brown hair making your neck tickle and your skin prickle with goosebumps at the feeling of his breathing against your ear. “I should test it in other settings, don’t you think?” 

His voice was heavy with suggestive undertones, and you couldn’t help but shiver at the idea, nodding slowly you looked at Johann, he gave you a small smile before pressing his lips against your temple. “That’s my darling.” 

Until each one of my actions seeps into your brain matter— until you cannot breathe without copying the movements of my own chest. Until your very existence intertwines with mine.

[shepscapades]

Thanks to artfight, I’ve finally finished a detailed, official dbhc cub reference! :D

(I’ve put his Artifight description below the cut, which has a more detailed explanation of his timeline, lore, and aesthetics! >:3)

-ˋˏ ༻ ❁  OVERVIEW ❁ ༺ ˎˊ-

Name: C.B.F.N.4000 (Cub) Pronouns: He/Him Species: Android Height: 5’9’’ Associated Visual Themes: vex, ghosts, explosions, mischief, scientist aesthetic, potions, potionmaking, sleepy/tired aesthetic, conspiracies

-ˋˏ ༻ ❁  ABOUT ❁ ༺ ˎˊ-

CBFN4000 is an au version of MCYT Hermitcraft’s Cubfan, set in my DBHC (or Detroit Become Hermitcraft) AU! This au is inspired by the 2018 game Detroit Become Human, but not because it really has anything to do with DBH—I simply yoinked the android mechanics and incorporated them into the world of Hermitcraft. It began as a S8 au, and has roughly followed the hermitcraft timeline up to the present! 

Cub was the last android made during Season 8. While many of the hermit androids were made at the beginning of season 8 and a few were made for season 9, Cub was finished and activated mid-late Season 8, around the time when Hermits started noticing the Big Moon. Cub’s model ended up being a sloppy experiment in deviation, as Doc suggested they try to transfer deviancy to an android upon activation to try and avoid traumatic situations that might cause an android to deviate violently or upsettingly, such as Etho’s, Tango’s, or Mumbo’s experiences. While this went relatively well initially, it clearly wasn’t very thoroughly thought out, as Xisuma (who is normally so adamant and detail-oriented when it comes to assuring the androids’ safety with experiments like this) wasn’t truly himself due to external manipulation and mostly left a relatively young-deviant Doc to carry out the project himself. 

Cub, though adjusting to sentience rather well at first, very quickly became wrapped up in the Big Moon happenings on the server, new personality and inexperience to emotions like fear and ignorance completely overwhelming his young system. He became obsessive over the implications and consequences of the Season 8 Moon Apocalypse, joining the Mooners and spreading his conspiracy theories religiously throughout the server as he descended into madness. The insanity was like a virus to his programming, pervasive and all-engulfing, and Cub’s final attempt to free himself from the Moon’s impact with the Earth—to launch himself on a llama into space via potion-powered TNT(insane btw)— left his hands and feet singed and cracked to ruin.

The experiment, considered a horrific failure by a deeply shameful—and more awake—S9 Xisuma, left Doc and Xisuma with the decision to reset him for the new season, and they ended up pairing him with a hermit like they had done with the other androids, to give him a chance to find deviancy on his own terms. So, at the start of season 9 and fresh after a reset, Cub was paired with Scar. Naturally, because Scar is… Scar, Cub deviated almost instantly after being given to him, and very quickly adopted the iconic lazy, stoic, amused attributes normally associated with Cubfan. Scar’s tendency towards mischief and general shenanigans grew instantly on Cub, and the two were an immediate inseparable pair. So much so that when Scar began rambling one day about his Season 5 Hermitcraft Shenanigans (where deals with the Vex may or may not have been involved), Cub immediately stated he was interested in being in on it. Whatever “it” means. It’s unclear if Cub also made a deal with the vex or became connected to them in some other way, but… well, he got Doc’s help to trick out his eyes, hair, and back to best fit the part. Scar is very jealous that he can't magically make himself have the same features to match.

Cub is closest with Scar (there's something there, I think), but he gets along just as well with any of the other hermits! He’s close with Jevin and many of the other redstoners like Etho and Doc, who are the other two androids I’ve put on artfight!

-ˋˏ ༻ ❁  EXTRAS ❁ ༺ ˎˊ-

Cub's eyes can light up in the dark, and he’s the only android who has edited his programming so that the default state of his LED is white, not blue. It still will go yellow and red if his processors are working particularly hard, but he’s replaced the blue setting on his LED with white to better match the Vex vibe. Cub has all of the vibes of a fae. If that’s anything <3

[dragonqueenbizawagi]

Dick didn't know where it went wrong. Well... not exactly. Looking back Dick could see the nervousness he'd mistaken for anticipation. Danny had acted so happy to see the circus for him that he hadn't seen his excitement for what it really was - fear. Running through the tents he definitely wasn't allowed in he mentally kicked himself for not seeing the signs for what they were. Danny was a good actor it seemed but that's no excuse. Dick knows the rules for dealing with traumatized kids. No expressing strong feelings when suggesting something to them - they'll feel pressured to agree. Dick had gotten blinded by his own love for the circus when Danny first mentioned being a part of one once, and now his so- Danny was paying the price.

Pausing to look around Dick heard something. A soft voice making comforting sounds. As he followed the noise he heard the sound of sniffling with it. Danny's voice chimed in as Dick got close enough to make out words.

"No, it's not okay! I ruined the day for him! All I had to do was keep my stupid fear under wraps for a few hours and I couldn't even do that! The stupid lights and sounds got to me and then the ringmaster's face morphed into his and-" Danny's words broke off into choked sobs and Dick's heart broke as he listened, but before he could rush in to hug him the calm voice from before spoke up.

"Hey, no! It is NOT your fault! Alright? Listen to me. It is NOT your fault for having a panic attack, okay? If your 'stupid' fear is that strong then there's no way you /could've/ controlled it. Especially not with the lights and sounds and everything like that all at once. And it is not your responsibility to suck it up and have a good time. It's your adult's job to bring you to stuff YOU want to go to. If you tell them you don't like something and they take you anyway then that's their fault, not yours."

Danny whispered something that didn't reach Dick's ears from where he was... well, now lurking behind the wall of the tent. Just outside of the entrance and using his stealth to not alert his surprisingly alert kid to his presence.

"What?" asked the voice.

"I didn't tell him!" said Danny, louder. "I couldn't! He was so excited when I brought up that I'd been in a circus too that I couldn't bring myself to tell him that..." He paused as he took in a shaky breath. "That it wasn't a good thing to me. And! I really did want to enjoy this! I thought, maybe if I went to a normal circus I could see it how it's supposed to be - how he sees it. He shares stories with me that make the circus sound so cool! I wanted to feel like that when I think of tents and clowns, not like... this..." Danny's voice trailed off as he finished his thought.

Dick suddenly felt better and worse. Better in that it hadn't been entirely because of him, and that some of that excitement had in fact been real - and worse in that Danny's words had confirmed that he went because Dick wanted to go. Because he had gotten too caught up in his own excitement to pay enough attention to Danny's true feelings.

"That's a good goal kid, but overcoming trauma doesn't work like that. Lot of people try to force themselves or others to face their fears, but that only works if you're in control the whole time. Think about it, you don't cure someone's fear of water by shoving them into the deep end, right? So next time you want to overcome your fears, make sure you can back out at any time and you've got friend or trusted therapist or someone there to hold your hand and reassure you the whole time. Your adult could have done that if he'd known. If you say, 'Hey, I'm really excited to go to the circus with you but also really nervous because the last time I went didn't go too great and I'm still a bit scared. Can we avoid x when we go there?' or, 'Can we leave if it gets too much at any point?' then I'm sure he would be happy to help! And if he isn't, just let me know and I'll knock some sense into him!" Danny giggled at their joking threat. Dick smiled and relaxed at the sound.

"Thanks. I don't think I'll need to take you up on that offer, but thanks." With that Dick decided enough lurking was enough, he didn't want to become Bruce after all. He backed up a little before running to peer into the tent. "Danny?" he called, putting on his best worried dad™ face (he learned from Bruce AND from dealing with his siblings).

As Danny saw him Dick expected him to shrink back up in guilt or panic at what Dick would think, acting like the traumatized boy Dick should have seen him as. Instead, Danny surprised him by running up and hugging him, mumbling apologies into his shirt as he held on tight. Dick wasted no time wrapping his arms around his kid in a patented Grayson Octopus Hug™ that Danny seemed to be giving in turn. He noted the lady with butterfly face paint watching them with a soft smile, but ignored her for now in favor of reassuring Danny as the kid slowly unstuck his face from Dick's chest. Straightening up up so he could hook his chin over Dick's shoulder to talk better, he spoke.

"I'm sorry I ran off like that"

"No no, hey! It's okay! I'm not mad or anything, you don't need to apologize. How are you - are you alright?" Dick pulled back to look Danny over, noting the obvious red eyes and tear tracts down his face, but also the possibly bruised knuckles that Danny started to hide.

"I'm fine, mostly... I've calmed down a bit now. I-" he paused to shift nervously, "I don't really remember what happened after I got called on." Danny's small voice echoed his body language as he shrank in on himself again.

"Well, you panicked and punched the ringleader after he grabbed you without asking, and I will be having a word with him about that later, don't you worry. Had to punch him twice before he actually let go," Dick almost growled this part. He wanted to believe that the man had just startled and held on in shock, but he was already an asshole for grabbing a clearly reluctant volunteer in the first place. Dick never understood why some Ringleaders went specifically for the shy or nervous ones, as Haley had never done that and in fact had been adamantly against it. Shows go so much better when you're not dealing with a panicky and therefore unpredictable volunteer. Hopefully this example would dissuade the ringleader from doing it again.

"And then you ran off and I followed. I got held up by the crowd a bit and you were damn fast, so I lost you, but I'm here now!" Dick finished, wrapping Danny up in another bear hug. He had so many questions he wanted to fire off in return but Danny could tell him when he was ready, for now Dick had to make sure to reassure him so that he didn't ever feel like he had to pretend for Dick's sake ever again. "I'm so sorry I didn't pick up on your anxiety sooner, kiddo. I thought it was just nerves from excitement, but, it was something more wasn't it?" Danny winced at that and hid his face in Dick's shoulder once more. Dick just rubbed Danny's back as he waited for Danny to compose himself.

"Yeah..." Danny said, "I- I kinda forgot to mention that I'm terrified of circuses... and ringleaders in particular..." Dick's grip tightened as he realized that Danny's anxiety had only really become visible when the ringleader got involved. Before he could say anything though, Danny continued, "It's just- you got so excited when you talk about the circus! I couldn't tell you to stop talking about it. And I really did want to go! I just-" Dick cut him off.

"Danny. You don't owe me anything, you hear me? Yeah, I wanted to go to the circus, but that's because I wanted to spend time with you! I thought it was something you enjoyed and I figured it was something I could relate to you with. I love listening to you talk about space but I can't do that with you, so I jumped at the first sign of something we could do together! I'm sorry I let that blind me for so long."

"Nah, it's not your fault. I've had plenty of practice pretending I'm not terrified when my parents talk about their interests. And like I said, I really did want to go! I really started liking trapeze and tightrope stuff when you showed me, and I thought I could just push down my fear and ignore the ringleader and just enjoy the day. Remind myself it's not the same circus and all. But... I guess it didn't work so well, huh?" Danny split off with a nervous grin as he rubbed the back of his neck, looking away. Dick frowned as he processed all that.

"Okay, we'll be coming back to that part about your parents later, as well as why you hate circuses and ringleaders in the first place, but we can discuss that in private back home. For now, just know that I love you, and if something is ever bothering you like this again, talk to me! We don't ever have to something for fun that you don't want to do! And if it's something necessary? Like doctor's visits, or something you still want to do buuuuut- ...then let me know, and I'll help you find a way to get through it. Okay? Just- promise me you won't pretend for my sake. Deal?"

Danny softens at Dick's unwavering love and support. "Deal!" He says, attention finally flicking over to the lady who had helped him earlier, who had busied herself with setting up her face paints. "Oh, ancients! I'm so sorry, we can go now! You're clearly busy! Sorry for intruding!"

"No no, it's quite alright!" The lady said with a smile, her expression contorting the butterfly on her face, making its sparkly wings move. "In fact you've still got plenty of time before the show ends and my shift starts if you'd like to get your face painted to cheer you up! On the house!"

"Really?" Danny asked, clearly nervous about taking up any more of the woman's time. "I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome..."

"Of course! Consider it an apology on behalf of the circus crew who think singling out the most nervous volunteers isn't the nicest thing to do," the woman said with a wry smile. Clearly Dick wasn't the only one who hated that move. "Otherwise, feel free to head home early, or try to go back and finish the show if you feel up to it. Or you're welcome to just hang out here and collect yourself a bit more until my customers come. I really don't mind!" She looked at Danny never once addressing the other adult in the room, instead making sure the kid knows it's their choice. Smart! Clearly this woman was good at working with kids (or technically teenager in this case).

Nonetheless, Danny still looked at Dick nervously as he weighed his options. Dick pulled him into a loose side hug and said, "Whatever you want kiddo, I'll be here," which seemed to be the right thing to say as Danny let out a breath and relaxed into his hold.

"Yeah, I'd like some face paint actually," Danny said, a tired smile on his face as the stress and adrenaline from his earlier panic attack finally started to wear off. "Thanks for helping me calm down earlier, by the way. Oh! And I never got your name!"

She smiled and waved off his gratitude, saying, "It's no problem! And my name's Adelaide, but you can call me Miss Addy. Now please, sit down! What would you like me to paint?" Danny mulled it over for a second.

"You got anything about space?"

Small prompt idea.

Danny is Dicks son. Dick takes him to a circus in order to bond with his newly found son and share with him something he holds dear. However maybe

1)Danny hates/petrified of the circus cause of freakshow. This causes him to panic and/or bolt. (Accidentally punch the ringmaster that looks kinda like freakshow?)

2)He mentions off-hand that he was part of a circus once did tightrope. Dick is ecstatic and thinks this is awesome. Until he finds out the circumstances, that is.

3) Just loudly declares he hates the circus when someone brings it up at family dinner. *metaphorically breaking his Dad's heart, who is already so stressed trying to be a good dad*