#life on hard mode on purpose?

[russenoire]

that scene in season 1 where teruki hanazawa exorcises ekubo mid-sentence... and shigeo's eyes widen in shock?

i really want to talk about it, specifically the explosion meter accompanying it.

normally, when the teenager's emotions aren't obvious to the audience, that meter relays to us a sense of what he is actually feeling. but we cannot trust the meter here. we see it jump up a few points at teru's 'psycho wave' sending the sleazy ghost to the shadow realms, and remain steady at 50% upon shigeo's recollections of the spirit's unsavory nature. the boy outright tells teru that he isn't bothered. and it's funny!

but shigeo isn't being honest with himself here either.

his face briefly gives his feelings away before resettling into its normal flat affect. (to be fair, what he's really feeling isn't teru's business. this kid is trying to provoke a fight out of him, after all.) after he's basically tortured into exploding, shigeo spends three hours in the pouring rain, searching everywhere for ekubo.

three. hours.

these are not the actions of someone who isn't bothered. letting himself get drenched to the point of sickness,

even though he literally holds the power to shield himself from it,

reads to me like unconscious self-punishment for allowing all this to happen.

after a large chunk of his short life spent denying and fearing them for good reason, shigeo's first impulse is often not to use his psychic powers -- even after his integration at the story's end. i wish this was discussed more, because many watchers cannot fathom why this boy with world-breaking psychic abilities would ever refuse to use them.

also: the explosion meter lying to us / representing shigeo's detachment from his own emotions alexithymia may occur elsewhere in the series as well, especially when he's not close to an explosion; i'm reminded of the tiny dent ritsu's provocation of him makes in it a few episodes later.

[strohller27]

.

[mtgret]

Life be like:

Identity crisis

Self-loathing

SCIATICA

[joonieskinks]

Simon “please will you be my fake girlfriend” Riley

Simon couldn’t be happier for John. Finally, he’s met a woman whose head over heels for him, who will stick around during the hard times. The man deserves this, deserves her. It’s about time they got married after all.

Today is his wedding day, and Simon was actually delighted to receive an invite. Although he had to dress up a bit for the event and all, he didn’t mind. It was for one of his greatest friends, and the energy in the room was so positive, so supportive. He can honestly say he felt happy to be here.

That was until he spotted eager mamas eyeing him at the reception, no doubt coming over to set him up with their daughters. Nope- he was not having that whatsoever. He went into full panic mode, trying to avoid their eyes, their presence that was ever closing in on him. Simon turned straight around and made his way to the bar where he found you.

“Gosh, how long does it take to find white wine-?” You complain under your breath before the handsome stranger from the corner of your eye interrupts you.

“Pleasewillyoubemyfakegirlfriend?” The rather tall man asks frantically as your eyes finally meet. Yours, rather confused, and his, rather desperate.

“Uh- sure?” You laugh nervously as you sip your wine that just arrived.

“Great- M’ Simon, I’m from England, I work in the military, we’ve been together six months, ‘right love?.” He explains rather quickly, eyes darting back and forth between you and the mamas rapidly approaching.

But you get the message.

“You can call me that “love” of yours, I work for the government if you should know and you have to act like you want me for this to work, Simon.” You pull him down by his tie to whisper in his ear.

“If you want them to stay away, touch me.” You kiss his cheek and pull away, performing with a laugh.

It disarms Simon how effortless you make this seem, how quick witted you are - this mysterious yet willing woman at the bar. You’ve truly peaked his interest and he’s so grateful. So yea, absolutely he will touch you, a gorgeous woman in this gorgeous dress.

Simon takes you by the waist, pulling you to his body, whispering back how beautiful you look. It makes you blush, looking back at him rather surprised. He’s equally surprised by his own bold actions, but he plays it off good enough and smiles. Glancing at your pink cheeks with a “good” as you’re both interrupted.

“Simon, darling! There you are!” One woman says.

“I’ve been looking for you! May I present my daughter, Bridgette. She’s a nurse in London as a matter of fact.” Another states proudly.

“I’m terribly sorry, mam”, you interrupt, turning towards Simon and tidying up his tie. Your fingers brushing up against his chest, his throat, it gives him shivers. Any excuse to touch him really was your thought process-

“But I’m afraid he’s already spoken for. As of six months ago tonight, actually. Isn’t that right, darling?.” A proud smile on your face, and Simon just thinks you’re absolutely hypnotizing. Tongue in cheek, yes, but he already wants it to be real, to be yours. He just hopes you’ll say yes to dinner after this, and that you actually didn’t accompany anyone here.

��Yea, this is my girlfriend…” he starts, completely blanking.

My God, he didn’t even know your name, and yet he’s utterly entranced. Talk about a backwards way to start off a relationship.

“Y/N,” you stick out a hand to the mama and her nurse daughter, but they just painfully smile, clearly trying to decline “politely”. With that, they mutter an excuse and walk away, already sniffing for the next eligible bachelor around this evening.

“Well. That’s that then. You’re very welcome, boyfriend dearest.” You tease, bringing your wine glass back up to your lips, admiring his features. He really is a handsome man, it surprises you he doesn’t have anyone special in his life.

“Thank you for your help, Y/N.” He says your name on purpose, he wants to test it out on his tongue. He finds he rather likes it. You do as well.

“Can I get you another drink? On me…” Simon shyly asks, leaning against the bar.

“If it means you’ll stay and have one with me, then yes.” You flirt, waiting for his reaction. Alas, a blush appears on his cheeks. It makes you smile, a big, gorgeous man like this- yet he’s rather timid. It’s sweet really.

“It’s nice to meet you Simon, formally.” You stick out your hand for him to shake. His eyes meet your own and he smiles before taking it. Your hands are so soft, he wants to touch you always if it’s like this.

“Likewise, love.”

You two spent the rest of the night together, by the bar chatting, walking through the gardens getting to know one another, he asked you to dance. Hell, even Price and his new bride thought you two were together by the end of the night.

It took an official date or two, but eventually you were.

Who knows, maybe you two would be the next to get hitched. Simon certainly hopes so.

[fuckyeahisawthat]

I am always so distracted by...other things in the Council chamber fight scene that I forget they're having a post-breakup couple spat the whole time and the dialogue and interactions from that part of the scene are also unhinged.

[Ok clearly you're mad at me because the last time we crossed paths you fucking SHOT ME, which was very rude, but if you'll just give me a minute here--]

[Hey honey remember our first date when we did breaking and entering together?? Remember how helpful it was to have me around then?]

SUCH a fucking. Ex shows up on your doorstep after you've already changed the locks line.

I think this is actually Viktor apologizing for being mad at Jayce for using the Hexcore to bring him back. The full line is: This chain of events started with you [doing a Hexcore necromancy on me]. In my confusion, I was unable to reconcile this. [I was mad at you at first.] But now I understand. The Glorious Evolution is destined. [But now I see this led me to my true purpose in life so thanks babe!]

You really need to watch this at half speed or slower to appreciate how fucking flirty Viktor's little series of expressions is. Also someone correct me if I'm wrong but I think this is the only time Viktor calls Jayce his partner? Every other time it comes from Jayce.

The change in expression after "my partner died in this room" always kills me.

Right after Mel (orange cloud frame right) interrupts the strangle sesh. Note that the full blast murder look is directed at Jayce. Really?? Her?? Still??? [doesn't know they broke up immediately before this]

Still so genuinely shocked and hurt to get shot by Jayce AGAIN.

When you get rejected so hard your astral form changes from Light Mode to Dark Mode. :-/

[kashverse]

I need a mamakuna chapter where shes teaching babykuna how to bake.

(very messy kitchen I imagine)

Love your writing.

some pre-valentine's day posts :)

valentine’s day in the sukuna household meant big ideas, big love, and big messes. and this year, babykuna had declared, very loudly and with an unnecessary amount of fist-shaking, that she was going to be a baker.

so, there you were. in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, damage control mode fully activated.

"okay, baby, we have to be careful with the—"

CRASH.

you turned just in time to see babykuna staring down at a bag of flour that had somehow exploded onto the counter, the white powder dusting her from head to toe like a ghost of poor life choices.

"...oops."

you inhaled through your nose. peace. patience. love.

mr. pickles, your chunky maine coon and professional problem-maker, sat on the counter, his massive tail flicking dangerously close to a bowl of frosting. he was very much interested in the sprinkles—so much so that his paw was already halfway into the container. "don’t even think about it." you pointed at him with a whisk. mr. pickles, ever the unbothered king, stared at you like you were an insignificant speck in his universe.

meanwhile, baby—the ever-curious orange tabby—was notably more productive. by which, of course, you meant he was kneading his paws in the cupcake dough like it was his life’s purpose.

"baby, NO."

you lunged. babykuna shrieked in laughter as you wrestled a very smug cat away from contaminating your baked goods.

but in the end, somehow, some way, the cupcakes were baked. were they slightly burnt? yes. was the kitchen a war zone? absolutely. but when sukuna walked through the door after his long day at work, looking like he was ready to kill the next person who even breathed in his direction, babykuna came sprinting up to him with a cupcake in hand, eyes wide and expectant.

"papa! happy balentine’s day!"

sukuna blinked. and then, before he could react, babykuna shoved the entire cupcake into his face.

"EUGH—"

you snorted so hard you nearly collapsed. mr. pickles let out a noise that was suspiciously close to a laugh. baby looked proud. and sukuna, his face absolutely covered in slightly burnt cupcake and a ridiculous amount of frosting, just stood there for a long moment. then, slowly, he licked some off his lips, chewing.

“…not bad.”

babykuna beamed. mission: successful.

[tahbhie]

The Act of Writing Psychotic Characters 

Part 1: Attention vs Intention

It's been a while since I received this request, and I ensured I took my time with the thoughts, evaluation, and analysis. This topic will be covered in three parts, so here's the first.

Before we proceed, please note that I am not a psychiatrist, psychologist, or any professional in that field. This is just an insight into how this kind of concept can fit into your novels.

Okay, let's begin.

The Attention vs Intention part of this topic will discuss two ways of portraying these type of characters in scenes. 

First, you need to understand that psychotic characters aren't psychotic based solely on their speeches or actions. If that's all you have in mind before approaching a story, you might leave a huge gap in the execution.

Rather, it's how they feel—the desire to satisfy their current emotions.

They have drives and motives, but most especially beliefs which, in most cases, are hardly understandable by other people. It's wrong and unacceptable by society, but to them, they wouldn't do it any differently.

That's why most psychotic characters have no remorse. You simply can't apologize or feel sorry if you don't 'believe' that you're in the wrong.

➜ Attention Psychosis

Psychotic characters whose main purpose in a story is limited to presence (i.e., showing up in scenes and visibly serving the role of a psychotic character) are attention psychotics. You don't flesh out their backstory or why they are who they are.

Their drives and motives aren't talked about enough to the point of justification. Readers hardly care about them, but the action they bring to the scene creates a rich narrative with the purpose of psychosis.

In summary, their role is minor. We see such cases in movies like The Babysitter.

Let's agree that none of the cult characters in that movie are exactly sane, as their main aim is to end their victims’ lives in the sickest ways possible. However, there's a certain character, Max, who simply enjoys the idea of "killing and seeing people bleed."

That has exceeded the central idea of being a cultist who gets involved in blood sacrifice to achieve their 'dream life' like the rest of the characters. It's now something more and different.

Something that has to do with homicidal ideation.

Max worked in a diner where he dealt with people that annoyed him so greatly that he wanted to kill them. So he got the opportunity to join a cult and do just that.

It was plain clear this guy had something else going on for him, but throughout the movie, his character had no special attention or even a peek into his thoughts. Although, it still worried the audience. Job done.

➜ Intention Psychosis

When a story is centered around a character's mental state, their motives, drives, beliefs, actions, and the story actually unfolds by going deeper into this concept, you have intention psychosis.

If not entirely, at least mostly, it defines the entire plot surrounding that character. People get to understand why they are who they are, their mode of action, what drives them, and even a peek into how they perceive the world around them.

Such scenarios are seen in movies like The Joker and Pyramid game (Korea). The audience gets a glimpse into their overall life and understands at least to an extent why they are the way they are.

Their beliefs get twisted for certain reasons, and there was just no stopping them. Here the characters were more than a presence; they were a central core.

In the movie Joker, we watched Arthur’s impoverished life unfold, with every event and incident worsening his condition further.

Baek Ha-rin in Pyramid Game literally created an entire game system to watch a student, who happened to be her old friend, suffer both physically and mentally. She went to great lengths to carry out this nefarious act under the guise of the game. Although this movie encompassed more than just this storyline, it was hard to ignore the unhealthy drive and actions of the young lady with an innocent face.

Before incorporating a psychotic character in your novel, determine their form of portrayal and appearance in the overall story. Are they going to serve as an attention psychotic or an intention psychotic?

Inspired by @sothera

Stay tuned for the next part!

۝ Before you go! ۝

My Characters and I is an extensive one-on-one coaching session designed to create characters that leap off the pages and become best friends with your readers.

What's a great story without remarkable characters? Spots are filling up fast, so grab yours now and get ahead of millions of writers out there.

👇👇👇

[kitten4sannie]

blood pact

pairing: vampire! wooyoung x human! reader (fem)

genre: vampire society au, a lil bit of angst, smut

summary: living in a city overrun by bloodsuckers is already hard enough on its own, but you’re really put to the test when one of them ends up being your only hope in the face of danger.

w.c: 4.3k

warnings: blood/injury, depictions of violence, death(s)? of a few vampires, hard-ish dom (slight tamer)! wooyoung, subby (tiny bit bratty)! reader, these mfs are nasty alr, some light brat taming, one or two little slaps, praise/degradation, pet names/name calling, blood kink obv <3 (includes blood drinking/sharing), kissing, oral (giving), throat fucking, brief breath play, pain kink, mutual masturbation, lotus position but it’s rough !!, creampie

a/n: oh mannn i’m a bit late again 😣 but im excited to share this one with you all !! i wanted to thank my dear lily for beta reading this one for me and giving me lovely feedback that helps me grow as a writer, it truly means the world to me my dear 🩷 once again i do apologize if this fic seems disjointed in any way ,, things have been a bit weird but i won’t let life stop me from sharing nasty smut >:((( lol i hope you enjoy and please lemme know what you thought <33

song rec: dirt - depeche mode (we’re taking it wayyy back with this one <3)

fictober 2024

You were never able to pinpoint exactly when humanity went to shit, as it had always been in a state of constant conflict and disarray, but somewhere along the way, it turned into a raging dumpster fire — one that was close to impossible to put out once it was lit. Unbeknownst to humans, there was a society of vampires that lived in the shadows for centuries, waiting patiently until it was the perfect time to make their existence known and feared. What better time to take over the world than when the humans were too busy being at each other’s throats to even realize they had a common enemy, one that would drain them of their life source within a blink of an eye? 

Anyone with a pulse had no choice but to fall in line and succumb to their undead overlords, having to make up their mind about whether they would like to join forces with the enemy by desecrating their DNA and joining those that single-handedly brought upon humanity’s destruction, or grovel at their feet and become a slave, a house pet of sorts whose soul purpose was to feed and entertain their blood-sucking masters.

It was not an easy choice for most, and especially for you, so you simply found another solution — blend in. If you embodied everything a vampire was, even down to their immeasurable sense of pride and entitlement, how could they tell you apart from the others? And when they saw through your ruse, you would drive a stake through their still heart. You would never join their empire, let alone be one of their toys, especially not for some pompous undead prick that would treat you like a glorified juice box. 

Yet, here you were, drunk off your ass at a gothic nightclub that welcomed vampiric guests and shunned anyone with a beating heart, unless they were owned and branded. 

“Gimme another whiskey, neat,” you slurred, holding your empty shot glass to the poor excuse of a human bartender standing on the other side of the bar. You scoffed at the jeweled collar he wore around his neck, knowing he was owned by whatever undead asshole that ran the nightclub. You had your own collar, of course, but you had taken it from someone that was…no longer in need of it. You did what you had to, to make it through another night in the corrupted world you regretfully called your home. 

“I should cut you off, y’know, especially after being such a dick to me all night,” the man mumbled, despite reaching underneath the bar to grab an almost empty bottle of whiskey and filling your glass back up, not wanting to risk angering his superiors. 

“But, you won’t. Your vampiric asshole of a boss wouldn’t like that you’re denying a paying customer.” You stuck your tongue out at the man, much to his dismay. You sipped on the whiskey, liking the way it burned as it went down your throat, grateful that you could still feel something, even if it was a drunkenness that would most likely do irreversible damage to your liver. It’s not like your life really mattered, not in this timeline, at least. 

You lazily held your glass up in his direction, blowing a few strands of loose hair out of your eyes. The man simply held up the empty bottle and gave you a tight smile. “All out. Now, would you pay your tab?” 

“Fineeee, oh my god,” you groaned dramatically, standing up from the barstool and wobbling a bit, fishing for your wallet somewhere inside your worn trench coat. When you opened it up, you came upon the discovery that it was completely empty, looking up to find fear inside the bartender’s eyes. “L-listen, I can replace that bottle, okay? I-I’ll…just need to stop by the local temp agency first.” 

“I think you should leave, before they catch wind of this…” the bartender warned you under his breath, unconsciously tugging at his collar. 

Swallowing harshly, you glanced around the crowded, dingy club past the collar of your coat, before stumbling your way past many vampire patrons that were drunk off the blood of their human pets who stayed close to them, wishing your blurry surroundings weren’t moving in slow motion. Paranoid that somebody was following you, you looked past your shoulder, only seeing the same crowd of drunken patrons. Temporarily relieved, you swiftly faced forward again, only to accidentally bump into someone face-first, your teeth clinking into the metal of their lip ring, your hands almost getting caught in the many necklaces they were wearing. “I’m so sorry, oh my god, please don’t kill me,” you automatically apologized, already knowing they weren’t human based on the lack of a collar and color in their cheeks. 

“If I wanted to, I would,” Wooyoung teased in his own special way, quite aware of the way your heart rate spiked as soon as his light, airy words reached your ears. He enjoyed playing around with his food as much as the next vampire, but lately, it’s grown quite dull, like everything else in his never-ending life.

“O-oh!” you squeaked, letting out a nervous laugh, sticking one hand into your coat pocket to wrap your fingers around the sharp stake you carried with you everywhere. 

He brought one manicured finger up to tap against the jewel sitting snugly against your collared neck, leaning in to press his lips against the slope of your ear. “I’d take you right here in front of everyone, drink you dry. Let them all enjoy the pretty sounds you’d make. Does that sound fun?” 

“Oh, you can try it, if you want,” you goaded him, looking up at him with your big doe eyes once he pulled back, wondering if he knew just how unhinged you were, just how on the edge you really were. “But, what happens if I’m poisonous? I might not be worth the stomachache.” 

Wooyoung chuckled to himself, not used to any human acting so boldly towards him. “Fair point, human.” 

“Y/N,” you corrected him, letting go of you weapon in favor of wrapping your finger around one of his silver necklaces, teasing him back in your own way. “You should at least know my name if you’re going to drink from me.” 

Wooyoung mused at your actions, studying you with his sly fox eyes, licking at the mole on his lip. He would’ve pursed you if you hadn’t suddenly gotten spooked by something, turning his head to watch you continue making your way out of the club, noticing that the owner quickly followed after you. Things were certainly getting interesting. 

By the time you inhaled the cold night air into your lungs, you had already broke out into a sweat. You let your heavy coat hang off past your shoulders and leaned back against a nearby wall, regretting all the alcohol you had subjected your poor body into taking. “Fuck me…” you groaned, shutting your eyes and leaning your head back into the cool concrete behind you, hoping that would make the world stop spinning. 

“Is that an invitation…?” asked the very vampire you had been talking shit about to the bartender just a few minutes earlier. “It’s the least you could offer me in exchange for all the whiskey you drank in my club, filthy human.” 

Your blood ran cold. “D-don’t you even think about touching me…You aren’t my owner.” 

“Oh, because of this little collar you have on? You really don’t have a clue about our kind, do you? There’s no pheromones on you, just your own filthy human scent,” the vampire chided, running his finger along the worn band of your lace collar. It made your skin crawl. You struggled to keep down all the alcohol you had drowned yourself in. Just then, he ripped it from your neck and replaced it with his slender fingers, squeezing around it until your vision grew just that more blurry. “But, don’t worry, I’ll make up for all the lost time that you haven’t been used like a proper toy.” 

Blinding rage joined the revulsion you felt for the individual that continued to toy with you as though you were a defenseless child, the culmination of it churning around inside your body like molten hot lava ready to pour out of you. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” you barked, shoving your hands into his shoulders as hard as you could, your feverish anger growing that much more when he hardly moved. 

In response, the vampire tugged your coat down and ripped open your top, causing the buttons to fly off. His abhorrent words became nothing more than radio static inside your ringing ears, once you saw red, clutching the wooden stake inside your pocket so tightly that it pierced your fragile skin. You reeled your arm back and drove it straight into the owner’s side, so violently that the wood split into shards, not letting go of it until you knew that it was lodged deeply inside him, wishing, hoping he felt even a fragment of the pain his kind had caused you. “Die,” you muttered, searching his eyes for some sign of shock, regret, grief, anything. 

Confusion overtook your flushed features when the man simply laughed directly in your face, as though he were savoring a joke that you weren’t in on, suddenly feeling a white hot burning pain inside your abdomen. Something was wrong, deeply wrong. You tried to speak, but you couldn’t, not while you were gurgling on your own blood. You looked down to see the hilt of a dagger sticking out of your stomach, reality hitting you like a ton of bricks, rendering it impossible to draw in air. 

“It never ceases to amuse me when a blood bag thinks they can stop someone like me with something as silly as a wooden stake,” he began, letting out a small hum, as he drove his ritual dagger in as far as it could go. He leaned in close to you, twisting the knife around inside you just to hear the delightful sounds of agony that escaped your red tinted lips. “I’ve been alive longer than your entire bloodline, pathetic human, and I’ll be outliving you tonight.” And with that, the club owner ripped the dagger back out and strolled back into the building, licking the crimson that still ran down the sides of his blade. 

You should’ve known this would happen eventually in a world like this. You had no power from the very start. Why had you been blind to the truth until this very moment, when all you could see was your precious blood leaving your body? Regardless, it was far too late to ruminate over trivial things. Death’s gentle whispers were lulling you to sleep, its sweet promises of rest numbing out most of the visceral emotions that coursed through your veins. Slumping against the wall, you held your middle with trembling hands, gazing up at the full moon that loomed over you, wanting to enjoy her beauty one last time — at least, until someone blocked your view. 

“For fuck’s sake, can’t you see I’m dying here? Let me look at the moon in peace…” you murmured, weakly glaring up at the stranger you had met inside that godforsaken club only a couple minutes ago.

“You still got some fire in you, doncha, sweetheart?” Wooyoung mused, crouching down so you were at eye level, reaching out to gently ruffle your hair. “But, you’ll die of blood loss soon…pity.”

“You’re very observant,” you replied snarkily, leaning your head back into the wall, your vision growing darker by the second. You let out a long, defeated sigh, choking a bit on the blood left inside your raw throat. “Are you just here to watch me die? If that’s the case, can you do me a favor and make it quick?” 

“You didn’t seem like the type to give up so easily.” He leaned in close to you, his crimson eyes shining that much brighter when he asked, “Don’t you want revenge?” 

His question echoed inside your mind, once as a whisper, and eventually as a desperate plea. “And what if I do…? It’s not like I can do much now…”

“Let me turn you.” He bared his fangs. “You’ll live, and you’ll be so much stronger than ever before.” He watched as your eyes widened, then returned to normal, figuring you were weighing your options, though they were vastly limited. “You’ll be free to take his life away, do with it as you please, just like he was going to do to you. Doesn’t that sound delicious?” 

A few drops of blood dribbled down the side of your mouth. The sand in your hourglass was about to run out. “What do you get in return?” 

Wooyoung’s lips curled up into a sadistic smile, his eyes resembling glowing crescent moons. “I’ll be your Master, of course. It’s only fair, being your savior, and all.” 

Though that was the very last thing you wanted, you were far too stubborn to die out in such a pathetic fashion. Not only that, but you were being offered the deal of a lifetime, at the end of your lifetime, to be exact, and in exchange for your mortal soul, you could enact sweet, sweet revenge and have a new tale to tell, one that no man or monster could ever take from you. 

“Speak now, or forever hold your peace,” Wooyoung joked slyly, tapping the invisible watch on his wrist. 

“Alright, deal, but make it quick–” you were barely able to enunciate, before Wooyoung was all over you, one hand holding the side of your head, while the other felt where your artery was, immediately sinking his fangs deep into your neck to start the transformation process. 

When you came to, you looked up at your savior, your eyes as red as the blood he had sucked out of you, all of the immense pain that plagued your body gone as quickly as it came, instead replaced by an indescribable thirst. 

“How do you feel, pet?” Wooyoung asked, licking remnants of your life source from his manicured fingers. 

You bared your new, needle sharp fangs to your Master. “Hungry.” 

He smiled at you like a proud father would. “I think I know how we can fix that.” 

-

The last thing the vampiric club owner expected to see when he was sitting inside the comfort of his secluded office was the human woman he had just murdered out of cold blood stomping up to his desk and tossing it out of the way like it wasn’t made of marble. 

“H-hey, we can talk about this, right?” he asked nervously, holding his hands up, along with the stacks of cash that were in between his grubby fingers. “You want money? You can have it!” 

You grabbed him by the collar, yanking him towards you so violently, he just about broke his neck. “I don’t want money. I want your life.” 

When Wooyoung casually strolled into the cush office and pressed his back against the opaque door, the other vampire pleaded at him with his wide eyes. “Wooyoung, baby, this is your favorite club, isn’t it? Haven’t I treated you good here?” 

“Y/N will treat you good too, don’t worry,” he reassures sweetly, dragging his tongue across his pointed teeth. He brought his finger up to his chin like he just remembered something, nodding to himself. “Ahh, she does bite, though.” 

Just as Wooyoung’s cackles rang out inside the vast room, the club owner shifted his frightened gaze to you just in time to see your jaw open wide, gulping at the sheer size of your fangs. And just like that, you bit down onto the vampire’s neck, getting a good grip on his skin, before swiftly turning your head and causing a fountain of blood to rain over you. 

Once you were done feeding, there was hardly anything left of the club owner. Most of him was inside you, and the rest was left splattered across the pedestrian paintings he had up on the walls. Still sitting on the floor near scattered, bloodied hundred dollar bills, you licked up the rest of him from your fingers, your entire body vibrating with pleasure now that your killer was no longer with you, and for other reasons you couldn’t quite explain. Perhaps it had something to do with your new body and your newfound love for excess.

Wooyoung clapped his hands together with giddy delight, giving the top of your head a few pats as a reward. “What a good girl. Do you feel full?” 

Shaking your head, you reached up to Wooyoung’s waistband, undoing the belt buckle and easing his pants down, licking at your red stained lips all the while. The burning, mind-melting desire to consume didn’t leave you, it only multiplied. It clouded your mind, made you feel like you might lose your mind if you didn’t make it stop. “Not enough…my throat…need it filled…” 

“Ahh, I see,” Wooyoung sighed knowingly. This always happened with the humans he turned; they turned into insatiable monsters, always driven by their need for more. He could never get tired of it. Leaning his back against the dripping wall, he reached down to slide his fingers into your soft hair, angling your head upwards, cooing softly at you as he pushed his way into your mouth. “Be careful with your fangs, sweetheart.” 

Relaxing your throat upon the sudden intrusion, you opened your mouth wider, as to not pierce Wooyoung’s cock with your new fangs, feeling content once the entirety of his twitching length fit snugly inside. It was when the vampire thrusted further into your throat that you made a wet gagging sound, tears forming inside your crimson eyes, closing them. 

“Ah, ah,” Wooyoung tutted, giving your cheek a light smack, smiling sweetly down at you when your eyes opened back up. “That’s right, you better look at me with those pretty eyes of yours if you’re going to take me down your throat like this. That’s what a good pet does.” 

Once Wooyoung started to fuck your throat, eager to fill it with his cum, his pale fingers pulling tightly at your hair, you did your best not to choke around him, welcoming him in again, over and over, until saliva and pre-cum dripped down your chin and along your bare chest.

“Mmnh….nnnhmm…” you moaned in approval, reaching up to hold onto his bucking hips, digging your nails into his protruding hip bones. You blinked more tears away, wanting to see Wooyoung’s sadistic face without the constant blurriness that plagued your vision. Whether you had a penchant for punishment or you were simply bloodthirsty, it caused you to prod at the vampire’s cock with your fangs, the tangy flavor of iron joining the abundance of precum that lubed up your throat. 

“Fuck, you’re a naughty girl, biting me like that,” Wooyoung hissed in between violent thrusts, suddenly holding your head still when the entirety of his cock was inside your throat, your nose brushing against his pubic bone, satisfied with the filthy gurgling noises you couldn’t help but make for him, feeling more of your spit drip down his heavy balls. He smacked his hand against your cheek again, watching it grow rosy, before pinching your nose tightly. “But, you can’t help it, huh? You just want to be put in your place. I can’t blame you for that.”

The sensation was suffocating, the feeling of being used added onto the constant buzz of pleasure that was running through your veins; it was nothing like you’ve ever experienced before. It almost made you wish that you had let yourself be turned a long time ago. No one could stop you now, not even him. Maybe your humanity was slipping away from you, much like your sanity with each passing moment. 

It wasn’t until you could breathe again and something warm, heavy, was pressing down on the tip of your tongue that you faded back into reality, just in time for Wooyoung to shoot a seemingly never-ending cumshot down the back of your aching throat.

“You’ll swallow, won’t you?” he asked sweetly, giving the bottom of your chin a light tickle with his clawed fingers. 

When you stuck out your tongue to show him that nothing was left, Wooyoung grabbed you by the chin and yanked you towards him, biting the tip of your tongue to draw blood. You watched him suck it off with half-lidded eyes, having to close your thighs together to keep a fresh wave of slick from dripping out of you. 

Before you knew it, he was on the floor with you, not even needing to pull you into his lap, groaning into your mouth as you climbed into it yourself, the heated kiss you shared consisting mostly of tongue, pointed teeth, and blood. You swapped red-tinted saliva back and forth, your hands working in tandem to tear off each other’s clothes and grope one another wherever you could, trying to create as much friction between your lower halves as you could, Wooyoung’s stiff cock rubbing deliciously into your clothed cunt. 

You broke the kiss when your thirst once again grew too strong to ignore, reaching up to run your index finger over the mole on Wooyoung’s glistening bottom lip, hissing softly when he pierced it with one of his fangs. You both watched the blood slowly trickle down along your skin, sharing a similar look with one another, before you leaned in to lap it up, your tongues meeting in the middle. 

As though telepathically connected, you reached to slip your panties off from underneath your skirt the same time Wooyoung undid the buttons of his pants, immediately rubbing at yourselves in order to get off as quickly as possible. 

“Look at me when you cum,” Wooyoung demanded between huffs of air, staring you down past his wispy lashes, the speed at which he was stroking his cock producing lewd squelching sounds, his slender fingers slicked up with his abundant pre-cum. 

Trembling, you opened up your teary eyes to look at Wooyoung, the indescribable pleasure etched into his face causing you to throb nonstop, curling your fingers up in just the right way to launch you into a world of ecstasy. “C-cumming…” 

Wooyoung groaned at the sight and feeling of your release spilling into his lap, squeezing his hand tightly around the base of his cock, hot spurts of cum landing on your abdomen and dripping down your bare cunt, not even caring that you both dirted his designer jeans with your shared arousal. “I’m gonna make you do that again, on my cock this time, you hear me?” he growled at you, lifting you up like you weighed nothing and dropping you down onto his growing erection. 

“Fuck,” you gasped sharply, holding onto his shoulders to keep your composure, your thighs still shaking from your residual pleasure, a low, burning pain present within your core  as your hole stretched to accommodate the vampire’s size. “T-too much…” 

Wooyoung’s ego just about doubled in that moment, his ringed fingers closing in on your soft waist, suddenly bucking his hips up into you like it was his sole mission to do so in the afterlife. Smiling smugly at the small, broken noises he was punching out of you with his vicious thrusts, he couldn’t help but let out a few crazed giggles. “Can’t take it now that I’m rearranging these pretty guts of yours, huh?” He mirrored your pout, his lower lip jutting out. “But, I thought you were my cum slut, my good little blood whore.” 

“I am…! I–fuck, I am, Master…!” you found yourself crying out, tears inside your hazy eyes, tasting dried blood when you wet your dry lips, knowing you wouldn’t even recognize your reflection if you saw it now. You were a new model, remolded, changed for the better. 

His hypnotic eyes began to glow. “Be a good sleeve and take it for your Master, yeah?”

You did as he said, taking everything he gave you like a pliant doll, letting him lick, bite, drink from you, and fuck you dumb for as long as his still heart desired, wondering if he was even aware of how much your blood boiled inside you. 

Wooyoung was just like the others. They were all the same, treating you like a helpless toy, using you for their enjoyment and tossing you aside when they were bored, viewing your humanity as your downfall, and perhaps they were right. Like two magnets, you couldn’t live without the other, and now, you were a monster like him, one in the same. 

Just as you both reached your climax together, holding desperately onto one another, Wooyoung’s bewitching gaze no longer holding captive, you felt a supreme power rise within yourself. You didn’t need him, not when you were now your own Master. The only thing you served now was your endless hunger. 

Wooyoung couldn’t get you off once you latched onto his neck, gasping and sputtering, his constant struggles only forcing your fangs just that much deeper into his skin and the artery you had targeted, digging his claws into your back as a last ditch effort. “But, we…we made a pact,” he coughed out, his gravelly voice reflecting the immense pain he felt. He couldn’t fight back any longer, simply slumping back against the wall to accept his fate, holding his hand up to his torn neck, despite it not doing anything to prevent the crimson from flowing through his fingers. “I don’t understand…” 

“I recall warning you that I was poisonous,” you replied softly, licking remnants of his precious life source from your stained lips. 

He couldn’t help but smile, his eyes resembling half-moons. “Fair point, human…”

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[eyelambspider]

𝐑𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝. - König

Part One || Part Two

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : The WX 400 model, or König, had been sitting in a Cyberlife store for nearly six months without so much as a glance from customers. He had been repurposed from a hard laborer to a sort of domestic care-giver... but the thing was, consumers only wanted the newer models. Until you came by. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1.2 k 𝐚/𝐧 : consider this my masterpiece, probably will write a second part 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 : fluff, hurt/comfort(?), domestic fluff

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐘𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄. From the sleek tiled floors, to the large window panes that were cleaned daily, to the Androids that stood on display within.

On white pedestals, circled with fluorescent tags and holograms indicating their model numbers and generic purposes: Domestic housekeepers, caretakers, companions. Smaller synthetic machines that had friendly faces and sparkling eyes. Built for a life amongst humans.

He wasn't built for that. No.

His slate-colored eyes had watched for months, lingering over Cyberlife's newest models at the front of the store. A blank expression as each one smiled hopefully. Perhaps something they were programmed to do. To appear friendly?

He considered it a possibility, sure, but the 'front of the store' androids were a stark contrast to his own model.

The WX-series of androids had been built with only one purpose: hard labor, or to put it more simply, construction work.

When customers came into the store they only wanted one thing: a shiny new companion.

Everyday the eyes of those strangers would frown when they saw him. Hardly sparing the WX a glance before they turned around and considered an AX 400 instead.

An android built for housework and taking care of children, with a soft round face and a smile that reached all the way up to her kind blue eyes...

It seemed a diluted plausibility that one day the repurposed WX would eventually find a purpose. With everyday he inched closer to the possibility of being discarded. Simply unwanted.

Until a particularly cloudy day in May, one of the stares had caught his attention, even in his low power mode. Only able to shift his tired seeming eyes and move at a slow pace. Meeting that oddly new curious gaze of yours. The eyes of a stranger finally lingering on him.

Him.

"Excuse me?" You held your hand up sheepishly, asking for assistance from one of the android retailers, a young looking man with a head of soft brown hair and a blue circular LED on his right temple. The holographic label on his chest reading: Ethan.

"Hello, How can I help you?" Ethan stepped next to your side with a light smile.

You pointed to the WX in front of you, feeling a bit silly for even asking but... "Could you tell me about this one?"

The android salesman nodded, hands folded politely behind him, following your gaze towards the decommissioned android, unable to show the usual grimace humans showed the WX.

"Of course," he agreed easily, "This particular model is a WX 400, a decommissioned laborer. They aren't often sold in stores, but if you are interested I could tell you more about it."

The WX watched you nod, his eyes flickering occasionally between you and the sales-android.

"Why is he decommissioned?" you asked quietly, letting the question linger momentarily before Ethan perked up again, unbiased.

"The WX 400 was only decommissioned in its primary purpose, which was doing manual labor," the mechanical man explained with a synthetic smile, gesturing with his hands for your eyes to follow. "It works perfectly fine, and besides some damage to its synthetic skin and body, and a few replaced parts," he managed a soft light-hearted chuckle, "This model works perfectly fine, just not for its intended heavy lifting purposes. It will work perfectly fine for housework. Is that what you were looking for?"

As the sales-android considered the new possibility, he prompted a new question: "We have many other fine models if you are interested in something else."

The statement, whilst a little profound to you, meant next to nothing to the two androids who patiently awaited your answer.

"I was looking for someone to help around the house," you confirm.

The WX before you, nearing seven foot tall easily in the display case, glanced down at you. Unmoving, but like all androids, his eyes held an uncanny humanity within those blue depths.

He could see the consideration on your face. The way your eyes wearily, almost tenderly, traced the lines and deep scars on his synthetic skin. Deep grooves and lacerations running from his fingers, up his strong forearms and disappearing under the fabric of his standard Cyberlife shirt.

Even the androids face, while once maybe even considered handsome, had a deep scar running over its left side. Over his dirty blonde brow and high cheekbone, tracing over his lips to his chin.

It was a wonder he even worked properly, and the unspoken question must've been written all over your face again.

"The WX has had his diagnostics run perfectly well. I assure you the android itself works perfectly fine," Ethan smiled boyishly when you blushed.

"I don't doubt it," you assured him with an unintentionally adorable grin. "I've just... I've never seen an android like him," you admitted softly, those soft eyes meeting the WX's again.

He was looking right at you again.

Immediately your gaze dropped down shyly, unintentionally reading the blue holographic labels that surrounded the short white pillar he stood on.

"He has a name?" You asked, glancing over to Ethan for confirmation.

"Of course, but if you'd like to reset it-"

"No," you stopped him, feeling a bit more confident than you had when you first entered the store.

"König sounds fine to me."

König watched from his display, with a hint of utter- well... what would you call this?

Disbelief? Surprise?

Surprise when your complexion lit with a smile. Surprise when you said his name and turned to walk with the other android to the front of the store? Surprise as his eyes trailed after your form, unable to comprehend you.

For what reason could you possibly want a repurposed android like him?

It didn't make sense in the slightest, and although he watched you, he felt lost, considering possibilities that felt underwhelming in their answers.

His price was lower than others for being damaged. But so many had passed him by.

It was something König considered for a while, never finding a suitable answer until a new initiative popped across his sensors. Jolting him awake once more.

He was registered now to you. Your name popping across his vision like a directive.

"Thank you," you waved to the man who had helped you with a soft smile, getting a vaguely surprised gesture from him.

"Oh- You're very welcome!" Ethan smiled back and watched for a moment longer as you headed up to König, whom at that moment, was given back full control over his mechanical body. Unlocked from his low power mode.

The blue Thirium that cooled and powered his circuits rushed back into him. Circling through his veins and giving him back full control of his body. The world no longer running in slow motion.

König's hands lifted up slowly. The WX inspecting his hands and flexing his fingers into gentle balls. The two of you watched in silent awe as the large android moved once more, no longer destined for a Cyberlife disposal facility... but for.

König's vision refocused as you reached out. Your tiny hand taking one of his. Warm, and unmarred in contrast to his, and he could feel the almost imperceptible beating of your pulse beneath the contact.

"Come on," you smiled, not quite helping him from the stand, but guiding him down the small step. "I'll show you how to get back home, König," you mused, feeling the large androids cut up hand grip yours a bit tighter.

Next >

© Eyelambspider. I only post here on Tumblr! könig photo credit to my friend @koharu-rk800

[mrrharper]

Enforcing The Bro Code

Trent was livin’ the high life. Living in the best frat house on campus, with the best bros on campus, partying hard and working out all day. Life was good for Trent, especially with his best bro around. Colt was a party animal and a damn good lifter, which made him a perfect brah to keep around.

There was only one issue. Colt was gay. Of course, Trent has no issue with that, he wasn’t some dumb homophobic asshole, duh. But still, there was something weird about a frat bro, especially a jacked bro like Colt, to not be thinking of pussy every day, right? Every time he mentioned going on a Grindr hook up or commenting about ”that one hot bro” that attended their gym, Trent cringed a bit. This didn’t fit with his view of the frat bro life. Of course, many bros fucked around with each other from time to time, but they didn’t talk about it, didn’t boast about sticking a dick into another dude’s ass. That was like, against the bro code and stuff. In the end though, Trent’s loyalty to his best bro was more important, so he didn’t say anything.

Although.

A while after Colt’s coming out, Trent began wondering. He wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed and he knew that - his brain was made for football and lifting, not for complex analytical thought, but he started thinking if there was any way to gently nudge Colt to follow the supreme rule of the bro code, no homo bro. His bro wasn’t the smartest guy in the frat house either, a textbook example of a meathead, so maybe if he just showed him the true purpose of a bro, Colt would adjust and conform to the standard. Yeah, he’d show him some great pussy and get his brain into straight mode! Trent would just need to wait for the best moment to strike, when Colt’s mind would be the most malleable.

The opportunity came one evening when Colt and Trent were coming back from a party some hockey bros threw at their place. Colt was visibly drunk and talking about the most random shit while leaning on Trent for support. As they neared their house Trent studied Colt and when they came to the door a plan quickly formed in his mind. He maneuvered Colt through the door, but instead of guiding him to his room, Trent grabbed his best bro and took him to his own bedroom. There he grabbed a chair from his desk and put it in the middle of the room, then asked Colt to sit in it. The drunk jock obediently followed the suggestion and sat down, grinning like an idiot with a bit of drool leaking from his mouth.

”kay, bruh, what am gonna do is a bit extreme, but it’s for yer own good, ya get me brah?” Trent looked into Colt’s eyes and the other bro nodded his head and chuckled. “so like, just stay here, don’t panic n’ let me do my thing” Trent then turned around and grabbed a football helmet, which he put onto Colt’s head. The helmet had seen better days and had a smelled faintly of sweat, but this was what Trent wanted - to get Colt’s brain surrounded by manly shit so that the whole process could go smoother.

Next, Trent finished the setup for his bro’s realignment. He put a laptop in front of Colt’s face and loaded the first video. It was some random gay porn, copied from the first link Trent stumbled upon cause like, he wasn’t gay or anythin’ so he couldn’t go any further than that. A pair of guys appeared on screen, a hunk fucking some twin into the mattress and Colt seemed really into it, which was, for now, good. Trent’s plan was going to work. His bro was getting agitated by the experience, his cock hardening under his gym shorts and he began grinding his hand against it.

”Nah dude” Trent jumped up to him and grabbed his hand. “Ya can’t do it yet. Gotta wait for the right time dude” He let the video play for a few more moments, making sure that Colt was hard and horny. When he was absolutely sure this was the case he quickly swapped the porn for one of his favorite vids of a bro type guy eating out a chick with awesome tits. As the sound of female moans filled the room, Trent grabbed Colt’s hand again and put it on the visible bulge in his shorts.

“That’s the stuff ya should jack off too, bro. Cause like, no homo. Right bro?” Colt didn’t respond with words, but he grunted and started once again grinding his hand over his hard cock. For a moment at least. Because a minute later he looked at Trent with a furrowed brow.

”bruuuuuuuuh, like… no chick…. that vid… before…. hooooot brah”

Trent groaned. Fuck, he didn’t expect things to go perfectly smooth, but still… damn. But he was going to survive this. It was all gonna still work out in the end. Trent went back to the gay vid for a moment, which woke up Colt’s dick. But as the other bro kept jacking off, Trent leaned over next to him and started whispering with a stern tone of voice.

”dude, ya see this shit? so fuckin’ gay. not like us bro, nah, we’re real bros, and ya know dude, no homo bro. yer a real jacked bro, and no jacked bro looks at gay shit. like man, no homo bro, ya get me, right dude?” As he kept talking, Trend once again switched the video playing on the laptop, going back to the bro destroying a chick’s pussy with his mouth, then moving onto good ol’ fucking. To assure that Colt didn’t relapse, Trent held his bro’s hand to make sure the other jock kept jacking off while also checking that his eyes stayed glued to the screen. All throughout this he kept talking to Colt, improvising a hypno-sounding mantra, repeating the sacred phrase “no homo, bro” over and over again.

”Yeah dude, look at this shit, look at that bruh destroyin’ that wet pussy. cause like ya ain’t no homo, bro, and ya see how fuckin hot this shit is. this ain’t none of that homo shit, nah, this is prime alpha bro stuff, right here dude.”

That seemed to lead to results. Colt’s enthusiasm didn’t disappear after Trent switched back to straight porn, and his dick was just as hard as before. After a while Trent’s help was no longer necessary as Colt sloppily took off his shorts and was now jerking off at full blast. Trent kept on going with his whispers to keep Colt in that trance-like state for as long as possible, all with the goal of getting Colt’s dick to understand the message - that a bro could only get turned on by pussy.

The whole process lasted for an hour. Trent came prepared, with a whole playlist of the hottest vids he knew of so that Colt’s horny bro brain could be overwhelmed with images of straight sex, of a real bro like him doing the only proper thing - sticking his cock into a hot chick’s pussy.

Around halfway through the fifth clip it finally happened. Colt came, covering his Under Armour briefs with his cum, while watching straight porn. Trent fist-pumped in the air and clapped Colt on the back.

”fuck yeah dude, now ya know how good it feels to be a normal bro, not any of that homo shit” He chuckled as he saw his best bro look at him with a confused look. “kay, ya pussyhound, let’s get ya to yer room” Trent grabbed his friend and helped him walk over to his bedroom, where he collapsed onto his bed still wearing the sum-stained boxer briefs.

So the plan seemed to be working. Now Trent just had to make sure that his “session” with Colt had the desired long-term effect. And the first signs were quite promising. Colt hadn’t mentioned hooking up with a guy at all over the following week, which was unusual for him, as he was one horny bastard and was usually very eager to share stories of his sexual conquests or general comments about how much he needed to fuck a random guy. Now, there was none of that and when prompted, Colt just avoided the topic, seemingly surprised it even came up.

The big break came about two weeks later when Trent mentioned going to bed with a girl from a sorority house close to them and Colt commented that he’d do the exact same thing if he had the chance. This was huge. Trent’s best bro finally joining in on the banter about hot chicks. It didn’t stop there. From that point on the frequency of comments from Colt concerning his sex drive returned to normal but they were now all concerned with women. And when Trent heard from another frat bro that Colt hooked up with a chick from the cheerleading team he officially confirmed success. His best bro was now fully aligned with the bro code. Fuck yeah dude!

no homo, bruh!

[princessbrunette]

shittysoundcloudrapper!jj was persuasive and he knew it. it took barely any convincing anyway, his pretty best friend was just so whipped for him.

“look all i’m sayin’ is all this could be yours.” he fans the money out, staring you down with the ghost of a smirk as you lounge on his bed. you push your mouth into the corner, considering his offer as you fiddle with the hem of your skirt. it’s not that you didn’t trust jj, you did — you’d just never been so exposed before. his friends would hear this song, strangers would hear this song — you almost couldn’t believe he was asking to record your moans as a backing track for his beat. as you think, your smile grows — the blonde creeping towards you until he’s stood right infront of you, looming over your curled seating position.

“c’mon mama, you smell that?” he caresses your face with the wad of money, running it over your cheek and beneath your nose. “yeah. that’s that paper. hard earned benjys. you wanna help me out, don’t you? know you do.” he cooes and you’re hypnotised, nodding your head with fluttering lashes. it’s times like this he was glad to have you under his thumb.

it’s later on in the evening that things are ready to commence. perhaps when you’d agreed to help jj out, he wasn’t quite clear on the task at hand. yes, he wanted your moans for his backing track — but he didn’t want you stood infront of a mic, awkwardly recreating a scene from pornhub premiums. no, he was after the real deal. authenticity. method acting, so he called it.

“‘cus like, i’on know what’s worse. a chick faking an orgasm when you’re fucking her, or faking it just for the sake of your music. nah, i think… we’re close enough to make the real thing happen. like — for artistic expression… purposes.” he explains as he sets up his little mic, pulling a pair of headphones over his ears to check the sound. “check, check.” he drawls into the mic before nodding in approval.

“so how are we gonna…” you furrow your eyebrows, always having been on the more innocent side of the sex spectrum. before you even get to attempt to verbalise your confusion, the blonde lifts his head — responding like it was no biggie.

“oh, i can totally go down on you. ‘f’thats cool.” his tongue darts out to swipe at the corner of his mouth and you feel your eyes widen. “really you just gotta lay there n’hold the mic. easy as shit.” he shrugs, finally sitting down and looking at you expectedly as you gawk.

“wait, really?” you giggle. you’d thought about it many times, jj maybank between your legs — but now it was all too real, and you didn’t know it would be happening so out of the blue, practically a business proposition. he’s in your space again, cupping your cheek in that way that was far too familiar to just be friendly.

“look — babe, you don’t gotta worry about things being weird, alright? i’m a munch, like actually — aaaand, are you tellin’ me right now, you would say no to a little head? i mean if you don’t want me to eat it you can always y’know, DIY—” he gestures a circular rubbing motion with his middle and ring fingers, alluding to getting yourself off instead. “little dj action. just need the moans to be real. m’going all out director mode here.” somehow, the thought of touching yourself infront of jj was more humiliating — so you shake your head, sucking on your lip in thought.

“no, you can do it.” you whisper and he grins.

“yeah? atta girl. what a team player.” your best friend praises before kissing you quickly on the mouth. something he always did, platonically — but now made your heart speed up a ridiculous amount.

as you lay back shakily on the bed, you think back on the lyrics scrawled in messy handwriting in the notebook he’d leave lying around — the contents pointing to him really being about that eating pussy life. something like ‘sucking all on her clit like it’s my lifeline — she asked to return the favour, already got mine’ underlined in red biro.

it’s a blur after he hits record, kissing on your thighs making you giggle and rubbing you until there’s a wet spot through the cotton of your panties. you know he’s smiling, because you can feel the upwards curve of his mouth when he starts kissing you through the fabric. you’re pleasing him just from letting out the sweetest whimpers, challenging himself to get you to moan louder for the sake of his song.

it’s not long before he’s got you bare from the waist down, legs fanned wide open with his arms round your thighs. by this point, he has to remind himself not to talk as to not disrupt the recording — and you’re doing him proud, not even having to try to release the most breathy, beautiful sounds that he knew would be perfect on the track.

you get pouty as soon as the whole things over, deciding your best friend was a total sicko. he’d gotten all kissy on you, wet lips smushed against yours, his eyes all hazy from arousal as he makes you taste yourself, murmuring about how you did such a good job for him before wandering off shamelessly to the bathroom to jack off. you get shy, still oozing your release onto his grey-blue bed sheets thinking back on the way you begged him to talk you through it. he was focused on his producing, but he couldn’t resist on whispering “there y’go pretty mama. lemme hear it, good girl.” whilst you cream on his mean fingers.

no one seems to think it’s a big deal but you, his friends john b and pope often lazing around his place smoking weed and playing on the playstation, totally unresponsive to jj sat sprawled on the couch with his laptop on his lap, chopping and editing away on some shitty producer plugin — your moans occasionally playing around the room as he clicks away, tongue between his lips in concentration, backwards cap snug over messy blonde strands.

the boys chime in with an occasional comment. “sounds dope, man.” pope hums out brainlessly as he stares at the tv, thumbing aggressively at the console joystick, the brunette beside him quick to agree.

“no yeah, sounds good.” he agrees, eyes even darting towards where you’re curled on the couch painting your toenails, trying to seem nonchalant about the whole thing.

when he drops the song, he promotes it everywhere — and whilst you asked for no credits for your… addition, it seems to go without saying that you’re the girl on the song, no one else even in question as wherever jj goes you’re seen hanging off his arm. his friends might not make a big deal, but you notice the stares when you go out.

rafe cameron has the audacity to corner you at the juice bar, wearing a smirk that just told you that he knew. “yeah uh, love your friends little song.” he stares you down, egging on a reaction. “been playin’ it on a loop for some reason.”

you avoid his eyes. “yeah, it’s pretty good.” you shy away, but he blocks your path.

“mm, for sure, yeah but uh, you— you know i could have sworn i recognised the… female voice in the back. got any idea who that might be or…?” his smirk only grows, licking his lips as he looms over you.

“nope…” the doe eyes give you away.

“huh, ‘cos it kinda sounds like a pretty girl i know.”

you run and tell jj, all sniffly and regretful — knowing that snitching on rafe to jj is only going to cause problems. his reaction is less defensive and aggressive than you imagined, instead leading you through to his bedroom by the waist.

“look, bae — people are gonna talk, alright? doesn’t mean shit. sure as hell don’t care about what rafe thinks.” he sits you down, standing above you as he curls a hand under your chin affectionately. “but hey, if the money wasn’t enough— think i can make it worth your while. y’wanna lay down for me, sweets? no mic this time. jus’ me and that pretty pussy.”

[muletia]

Two words

Obsessed Magnus

I’ve already written a bit about obsessed!Ultra Magnus here, but have some more crumbs

Obsessed!Ultra Magnus is an interesting case because it’s easy to mistake his infatuation for having it in for you. He’ll give you absolutely no hints that his feelings for you are romantic in nature. In fact, it’s hard to pinpoint any signs of affection in his behavior because they blend seamlessly with his strict adherence to rules. You have no idea if he’s targeting you because maybe you somehow annoyed him? Used the wrong tone of voice one too many times? What the hell is his problem? Even with Miko, he isn’t this uncompromising. She can at least wander freely around the hangar. You, however, must always remain within his line of sight.

I also think you’d be the first human he’d start calling by your name instead of “native life form.” Under normal circumstances, this would be a sign of respect and proof that some sort of bond has formed between you two, but it can also feel terrifying when he constantly addresses you like one of his soldiers. The truth, however, is that every time he says your name, warmth floods through his spark. Of course, he doesn’t show it at all, but inside, he’s so flustered and overjoyed <3. He hopes you notice how much you mean to him and appreciate his efforts toward starting courtship with you <3

If you really want to get some fresh air — because how long can you stay cooped up in a single military hangar — you’ll have to ask him to accompany you. He won’t be too keen on leaving the hangar since that’s the only place where you’re safe (and he’ll have an enormous paranoia about your safety). But if you start sweet-talking him, saying that you feel safe in his presence, that you trust him not to let anyone hurt you, and surely, he doesn’t want you to ask Wheeljack to take you for a ride, does he? — he’ll reluctantly agree to your request. Of course, he’ll remain stiff the entire time, constantly scanning for threats and ordering you to ALWAYS stay close to him. He even prohibits you from leaving his alt mode and you have coax him into a short walk by his side, but hey, it’s better than nothing.

By the way, the feeling of having you inside his alt-mode does things to him. The closeness, which he can’t experience with you under any other circumstances, the way you touch the steering wheel or gearshift — whether on purpose or by accident — the sensation of your warm breath against the glass, the shape of your body strapped in tightly by the seatbelt… it all shoots straight to his spike. Ultra Magnus is by no means a horndog, but if you tease him long enough, he’ll start thinking with his spike instead of his processor. He’ll go through the day with a throbbing, aching, leaking spike, only to later retreat under the guise of a scouting mission, hiding in some secluded spot to self-service until he’s completely spent, unable to squeeze even a drop of transfluid from the tip. And the whole time, he’ll be whimpering and panting your name like a mantra, imagining your small hands working to push him to overload.

And he wants to hate you for what you’ve done to him — for turning him into a wreck, a liar, a hypocrite. Wants to punish you harshly for reducing him to a degenerate and a human fucker, to sever all ties so you’d become nothing more than a sweet but aggravating memory. But then he sees you the next day in the hangar, and the cycle repeats, because he’s incapable of resisting your smile, the way you say his name, and yet another request for a ride — just the two of you.

[syoddeye]

the gift that keeps on giving - part one, john

Every year, on each of their birthdays, you're delivered with a bottle of Scotch. Shared. Savored. Spoiled. cw: established relationship, everything is consensual, reader is shared between price+nik+kate, smut, rope bondage, gags, mild degradation, vibrators, alcohol, pet names a/n: AO3

"Is that–?"

"It is."

"And that–?

"Nikolai sends his regards."

John scrubs a hand over his warming cheeks and chuckles when he meets Kate's eyes. Her smile is sharp, wicked. The very same one she shares whenever a plan executes perfectly. She pats his back and lays a key card on the desk.

"Happy birthday, John. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." She laughs softly as she leaves the suite. The door clicks shut after easing closed, leaving him alone with his gifts.

He stares, good manners slipping now that company's gone. He doffs his cap and shucks off his jacket, taking his time to place both aside. His breathing deepens as he peels off his shirt, the cool air a balm to his warmed skin.

"Look at you. Sittin' pretty. Much better than last time." He tugs off his belt and lifts a single brow. "Did our chat motivate you? Or are you on your best behavior 'cause it's my birthday?"

His pet doesn't answer, of course, not with the gag held between her teeth. She weakly whines as he steps out of his trousers, folding them with the same lack of hurry as the rest of his clothes. His lip curls at the sheen on her lips, the string of drool dangling from the silicone, and how her eyes drill far lower than his face. He cups himself over the cotton, sneering when her gaze snaps up.

"No, you care about the rules or my birthday, do you? You just want somethin' to gag on." John clicks his tongue, ignoring her protests, releasing himself to pluck the half-full bottle resting between her legs. Fingers curling around the neck, he guides the heft of it deliberately into her seam as he lifts it. He zeroes in on the damp revealed by its removal and the pink silicone tail peeking out from behind the gusset. He exhales hard through his nose. 

"You better be a good girl for Kate next time you're with her. She's spoiled you."

John pulls the room's armchair closer to the bed and pours himself a small drink. The bottle is an old tradition that he and Nik started. Kate's the most recent addition to the rotation, despite her deeming it unpalatable. But, sure enough, her initials and last year's date are etched in ink on the bottle's label.

He looks over their pet and the rope securing her limbs, ensuring it's only as uncomfortable as she likes. Her arms double-cuffed at her back, legs held open like butterfly wings, tied ankle to thigh. She's stunning like this. Always is.

Swirling the amber on his tongue, savoring the taste, he swipes through his phone to the clever little app, and starts her off at the halfway point on the scale. He sips, content to watch her try and remain still as the egg whirrs to life, tail twitching from where it sticks out of her panties. He knows some of the frustrated noises trapped behind the gag stem from the fact he hasn't ripped that frilly piece of lingerie off yet, that he can't see her pussy soaking itself. He's in no rush. After all, following one near-immediate orgasm, from probably being teased to high heaven by Kate, the silk conforms to her sex. He sees every fucking detail from the chair.

John's achingly hard, purposely ignoring his own needs. He plays with the settings through another orgasm, curiously trying out the new tap mode, sending occasional pulses to keep her guessing. Only when the aftershocks peter out, leaving her trembling and contracting inward, does he shut it down to let her slump inward. He sets his glass aside.

"There we go." He minds as he removes the gag dripping with her spit. "Status?"

"Green, could use water, sir." She whispers through several deep breaths, voice shaky.

"Good girl, telling me what you need." The reinforcement is pointless, more for him than her. Regardless, he finds her water bottle in the minifridge and watches her lips pucker around the straw. "I'm gonna take that out when you're finished. Need anything else?"

She swallows, then shakes her head. "No, sir."

The hot pink vibrator's sticky, coated, and its removal releases a little rush. They both groan, and it's all he can do to not tip her back and take her there and then.

"Kate's improved." He observes, one finger hooking under the rope wrapped around her upper thigh. She squirms, lips pressing together in a frown. "You don't think so?"

"I had to tell her how to do my legs."

"Did you?" John grabs one of the smaller pillows and tosses it beside the bed. He toes it into position, then reaches for her. "Proud of yourself?" He huffs when, instead of answering, she arcs toward his hands, eyes trained on his face. She's still feeling a mite bold, then. That bravado doesn't last. It never does. The second he puts her level with the strained fabric of his pants, her eyes drop. That slip of attitude bleeds into an affectation of the docility he likes. A practiced and put-upon yielding. She'll play along, for now.

"Conceited and greedy." John chides, reaching for his glass. He widens his stance, nodding once to cue her. A chuckle rumbles out as she buries her face into the cotton pulled taut across his cock. Nosing it first, dragging in deep breaths, then mouthing at him, wetting it, laving her tongue over its curve, then down. He hisses, watching her clumsily take the elastic band in her mouth. "Mind those teeth."

When she manages to drag the cotton to his base, he pushes it down his thighs further with his free hand, then settles it on the crown of her head. His cock droops, twitching at her soft, warm breaths fanning over it. A teaser.

She kisses his tip once, stealing a kitten's lick, before opening and offering his cock its cradle. He glides it over her tongue, letting the threads of his control puppet him along until he's as far as she can take. Into the wet sleeve of her throat, breathing hard through her nose. His head tips back, and a prolonged sigh leaves him as he simply holds there, listening to the choked gags of her attitude adjustment.

He starts slow. Kate's probably kept their pet's pretty mouth occupied for the weeks she's had her, but he's seen the woman's collection, and nothing's as thick as him. He picks up the pace, rocking his hips with some vigor when her tongue starts acting more deliberately, less reactionary. She's old hand at this by now. Takes his cock like a champ anywhere he sticks it.

His head tilts back down until his chin taps his chest to admire the sight of his pet working. Her eyelashes flutter over her cheeks, nose scrunching as his hair repeatedly tickles it. 

"Eyes open." He withdraws until just the tip sits behind her lips, before giving it a few shallow thrusts to knock the tears off her waterline. He licks his lips at the uneven lines of her smearing makeup. No waterproof shit. Kate really thought of everything. He shuttles her mouth down again, swearing at the squeeze.

When he pulls out, her tongue chases after, and he slaps his length across it to hear her whine. She lets it slip over her cheek to nuzzle his sack, and he nearly bites a chunk of his cheek out when she pays them her attention, suckling gently at the textured skin. Her swollen lips plant kisses. It takes the last of his drink and the last of his self-restraint to stop her. 

He'd rather not paint her face—not on the first round. 

John weighs his options. How much freedom she ought to have in what comes next. She turns her head beneath his hand, pressing a kiss to his wrist before letting her teeth graze lightly over the ridges of its veins. Then, when he doesn't make a decision quick enough for her liking, she nips hard. His nostrils flare at the sting, and then he moves, his decision made. It's time, he thinks, to unwrap the present right in front of him.

He makes short work of the rope. First her legs, then her arms, hoisting her onto the bed rougher than planned. The hotel bed groans under the sudden drop, but the indignant huff she expels is louder. The seconds he allows her to stretch her limbs as he kicks off his pants is his mercy. 

The mattress dips as he follows her toward the headboard, knees knocking hers apart. Her hand slides down her belly quick as a cat, spreading herself with two digits, and his single-mindedness nearly misses the 'J' and 'P' painted neatly on her fingernails.

"What's this?"

She smiles coyly. "Another present."

"Did I pay for it?"

"Yes, sir. They look better wet. See?" To illustrate, she shines them with her own slick, and she's right. They do. His gaze shifts between them to the entrance they frame. She's dripping like a tap, clit swollen under its hood and almost goading. The glittery paint catches the light.

"Look at that." He throbs at the sight of her hole clenching reflexively, then slips a finger between her own, groaning at the give and the heat. Her breath hitches as he buries it deep and crooks it. He knows every part of her body as well as he knows his own. Takes nothing to find the spot that makes her sing.

The ebbing of his near-orgasm is a minor tragedy, his prick practically begging to cram itself into her, but watching her squirm satisfies the torment. He relishes her whimpers, the wet squelch of her pussy sucking him in. The sight of her gripping the sheets and stuffing her painted fingers into her mouth, the sound of a muffled oh fuck escaping around them—never been a better show.

John works her up to two and briefly considers a third when her eyes roll, but he's fit to burst. Plenty of time between now and breakfast. He might try for a fourth when she's good and loose.

While he cleans his fingers, her legs hitch around his waist and lock by the ankle at the small of his back, heels digging in and urging. A demand sneaks out, too, though when he meets her eye, she's biting her lip in denial. All apologetic, but only when she's caught.

Spoiled, pampered pet. He's supposed to be the firm hand of the trio. She's gone and softened him up.

He drapes over her, arms bracketing her head. No quarter, no turning her face away. Front row seat to her pupils swallowing their color, tears pooling heavily on their lines. Her anticipation and frustration are raw, too big for her to hide. Her sweetness exists at the knife's edge, and too often, he finds himself on the wrong side of it. She knows just where to slot it between his ribs, when to twist. How much to give to make him ache for it. Turn both of them greedy.

Her hips wiggle, heat-seeking cunt in search of a cock, and another gasp puffs out of her when it works. The blunt head catches and, with pressure, notches. "Deep breath." He warns. From there, it's one languid thrust into her cunt. Worth all the teasing and toying, no resistance at all. She's snug, soaking, and fits him like a glove.

The first outward stroke pulls a deep groan from somewhere deep within him. Her heels tamp down as he builds a rhythm. Bullying him into bullying her. They let up when he plummets deep enough to brush her cervix, the muscles melding to his sides briefly seizing like she's touched an electric fence. Kicking when he keeps at it.

Her hands meet behind his neck, fingers lacing together. Later, she'll dig them into his back upon request. Kiss the marks they leave, too. The thought already makes his chest ache. For all the trouble she gives him, she's a good girl.

He and Nik got lucky.

They weren't looking for anything like this when they met her. They had each other, thought it sorted, no need for more. No one else. But then, out of every shop in the city, they had to pick hers. And she, with her effortless smile and charm, had to go and upsell Nik that first bottle. She didn't push, exactly, but the way she leaned in, the lilt of her voice—it was impossible to resist. She was under their skin in a heartbeat.

After that, they couldn't help themselves. The way they showed up to collect her after work, practically glowing. The fucking springs in their steps. Nik's arm over her shoulders, and John's around her waist, as if there was nothing in the world but the three of them, as if they'd known each other forever.

It was meant to be a one-time thing. Now she's got her own room and an allowance.

And then Kate got involved, and everything changed again, simplifying and complicating it all at once. New rules laid down to keep everyone happy and well, but flexible enough that everyone knows her availability if someone needs to eat her cunt.

He slips out to roll to his side, grunting approvingly when she hastily follows suit, arse pressing insistently to his front. His hand curls under her knee, lifting and prying her open, and hers reaches down blindly to guide him back in. The sound she makes is pornographic, pitching up a note in her used throat when he punches back in the second her hole slots over him.

"Needy fuckin'–"

"Please, John, I want–"

Beneath her head, the bicep she uses as a pillow bulges. He bends his arm further, snatching up one wrist and netting himself the other when she tries to free it. 

Like this, he can let loose. Fuck her with abandon. Give her what she really wants and what he needs. Something to stave off the steady march of time, help him ignore the new crop of silvers and grays above his ears. Stretch out the pretty girl on his cock and listen to her cry about it, and cry for more. 

His nose and forehead press to her temple, and she turns her head enough to give him the chance for a kiss. He doesn't hesitate, leaning in to claim her mouth. It's sloppy and desperate, but it's the softest she's been all night since choking on him.

Her leg lifts from his hold, sweat beading along her forehead at the strain. His hand falls automatically toward her clit, thumbing where the skin stretches first, feeling how thin it spreads on the outstroke. It makes him rut like a bull, feeling bigger than ever with how taut it goes. He pants into her neck, grinning wolfishly at how her pussy clenches around him when he briefly teases the bud between her legs.

She shifts, rolling her hips back to meet him, and he answers by turning her, then pressing her down into the sheets. One hand firmly clamps at her waist, the other settling at the nape of her neck. His knees take the brunt of his weight, spreading to stabilize his stance, before rebuilding his pace. He fucks her like this for a while, spearing over and over again, staring rapt at the core of her body. Listening to the slick glide of himself into where she's swollen and crying. 

He moves his mitt from her waist to the underside of her knee, spreading her further, driving in deeper. "Touch yourself." he rasps, a chuckle rumbling out of him at the speed of her compliance. One of her arms snakes under her stomach, and he watches four cute fingers poke out from under his cock to rub herself stupid.

Sweat clings to his back, matting the pelt of coarse hair on his chest and stomach, dripping steadily onto her as he shifts his weight. He leans more of his heft onto her, letting gravity aid the swing of his hips. Hammers down on her fingers. In a distant corner of his mind, he recalls his last birthday and the noise complaints. The concierge's face the next morning, tomato-red and warped with embarrassment, unable to meet their eyes as he explained.

A sharp whine snaps his eyes to her face. Her bottom lip is held fast in her teeth, and he releases her neck to drag a knuckle down the side of her face. He collects a bead of sweat and licks it off, humming at another delightful squeeze.

"Gonna come, sweetheart? Gettin' close?"

She nods, eyelids shutting halfway. Tiny stars dance in her pupils as her eyes roll in their sockets. They snap to him when his palm returns to her neck. It draws a groan out of his throat, that expression. Looking to him for permission. To come, to speak.

"Tell me how it feels."

"Good, 's good, sir. Fffuck! " 

Her wrist must be aching. He knows the rest of her is. "You want to come?" He presses a finger against her carotid, enough to encourage focus. "C'mon, words."

"Yes, please, sir—"

It's his day, but he lets her have it. She comes hard, choking his cock, forcing him to a furious grind and short, pointed thrusts. He follows not long after, hand slipping from her neck in a frantic, jerking motion, the last shred of control he has left before it overtakes him. When it does, it scours his thoughts clean, spills most of what's left into her, and she milks the dregs out. 

It's some time before he can ease out of her, and his length pulses with interest at the obscene sound of his exit. A filthy chuckle rattles out of him at the sight of his cum dribbling out after, freed by the suction. She's a mess. He adjusts, gets comfortable, and then digs his fingertips into the muscles of her upper thighs and glutes. Humming when she comes back online, panting, face buried in the pillow.

"Tired already?"

She manages to shake her head.

They'll take a break, for both their sakes. If the extra suitcase at the foot of the bed is any indicator, she's brought her entire toy chest with her. Enough to keep his hands busy in the downtime. Until morning. 

She's not too tired that she can't help him move her. He props himself up against the tufted headboard, its cheap fabric sopping up his sweat, and she drapes herself over his chest. Momentarily sated, temporarily sweet. Her hand splays across his chest, nails glinting like stained-glass windows. He stares at his initials—protected under a clear varnish, pristine and perfect. As fleeting as the calm. Branding her as his for a day. This only happens once a year. But seeing that 'P' stirs that old possessive streak. 

She drifts, her breathing evening out as her body recuperates. Won't take more than twenty minutes, tops. He could time it to the second if he cared, but he doesn't. He lets her rest, sprawled warm and weighty against him.

"Happy birthday, John." she sighs, her voice soft as a whisper over his chest, her breath blowing through the whorls of his hair.

Happy birthday indeed, he thinks, tracing a line between her shoulder blades.

She's the only piece of heaven he'll ever know. She's his. Theirs. But tonight, just his.

[burningembers91]

The Fear of Feeling Nothing - Choi Su-Bong x Fem!Reader

Follow up piece to:

Not Who I Want to Be The Beauty of Vulnerability Fuscia Pink Kisses Performance of a Lifetime Vacation Mode

Synopsis: Choi Su-Bong is forced to face his addiction head on

A/N: Based on this ask

Life had been a whirlwind since you’d returned from vacation. Choi Su-Bong had barely been home, touring the country with his record label, recording songs in the studio, and giving interview after interview. You’d barely had time for each other, save for a few phone conversations and three blissful nights that he’d managed to sneak away and spend at home. You’d been renovating the apartment, painting walls, ripping up carpets and replacing kitchen cabinets, and the whole place just felt chaotic.

You knew Su-Bong was keeping himself busy on purpose. If he was busy, he wouldn’t have time to deal with his dad. The man had been calling him non-stop, leaving voicemails and text messages at all hours of the day and night. He knew he’d have to see him at some point, knew he’d have to face up to the man who had turned him into a monster.

He’d tried to explain to you what life had been like growing up, but it was hard to put it into words. You had such a great relationship with your family and couldn’t even begin to fathom the things Su-Bong had been put through. Years of his dad’s drinking, physical and mental abuse, and living in constant fear of the man who was supposed to have loved him had left their mark and Su-Bong could feel old habits trying to scratch their way back into his life.

He desperately wanted a drink, craved the numbness that came from the colourful little pills he used to pop. He didn’t have you around him to keep him grounded, didn’t have the safety of your embrace to turn to whenever things got hard. He wanted to ask you to come with him on his press tour, but you had your own work to focus on, and the apartment desperately needed sorting. He had to be strong for you, had to stay sober for you. if he lost you, life would lose it’s meaning entirely.

It was late when his phone rang, breaking through the light sleep he’d finally fallen into after hours of tossing and turning. His dad’s name flashed up on his screen and he immediately silenced the phone. There was nothing that man had to say that Su-Bong wanted to hear.

“Why don’t you block him?” you asked then next day on FaceTime, giving him a tour of the kitchen you’d be awake until 2am painting. “If you have nothing to say to him, and you don’t want contact with him, block his number.” Su-Bong had thought about doing that, but could never bring himself to do it. he wasn’t sure why, but something always stopped him just before he hit the button. “Part of me wants to know why he’s back,” he admitted. “I keep wondering if maybe he’s come to apologise.” He knew that wouldn’t be the case. His dad was a textbook narcissist, and never felt any remorse for his actions, because he never felt like he’d done anything wrong. “Would you accept his apology?” you asked. He knew the answer was no, but it didn’t stop him wondering if maybe, after all these years, his dad had seen the light.

The next day, Su-Bong had another four missed calls, and the day after that there were another three. “Please, son,” his father’s voice begged down the phone. “Just hear me out. Meet me tonight at The Python Lounge. I really need to talk to you.”

Against his better judgement, Su-Bong found himself outside his father’s favourite bar, finally relenting on the man’s request to meet up. He hadn’t stepped inside a bar since meeting you, hadn’t had a drop to drink in months. He could feel the desire clawing at his skin, could feel the insatiable thirst gripping him. He had to stay strong though, for you.

Heading inside, he couldn’t see his father but found a quiet table in the corner. The bar was a complete shit hole, the kind of place you went to drink yourself to death. Su-Bong sunk down into the booth, eager to hide his face. Not that he was worried about seeing anyone here. The bar was mostly empty, and the few people propped up on bar stools were too drunk to know their own name, let alone recognise him.

He waited, and waited, finally calling his father when an hour had gone by. His phone went straight to voicemail, so Su-Bong hung up and tried again. He was getting angrier as the minutes passed, unable to believe he’d been stupid enough to allow himself to believe his father would show up. He’d failed him his entire life, so why had he expected him to change his ways now? The need for a drink was almost overwhelming now, the heavy smell of liquor in the air making his mouth water. His chest was tightening, a sign he now recognised as a panic attack. A drink could soothe him, could calm the rising nerves.

He balled his fists, willing himself to be stronger, to be better than his addiction. He needed to leave, needed to get out of this shithole and head home to you. “Thanos?!” His heard his name, his old name, and turned around. One of his old friends stood behind him, the man who had been glued to his side at every party. He could barely even remember his name. Kang-Hun? Was that his name? It embarrassed him that he couldn’t recall. “It’s Choi Su-Bong now,” he snapped, his anger almost at boiling point. Why, when he was trying so hard to be a better person, did his past keep trying to drag him back down.

“The fuck happened to you, bro?” Kang-Hun, or whatever his name was sighed. “You just, like… disappeared.” His pupils were huge, so dilated his eyes were almost entirely black. His face was slack, his mouth slightly drooping as he attempted to focus through the haze of drugs. “I changed,” Su-Bong said, pushing himself out from the booth. “Man, we used to have so much fun,” Kang-Hun laughed. “Hey, you remember that time we did coke off that stripper’s tits? Man, that was a sick night.” Su-Bong cringed as he remembered it, the flashback making him feel sick. He’d been a horrible person back then. “Have a drink with me,” Kang-Hun smiled, slapping him on the shoulder. He was swaying in place, the combination of booze and pills wreaking havoc on his balance. “I don’t drink anymore,” Su-Bong sighed. “Listen, I’ve got to go-“ “One drink, bro. that’s all I’m asking.” Kang-Hun held his hands out. “For old time’s sake.”

Against his better judgement, Su-Bong found himself at the bar. He ordered a diet coke, but the smell of his former friend’s whiskey burned in his throat, that niggling desire itching the base of his skull. He could almost taste the warm, bitter amber liquid. “So, you’re making new music now?” Kang-Hun asked, gripping the bar as he swayed in his seat. “So fucking cool, man. why don’t we talk anymore? I miss you.” He couldn’t find the words to respond, all his energy focused on not taking a sip of alcohol. His heart was hammering in his ears, the sound almost deafening. “You seemed stressed, bro,” Kang-Hun told him, rummaging for something in his pocket. “Hey, remember what you used to say? When the feels get real, just pop a pill.”

Su-Bong wished he could go back in time and punch the old him. He’d been a real fucking prick. Kang-Hun nudged him, showing him a tin of the pink pills he’d once loved so much. “Come on, man,” he smiled. “Just one, so you can chill out.” “No,” he spat through gritted teeth. He needed to leave, needed to get in his car and drive home to you. “You’ve gone soft,” Kand-Hun laughed. “Like a chick. You all in tune with your feelings now or some shit? Just take the fucking pill, man. Feelings ain’t worth fucking shit.”

Is this what Su-Bong had been like? A junkie with no regard for other people’s boundaries? He looked at his former friend, so high off his face he could barely keep his eyes opened and wondered if this is how people used to see him. He remembered how he used to numb himself, so he’d feel nothing. He didn’t feel pain, sadness, happiness or even pleasure. He spent years feeling nothing, but now he knew that feelings, no matter how uncomfortable, made you who you were.

Kang-Hun shook the tin of pills, wiggling his eyebrows. “What do you say?” He smirked. “I’d rather feel something, than nothing at all,” Su-Bong snapped. He stood up to go, before turning around. “It’s not too late. You can get help if you want it.” “I don’t need your fucking help,” his former friend spat. “Get fucked.”

Su-Bong headed out into the night, driving back to the sanctity of the apartment he shared with you. He burst through the door, pulling you in close. “I’m covered in paint,” you laughed, but you wrapped your arms around him anyway. You could tell something was wrong, could see the pain in his eyes. His clothes smelled like stale booze, and you wondered if maybe he’d relapsed. “Did you drink?” you asked him softly. “No,” he should his head, “I went to meet my dad, but he didn’t show. I waited in the bar for hours and I wanted a drink so badly. But I didn’t drink a drop, I swear.”

He was desperate to feel you, to feel all the emotions he’d spent so long blocking out. He made love to you on the paint-stained sheets in your kitchen, feeling every curve of your body, every inch of your soft skin. He lost himself in the pleasure he had so often blocked out, relishing the way he felt inside of you, the way his body felt against yours. Tonight had been a stark reminder of what could happen if he lost his way. He didn’t want to be like Kang-Hun, didn’t to become the person he’d once been.

He needed to face his past, to confront his dad and then block him from his life. He would never again allow himself to sink into the numbness that came with addiction. But in order to free himself, he needed to confront the man that had caused the need to block out all feelings in the first place.

His dad had bailed on him tonight, but Su-Bong wouldn’t allow him to do it again. He’d faced his past head on, and now it was time his dad did the same.

[roamingwildflower13]

the solo era, my somewhat incoherent ramblings….

There is constantly so much ridiculous, inane discourse and nonsense about the ‘solo era’, from both tkkrs, haters and solos alike, even sometimes insecure jikookers, both on twitter, and here. I have had enough of it, so here is what I think happened in early 2023, using mostly facts, and some potential logic.

(disclaimer – for this suspend any disbelief you hold about Jikook as a couple, for this purpose, and in real life, they are)

Jimin came back from Paris in late January and went into full Face mode. I think that it was around this time that they either made the decision to not see each other, or barely, likely so Jimin could focus, or as a consequence of his business. If the former, I imagine this would be for around two months, so February and March. 

JK is on a break from work. Come February 1st, JK decides to randomly start doing lives, at home, without ‘company permission’. As an aside - despite people subsequently getting used to his lives, and him doing a few of them, he didn’t really do that many during February. He did one on the 1st, one on the 3rd, and then the 11th. There was then a big gap, and he next came live on 28thFebruary. That’s it. It wasn’t as if it was everyday. (I’m saying this as a way of highlighting that it’s not as if he were bored and going live every single day during this period).

So from the get go, Jimin commented on the lives. Often Jimin would say where he was, what he was doing, and used terms of endearment (my ‘shrimp’…I want to tie your hair back, have fun with Army and Bam, I will be back after work). Hardly what you would do if you were broken up/avoiding someone/distant/fell out etc etc. Equally, every time Jimin commented, JK would light up with his Jimin Hyung smile ™. Again, not something you would do automatically if you were broken up/distant/fell out etc etc. 

This continued in all three lives, the live at the Boxing class especially stood out, due to the obvious familiarity between JK, the coach, and Jimin. JK saying Jimin would come with him again when he has time (highlighted especially because Hobi was also in the comments but this attending boxing lessons applied only to Jimin, thank you K Army for highlighting the nuances of the honorifics or lack there of). 

There was then a big gap between lives, with JK at this point, as we now know, going to visit Tae in Hawaii to sky dive and hang out. There is some debate whether this is also where he went to the USA to do the CK shoot – which was filmed by late March, so the timeframe fits for this. At some point, we found out in April, that JK also visited Jimin whilst he was practicing his dance for SMFP2, he was wearing full CK, which links to the fact the partnership was underway, and I would estimate this was either mid-February or early March before Jimin flew out to USA for Fallon. 

Either way, my point being, Jimin was obviously very busy, JK was on a ‘break’ from work, but did actually do his CK work during this time frame of Feb/March. 

JK went live next on 4th March, and this is where he gets drunk and fell asleep on his live. This was probably the first live that was hard to watch for me, as it did seem like he was struggling. I know people like to avoid this somewhat, but it did seem like that to me, and that is fair enough, heck he is human. He was also struggling with people stalking him at the gym, and at his home, which he addressed in such a beautiful way. Boundaries people.

I want to add here, that Jimin also went live a handful of times during this period, in the lead up to Face, at the company. He would often mention JK in his own lives, though to my knowledge/memory at that point, JK didn’t comment on his much. During one, he fondly spoke about JK and Euphoria and would often recall what JK did in his last live, including farting, falling asleep and singing ‘unholy’.  On Hobi’s birthday, at the company, Jimin joined him for a bit, it was extremely cute to see them, and Jimin dancing to ‘killing me softly’ is just (chefs kiss). I have seen solos/antis and haters wonder why JK didn’t join them if he missed them, turns out he was actually in Hawaii, so that is why. 

By mid-March, Jimin was gearing up for the release of Face. He flew to NYC on 13th March. JK went live three/four times the next day, White Day, each live he dressed differently, and at one point he explained to Jimin, who was in the comments, what he was doing. I don’t think I personally will ever forget the Prince Eric (cough my og gay awakening) vibes he gave with that white shirt, but moving on…. 

During this series of lives, JK became increasingly melancholic, in my opinion. He had his mood lights on, he was playing music, he had a candle, and he was drinking. By the time the lives ended, he told Army to look forward to midnight, because ‘something amazing is coming’, that something being Jimin’s teaser for ‘Set me Free Pt2’. And he was right, it was truly amazing. 

Face was released 24th March 2023, and just wow. It took the world a little while, but eventually we realised that there was a hidden track on the physical album, one which had background vocals that sounded eerily similar to JK’s. Turns out they were. On the beautiful song ‘Letter’, JK providing background vocals towards the end of the song. The  weverse version of the album containing a booklet of handwritten original lyrics from Jimin’s notes (again K Army, thank you for the context of words used). The track listing in the booklet hidden in white so you can barely see it. Jimin never speaking on the fact that JK provided those background vocals (not until we saw the production diary later on in the year). A fan song. Yeah…moving on.

At some point, I cannot remember the date, but in late March OT7 had a dinner together. Yoongi posted a pic on Instagram of 5 of them, stating Jimin and Tae had gone off earlier. A day or so after this, JM posted on wevserse ‘I miss you’, to which JK replied ‘me too’. 

(side note- my memory is fuzzy at the best of times so if any of this is the wrong way wrong I apologise, but this is the jist of it all)

28th March, JM went live on the way back from a music show recording in the car, he said he was on his way back to the company. He thanked fans for coming to see him. Someone in the comments asked him if they had seen JKs pictures – to which he replied, yes, with a phew face. JK appeared in the comments not long after this, he commented a total of 19 ish times on the live. JM engaging from that point only with him, it was like we ‘fans’ ceased to exist. JK said he wanted to ‘come see Jimin’s next show’ to which Jimin replied, this was the last one, he told JK not to worry as he had come see him practice (at this point, we fans hadn’t seen this by way of any SM or BB, that came later…), and Jimin said that ‘time flies’. Anti’s/haters and solos like to use this quote as meaning JK had no clue about JM’s schedule – I think these people lack common sense. The most important part of the conversation was when JK declared himself as Jimin’s fan. The rest is whatever re schedule, heck at one point in a live prior Jimin himself said he didn’t know what time a life was planned for the next day, so there we go.

Later on, in the early hours of the morning after the 28th March conversation, JK went live. In this live he spoke about CK, the pictures just having been released. He then asked himself what he came live for…turns out it was to literally just watch Jimin on Suchwita. Boy got a bit frustrated when he couldn’t find the video on YouTube, when he did find it, he settled back to watch Jimin on the show, and had to apologise later to Army because as he said ‘he tends not to talk when he’s focussed’. Recently K Army have also pointed out the way JK describes Jimins way of thinking here in this live. It’s truly lovely and endearing to hear he speaks so fondly about Jimin.

This ends March, and Face promotions come to an end. In essence, we are talking potentially about two months. Two months where they didn’t see, or didn’t see each other very often. Not to minimise how hard this would be for them, I am sure it was, it seemed to be especially on JKs part, but as Jimin said ‘time flies’. 

By mid-April, after JK had been to California and Coachella, (he was starting to officially to work), Hobi enlisted, and this is where we get to see them on a bangtan bomb, in real time, with the hug that was felt around the world. K Army letting us know that they were most certainly spent the night before drinking together. 

I know in reality after this as fans we still did not see them together much, but it my believe that this is when they began to spend more normalised time together. Why? Call it a gut feeling, and the fact that JK was brighter, his whole demeanour changed once he was back working, and likely that he was seeing Jimin more often again, what with Face promotions being over, and likely planning for the show and his work was starting. To contextualise this, we now know that Jimin was finishing Muse during this period after Face, we know he went to the USA again, attended Yoongi’s concert, recorded ‘Who’, and then went to London in May. The next time we saw them together, is in late June, at Yoongi’s concert in Seoul, with Tae. They looked normal, happy, and touchy. Weeks later, mid-July, JK flies to NYC, and a day later Jimin follows him. We didn’t know why at the time, we now know, and the rest, as they say, is history. But for JK and his lives, they did continue, and he often would just go live when Jimin flew out of the country, he did this in April (specifically after the premiere he attended with Tae), in May (he had also done this in March). It became a running joke within the jikook space, but once is a coincidence, 4/5 times is not. 

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All of this to say, I personally think there was only really those two ish months, February- March, that they truly did not see each other much, if at all, but by late March, they were. So really, we are talking about Face preparations and promotions. We do know they saw each other a few times from that we saw as fans, because JK went to see Jimin’s dance practice (though we didn’t see his arrival…side eye), and they met at the OT7 meal in late March, and then Hobi’s enlistment BB.

What I do also think, and it is obviously what they said about the show, that the show was born from this period of time. They hadn’t been anywhere together in a while. By that though, I mean it was planned in advance (anyone who thinks otherwise is daft, because they would have needed coordination of staff and equipment , permits, and plans – the Forbes article said both were involved in the planning. Jimin certainly made clear he made it happen.) I know this whole narrative of it being last minute/sprung upon, was from JK and what he said to Yoongi in Suchwita, but nah, that cannot be what happened in terms of the planning. They may have waited until a right period of time, the logistics planed out, and the timing left to the last minute, but otherwise no. second to this, a mutual informed me an Army on X, who visited the kayak place, was told by the owner that the location was scouted three months prior to the shoot, which would be around April/May time. 

I do also think, and this is a bit controversial, that the show was an idea prior from Jimin, but probably also as a grand gesture of sorts. Hear me out, if I am right, Jimin was busy with Face, and bless him, barely had any time – P Dogg told us how hard he was practicing daily, JK was concerned for his health already in Feb. He often told BB about his eating, and what meal he wanted to eat. He was working so hard. And yes, in periods like this, especially considering this was solo work, but in any line of work where your partner is busy, the other party ‘suffers’ so to speak. (by that I do not mean that JK was unable to survive without Jimin, (or vice Versa) he did just fine, but it was obvious to anyone with eyes, that he was missing him, especially on the late March Jimin focussed live and his ‘miss you’ reply (kinda gives it away), that and his eye crinkles of happiness hugging Jimin at Hobi’s enlistment). But yeah, Jimin was busy, he was promoting, and I think as a gesture Jimin pulled through with the show idea. My timeline also links well with this, given that the Kayak place said the location was scouted three months prior to July, so April/May, just as Jimin finished Face promo. 

I also think, again, controversial maybe, that Jimin did this as a grand gesture of putting JK first. By that, I mean we know that he did spend a lot of time in the solo era with Hobi, Yoongi and others. He mentioned speaking to them often, in lives (Hobi and Yoongi), he went to D-Day a couple of times, he supported Hobi, and they supported him at his shows and shoots. He mentioned to Fallon that he kept most in contact with them both, not Tae, not Joon, not JK, and despite Jin being enlisted, we know Jimin visited him with Hobi. Now I am in no way saying that is a bad thing, or that is not allowed, or that he did not in fact see JK, we simply do not know. But, I do think that part of the reason for the show is that they could be seen together in content. I have held his belief for a wee while now, but I am almost certain that is a part of it. I think this feeling was reinforced seeing the different perceptive of Jimin entering the restaurant in JK’s documentary ‘I am still’ and the smile on JKs face to the camera. His ‘finally’ – to me means not only that he is getting his Jimin for quality time. JK said over and over how happy he was, how these were the best trips of his life, how grateful he was to Jimin for joining him in the USA. This thought is also reinforced with the sheer confidence JK asked to go to Jimin’s or for Jimin to come to his, in his ‘bed live’ in late July, after filming he must have thought, why not. Turns out, for whatever reason, Jimin was not willing to go that far, but he tried bless him. 

I feel that it was a choice, a choice they made for what reason only they know, to essentially go from seeming like they were not seeing each other (if they did or did not), to state that in the show in the car conversation, and to make out like they hadn’t in lives – to literally enlist together late 2023, (to the shock of all the fandom) and then in 2024, to have content show that no, they did see each other. It was such a 180 switch, quite dramatic in fact, that the only thing I can think of is that it was a choice made on purpose. Someone in fact asked this in a post, why did JM release Muse whilst he is in the military? But similarly, why the timing of all of it? I know it was for content whilst they were away, for fans to enjoy, but the timing of all projects is obviously worked out and discussed, this is no different, the choice to film but not state what they were doing at the time (for JK to go live and Jimin being in the same room/hotel ready to film but we got nothing, so much for fan service). It was a choice to deny they saw each other much if at all, to have Jimin tell Joonie in MMM2 (content which came out in Muse promo June 2024) that he and JK drink together often, to have Jimin saying in the behind of Jeju that he spent the night prior to flying out, at JKs and he cooked for him, despite having just landed from NYC (where he ran in the airport). In the Muse puzzle, that his fave food was by JK, as if Army and solos could guess that? 

It was a choice. 

It was also a choice to film the show at all, they didn’t have to, they didn’t need to, and seemingly a lot of the fandom sadly didn’t care that they did (side eye solos, haters and the cult) So although they said they filmed it for fans, they didn’t need to at all. We would never have demanded, never have suspected either. They are already famous, they already are wealthy, talented and have both Army and solo fans (mostly rude ignorant ones unfortunately), so why? We could get to the chicken and egg of it all, about them needing permits to travel abroad around enlistment, but still it’s a choice. It’s a choice to film, a choice to travel and film, etc. Just food for thought.

To conclude because I’ve rambled long enough, no haters/antis/insecure people and solo muppets, they did not not see each other, they did, and they are only the bits we know by the way, same for all the members. We only know what they want us to know. This is not a case of ‘pic or it didn’t happen’, they don’t owe us anything. (Please repeat that like a mantra).

When they speak about not seeing each other when busy, perhaps also just sit back and think about them having to navigate their solo work, being a (potentially) queer couple in SK navigating that, how they chose to present themselves in comparison to the others, their upcoming enlistment (and the fact they were applying to do that together behind the scenes, and they did it). The planning and execution of a show, etc etc. When you wonder about why they did not go live together, maybe watch the minute or so they were together for Jimin’s live watch of ‘production diary’ and take notes. 

I also want to add, because again, there is some inane discourse by solos going around here about support, and JK’s supposed lack of towards Jimin in this era. Firstly, it is not up to us as fans to decide what level of support that either Jimin or Jungkook are happy with, and what they want or require from each other, as friends or otherwise. And secondly, it is simply just not true even from what we did see, that they did not support each other. So, just stop. Grow up, stop hating real people with a very real bond, and go out and get some life experience, for your own benefit if nothing else.

&& use common sense please, oh and be respectful at all times to our 7.

Thank you

💜

[jedijoanna]

I feel like the dynamic between Jedi Council members was criminally underutilized. While this isn’t canon, here are my headcanons on how things really went down.

Mace Windu:

I’ve done the math (badly), and I’m pretty sure Mace was around the same age as Xanatos. Which means Mace is like Obi-Wan’s unofficial older padawan brother. Obi-Wan didn’t ask for this, but let’s be real—he probably needed it. Not that Obi-Wan would recognize this dynamic. He’s part of the disaster lineage, so he wouldn’t know what a typical older brother acts like.

Mace seamlessly switches between “Head of the Council” mode and “exasperated big brother” mode. Except, of course, when he’s making Obi-Wan do all the paperwork.

Mace: "You're good at taxes, Kenobi. I’m just letting you shine."
Obi-Wan: "I'm too honored to be insulted."

Yarael Poof:

This guy? Bigger gremlin energy than Yoda. And petty. Poof has perpetual beef with Ki-Adi-Mundi and finds great joy in trolling him. He’s the kind of guy who would take micro-naps during meetings just because “It’s only Mundi talking, everyone relax.”

Poof: "What was that, Mundi? Couldn't hear you over my sheer disinterest."
Mundi: "I will demote you to Youngling wrangler, Poof."

Ki-Adi-Mundi:

The most logical thinker on the Council. He’s here to do his job, clock in, clock out, and keep the galaxy running. Unfortunately, the galaxy includes Qui-Gon and Poof, so it’s not happening. He despises surprises and strongly prefers order.

Poof: snoring in the corner

Mundi: "I swear to the Force, Poof..."

Even Piell:

Blunt. Gruff. Won’t lead a discussion but will absolutely cut into one. He’s the Jedi equivalent of “the friend who knows where to hide the body.”

Piell: "You’re the diplomat, Kenobi. I’m here to look mean so bad guys think twice."
Obi-Wan: "What if we both look peaceful?"
Piell: "We’ll die."

Gretz Doom:

The guy who grew up with Qui-Gon and spent his childhood teasing his clanmates, Gretz is now the Council’s strictest rule-follower. Why? Because he knows that if you mess with the Senate, the Senate will mess with the Jedi’s budget and oversight.

Doom: "Qui-Gon, did you directly disobey the Council again?"

Qui-Gon: "In fairness, the Council is often wrong."

Doom: "You’re lucky they don’t garnish your missions like they do our budget."

Tera Sinube (Retired):

The ultimate grandpa Jedi. Gives unsolicited advice, tells the same stories repeatedly, and refuses to admit that lightsaber duels aren’t "like they used to be."

Sinube: "Back in my day, we didn’t have fancy starships."
Youngling: "How did you travel?"
Sinube: "We walked. Uphill. Both ways. Through asteroid fields."

Youngling: "In space?"

Obi-Wan Kenobi:

Obi-Wan wanted to join the Council, found out it was a trap, and tried to quit—repeatedly. Every time he tries to mess up to get kicked out, he accidentally makes the galaxy better. Mace keeps him around because Obi-Wan’s life is the Jedi’s best unintentional reality show.

Mace: "Kenobi, you caused an intergalactic scandal again?"
Obi-Wan: "Yes, but the scandal resulted in peace treaties for three systems, so..."
Mace: "We are still not accepting you resignation letter"

Obi-Wan: “drats!”

Yaddle:

The only one brave enough to call Yoda out. Wise, patient, and kind, but she will not suffer riddles.

Yoda: "Difficult, the path is."
Yaddle: "The budget’s tight. Just say that, Yoda."

Oppo Rancisis:

A reserved and analytical mind, Oppo specializes in strategy and seeing the bigger picture. His predictions about a rising Sith threat made him a quiet voice of reason long before others believed it.

Rancisis: "The Sith never vanished. They’re biding their time."

Mundi: "How do you know?"

Rancisis: "I just do.”

Eeth Koth:

An Anakin mirror. Eeth grew up as an angry orphan rescued by the Jedi, but he’s worked hard to control himself. Still, he’s known to clash with Mace and Grezzt Doom—occasionally on purpose. A former hothead turned disciplined Council member, Koth has a soft spot for Jedi who struggle with emotions, having once been in their shoes.

Koth: "Control your emotions, or they’ll control you."

Padawan: "Easier said than done."

Koth: "Trust me, I know. Now pick up your saber, we’re starting over."

Stass Allie:

A brilliant healer and fierce opponent of Senate corruption, Stass doesn’t tolerate nonsense. Most of her "menace energy" is reserved for politicians.

Senator: "The Republic is doing everything it can—"

Stass: "Then do better."

Senator: "I beg your pardon?"

Stass: "You heard me. Now get out of my medbay."

Adi Gallia:

The chillest Jedi off the clock, but the most cynical one during missions. She prefers intelligence to lightsabers (looking at you, Eeth Koth). Has a soft spot for Obi-Wan due to her long friendship with Qui-Gon. A calm and collected intelligence expert, Adi is the Council’s quiet strategist. She despises the war and blames the Senate for exploiting young Jedi.

Gallia: "The Senate sent Padawans to war."

Mace: "We needed soldiers."

Gallia: "We needed peace. What we got was child soldiers."

Yoda:

Wild card. Once a week, he’s doing something so bizarre that the other Council members have to pretend it’s normal.

Mace: "Why is Yoda levitating in the fountain?"

Poof: "Meditation, probably."

Feel free to add your takes!