#so reverting to a previous state

[viric-dreams]

[soft-serve-soymilk]

In other news, I was listening to the P3 Movie ost in light of wondering if they will include it in the remake in some way.. it slaps harder than I remembered!

[topazadine]

Avoiding therapy speak in writing

I think we all know by now that therapy speak is irritating and unrealistic, especially if you are writing in a fantasy world that doesn't even have modern psychology.

Part of the reason that it is so annoying is that it is the definition of telling instead of showing: characters are just plainly informing us of their feelings rather than making us work for a better understanding. It's cheap and boring. Instead of making your characters seem like complex individuals with their own hangups and difficulties, they seem like plot points programmed to tell us things.

But obviously, you want to put these people in situations and have them talk about it! How do you do that without sounding maudlin? Here are some options.

Listen to real arguments/conversations

I cannot stress enough how important it is to listen to how actual real human beings talk to each other during heightened emotional states. They don't have to be nasty abusers, and they don't have to be perfect angels, just everyday people doing their normal thing.

Of course, I'd hope you're not seeing people argue all the time, but if you do happen to see it, listen carefully and notice how people actually address their problems. Think back to tough conversations that you have had, even if you wouldn't classify them as arguments. Consider how people acted and reacted to one another. Notice how normal humans talk about issues outside of therapy, even intelligent and emotionally evolved people.

I've had years of therapy, and even I do not talk in therapy ways about my issues when I'm talking to my family or friends. It just feels cheesy and fake outside of that particular setting - plus, it freaks other people out and can seem kind of manipulative. Try talking like that in a real conversation and see how uncomfortable it is. You'll understand why avoiding therapy speak is important.

Consider the character's own hangups

Just as everyone has their own unique speaking style and mindset, so do we all have our own argument styles. These are often informed by our pasts and upbringing; they are as varied as our own histories. However, there are a few different options.

Someone with a happy upbringing may be more assertive and willing to address their problems because they had that demonstrated to them as children.

A spoiled child will grow up to be a demanding adult who refuses to give any quarter.

Those who got yelled at a lot as children may shut down and fawn to avoid getting hurt.

Someone who grew up in a violent household may mimic that behavior and get incredibly aggressive when upset.

Individuals whose parents didn't teach them emotional regulation will lash out and get loud.

Manipulative people may stay very calm and gaslight the other person, or they may get hysterical to garner sympathy and make people focus on comforting them.

Someone who has gone to therapy may revert to their original argument style, or they may imperfectly apply what they have learned in a way that feels a bit unnatural. They may start out with rage, then force themselves to calm down through grounding techniques.

People who have been coached through previous emotional outbursts could demand a time out, then fail to actually calm themselves down.

Some may refuse to acknowledge they are upset and insist, in increasingly forceful terms, that they are fine.

Others may get quiet or crack a joke to ease the tension, but it doesn't really help.

Keep each confrontation short

IRL, emotional confrontations are generally not that long. They don't go on for hours and hours, though it can feel that way. No one is going on and on about their feelings and sharing every little detail of how they feel (at least not that I know of personally, maybe other people are different).

Even the worst arguments I have had, the real nexus of the argument was maybe an hour or two, though the fallout lasted much longer. I'd say there was an hour maximum of real, active confrontation, preceded or followed by hours/days/weeks of simmering frustration.

Why? Because arguments are exhausting. You don't have the energy for that in the heat of the moment. Yes, feuds and fights can last years, but each actual confrontation is short.

For longer, more serious issues, hash it out over a few sessions rather than all at once. It's rare to get everything out of the way immediately unless the characters already have a strong, loving relationship.

Show incongruencies

Especially for more reserved people, they will likely have their emotions leaking all over the place but won't actually say anything. As such, focus on body language while keeping the conversation more focused on the plot. For example, Character A might be crying but still trying to argue their point about whatever is going on.

Address physical complaints instead of emotional ones

In many cases, people will use "I'm tired" or "I didn't sleep well" or "I'm not feeling great" as shorthand for whatever is actually bothering them. It relieves pressure by not making them talk about upsetting matters while still addressing their discomfort in some form.

You should also consider the fact that some people can't connect physical sensations to feelings, so they may genuinely feel ill and not really understand why. This is especially common in people who can't emotionally regulate or have been through trauma.

For myself, I tend to somatize my feelings, so I might not feel upset, but I will feel physically sick. My stomach will hurt, my chest will get tight, or I'll get a headache, but my emotional state will seem calm. This isn't all that unusual, and many people experience this to different degrees.

As such, you can have your character say that their stomach hurts, or that they have a headache and can't discuss this anymore, or that they need to go lie down because they're dizzy. If we know they're relatively healthy, this can be a clue that they're getting overwhelmed but either cannot pinpoint their emotions or don't want to discuss them.

Let characters advance and retreat

A lot of the time, someone will address a scary emotion and then retreat again, sometimes over a period of hours, days, or even weeks. This is normal: most of us don't have the emotional fortitude to forge ahead through something difficult all in one go. Character A may say something vulnerable, then change the topic, laugh it off, say they're done discussing it, or even leave the situation.

Leave emotions partially unaddressed

Again, it's rare for someone to spill out everything they're feeling all in one go. As such, have Character A address the most important thing - or the least important, depending on their level of emotional maturity - and let it be done for then.

They might say their small piece, but when someone tries to probe deeper, they don't have an answer, or they get "stuck" on that one emotional level and cannot go further.

If Character B keeps pushing, then they may get incredibly upset and push back, or retreat.

Have Character B point out the feelings

Works especially well if the other character is a close companion or a parental figure. Often, people who know us really well will have better insight into our emotions than we do. Or, we might have good insight into our emotions but are still too afraid to open up. Having Character B point out the issue gives Character A grace to be more honest.

I can't tell you how many times I've been really upset, so I've distracted from the issue by getting angry about something completely different. Then, my mom will gently point out that I'm not actually crying about my new plastic cup being broken or whatever; I'm actually upset about XYZ. In that moment, I realize I've been caught out and admit that yes, that's what I'm really upset about.

Have Character A address it with a third character

Who among us hasn't gone to someone else to talk about our feelings? Having a third party serve as a sounding board is normal. Sometimes, Character A will feel such catharsis from this conversation that they don't address it as thoroughly with Character B.

Of course, you can use this to your advantage and create more tension if the third character gives bad advice or is biased.

Remember that just because the third party responded well does not mean that Character B does. You also have to avoid omniscience and remember that Character B wasn't privy to that conversation.

Have one confrontation be a stand-in for a larger one

I always think about the "The Iranian Yogurt Is Not the Issue" post when I think about this. Often times, things like not doing the dishes or whatever aren't actually the big deal: it's lack of boundaries, communication, or respect. A minor argument can be shorthand for a larger one that is too challenging for the characters to tackle.

This isn't just creating drama for the hell of it, though; it's about exploring the larger issues without making the characters lay it out on the table. A good reader will be able to see it's not about the Iranian Yogurt as long as you set up the relationship well.

Currently, I am writing a story where Uileac and his sister Cerie go to rescue Uileac's husband, Orrinir. On the way there, Uileac idly comments on how he wonders where a waterfall comes from because he's trying to distract himself from thinking about the fact that his husband is kidnapped and possibly dead.

Cerie, being pretty wound up too, starts arguing with him about it because she's like "why is this relevant? We're kind of too busy to think about geology right now!" Uileac gets annoyed at her for being so aggro, and she gets annoyed at him for being so irreverent. Both of them are upset about something completely different, but they're too scared and panicked to actually address that, so they release their frustrations by complaining about waterfalls.

Those bad vibes have to go somewhere, but neither of them are very good at talking about their feelings (though very good at stuffing them down). As such, they take the pressure off by sniping at one another. You've probably done this too, when you get into a dumb argument about something absolutely pointless because there's something you don't feel strong enough to discuss.

There's also the fact that if you're mad at someone about something but feel it's too stupid or petty to discuss, that frustration will leak out and everything else they do will annoy you, leading to a bunch of irrelevant arguments.

Use "reaffirmation" gestures

I talked about this in a different post, but after an argument, the "make up" stage doesn't always involve going "ohhh I forgive you" and big hugs and kisses, especially when the two characters aren't emotionally mature.

Instead, Character A makes gestures that reaffirm the relationship. This could be offering to do something Character B needs, making plans for later, or changing the topic to discuss something the other character cares about ("how are your cats doing?") etc.

Note that these "reaffirmation" gestures aren't the same as the cycle of abuse. This is more when two characters have had a difficult emotional conversation but aren't really sure how to continue being emotionally open, so they revert to something safer that still shows they care. They're not over-the-top gestures either, but more a special attention to something the other person loves. Knowing what the other person loves also demonstrates the depth of their relationship.

As always, I can't tell you what to do with your writing.

You are the crafter of your own story, and if you want people to talk like therapists for whatever reason, that's your choice. However, we want characters to feel like real people, and most real people don't lay it all out on the table every single time they're upset. If they do, they might be trauma vomiting, which is icky in and of itself.

Healthy communication isn't always perfect communication. People can have strong, loving relationships and still get things wrong - we're human. Having people calmly and rationally and easily talk about their feelings every single time is not only kind of boring, but it also feels weird, because unless we're primed to discuss those difficult topics and know we're perfectly safe, we're not going to do that.

People don't even do that in therapy, where they are paying for the service of talking about their feelings! Therapists also don't always do that IRL!

We're humans, and your characters need to feel like humans as well. That means letting them be imperfect communicators and using context clues rather than making them do all the work for the reader.

If you liked my advice, consider purchasing my book, 9 Years Yearning, for $3!

[psychotrenny]

I don't think "Fascist" is a very useful or accurate thing to call Caesar and his Legion (from Fallout: New Vegas) in the context of the game world itself. Like there are a lot of aesthetic similarities and basically all of their unironic real world fans are some sort of Nazi Nerd, but when talking about their place within the context of fictional post-nuclear Nevada it just doesn't work. Like Caesar's whole deal is that he's a Social Scientist who, living in a world that's been "blasted back to the Stone Age", figures that society must evolve through the same stages if it wants to properly return to modernity. The Legion is basically comprised of "Primitive Communists"* who've been forced into a Slave Society. His criticisms of the NCR boil down to them being a moribund remnant of/reversion to Old World Capitalism rather than something organically adapted to the post-Nuclear world. He repeatedly talks about how the Legion isn't meant to represent an ideal society but simply a stepping stone onto something better (the thesis that will clash with it's antithesis and evolve into a superior synthesis). His interactions with the Courier heavily imply that the Legion's Misogyny, Homophobia, Tech aversion etc. are much more tools of social organisation and control than values that Caesar personally holds. The Legion isn't just some band of mindlessly violent reactionaries but the product of very deliberate Social Engineering; a peculiarly post-nuclear sort of scientifically planned society

Now I'm not defending the Legion as a "good" choice or anything; Caesar's plan has a lot of problems, it's not hard to poke holes into and in terms of unadulterated cruelty The Legion is easily the most morally repugnant of the main factions. But the thing I really love about The Legion is how, within the specific context of Fallout's setting, it makes sense. Like once you really think about it you can understand why someone in Edward Sallow's position would arrive at these conclusions, and there are good reasons why (if you take your roleplaying seriously and don't treat the Player Character as an extension of yourself) someone living in this world might chose to side with him. The Legion may be terrible but it's not evil for the sake of evil; there's genuinely a compelling ideology behind it.

It's why I get sad when I see so many people dismiss them as the "dum dum fascist slavers" because there's so much more to them than that. Like I think the best part about The Legion is how ridiculous they first appear ("These raiders dress like Ben-Hur extras?????) but once you find out more about them then it all starts to click ("Oh I see their leader is trying to assimilate them into a distinct and alien culture in order to maintain their loyalty; severing their previous connections and giving them a whole new identity"). So it sucks to see so many people get caught up in the first part and never make enough connections to reach the second. Like in general, Fallout: New Vegas is very messy and flawed and yet it's full of all these interesting little nuances and I think that's worth appreciating it. It's why, time and time again, I keep walking down that dusty road

*in the very broad sense that Fallouts "Tribals" are meant to represent people who have reverted back to some sort of pre-state society; of course there are countless problems with how Fallout treats this matter (including but not limited to incredible amounts of racism) but in order to understand Caesar we're forced to meet the game on it's terms

[jillsandwhichs]

Warm winter night

Chapter 9 to Joel Miller x Reader Smutshot Collection

Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: You & Joel get snowed in your home due to a snow storm. While you're more upset about it, Joel takes advantage of the time you two have together

Status of your guy's relationship in this one shot: Married

WC: 2.7k

Type: NSFW

Warnings: Making out, Dirty talk, Breast play, Spanking, Hair pulling, Oral (F receives), Overstimulation, Unprotected P in V, Doggy style, Clit rubbing, He finishes in you & A bit of aftercare

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

"I can't believe we're snowed in." You exclaimed with annoyance. This isn't convenient at all, it is a massive bother. You had plans for this evening. You wanted to do some last minute grocery shopping and stop by the bank before it closes but of course, mother nature has to work against you per usual. Your husband, Joel, looked up from his book and watched as you paced from the sliding door to the living room, where he was sat.

The fireplace was going and it's crackling was satisfying but also a plain reminder of the fact it is Winter time - hence why you two are snowed in. You thought you two moving to Wyoming would be good but you completely discounted the fact snow would end up being an issue. You plopped down on the couch with a groan, arms crossed & your face pouty.

Joel was indulged in his book but he looked away from it, gazing at you. "Is the princess okay?" He teased and smirked at you. You scoffed and rolled your eyes. "No," you fixed your position, now sitting crisscross on the couch, "I am irritated." "So I can see." Joel snickered and closed his book, setting it on the end table and reverting his attention to fully focus on you.

There was just a lot you wanted to get done today and now all you'll be able to think about is the fact you won't be able to do any of it. You sighed deeply and glanced over at your husband who was already looking at you. "We won't even be able to order dinner tonight." You whined. "I'll have to cook." He laughed at you and pulled you into his arms, the two of you now laying together on the couch. "You let me handle dinner tonight, alright?" It's so sexy when he takes charge. "Ok baby." You responded.

Joel began to gently caress your legs, massaging them and getting you relaxed rather quickly. "You just need to relax babygirl, enough with the worryin'." Joel stated in a stern way to you. He isn't necessarily wrong. You can't help it. "I know," You nodded and let out a deep breath you felt you'd been holding in. "I love to just be in charge and get things done." "Trust me, I know." Joel snickered and was now massaging your feet firmly, getting out all the pressure and knots.

"It's nice like this though, you've gotta admit darlin'." "What exactly are you referring to?" "Us being snowed in together. Better than us bein' apart, yeah?" You smiled at his words and nodded. "You are right babe." There's no other person you'd rather be stuck with than your husband. Being with him is heaven's official blessing. "Ugh, it hurts." You referred to him pushing on your feet, trying to release the tension buried within them. "Oh hush it." He huffed out.

After he was finished with your feet, he let them go and gandered over at you. You looked into his eyes and sat up, laying back in his arms as you were just moments ago. He held you close and kissed the top of your head, his thumb rubbing up and down on your upper arm, calming you easily. "What's got you in such a mood?" You broke out into a laugh before glancing up at him, getting a close glance at his handsome, rugged face. "Nothin'. Can I not love up on my wife? Since when is that a crime baby?"

Oh Joel and his theatrics.

You giggled and kissed his chin, his scruff scraping against your lips. "Nothing is wrong with that, I was just curious." You snorted and placed your hand on his chest. It was rising up and down at a pace in which was comforting for you to feel. His heart was beating a bit quicker than usual but that's normal from time to time. Joel leaned down and pressed his lips to yours, kissing you lovingly. Anytime the two of you kiss it is as if sparks fly. It's your most favorite thing to do.

As the two of you kissed more, his hands swiftly moved to your waist, holding it. As he held you, you felt his fingers dig into your skin, earning a slight but evident moan out of you. "Joel," You stuttered, his hands now trailing down to your ass where he then squeezed it and left a vibrant spank on it. You giggled and as you did, he took his chance to slither his tongue into your mouth, kissing you more passionately now.

He pulled you into his lap and you immediately wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss as much as you could. His lips are soft and are exactly what you need. "Baby," You giggled, pulling away and resting your arms on his shoulders. "Hm?" He mumbled. "You're so hard," You gawked, being able to feel his dick beneath you - it is practically begging to be inside of you. "Can't help myself baby." Joel said simply before kissing you again.

As you two made out more, his hands went to the end of your tank top before he then removed it. You weren't wearing a bra beneath it, so your breasts came out, free and in need. Joel's mouth was basically watering before he latched onto one of your nipples, suckling on it with pressure and force that couldn't be matched. This was all escalating so fast but you didn't mind. Now all you wanted was Joel - and that cock of his.

Your hands ran erratically through his brown, messy hair as he went back and fourth between both of your tits, sucking on both and ensuring your arousal. You could feel a pool of wetness becoming of in your panties and it's yearning for Joel's touch. "Fuck babe." You moaned as he popped your nipple out of his mouth with a snicker. "I love doin' that to ya sweet girl." "Clearly." You panted, glancing down at your boobs which now had a glistening coat on them from where he was sucking.

You took off his shirt and threw it on the floor. You shivered from the cold but you ignore it as best as you can, knowing you'll be very warm here shortly. You are wet. It's crazy how easily Joel turns you on. He's hard, very hard, you can feel it between your legs pressing against you. You cannot wait to have him inside of you, fucking you as hard as he possibly can.

His chest pressed up against yours, your boobs meshing to meet his chest. "I want you." You moaned in between kisses. You are practically begging for him at this point. "I want you baby, and I'm gonna take ya." He then lifted you up into his arms. You giggled and held onto him. He was walking over towards your guy's shared bedroom. You figured the two of you were just going to make love on the couch but he clearly has a different plan in mind.

Joel tossed you onto the bed and you laughed, loving how rough he can be with you sometimes. You watched he pulled his brown leather belt out through the loops of his jeans and dropped it onto the along with said jeans. His boxers were still on as he climbed onto the bed, kissing you in a rushed manner, backing you onto the bed. Your head hit the pillow with a *ploof* noise and you slid your tongue into his wet, warm mouth once again.

You encased your arms around his neck, pulling him closer against you. As you two made out, you felt his hands amble down to your shorts where he then pulled them off along with your panties. You shivered due to the cold air hitting your pale body and he held you close, wanting you to feel safe and warm. "I'm goin' make a mess outta you." Joel murmured against your ear as he began to kiss and nibble it, traversing down to your neck.

His words and his touch... Oh they are immaculate. You laid comfortably against the pillow and fully gave yourself to Joel; He is free to do whatever he pleases with you and your body. His kisses went from your neck and suddenly down to your stomach where he took his sweet time. Those kisses he leaves on you were quick to relax you and have you ready for him. At this point, you can feel yourself pulsing with need and hunger for this man.

His fingers went from being pressed into your thigh to know going to your pussy where he stuck his index in your folds, feeling how wet you are. "Fuck sakes," Joel whispered, taking his finger up to his mouth and tasting you as if you were an appetizer before his grand meal, "So wet for me, hm?" He said with a cocky tone. "Baby, just please, do it already, I want you." You begged for him to just please you, to make you cum. It's all you want right now.

Joel chuckled and nodded. "Shh babygirl, don't worry, you're going to get exactly what you want." Whenever he says that, he isn't lying. Joel is the one man in this whole wide world who knows how to please you just right. He kissed more down your stomach until he reached your pussy. You were shaking at this point, shaking with need. All you want is for him to touch you, to please you in any way. "Oh," you moaned out as he started to kiss and bite on your inner thighs.

This process was slow, Joel knows it is. He takes him time with you, making you all wet and ready for him. He'll act as if he's going to finally start eating you out, then he'll pull away to kiss your lips or to nibble on your thighs. It's frustrating and that is exactly why Joel does it. "Fuck, please, just do it." You squeezed your thighs around his head, forcing him to stay in his place. This earned a giggle out of him before he then pulled your thighs off of his head and immediately began to lap at you relentlessly.

Now this is it. He'll make you cum over... And over... And over again, overstimulation at its finest. "Joel! Oh, holy fuck." You moaned out loudly as his tongue worked absolute wonders on you, making you squirm and causing your legs to shake like crazy. "Just like that... Oh..." You sighed softly, loving how fast and delicate he is with you. "Taste so damn good." Joel managed to mumble out in between suckles & licks.

He teased your clit repeatedly. Over and over again, he lapped and it and would wrap his lips around it, sucking it right up. It's too much. It feels so good. Your stomach is doing all sorts of flips & tricks currently. Your legs are shaking from the pleasure and before you know it, you'll be cumming on his face, just how he likes it. "Joel..." You panted out as he just continued to please you. Now it's becoming too much.

"I'm gonna cum." "Oh yeah? Cum for me darlin'." Joel stated in that low, deep, sexy tone to you. You love when he does that. "Oh fuck!" Your body then shook due to your orgasm as he rubbed your clit and licked at your tight, little hole. Vibrations and waves of pleasure coursed through your body like never before. "Okay, okay, fuck." You don't even know what you're saying, you aren't even in reality anymore.

He didn't stop. His thumb rubbed your clit as fast as it could go and his tongue was moving swiftly along your dripping cunt. You knew he'd do this. It's too much, too fucking much. "Baby!" You squealed as he kept it up. It was only becoming more and more intense. You seriously feel another climax overcoming you. "C'mon baby, you handle it, I know you can." Joel whispered to you. Well when he puts it that way, how can you deny him the pleasure of seeing you this way?

You know he loves watching you unfold under his touch. He gets off on it like he's some sort of a sadist. It's sexy, honestly. "You can do it baby, just take it." He egged you on. You moaned as he continued to rub your clit with haste and suckle all over your cunt - not a single crevice was left unlicked. "Doin' so well." The way he praises you... It's so attractive. No matter how much he does it, you still love it all the same.

Just a bit longer and you came again. You felt your fluids dripping down your inner thighs and onto your guy's bed. You don't even care, you are too blinded by lust and need to care. Joel chuckled and kissed your clit gently before finally pulling away. "Made you cum twice... How about a third?" He then flipped you onto your stomach and lifted your ass up to meet his pelvic area. He brought his palm down and gave it a proud smack, earning a squeal out of you.

Joel pulled down his boxers and his erect cock hit your ass. You could tell he is insanely horny, just as you are. "Look at how hard you got me babygirl. You did this." He squeezed your rear end and then kissed it (He's an ass guy). You giggled and bit your lip. "And I don't regret a damn thing." You whispered to him. He scoffed out a laugh before suddenly slipping his dick inside of you, pushing himself as deep into you as he could.

You knew you'd get a rise out of him, and that's exactly why you said it.

Your pussy is still sensitive but he continued nonetheless. His thrusts and pounds into you were relentlessly, just as his wet tounge was. He's big, so very big. Each time he moves into you, it's heaven on Earth. "Talk like that again, see what happens." Joel grunted out as he pushed himself deeper into you, hitting your sweet spot before pulling back, only to repeat this sensual process.

"You heard me Joel," You moaned out as his sudden pick up of pace, "I don't regret a thing. I love knowing that I do infact have some control over you." You giggled out. Joel scoffed and immediately snatched your hair up into his hand, pulling on it roughly as he slammed into you at a harder rate. "You don't have any fuckin' control over me, remember that." Oh you will.

Your mouth was agape as he fucked you, your hair being pulled and your pussy being destroyed. Joel can handle you, oh yes he can. "You're a funny girl sweetheart, to think that way." He then leaned down and kissed you. It was sloppy but meaningful. A string of spit appeared between both of your guy's mouth before he kissed you again and abruptly pulled away.

Your legs began to wobble and you could hardly hold yourself up. You felt your legs completely giving out beneath you. "No," He pulled your legs back up, "Stay in your fucking place." He ordered, which only made you turned on further. It's safe to say you love when Joel is in control. "I'm gonna cum soon, just stay put baby." He practically pleaded with you. You simply smiled.

His hands grip was now tighter and his other hand moved away from your hip to spank you. When he did that, it was ultimately your undoing.

Your body shook and you suddenly felt his hand swerve between your legs. He rubbed your clit as you came which caused your walls to clench around him furthermore, helping him bust deep inside of you. "Good fuckin' Lord, good girl." Joel whispered as he came inside of you, his semen seeping out of your hole slightly. You whined and held onto the sheets beneath you for support.

Eventually, Joel pulled out of you. He picked you up into his arms as if you were a ragdoll and he held you close. There is nothing more intimate than aftercare. He kissed the top of your sweaty hair and caressed your flushed cheeks. "You okay dear?" He asked you in a subtle whisper. "I am." You reassured him before kissing his cheek and clinging to him as if you are a spider monkey.

Joel snickered and patted your ass, standing up and holding you close. "Want me to run us a bath? Then I'll cook dinner and we can watch that stupid ass show you've been into." You laughed at his description of the show you've been watching and you nodded. "Yes please, I would love that."

You really would.

[deathnguts]

AU where Barty never stopped looking for Regulus when he was pronounced dead because Regulus can’t just die. AU where Barty drove himself mad living off of energy and nutrient potions because he didn’t have time to doddle what if regulus needed him?! AU where Barty looked and looked and actually found him. AU where Barty’s search amounts to a lake with docile inferi and the love of his life he,d down at the bottom by them. AU where in a grief induced magical rage, he fights and leaves with Regulus’ cold, dripping body in his arms and keeps it for himself.

Barty refuses to think that after everything regulus was, after eveyrthing he fought for, regulus was just gone. It can’t be real, he has to be able to do something. So he meticulously maintains his corpse, using deep,y dark magic he clawed and bit to get his hands on to revert it back to its previous state, to a point it looks as if regulus is simply sleeping in his home, but he never wakes up.

Barty lovingly tucking regulus into his bed so he can further delude himself into believing his love, his heart, is just sleeping with a kiss to his forehead and a lingering touch over every part of him. Barty who watches as his chest doesn’t rise and fall and closes his eyes to escape it. Barty who gives in after what feels like eternity to climb into the bed himself and nuzzle his head back where it belongs, against Regulus’ chest. He moves regulus’ arms to wrap loosely over his neck and sighs in relief because finally he’s back in his arms. Barty who sleeps, really sleeps, for the first time in weeks in this bed he made with a corpse in tow.

Barty who spends his time sitting by Regulus’ body with his head knocked against one of regulus’ hands or maybe in his cold lap and simply begs him to wake up but he won’t. Barty sniffling when he presses kisses to his lover’s cold face and whispering ‘don’t cry darling’ and he can’t tell if he’s talking to regulus or if regulus is talking to him.

Barty who whispers in his own home because as much as he desperately begs and wishes for regulus to wake up, he’s gotten into habit of fearing that just as much. He looks at Regulus like he could wake up at any moment, like a Jack in a box ready to spring, and he can’t help but brace himself for some sort of impact. He’s afraid, but he’s hopeful, and still so utterly in love.

Barty who murmurs sweet nothings amidst his apologies for being too loud to a body who can’t hear him, ‘I’m sorry my lovely go back to sleep.’

And then years later, after yet another separation and time locked away in his own mind behind imperio, Barty swears he hears the dementor whisper in a voice he’s been craving so for all his life ‘Come to bed, my love.’

[ellaspore]

The last episode of The On1y One laid me on the floor and the only thing I can think of is this saying in Neapolitan which goes “Nun aprì ll'uocchie a li gattille” which roughly translates to “Don’t force open kitten’s eyes” which has the meaning of rendering someone conscious of possibilities he wasn’t aware of before.

And that’s exactly what the teachers’ kiss caused in Sheng Wang. He became aware of the possibilities of his feelings for Jiang Tian, opened the curtains on what really he was feeling, the reason behind his behaviour, his beating heart. it was like suddenly light shed on something he hadn’t seen before. He was in too deep, drowning in his feelings before he even knew what he was doing.

Sheng Wang fell in love slowly, unconsciously unaware, eyes shut, closed and unseeing.

And the problem is

You can’t force someone’s eyes open too soon when they’re not ready, the sudden light will make them blind, panic because they weren’t ready to see what’s in front of them. 

And that's exactly what happens to Sheng Wang. Suddenly he knows he is in love, he’s not ready for it, he hasn’t come to terms with what it all means.

He’s drowning and he doesn’t know what to do, so the only solution is to sit back, put space and understand and that’s exactly what makes him bomb his exams.

But Sheng Wang is still unseeing, he’s still blinded by the light, he thinks he can revert to a previous state, cut the stalk of his feelings and make something else grow anew, he can lie and no one will be wiser.

What makes this all the more devastating is that Jiang Tian’s eyes have been wide open right from the start, he took the plunge consciously, he surrendered knowing exactly what he was doing. Yes, his capitulation was not without fight. Jiang Tian has been fighting his feelings since the start and his surrender happened only when he finally laid in bed with Sheng Wang.

And he knows and he sees exactly what’s happening to Sheng Wang, he knows about the aborted kiss, the panic, the fear but he can’t do anything about it. He knows they’re on the edge of the cliff, but this is not something he can force, he has to wait for Sheng Wang to decide whether love is worth it or not.

[tiredandoptimistic]

I know that everyone is going insane about "who will pray for me when my body is gone/or is this the eternal dark without a dawn" (as they should), but the line from "Nerdy Prudes Must Die" that always stuck with me is "the world is just too well-behaved/it needs to be saved/and you're too weak to be enslaved."

I am fascinated by Jagerman as a character, and the way he sees the world. I find how this line interacts with his speech to Pete in the Pasqualli's parking lot especially interesting. Specifically, the use of the words "save" and "enslave" to describe what he does to places. He thinks that he is saving Hatchetfield High by enforcing his rules, he says it himself that he's their god. That self-awareness he shows in "Literal Monster" comes back as well. I'm taking "you're too weak to be enslaved" to mean that Richie is too weak to be useful in the way the popular kids are. In that case, Max is describing his friendships as enslavement.

How fucked is that?

And he's not entirely wrong. They help him bully Pete, Richie, Ruth, and the other nerds, and yet they're all happy to be free of him. They are nice to the nerds as soon as his influence is gone, but they're aware that they'll go right back to bullying if he returns. What a setup that is!

Max says to Pete that "you're not a nerd because of your glasses or your pimple dick, you're a nerd because I said so." The same presumably goes for the popular kids; they're cool because he said so. What category he sorts people into seems to be entirely determined by whether or not they're "too weak to be enslaved." Kyle and Jason can be kept in line and will be useful in keeping his absolute control, so even if they don't believe in his philosophy (Jason saying that they should just let Pete off with a warning), they get to be cool. Richie, Ruth, and Pete are useless assets so they're targets instead.

Max is a lot like Pokey, in that he only believes in his own voice. Everyone else must be silenced, either through death or servitude.

I need to know what was going through his head at the Old Waylon Place. My guess is that it's something similar to his reasoning for liking Grace. If Jagerman sees high school as a sort of simulation where he is completely in control and moving the other characters around like puppets, then of course he would be fascinated by someone like Grace who refuses to dance on his strings. A group of nerds (and Steph) pulling a creative prank on him probably blew his mind, because I don't think he expects other people to have ideas. It was also especially impactful because Steph was there. He expects nerds to hate him, but a popular kid breaking the social rules he established to ally with some losers against him? That's not supposed to happen.

It's like right before his death he finally realized that other people are people, but then he came back as a fucked up ghost and reverted to his previous state but worse.

[transformers-synergize]

Hey, i'm not sure if you've explained this already, but what are the data tendrils that Prowl uses to give everyone their colour/alt modes? Do all cybertronians have it, or is it specific to a couple of bots? I assume they have a similar function to the ones Soundwave has in TFPrime?

oh, also: how do the protoforms/weird egg modes work? Is it just used for long stasis?, coz im assuming they looked different back on cybertron,,,

love your stuff!!

Yes, all cybertronains have these cords. Most average bots have four on their upper back, bots like cassette carriers, shuttles, and titans have more. They have many uses but are primarily used to connect to other systems and cybetronains, either transport or receive data, manually take control of another system, or perform diagnostics on another system or bot.

cybertronains also have ports for cords to connect to, with port 4 on the upper chest, which can be used for most basic data transfers, and one port on either the back of the neck or head, which has more access to the primary processor,

Prowl interfaced with the ark primary computer system and manually brought it back online, along with having it do a scan for language data, and viable alt mode data.

Anyway, I'm working on a big post about cybertonain anatomy, but it is taking a bit. I am still trying to figure out how I want to convey all that info, but there should be more about this coming sometime in the future.

------------------

as for protoforms

I held off on this ask because Hound kinda answers some of the lore on proto form in the newest pages read here, but I will elaborate on what has already been shared. Protoforms' the sorta cacoon state thing, is a cybertonains sorta default mode. It's what they are formed as before they first transform, but they can revert back to this state if they are in extreme danger. Protoforms are very hard to damage and can stay like that for millions of years, longer than a natural cybertronains lifespan; it's kinda of like putting a bot on pause for however long they are in that state, thought if a bot somehow does get damaged in protoform, the consequences can be catastrophic and almost always irreversible. Bots in protoform cannot transform unless given energon

Proto-modes, the state they are in after they transform from their protoform. They are anything but invincible in this state. A bot is only meant to stay in this state for a short period of time before obtaining an alt-mode, like a crab that just left its old shell. not an ideal state to be in. Their metal is softer, relatively speaking, not soft to a human but soft in the way gold or lead is soft. The one advantage of this mode is that it can take on a new alt-mode quickly. A bot with a pre-established alt mode will take several hours to reconfigure their frame into a new alt. A proto-mode bot can take on a new alt in less than a minute.

Stable mode bots have a proper alt and can switch between robot mode and alt easily. This is the ideal state for a cybertonain to be in.

The bots before the crash had different cybertronain-based alt modes but all previous alt-mode data is lost when a bot reverts to proto mode so even if they wanted to use their old cybertronains alts they couldn't

This another topic that will likely get more info in either its own post or some lore post on cybertronian life cycle

[minniepetals]

cry me a river | the habits

— summary: you are a weapon and weapons do not weep

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, mafia!au

— word count: 6.4k

— warnings: physical abuse, violence, mentally unstable mindset

— PART 25 / previous post / masterpost

One.

Two.

Three.

The seconds will pass. The minutes will fly. The hours will go.

You’re alright.

Endure it. Endure it.

It will pass.

Everything will pass just as everything has always passed.

In time, father will raise his hand to indicate them to stop. A stop signal. He may leave the room out of boredom but he will return just as he always does in order to demand them to leave you alone. He will never be satisfied but there is always a limit to everything and father sometimes gets too bored to keep seeing it, to keep hearing it, so he’s always there to stop it.

Eventually.

Eventually.

You just have to endure it for now until the signal comes, until—

“What are you doing?!”

You didn’t realize it and perhaps that’s because you blacked out, your mind keeping you from feeling it all completely, trying to protect you, but you’re sitting on the ground when a call demands out an answer in a loud, commanding voice, and a rushing of a pair of feet running over to push Karl off you.

Asher punches Karl right in the face, throwing him off you, before demanding the guards he has with him to hold the man back.

“She provoked me!” Karl argues like a child in a kid’s play.

He’s never been abruptly stopped before. Always angry, never satisfied.

Nothing is ever enough when it comes to the two of them. 

Karl landing hurt through his fists and weapons and anything he can get a hand on. Your father landing hurt through his commands, watching and watching and watching.

And you, their victim, who has to stay down and accept it all until there is a small amount of satisfaction that calls at them to stop.

You always wait on that call, no matter how much endurance it takes.

“That doesn’t make it right to lay your hand on a woman!” Asher retorts with anger laced in his tone, and this anger, despite how different it is from that of Karl’s, still shakes you violently though you keep as still as ever, paralyzed.

Paralyzed.

Even when the anger does not fall on you, even when he does not turn to you but towards the companion who stands behind you, who had stood still this whole time. “And what are you doing? Your boss was getting hit and you just stood there?”

Yeonjun, with a snap on cue, kneels over to your side and looks down at you with widened eyes and a frozen expression. He doesn’t touch you right away, cautious, but you see what those eyes mean, you know exactly what that expression is telling you.

That he, too, had reverted back to the past.

When your father still lived, when he had to stand by and watch everything without moving a muscle.

He reverted back just as you had.

Two little kids, who're still affected by the traumas of the past.

Two little kids.

You take Yeonjun’s hand, giving him the permission to touch you, so he helps you back onto your feet and the two of you remain in silence as you walk off with his help, not daring to look Karl in the eyes, not caring to reply to Asher.

But you feel yourself trembling with the presence of a pair of eyes boring right into your back. Not from Asher or Karl or the two guards but from someone else.

The ghost of him.

Of that man.

That man named father.

.

.

.

“Y/N?” There’s concern in Jungkook’s voice when you walk into the room and you guess that’s probably because of the state you’re in, but right now you can’t entertain him so you simply hold a hand up, asking him to stay back, and Jungkook, though worried, leaves the room on your behalf.

When you’re left alone with Yeonjun, you let your legs give in to sit on the floor rather than finding a chair or taking a seat on the bed.

The floor is comfortable. It’s always been more comfortable.

The boy takes your heels off, along with your jacket, and despite the sting of the pain that aches over your body, the only thing on your mind is the fact that you let it happen so easily, that you allowed yourself to walk back into that state of being an obedient and perfect little doll.

You reverted back to the damages just when you thought after father’s death, you wouldn’t let anyone walk over you anymore.

But it isn’t easy.

It isn’t easy.

And it will never be easy.

Father still lives in your head rent free and there’s nothing you can do about it. No matter how much time has passed, nothing will change. It’s already been a little over a year since his death but he’s still here, still thriving, mocking you, taunting you, controlling everything that you are.

You’re shaking, trembling, not just out of fear but out of anger. Angry at yourself. For being so weak, for reverting back, for thinking things could get better.

And with Yeonjun the only one here with you at the moment, you lean into his touch and let yourself into his arms to allow the sort of warmth only your Reapers can provide you.

Yeonjun’s heartbeat won’t be the same as Mingyu’s, it’s probably even beating rapidly right now, so you don’t let your ear rest against his chest and instead wrap your arms over his neck and climb into his lap to lay your cheek against his shoulder.

Yeonjun brings his hand over to rub down your back but he’s a little awkward and unsure because he’s never really had to do this; comforting you. It’s always been Mingyu, and if Mingyu wasn’t there, it’d be Yuna, and if Yuna couldn’t do it, it’d be Dasom, or someone else.

Anyone else.

He’s only a kid after all, just eighteen years old, the youngest of your Reapers, but because no one else is here, he does his best to pick up the role that’s been given unto him.

Yet you feel him tremble slightly himself and you guess that in some way, he must be afraid as well.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers to you. “I didn’t…I…”

You know what he’s trying to say, that he failed you, that he couldn’t protect you. But can you really blame him? Because just as you’ve been trained to endure through the pains and take everything that’s given unto you, Yeonjun, the Reapers, were trained to stand by and watch.

Habits are scary.

Frightening.

And because you don’t know how to console him and he doesn’t know how to console you, the two of you remain in silence simply holding onto one another.

Just two little kids having to rely on each other.

Just two little kids.

And after a little while, when things have settled a little more, when he starts shaking a little less, Yeonjun gathers himself and forces himself out of the state he’s in.

He stands up and you watch him leave for a second, not too long, because he rushes, and returns with materials in hand to begin tending to you. It remains as quiet as ever between the two of you, but you see the way his brows furrow in concentration and he stops himself from staying in the mindset of a teenager.

Of a child.

He becomes an adult, a reliable adult. For you. Applying what’s needed on the bruises that have swelled up, wrapping your arm with bandages, and when you frown with disgust at the sight of the white wrapping on you, wanting it off, complaining, he doesn’t fall into your trap and stands his ground just as he’s seen Mingyu do plenty of times.

Yeonjun gets frightened of you at times but he always listens to your every command and does all that you ask him within a heartbeat, but today he grows a pair of wings and knocks you lightly on the head with his knuckles when you try to push him away, when you get stubborn with him.

“Do you want to die?” You glare at him but he doesn’t give in.

“You can kill me after I treat you,” he says and continues his ministrations.

“I hate it,” you tell him. “I don’t like it, this…this white.” You try to scratch at yourself but he grabs your hand before you can and your face scrunches up with anguish. “Get it off me.” 

You tug the pearls on your neck and it scatters onto the floor but you don’t care and move on to the white dress, yet Yeonjun stops you once more.

“You’ll hurt yourself.”

“I’m not weak.”

“I never said you were.” And because he knows the signs, because he’s seen it plenty of times in you, he grabs the sleeve, rips it, then the hem of the dress, and tears that as well without doing too much. “See? Look. Imperfect.” You hate perfect things and seeing that, the tears of the dress, alleviate a bit of your drumming heartbeat, so Yeonjun grabs a pair of scissors to start cutting off bits of your dress.

All your life you’ve been told to be perfect, that everything you do must be under the command of your father. He made you into his perfect little doll, his perfect little weapon, prepared you for the battlefield, prepared you for war.

For the war that he brought, for the war that was his.

Or rather, he was the war itself.

You are a weapon, and weapons do not weep. Weapons are used and weapons do not run off on their own. Weapons are perfect, they fire at the command of their owner, they’re silent when told, and left to waste if they do not do their job.

You’ve never wanted to be left to waste, you’ve never wanted to be dropped back into an empty room, the White Room, and never picked up again.

“I look broken,” you utter a whisper as if shocked at the image of yourself when you look down at the mess of your dress and the white bandages on your body. Your brows are knitted, teeth grinding on each other, fingers dug into the skin of your palm, eyes red but as always, they refuse to cry.

Because weapons do not weep.

And Yeonjun, for a second, almost panics, thinking he did something wrong, but in Mingyu’s wise words, “Just because it looks like I know what I’m doing when it comes to boss does not mean that is the truth. It is far from the truth. There are times when it feels like I’ve messed up, times when I’m about to panic because she responds differently from what I imagined, but you cannot ever show her that you do not know what you’re doing. Ever. Just pretend when you’re in that position, and if you’re good at pretending, she won’t know a thing,” Yeonjun quickly pulls himself back up.

“You don’t look broken,” he puts the scissors down and takes your two trembling fists. “You look imperfect.”

You look imperfect.

Imperfect.

It does the trick.

He sees the way the crease between your brows starts to soften, how your clenched jaw loosens, the way you let him help your fingers unravel from the strength they held digging into yourself, and how your shoulders fall a bit from being so hunched up.

“I look imperfect?” You ask him, eyes wide and puppy-like, darting right to him and though they shake slightly, they look towards him for an answer, for reassurance, to detect any lie, to seek for the truth. But also pleading, also begging for him to say just that.

Even if the lie must disguise itself as the truth.

“You do,” so Yeonjun lies skillfully. “You look imperfect, boss.”

There’s a breath of relief, quiet and subtle, and it comes in a whisper just barely there. Yeonjun keeps you close and presses a palm to your chest, just where your heartbeat strums.

“Now count,” he tells you. “Mingyu says counting is good, right? Count until he gets here.”

“Is he coming?” You ask when he takes both your hands to take over where his palm once lay.

“Yes,” he lies again. He hasn’t made the call yet. “Soon.”

“You have to stay here.”

“I will.”

“No one can come in.”

“I know.”

“Don’t talk to him, don’t let Karl anywhere near me.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“I’m tired.”

“Alright, come here.” He pulls you in carefully into his lap, in his arms, and you let yourself be warmed and comforted in his arms once more, this time with your back pressed to his chest.

“I don’t want to sleep,” you tell him. “The nightmares…they’ll come. He’ll come. He’ll visit. And he’ll try to make me perfect all over again.”

He. Your father.

“I don’t want to be perfect.” It isn’t a command, it’s a plea. A desperate cry for help.

“Then don’t sleep. But count the heartbeats, yeah? Count.” The soft lure of his voice, gentle, encouraging.

With hands still pressed against your chest, you let your ear tune out everything else in order to hear the beat of your heart so that you can start counting them.

One. Two. Three…

It’s fast and you know that you can’t completely count every individual one of them but you try your best to simply concentrate on only that while your eyes stare out at the window a few feet away. The sun shines brightly from the opened curtains and there’s a small little bird perched on the closest tree.

It jumps onto a branch and rests there with its head moving about in different directions.

There are pretty white clouds up above and one of the bigger ones shapes like a castle and you imagine fairies up there, hiding.

There’s another cloud that looks like a cat and another one shaped like a ghost.

The wind blows and your eyes turn back to the bird that flies off.

Thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five…

It’s slowing down, just slightly.

.

.

.

“I heard what happened this afternoon.”

Kiwi keeps you distracted as he nibbles with your finger. You can’t recall when he’s decided to hang around you rather than his own master whenever you’re around but at least it gives you a reason to not look someone in the eyes.

“Would you like to tell me what happened from your perspective?”

Thirty-something years old. You can’t even remember just how old you are but lately, it hasn’t mattered in the slightest because you feel much younger than what you actually are. Like you’re twenty-something. Even a teen. It doesn’t feel like you’ve aged much.

Your birthday hasn’t been celebrated since your time at the Bangtan manor but it doesn’t really matter. Nothing really matters.

Because you feel like a kid back under the control of your father, having to do what you’re told, obeying his every command like someone who can’t do anything on her own.

Under scrutiny.

“What did Karl tell you?” You pop a question of your own, eyes still unfocused, mind still trying to pretend you’re fine, that you’re okay in a room full of strangers.

There’s only one stranger but a stranger nonetheless.

“He said you provoked him.”

“That’s right.” You don’t deny it and instead nod, expression blank so that Alexander cannot tell what’s going on inside your head. And maybe he does, maybe all of this faking is futile because he’s so wise, but you don’t care. You keep still, you keep vague, and you remain cold.

“Is that so…?” He trails off, perhaps thinking, and you can feel his eyes never leaving you. “And what was it that you did to have provoked him?”

“I told him something he didn’t like.”

“And what’s that?”

“That I killed his best friend.”

“And did you?”

“I did.”

“And who was that?”

“My father.”

He pauses, perhaps because he hadn’t expected that answer but you’re sure he’s thinking back on the moment when you first mentioned your father to him. The “story” you gave him was that your father passed away and was a good friend of Karl’s, though you never mentioned anything else about it. 

And now here’s the answer; you killed him yourself.

“Is that why you let Karl do what he did?” He asks you. “Because you thought you deserved the punishment for what you did? Some people may not regret their actions but they’ll let the person most affected do something against them. Was that how it was?”

No.

No, not at all.

You didn’t let Karl hurt you because you knew he’d be hurt by what you did. You didn’t let him hurt you because you thought he at least deserved to lash his anger out on you. Or that you felt bad. Or that you wanted some sort of punishment. Or that you were repenting.

You let Karl hurt you because you’d always let him hurt you, just as you’d always let everyone hurt you.

Because that was how it always was.

A habit.

Being the weaker one, being the one who would chant the words endure, endure because that was what was instilled in you from the moment Mister Butler died. You cannot get out of your habits that easily, you do not just get stronger because you vow to yourself you will.

You don’t just get stronger and you certainly don’t just decide ‘I won’t let anyone step over me anymore’ and succeed on the first try.

Or the second try.

Or the third.

Even the tenth or hundredth time.

You let Karl hurt you because you were used to it and your body, remembering how it always was before your father died, returned to those habits.

The habits of staying still, the habits of enduring all that came at you.

“Yes.” But you lie because what else is there to say? You lie because there is nothing else to say. Because you don’t want to tell the truth. Because the truth means explaining and explaining means opening up and opening up means trusting and trusting never ends well.

You lie because you have to.

“That is all there is to it.” You put Kiwi down onto the floor and stand up straight, making sure to look in the old man’s direction with your hands held together in a formal stance. “Karl’s story is the whole truth. I deserved what he did, for killing his best friend, for killing my father.”

His brows are furrowed and you sense doubt in his eyes but because he has no proof and because you’re not willing to share anything else with him, he can’t push you too hard about the matter. “Whether that is the truth or not, do you really think a man much older and bigger has the right to hurt a woman younger and smaller in stature? No–” he fixes his sentence, “do you think a man is in his right to hurt a woman?”

“A man is capable of hurting anything that he wishes to hurt. He is in the power to do so.”

“You are strong, Y/N.” He stands to meet your eyes, serious, calm, and collected, but there’s a little twitch in his brows to indicate that he feels a bit frustrated by the situation. “You are capable of dodging his attacks. Even if a man were much bigger and stronger than you, you have the brains to outsmart them. You don’t look like someone who will easily let someone else step all over you.”

No. You are exactly just that. You are still the little girl you thought had changed. You’re still weak.

“So I’ll ask you again, Y/N; why did you let Karl hurt you?”

You hate feeling caged in and right now, despite the fact that only Alexander stands in this room, you feel eyes from all over. And maybe that’s just you being paranoid, maybe you’re just making it all up in your head, but you hate every bit of it. 

Every bit of this.

“I gave you my answer, take it with a grain of salt. Do not pretend to be on my side.” And with that, you turn your back to him and walk off without another word.

Alexander doesn’t chase after you but you feel his eyes.

It’s ironic the way you’re supposed to be the one trying to gain his favor and yet this happens; you pushing him away and putting up your walls. And Asher makes sure to remind you of that.

“Isn’t the whole point of you being here to gain his favor?”

He stops you in the middle of the hall when you’re heading back to the guest room.

“Why?” He asks, genuinely curious, maybe even with a bit of genuine concern in that tone.

“Maybe I’m tired,” you say in a quiet voice.

“Of?”

“Of trying to be likable.”

He hums, considering the answer with his arms crossed over his chest and leaning against the wall. “And that young bodyguard of yours,” he brings up Yeonjun, “he may be a kid but don’t you think he deserves punishment for failing you?”

“No.” You reply easily and Asher raises a brow.

“You won’t punish him?”

“I don’t blame him.”

He watches you as if you were a strange being, like you weren’t making sense, though there’s a bit of unease that marks his features, some sort of disturbance that troubles his thoughts and you realize that you’ve said too much so you start walking again.

“My people aren’t allowed to act unless I tell them to.”

But Asher doesn’t want to leave it with just that. “You wanted my uncle to hurt you?”

“Nobody wants to get hurt willingly, Asher.”

“Then what is it?”

You’re talking too much.

“It is none of your concern, that’s what it is.” With that, you pick up your steps and walk into the room before he can push you any further.

Jungkook is in there when you walk in, and although being left in a room with just him should trigger some sort of response, surprisingly you don’t tremble that easily and perhaps that’s due to the fact that somehow, in some way, your body just knows that Jungkook doesn’t pose any threat to you. Perhaps because somehow, in some way, you’ve learned to put some trust in him in just the slightest way through the times he’s spent acting as your guard.

It’s been a little over a month.

Mingyu came here prior to your meeting with Alexander and surprisingly you didn’t need him as much as you thought you did. You think that’s because Yeonjun managed to calm you down well, despite his perpetual fear in the beginning. He picked himself up in time, after all, and was there for you by mirroring what Mingyu would have done.

Maybe in some ways, your right hand man has trained all the Reapers in how to respond to you when he isn’t around.

He took Yeonjun away for something, though right now you aren’t too concerned about it.

“..Kook.”

You feel tired, you feel drained, and that’s why you’ve managed to only call Jungkook by a shortened name.

He’s responsive at the first call, despite how quiet your voice is, and when he sees that you’ve given him permission to come in close contact with you, he doesn’t hesitate to walk over to you.

“Do you need something?”

It’s odd the way you feel some sort of relief he’s as responsive as he used to be all those years ago. Maybe because a part of Jungkook will always remain the way that he always was, maybe that’s why you’ve learned to associate him with a figure that you can put a bit of trust in.

“When are they coming?”

“They?” He tilts his head and when you reach a hand out towards him, he takes it in order to help you because you feel your legs are weak in the knees.

“Namjoon. Them.” He takes you to the bed so that you can lie down.

“In a month or so,” he replies. “You said as much time as you need to gain Alexander’s favor but the latest would be in a month.”

You’re already winning so what’s the point in waiting? 

It’s been a month, over a month.

You just want to go home already.

“Can you call him?”

Jungkook looks for his phone. “What for?”

“Tell him to come earlier,” you say, body turned over towards him, cheek against the pillow, eyes drowsy. “In a week. I don’t…Karl has…I want him dead.”

For a second his thumb hovers over his phone to look back over at you and there he finds, the little girl he’s seen holding her walls up so high not even a plane can cross over, beginning to crumble in just the slightest way.

You look exhausted.

The makeup does not hide the bags under your eyes, it doesn’t hide the exhaustion, how drained you are over all of this. And maybe a part of that is due to your insisting to stay awake when you needed sleep but a big part of it is the mission itself.

Every mission is a little different from the other, but Jungkook has come to know that every one of them involves someone who has sucked all that sweet girl energy out of you. They’ve all done you wrong and it can’t be easy. It can’t be easy having to face all of them one by one, trying to deal with it all, trying to rid of them, and ultimately as a result, hurting yourself in the process.

“Kook?” Your eyes went closed for a second but upon his silence, you open them up again in order to look up at him, and due to your exhaustion, he finds the pretty girl he once loved all those years ago with the smallest voice as if calling out for him in a sense of help.

“I-I’ll call.” He’s flustered, slightly, but hits the call button with his thumb and walks towards the bathroom. “Stay awake, alright? I won’t be away for too long.”

He closes the door behind him to start looking around for something just as Namjoon picks up on the other end.

“Jungkook?”

“Y/N wanted me to tell you to come earlier.”

“Earlier?” It’s surprising on his end because just the night before, you told him to stick to the original plan. “Did something happen?” Of course something must’ve happened for you to change your mind so quickly.

In some ways you’re just as stubborn as he is, so he knows you aren’t someone who will change your mind that easily.

“This afternoon, uh…” Jungkook hesitates, not sure if it’s okay to relay him the news but something tells him you probably expect Jungkook to not stay silent about it to the boys. They share everything with each other after all, and if you really cared, you wouldn’t have let him anywhere near you after what happened. “Karl, you know, after touching her when she felt uncomfortable?” He did mention the incident a few weeks ago to Namjoon already. “Well, Y/N took up his invitation to tea in order to catch up and stuff and I assume she pissed him off.”

Somehow, Namjoon expected that. After all, you hinted at doing something reckless during your call with him. 

“I’m not sure what happened exactly because I wasn’t there but Karl hit her.”

“What?” There’s some shuffling on the other end. “What do you mean hit her?”

“Not just once. She has bruises as a result.”

“Bruises?”

“I should get back to her, she might fall asleep but I’ll catch up with you later.” He doesn’t wait for Namjoon’s reply before cutting the call off and returning to your side out of worry that leaving you alone for too long won’t be good, and the fact that you might have actually fallen asleep on him.

Surprisingly you’re still awake, though your eyes are as droopy as they were when he left you.

“Can you turn over on your back?” Is the first thing he asks of you and you obey, turning over. The bed dips a little when he takes a seat beside you and that’s when you feel he begins to take your lashes off.

“You know there’s a lot of processes that go into taking off makeup, right?” You tell him when he takes the other one off.

“I know, bub, I’ve done it before.”

Right.

He’s helped you before.

“So just stay still, yeah? You don’t have to do anything.”

You listen to the lure of his voice, as soft as the way he used to speak to you all those years ago, and let your eyes close as he begins to swipe the makeup wipe over your face. It’s gentle the way he does it, almost as gentle as Dasom, and although he’s a little clumsy and isn’t as fast as she is, he does his best during it all.

When the makeup wipe is done, you feel your hair pushed back and a band coming over to keep it out of the way, then some sort of cloth on your chest and tied behind your neck.

Warm water walks over your face. Bits of it, not too much, not too little, so that you don’t get too wet anywhere else, and then the feel of soapy foam begins to rub in circles all over your face. The massage feels nice and you almost feel your consciousness slipping away but you keep awake to the touch of Jungkook’s hands.

About a minute later, he soaks a washcloth into water and starts to wipe the cleanser off you so that you don’t have to sit up and wash it off with water yourself.

It takes a moment but eventually, he gets it done, and then you feel a wet cotton pad swipe over next.

Something about all of this, the steps he memorized either for you from the past or the fact that he now does it himself regularly, feels rather domestic and just…soft.

And in your sleepy and tired state, you feel anything but uncomfortable, lured in with the feeling of basking on top of clouds with your head bathing under the warm sun with light little pitter patters of rain sprinkling over you.

You don’t know why you enjoy this so much despite how different it feels from when Dasom does it for you, but knowing that your trust is beginning to leak outside of Reapers somehow brings a sort of comfort you never thought you’d feel.

It’s a little frightening because trusting is always scary, especially for people that had once broken it, but for some reason, it just…feels right.

Somehow.

And maybe that’s because you know they were never at fault in the first place, that they were just forced into making an unwanted decision. 

Jung Hoseok would probably be in the same position as they were were he to realize the truth all those years ago. If he hadn’t gotten hurt on that mission. If he hadn’t been forced to lay on the infirmary bed in order to recover. If he hadn’t stood away from the six of them.

Even still, as you’ve said it plenty of times before, just because someone doesn’t mean them doesn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt.

In the safe space that they provided you, you were kicked out of your own comfort and forced to return to the hell you thought you had escaped.

“Why do you not cry?” His voice keeps you awake and when you look up at him through your lashes, eyes feeling quite dreary and heavy, he finds himself pausing in his ministrations as he stares down at you who’s looking up directly at him.

“Why do you ask that?” You return a question, voice just as soft.

Jungkook’s eyes trail down your face. “Karl…he…” he didn’t see what happened but the aftermath of it is right before his eyes. “And Leehyun and…..” He presses his lips together. “You have..so much to cry for.”

“...Do I now?”

“Is there nothing left?” He asks, a hand brushing back small strands of hair that tries to block your eyes.

You don’t nod because you’re too tired to move so you nod through a blink. “It’s all dried up.”

From the water that he used to clean your face, a drop falls from your lash and trails down your cheek, mirroring what a teardrop looks like, and then you say, “But…if I knew how to cry……do you think you deserve to see them?”

He doesn’t reply but you have your answer.

He doesn’t feel worthy.

This Jungkook and the Jungkook you once knew long ago are the same in the way they always feel unworthy of something. No matter how many times you can assure him, he will always think there is something he can do better, that he is undeserving, that he can never be enough.

But unlike idiots who simply say “I don’t deserve you” and go about their days after breaking your heart, Jungkook says it and steps up to do what he can to try and prove to himself that he can be someone deserving.

He always did all that he could and when there came a point when he looked as if he could finally come to terms with being at peace with his love for you, it was ripped away from him all too soon and now he’s back to square one, trying to prove himself.

Even if it isn’t in the form of love.

Jungkook will always care.

But even still,

“I still hate you.”

It comes out soft, it comes out quiet, and a little timid and a little brave, but you hadn’t meant for it to come out.

If you were wide awake, if you weren’t in such a vulnerable state, you would have never spoken those words to him. But because your consciousness is on the verge of slipping away, you speak them out loud for him to hear.

“I know.” And he replies in the same voice, the same softness, quiet, and timid, and brave.

He doesn’t leave your side even after those exchanges uttered unto each other and you fall asleep next to his presence, next to his comfort, next to his warmth.

.

.

.

Jungkook wasn’t there when Taehyung said he witnessed you sleepwalking but he said that it wasn’t the sort of sleepwalking you’d see in a normal person. He said you looked like a ghost more than anything, and that at times, you’d just stand still in the middle of the room and not move an inch.

No, not a ghost. A corpse.

And now here he is, after endless refusal to sleep and finally allowing your eyes to stay closed, he witnesses what Taehyung had meant.

A corpse standing still in the middle of the room, blanket over her shoulders, eyes staring up at the dim sky outside the window, blank and without any hint of life in them.

He watches you from a distance, a furrow in his brows, with his tongue bitten back and his fists clenched by his side.

Subtle anger lies in his heart, brewing, not at you but towards the world that has made you into the sort of person you are today. Or maybe it had always been this way, maybe you had always been hurting and he just never noticed, maybe it was always like this all along and maybe, perhaps, they made it worse when they left you all alone to fend for your own self.

Feeding you to the wolves.

He’s angry not just at the world but at himself and Jungkook knows that if the truth were to ever leave your lips about what actually happened to you, about all the things that you’ve gone through, he knows that this hatred he feels right now is only but a small fraction waiting to build up before it all breaks into the tiniest little pieces.

Shattering in the way he had broken you.

Shattered.

The world can only do so much but he encouraged it by standing by, by letting it all fall down onto you, by letting himself be convinced that you’d be fine, that everything would be alright.

But nothing turned out alright.

In the days and months and years that followed your absence, they returned to how things were, returned to loving one another, accepting one another, forgiving one another. But in those days and months and years, he can only imagine what sort of events you had to face.

While they had each other, while they always had each other to lean on, did you have anyone by your side?

The Reapers may be one thing, supporting you and giving you their utmost loyalty, but did they ever hold power over the things that happened to you in the way Namjoon could have handled it? In the way he would have handled it?

“Y/N?” You don’t answer him when he calls out to you but he expected that so he walks on over to where you’re standing.

You’re as still as ever, and he approaches with a careful, watchful gaze, hesitant when he reaches a finger over to you. 

A small touch to the blanket, just over your shoulder, and when you don’t freak out or move away from him, he puts two fingers. 

Then another.

Then another.

And when you don’t react to his hand, he proceeds to place a hand on your head and press it towards his chest.

You don’t resist.

“Come on, let’s head back to bed, yeah?” And understanding that you’re okay with him even in this lifeless state of yours, because he knows your body is capable of telling the people you trust and don’t trust apart, he puts his other hand under your knees and picks you up to carry you over back to the bed.

You comply well with him despite your unresponsive self, and when he tucks you back in with the blanket pulled over your chest, he looks back to see your eyes staring straight toward him. Empty yet lonely.

Vacant.

Not at him but through him, and his heart aches a little at the sight.

“You’re alright now,” Jungkook whispers. “You’re alright.”

If Hoseok had been here, would he have been able to do a better job looking after you?

Jungkook wishes he could have been better.

[reinbouxsworld]

Soooo hypothetically... Would Trey be Kanae???

In a short version?? YES.

But I planned to makes him the brother figure for both Cater and Riddle (as if both Shinobu and her own younger version). The butterfly state is ruled more like a merit position than a heirloom, so after the passing of its previous owner (by age), Trey would assume it and train Cater and right after his childhood friend, Riddle.

They had a lot of differences, but both started wearing a mask after Trey passing, and Cater being promoted as a hashira would make riddle tone down and revert his "rule obsession" (phrasing, is more like a ptd in here than a childhood originated trauma like in canon) over other things. Althrough Cater was not very open them, now he turned completely into his cheerful act.

[chuckeroo777]

Laios got Eaten AU Chapter 86-Finale

Chapters 1-52, Chapters 53-85

Welcome back! It's time to bring this to a close! Expect the chapter format to break down once we get into it!

As always, a spoiler warning for pretty much all of Dungeon Meshi. Let's go!

Chapter 86:

The first bit is mostly the same, except since the pearlipede isn't a weapon, there is no seppuku scare.

Flamela, as usual, has no chill. While she knows Falin isn't to blame, everything is still majorly f***ed. She starts blabbing about what needs to be done now, filling in the hole, evacuating everyone, preparing a substitute lord...

A substitute lord. Falin grows very quiet, a vacant look in her eyes. Marcille knows it all too well. Falin is thinking hard about something.

After a long pause, Falin looks to Marcille. There is an almost frightening intensity in her gaze. An intensity Marcille has only seen once before.

Falin declares that she knows how to stop the Demon for good. She must become lord of the dungeon.

Everyone immediately freaks out. This is clearly an awful idea, and Falin is failing to elaborate.

Before they can get Falin to explain herself, the Demon makes itself known in it's giant form. The raw intensity of Falin's desire has it intrigued.

Falin doesn't say another word as the lion grabs the tower and swallows it whole, the rest of the party completely freaking out.

Chapter 87:

Identical

Chapter 88:

Once they arrive in the bone zone, Falin goes to approach the lion, but Marcille stops her. What exactly is she planning?

Falin takes a deep breath, before wavering, and then grabs Marcille in a tight embrace. Falin begs Marcille and the other's forgiveness for what she is about to do.

Falin kisses Marcille on the lips. Marcille is left stunned for a few seconds too long, and Falin runs off before she can stop her.

Realizing that Falin is about to sacrifice herself, everyone runs after her, but it is too late. Falin stands before the Demon, and states her desire.

"Make me the Lord of the Dungeon. However it has to happen, I desire the power to keep everyone safe from you. Forever."

They watch in horror as the Demon wraps its wings around her, and they both vanish from sight.

Chapter 89:

The demon's pocket dimension starts to shake. The bones begin to swirl and collapse. As the party is dragged under, they catch a brief glimpse of a massive figure rising from the bones. A familiar face, now sporting five hourglass eyes.

Marcille and the others fall into the water. They panic as they are helped up by Namari and the others. Falin did... something. And isn't coming back.

The original chapter structure breaks down completely here.

Nobody is given a chance to process this news, as the dungeon suddenly starts shifting again. Whole swaths are pulled back underground, and the hole in the ceiling begins to seal back up. The dungeon is reverting into it's previous form.

Many of the groups get separated in the panic, and people are dispersed across the dungeon.

Once things settle down a little, Marcille, Senshi, Chilchuck, and Izutsumi find themselves in the fifth level, back in the castle town, on the street were the red dragon fell.

Marcille breaks down into tears, the totality of what has happened finally sinking in. Senshi and Chilchuck have no idea what to say, but do their best to comfort her. Even Izutsumi reluctantly offers a hug.

After a little while, Chilchuck suggests that they should probably start heading for the surface. It shouldn't be too hard, since by sheer luck (or perhaps the dungeon's will), their bags and equipment ended up with them here.

As they awkwardly prepare to leave, they are interrupted by the sound of wings. The Laigon swoops down, and lands in front of them.

There is a moment of panic, but then they realize that the chimera isn't attacking. Laios is so happy to see his friends again, though, he is a little confused. His memories under Thistle's control are hazy, and his vocal cords are malformed, making it tricky for him to talk much.

Marcille and the others are overjoyed that Laios is alright, though the reunion is definitely bittersweet. Laios is devastated to learn that Falin sacrificed herself. But ultimately, they all need to keep going, to honor her memory.

They begin to make their way up the dungeon. Laios is excited to finally be able to assess his new body in his right mind. The dragon's soul is still there in full force, but it's controllable, just like when Laios was first revived. He only wishes his sister was here to see him finally fulfill his dream.

The dungeon is oddly calm, with the monsters keeping to themselves, and there being more fountains and food (Such as patches of Barometz and mandrakes) to be found.

As they progress, they run across more people. They meet up with Toshiro, Namari, Kabru, and Thistle on the third floor, and Laios is quick to apologize for his actions. Kabru immediately throws Thistle under the bus, pointing out that it's him who should be apologizing.

Thistle does not apologize.

After a few days travel, they make their way to the first floor. It is much bigger and more spacious than before. Everyone has met up here to discuss what happens next. Laios sits by the well to conserve his strength. He probably won't be able to leave the dungeon in his current form.

They meet up with Pattadol and get the scoop. It seems that not only has this dungeon calmed down, but dungeons across the world are calming down too. Where normally dungeons try to fan the desires of their inhabitants, the dungeons have all become oddly passive.

Marcille is about to willingly let herself be arrested by the canaries, when there is sudden another rumble. The big well at the center of the plaza begins to bubble, and a shocking figure emerges from the water.

It is Falin, in her full blown demon form.

She has eschewed the lion imagery, instead taking on the form of a terrifying yet elegant centipede woman. Her face is mostly the same, but with three additional eyes peeking out from her messy bangs, all five wide with infinity pupils. Her body is long and serpentine, with dozens of arms lining the sides. Layered golden robes complete the look. She is nearly 20 feet long, and that's only the portion sticking out of the fountain.

Before even figuring out what the hell is going on, Marcille and Laios rush forward and tearfully embrace Falin. Everyone else is understandably shocked and confused, but Falin begins to explain what happened.

When she became lord, she fused with the demon. As an nonliving creature, its will became subsumed by hers. She feared that its one true instinct, the desire to feed on desires, would overwhelm her, and she initially planned to sequester herself away from the world. However, she soon discovered a solution.

Auto-cannibalism.

Yeah, turns out she could just consume her own desire to eat desires, allowing her to assume full control of her new infinite form without the demon's corrupting influence.

(Author's note: Initially, I was struggling to figure out the ending, since a Golbetty solution was the only one I could think of. But then I realized, why does that have to be a downer ending. If I want a happy ending, I can just... do it. Plus, if auto-cannibalism isn't a peak Dungeon Meshi solution, I don't know what is.)

Falin wants to keep her use of her infinite power at a minimum, but there are a few things she definitely wants to do. First, she makes sure everyone who was affected by Marcille's reign is healed up.

Next, with Laios' help to guide her hand, she modifies his chimera form so he can live comfortably on the surface. The wings have to go, and he is made considerably smaller, more resembling a draconic centaur.

She then begins the process of ejecting the golden country from the dungeon. Once Yaad is returned to his body, he ends up being made the leader of the restored nation. The orcs are of course allowed in, and it eventually becomes a prosperous nation.

After determining that he is only capable of very rudimentary magic without his book, The elves release Thistle into the kingdom's custody a few years later. Thistle never reunites with Delgal, but at least his people are happy. He proceeds to be the grumpy court mage.

Chilchuck moves to Kahka Brud and opens a shop. He eventually reunites with his wife with Marcille's help, and the two reconcile.

Senshi returns to living in the dungeon. It is now mostly just level 6 and 7, though Falin creates plenty of caves and spaces for biodiversity to proliferate. Senshi primarily lives in the new first floor, tending the golems. He is able to massively expand his operation, becoming Melini and Kahka Brud's primary provider of cabbage and root vegetables.

Falin proposes that with her new powers, she could seperate Izutsumi's components safely. But after giving it a good hard think over a few weeks, Izutsumi realizes... she doesn't actually want that. The only reason she ever wanted that was because people treated her as an unnatural freak. And after hanging out with people who respect her for what she is, she no longer wants to give up what makes her 'her'. She ends up living around Melini, mostly squatting with her friends and hunting monsters with Laios. She does end up finding the dark mage who created her, and gets him put away for life.

While Demon Falin is a kindhearted soul, there is one instance the canaries noticed where she was extremely uncooperative. When attempting to arrest Marcille for her dungeon lord shenanigans, Falin kept changing the subject, and getting progressively more annoyed. They ultimately decide to let her have Marcille, not wanting to piss off the young goddess.

Kabru ends up becoming the governor of the dungeon, keeping track of coming and goings, making sure everyone explores safely, and generally making sure things run smoothly. Mithrun ends up retiring from the canaries and decides to work with Kabru.

Toshiro returns to the east, but he periodically still comes back to visit Falin and his friends. After a few more years of dungeoneering, Namari ends up opening an armor and weapons store.

While his home is in the dungeon, Laios ends up working for Yaad and the kingdom, using his knowledge and chimera strength to hunt down dangerous monsters spotted around the kingdom.

Falin is restricted to the dungeon, but she doesn't mind as long as all her friends are able to visit. She ends up being revered as the new deity of Melini. While she mostly doesn't want to use her powers willy nilly, she is always happy to heal those who ask. Plus, she is present in all the remaining ancient dungeons, ensuring they all remain stable and safe for those wishing to explore them.

Marcille of course lives in the dungeon with Falin, and continues to study magic, particularly of the ancient variety. She makes all sorts of useful discoveries over the years, and comes to be rather famous, despite her criminal past. Eventually, Falin ends up making Marcille a chimera so that Falin, Marcille, and Laios can be together for a very long time. Plus, Marcille and Falin have all sorts of real freaky sex.

And they all lived happily ever after. The end.

Thanks to everyone who has enjoyed my silly little AU. I hope you enjoyed this crazy finale, even if it's 90% wish fulfillment on my part.

Till next time!

[wonie-not-wony]

confession.

pairing. roommate!beomgyu x gn!reader synopsis. Deciding to finish the essay you were working on yesterday, your roomate beomgyu suddenly runs into your arms? genre. angst, mostly fluff! warnings. kisses a/n. miss me? �� it's been 7 months 😺 ha ha ha ha (soobin ver.)

As you diligently worked on your essay in the living room, Beomgyu surprised you by suddenly shutting your laptop and wrapping his arms around you. Bewildered, you questioned if everything was okay, but he remained silent. Sensing his deliberate avoidance, you reassured him with comforting headpats.

Beomgyu nestled against you, his arms wrapped tightly around you. His behavior was even stranger than usual, and though he didn't respond to your questions, you understood that he was intentionally ignoring them. Softly patting his head to provide reassurance, you felt both confused and deeply concerned for him.

With a quiet smile, Beomgyu leaned into the head pats. Though more lovingly than usual, he was beginning to revert to his previous state. He looked content and at ease.

"You can talk to me, gyu. I'm always here to listen."

Beomgyu leaned back and looked at you seriously. He hesitated before responding, and instead, he pulled you closer to him.

"Gyu, I still need to do my essay, you know."

Beomgyu frowned and appeared reluctant to let you continue working. With a sigh, he continued cuddling you and pleaded, "Please, don't work now. Just cuddle with me for a bit longer."

Sensing the way his face darkened, you decided to let him seek comfort in your embrace.

Beomgyu smiled and pulled you even closer, nuzzling his face into your neck as he closed his eyes.

"What's wrong?" you asked, as Beomgyu continued to hold you tightly. He appeared somewhat guilty as he sighed softly.

"It's nothing... I just missed you," he murmured softly, pulling you even closer. His level of affection was unprecedented, something he had never done before.

"Are you sure you're okay? You've never been this... vulnerable with me," you cautiously inquired.

Beomgyu sighed softly, that's when you noticed his red eyes and tired expression. Something must be wrong.

"You're the only one I can be vulnerable with, y/n," Beomgyu whispered tenderly, leaning in closer.

Your heart skipped a beat. What did he just say?

Beomgyu looked embarrassed, averting his gaze.

"I like you," he whispered, feeling somewhat guilty. You could feel his blush under your hands. He had never been this vulnerable with you before.

"Like, romantically," he clarified, realizing the significance of his confession.

You looked at him with shock for a moment; his words made your heart flutter.

"I like you too, gyu," you said softly.

Beomgyu's eyes widened, surprise evident on his face. His cheeks reddened, and he was momentarily speechless.

"Really...?" his voice regained its soft, sweet tone. He didn't know how to react, but he was undeniably happy. He stared at you for a moment before leaning in to give you a small, sweet kiss on your cheek.

"Why didn't we date sooner? I could've gotten kisses like this from you."

With a smile on his face and a comforting expression, Beomgyu rested his head on yours. He cuddled up against you and chuckled.

"I don't know, y/n," he whispered softly, still smiling. "I guess I was just so scared of ruining what we already have, and I really didn't want to lose you." His tone was gentle, and his voice exuded warmth.

"I'm glad I gave in... because now I have you all to myself." He placed another affectionate kiss on your cheek. "All yours, Choi Beomgyu" you laughed and gave him a quick peck on the nose in response.

Beomgyu smiled, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you into a loving and sweet hug. His lips brushed against your neck, sending a delightful tingle throughout your body. His touch was warm and gentle, making you feel secure and at ease. In a soft and romantic tone, he whispered once more.

"You're mine, y/n" He smiled gently, his voice full of sweetness and heart eyes just for you.

© wonie-not-wony. all rights reserved. please don’t repost, plagiarize and translate.

[thirsty4villains]

Cool Heat

Summary: You're an assistant for the Avengers. Loki has been hiding up in his room for the past week. You go to check on him and he's reverted back to his Jotun form, but he's not quite himself. The two of you discover that Jotuns go into cycles of heat, and Loki hasn't been in his Jotun form for over a millennia...

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Mentions of dubcon

Tags: Loki lives in Stark Tower with the Avengers, PIV, smut, humor, romance, Jotun!Loki, dom!Loki, spanking, more tags to be added

Find me on AO3, Wattpad. Previous chapters/other Loki fics on Tumblr by me here.

Notes: THANK YOU GUYS FOR BEING SO PATIENT, I'm sorry this chapter took so long to roll out. Real life stuff, I hope y'all understand. Please enjoy!

Tagged users: @nyxxharmonia @mischief2sarawr @drunkbirdbug @lorelibrarianlizbit @strawberry--fawn @thenotoriouserg @hereforsmutbcicantgetenough @salvinaa @bellajg21 lorielulu7 

CHAPTER 4

You woke up feeling more rested than you did most mornings. If you knew Loki was this good at sex you may have hit him up earlier. Asshole or no, he knew what he was doing. Last night’s events replayed in your head repeatedly: your dream that wasn’t a dream, your conversation, and ultimately the conclusion. They spun around in your head as you tried to assess because it was hard to believe that you had sex with Loki. You also wondered, was it wrong that you weren’t angry at him for having sex while you were unconscious? It definitely wasn’t right of him, but you’d been feeling so lonely and horny – horny for him – that you didn’t care. You quite enjoyed it, actually.

After mulling these thoughts, you took a shower, got dressed, and threw the sheets in the washer. It was nearing 11:00 am on a Tuesday. Shit, you were supposed to submit some reports to Coulson by nine!

You ran to the elevator and went back up to the penthouse. Gathering your paperwork and opening your laptop, you opened up the S.H.I.E.L.D. database and began uploading the work you should have submitted two hours ago. Thankfully, there were no text messages, emails in your inbox, or missed calls on your phone, so Coulson must be preoccupied this morning. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice the time stamp that read 11:28am.

In this moment you were eternally grateful the majority of your work was remote because if you came into S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters three hours late because you slept in, Fury would have your head.

With that problem finished, you went to check on Loki. Back down in the bedroom areas, you stood in the hallway and knocked on his bedroom door. A sense of deja vu swept over you.

“Come in,” the god’s voice said behind the door.

The knob turned and you entered Loki’s room. He sat on his bed, staring at the wall opposite him. He seemed not all there.

“Loki?” you asked. “How are you feeling?”

“Not worse, but not better, either.”

“So you’re still..?”

“Still enormously frustrated sexually? Yes.”

A wave of insecurity washed over you. “It wasn’t… bad, was it?”

He shook his head. “Quite the contrary, it was exactly what I needed. I felt better, instantly. But it came back as soon as I awoke this morning. The fundamental issue I am facing, however, is this dreaded blue color – and these horns. I cannot will this form away with magic no matter how hard I try.”

You apologized for his state.

“Are you not disgusted by me?” the god asked. “After last night?”

“I already told you that it’s okay, you weren’t yourself,” you said.

“I also meant… after.”

“Like, the actual sex?”

He nodded.

“Are you not disgusted by this brutish, carnal form? How rough I was with you. These horns… these claws…” He sneered after looking at his own nails.

“No.” You blushed. “It was really hot, actually.”

For the first time in days, he laughed an actual, genuine laugh. “Sincerely? You human women are so strange. No Asgardian woman in their right mind would bed a Jotun.”

“Their loss,” you said.

He furrowed his eyebrow at you but also, perhaps there was a hint of a smile?

“No matter, my predicament is… URGH!”

Out of nowhere, Loki curled his right hand into a fist and punched the wall. Little pieces of drywall flew outward. Loki retracted his hand and a fist-sized hole was left behind in its wake. He dusted off a thin layer of powder from his knuckles.

You jumped back. “What was that?!”

Loki’s shoulders heaved. “I don’t know! That’s the problem! I don’t know. I have no clue why this is happening now, and why it’s so drastic. I get these changes in mood, like I’m nothing but an adolescent again who cannot even master his own emotions. I feel virile yet emasculated. We had intercourse, so why was it not enough?”

He punched the wall a second time. With gritted teeth and labored breaths he stared at it and you were unsure if the god was lost in thought or would lose his temper entirely. You watched his pecs and the dark blue ridges upon his body move up and down with his breaths. His lean arms, the biceps on them; those horns, those eyes…

Okay, snap back to reality. Loki’s having a crisis. Sex is the only thing that made him feel himself again, even if it was just for a few hours. Like he said, he was in heat; maybe just one go isn’t enough to get the job done.

“Well, we know what we have to do, then.” You outstretched your arms, offering yourself.

He turned from the wall. “What are you –”

“What position do you want me in, Loki?” You interrupted, asserting yourself. You fought the blush creeping up your cheeks. “On my back? On my side? Do you want me to blow you first? Pick one. You want to fix this, right?”

Loki stood there in shock; examining your face, your body language. Or was he checking you out? He dropped his fist that was prepping to punch the wall and his lips stretched into a devious grin.

“On the bed, all fours.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” you replied.

Stripping yourself of your clothes, you approached his bed, staying in the crawling position upon his mattress.

To your side he stripped as well, and he was already rock hard. That blueish purple cock sprang from his pants, rearing to go. He climbed onto the bed behind you, examining your backside. You jolted forward as his cold hands touched your thighs. You’d forgotten how cold he felt. His icy fingers traced the smooth skin of your legs.

Then out of nowhere, he spanked you. A cold, red handprint decorated your bottom.

You gave a small screech, jolting forward again – both from the low temperature and the sudden smack.

“You like that?” he asked.

“Mm-hmm,” you muttered, nodding.

Another smack, and this next screech was mixed with a moan.

“Your assertiveness was quite endearing, but remember your tone when speaking to your king.”

He spanked your ass again.

“My – my king?” you asked.

“Yes, your king. Did I not mention to you the other day that I was kept as a bargain by Odin? I wasn’t any Jotun child, I was Laufey’s son, the king of the Jotuns.”

Another spanking. You felt yourself grow wet amidst the pain.

“N – no, you didn’t mention that part.”

“Though I failed to conquer Earth, and Thor is the first heir to Asgard, since Laufey is dead I am still a king in my own right – of Jotunheim.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, my king.”

He gave you one last spanking, a lighter smack, a playful one. “I forgive you,” he said, lowering himself over your back, so his lips could graze your ear. He placed his hands on your butt, to soothe the irritated skin. The iciness felt good but you also squirmed due to your skin being so sensitive there.

With his new position, his cock rested against your cunt. You prevented yourself from lurching forward. He rubbed the cold member against your lips.

“Now your king shall claim what is his.”

Without further warning, Loki penetrated your opening, sinking completely within you. His chilly member made you clench around him. You gasped as you acclimated to him. Oh god, he was big. You didn’t know how you could forget since the last time you fucked him was literally hours ago, yet you were still in awe. His cool, dextrous fingers brushed your hips, finding the perfect place to grip in order to rail you. Then, he moved within you, and you already felt your juices coating him and your own thighs. Completely at his mercy, you allowed him to take all of you, as you kneeled on the bed, all fours, like an animal. He slipped in and out of your cunt at a deliciously fast pace, hitting the right spot every time. Your arms barely kept upright as you tried to keep up the weight of yourself and your balance as the god of mischief rocked your body.

While fucking you, Loki removed one hand from your hip to grasp your hair and tugged. Your head tilted backward so that you were forced to look straight forward instead of below. On one hand you could count how many times you were in Loki’s room, and you didn’t realize until now that he had a mirror mounted above the bed frame, so when he pulled your hair you were forced to look at the scene. You, your tits hanging, on hands and knees, and the blue god of mischief with one hand fisted in your hair and his cock taking you for all you’re worth. His mouth flashed a devious smile as your eyes connected through the mirror, and his red eyes gleamed of hunger and dominance. He tightened his fist in your hair and spoke.

“Enjoying the view?”

In your pleasure you found it difficult to form words.

He spanked your ass. The combination of that, your hair, the view ahead, and your cunt sent sparks through your body. A high-pitched moan escaped your lips.

“I asked you a question.”

Your legs quaked like jello, but you managed to say: “Yes!”

The light in the god’s eyes danced. Another smile graced his face, “Good.” 

He released your hair. Your head fell forward again, your arms collapsed underneath you, and now your face was buried in the mattress. With nothing but your ass in the air, Loki continued to drive into your pussy, chuckling at the state of you; tired, splayed out, and completely surrendered to him. He gave another playful spanking on your behind.

You gathered the blankets underneath, balling them in your fists as Loki delivered your pleasure unto you. All you could do was hold on, listen to the sounds of his hips slapping your skin and the wet noises of furious lovemaking, and praise his body into the bed. Your legs, before jello, were now an autumn leaf shaking in the wind and you knew you were so close. Loki dug his claws into your hips, claiming you once again and you were gone. Shouting into the blankets, your cunt tensed before finally releasing, and you climaxed on the god’s cold, pulsing cock; riding the waves and yet somehow keeping your ass in the air.

Your climax, however, was the catalyst for his own and Loki burst within you, sending a final few thrusts into your hole. He filled you again, uttering his own release to the heavens. Then you both collapsed onto the bed.

When he found the strength to roll off you, you excused yourself to his bathroom to clean up. After that, as well as re-brushing your hair and getting dressed, you entered his bedroom again to find him on the bed reading a book. Loki was still naked as the day he was born. One long, lean blue leg was crossed over the other as he lay back. Your eyes traced the ridges of his Jotun form up along his toned body, then up his face and ending at the curve of his horns. His eyelashes fluttered against his ruby-red eyes. How in the world did he see himself ugly in this form?

You spoke up: “It’s getting close to afternoon. I’m gonna make breakfast. Want anything?”

Loki looked up from his book and nodded. “Yes, I’ll be up in a minute. I’ll have whatever you are having.”

“Cool,” you said, returning upstairs to the penthouse.

In the kitchen you pulled out the cookware and ingredients to make scrambled eggs and hash browns. The items sizzled on the pans, filling the kitchen with the aroma of eggs, potatoes, and spices. Your stomach growled in approval and restlessness. Loki joined shortly behind you, now clothed in his usual garb of black and green. His horns stood high and mighty, even regal, atop his head, cutting through the air.

“This is the first time I have been out in this state at midday in nearly a fortnight,” Loki remarked. He looked around the room, almost as if he’d forgotten what it looked like bathed in noon’s light. 

“That’s rough. I’m sorry,” you said. “How do you feel now?”

“Better – much. I had thought I would need intercourse once and this would go away. Now, I am not so sure. I am hoping… soon.”

You nodded. “Yeah, especially since we don’t know when the others will come back from that mission, and if you’re still ‘sick’,” you airquoted. “...by the time they get back, I’m pretty sure they’re going to start getting nosy, maybe even suspicious.”

Loki growled, not enthused by that thought. A slight tingle tickled your southern area. Instantly, you wondered: were you an asshole for being attracted to his irritability? It’s not like you meant to, but the growling was, well…

“Do you need help with the cooking?” Loki said, interrupting your thoughts.

“Yes, thank you.” Good distraction from that moral dilemma. Thank you, Loki. “Actually, could you help clean up? Put some of the things away for me while I watch the stove?”

The god nodded and proceeded to help with his tasks. Cabinets were opened and closed as he put the spices away, he went and washed the silverware you weren’t using anymore, and threw the eggshells and other trash in the garbage. The food would be ready in just a few minutes.

The kitchen grew quiet again when he finished. So quiet, you thought he may have slinked off somewhere – to the bathroom or something. Until you felt a pair of hands on your hips.

“And you are well after our encounters?” he asked, his voice low and husky. His cool breath tickled your ear. 

One of his hands moved lower, cupping your ass slightly. A jolt of electricity flowed through you. He had you pinned between his front and the kitchen counter.

“The eggs,” you said in protest. 

“What about the eggs?” he quipped, squeezing you lightly.

“They’ll burn. Don’t distract me.”

“Then don’t get distracted.”

Loki proceeded to move his other hand to your other ass cheek, kneading both hands on your behind through your shorts. His mouth lowered closer to you, gliding his cold tongue against your neck. The hairs on your arms stood on their ends, goosebumps budding. The god licked slowly, deliberately. You shivered and Loki chuckled lightly against your skin. He bared his teeth -- his fangs -- and grazed the points over your carotid.

You tried to pay attention to the cooking food; flipping over the eggs, watching the potatoes, adjusting the heat as necessary. However, you were facing much difficulty ignoring the rising heat within your body.

Loki switched between teeth and tongue, lapping and nipping at your neck. You gasped when he bit your earlobe, smoothing over the pain with another lick. One of his hands moved to your front, sneaking underneath your shorts and underwear to play with you. His fingers toyed with your slit, wetting them in your slick and using his lubricated digits to circle your clit. You did your best to not lurch into the hot stove with his cold hands pleasuring you. Your hands gripped the handle on the oven as you moaned aloud.

“I told you not to get distracted,” the god teased. You opened your eyes – which you didn’t realize you’d even closed and quickly removed the eggs from the heat. The ends browned a bit, but they were nowhere close to burned; just a bit more cooked than you’d like them to be.

Your hands returned to the oven’s door handle, bracing yourself so your legs wouldn’t give in. Loki teased you mercilessly: one hand on your ass, the other playing with your clit, and his mouth, tongue, and lips attacking your neck and ear. You could already feel the hickey forming.

“Turn your head toward me,” the god urged.

You did, and met his gaze. He stole a kiss, deep and wanton, and cold; deliciously and illicitly cold. As you kissed, you realized this was your first one with him. A bit backwards, given you’d had sex twice before even kissing, but not unwanted. No, not unwanted at all. His kiss made you lightheaded and shivery, especially as he dove his tongue into your mouth. All this while he massaged your clit, soft and engorged and wet.

When the kiss broke, you took the hash browns off the heat too. “It’s hard to not get distracted when I can’t even see what’s in front of me.”

“Well, there’s no more distracting then, given the food’s done.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Loki yanked your shorts and underwear down your legs. They pooled at your ankles. He barely gave you any time to shake them off before parting your legs for him, exposing your opening for him, and he entered you swiftly. You gave a choked sound as you adjusted to him, his thick, chilly, irresistible cock planted within you. His hands moved; one on hip and the other under your shirt to pinch your nipples.

“I thought you were good,” you croaked.

“Oh, I’m more than good now,” Loki uttered as he began to move within you.

“I mean… We just fucked… not even twenty minutes ago, and already… Mmmf.” You bit your lip as he hit that sweet spot within you.

“What can I say? I finished cleaning up, then I began watching you. Your shorts barely covering your ass, accentuating your thighs, how your hair cascades down your shoulders. Something like a switch flipped inside me. I had to have you. You won’t deny me now, surely?”

“N – no.” Your thighs pressed together and your eyes shut closed. With anyone else this would be too much, but with him you didn’t find yourself growing tired, nor sore, nor overstimulated. Something about Loki, his touch, his voice made you want his sex just as much as he required it for his sanity.

So he fucked you there, on the kitchen counter, in front of the stove. The god of mischief thrusted into you, his chest pressed against your back. The chill of his skin radiated from his chest through your shirt, and of course his cold hands on your breasts and cock buried inside you aroused your senses and your attention. He drove his cock upward, and the best you could do was hold on for dear life as he fucked his divine jotun lechery into you. As they did when you were taken from behind, your thighs shook, your pussy clenched, and with a snap Loki spilled his frigid seed into you. His fingernails dug into your hips and teeth sunk into your neck as he completed his final thrusts, filling you with his load.

The two of you took a moment to catch your breaths. His chest rose and fell against your back, his wintry breath panting upon your skin. When he removed himself, a wet plop noise sounded as his cock exited you. His seed within you trickled down your legs, droplets of him dripping onto the tile floor. You moaned impatiently upon his removal, as you were still flushed with arousal. 

“Patience, woman,” the god spoke. “I am not yet done.”

Without warning, he grabbed you and moved you to an empty space on the counter. Placing you with your back against the granite, he lined his still erect cock with your entrance. His hands grabbed your ankles, resting them on the dip of his shoulders and again, he drove into you.

You screamed.

The frost giant god railed you with his cock, with complete and total access to your cunt, filling you to the brim. Within seconds, he hit the sweet spot within you at the perfect, fast, desperate pace, and you came on him. Your walls pulsed and contracted as you rode his cold member through your orgasm, screaming at the ceiling of Stark Tower. All the muscles in your body relaxed and you finally opened your eyes to see the face of a demon grinning lasciviously at you. His raven black hair rested upon his shoulders, a pretty contrast to his sapphire skin, and you watched him as he fucked you to a second completion.

A third time today – or was it fourth, since technically you fucked after midnight last night, and then this morning, and now… Your brain was too addled but yes, four was probably right. For a fourth time today, Loki came inside you, his member pulsating within you, ejaculating and filling you once again.

He bent down and bit your neck before separating. His scarlet eyes roamed over your body, entirely used and spent. He chuckled to himself. You must have been quite a sight at the moment, with your hair every which way and utterly drenched of him.

With a flick of his wrist, a golden hue emanated from his hands and then disappeared – the mess with it. All of his cum – on the counter, inside you, on the floor, vanished as if it had never existed. With a light head you carefully sat up and jumped down from the counter.

“You look like you’re about to faint,” Loki said.

“I’ll be fine, I just need food. It’s not customary for me to fuck multiple times before breakfast. I’m on an empty stomach right now and I just came three times in half an hour.”

You redressed yourself and plated the food. “Great, well, it’s almost cold now. You interested in cold eggs? ‘Cause that’s what we’re getting.”

“Are you saying you regret our tryst?” he teased.

“No. Yes… I don’t know. No, no I don’t regret it, but I don’t want cold breakfast either!”

You plopped your plate on the dining table harder than was necessary and sat in the chair, ready to eat your sad breakfast.

The god flicked his wrist again, and instantly steam emanated from your food. The smell of warm food filled your nostrils again and you devoured your breakfast.

“Would a ‘thank you’ hurt?”

“Fank you,” you said, mouth half-full.

Loki quirked an eyebrow at the utter impropriety. He redressed himself and joined you at the table.

“We are probably going to need to fuck once breakfast is finished. I’m already feeling the urge again.”

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” you muttered. This was the worst best problem you’ve ever encountered.

And he was true to his word. When the dishes were loaded into the dishwasher, Loki had you on the counter again.

[sadoeuphemist]

If in danger of being captured, the Cuarrion will take on the appearance of its last victim, assuming it has already consumed enough of their body to facilitate the transformation. It will speak with its victim's tongue, show recognition in their eyes, throw wide their arms in embrace and cry out with all their heart, having been rescued naked and quivering from the beast's den.

Thus discovered, the Cuarrion will allow itself to be led back to civilization to be embraced and wept over and tended to, steadily convalescing, wearing its victim's footsteps to trace out their old habits. As the attentiveness of its companions wanes, the Cuarrion will take the first opportunity to escape back into the wild, taking on its true form again, usually claiming another victim along the way.

If, however, the Cuarrion is kept under constant scrutiny, it will find no opportunity to revert and instead will settle deeper and deeper into its disguise. It no longer needs to hunt: it bears its victim's stomach and intestines and so can subsist happily on their diet. The gestures of familiarity, rather than being second nature to it, will simply become its nature. There are stories of Cuarrion who have lived for decades in the same village, borne children, presided over local festivals, lived to bounce hosts of grandchildren on their knee, been interred in the village cemetery with all the honors befitting an elder of their repute.

There are also stories of Cuarrion who, after decades of peaceful cohabitation, have reverted to their monstrous natures for seemingly no reason at all. When a reason can be located, it is usually some sort of violent shock to the self: a stroke, an assault, an infidelity, the death of a loved one, the uncovering of another Cuarrion.

The ethics of keeping a Cuarrion in captivity are hotly debated. It is difficult to blame the family of a child slain by the Cuarrion, who, having recovered a child in the exact image of theirs, calling out familiar names in a familiar tongue, miraculously alive and whole, will insist on treating it exactly as their child.

Scholars of the Cuarrion's anatomy maintain that even if some vital portion of the victim remains within the beast, it will be inevitably digested over time, as evidenced by the fact that victims who have gone missing weeks prior are found gibbering and semi-feral and must be rehabilitated back into their previous states, if ever; whereas a victim who has gone missing just that day will be found talkative and spry and seemingly unharmed. If the Cuarrion can copy a person identically, the scholars say, it is only through habit and mimicry, blood congealing into the shape of its mold.

If the Cuarrion themselves are asked for input, opinions vary. Most are circumspect. Many prefer not to discuss it at all. The elders among them, who have lived out their lives, tend to speak more freely. "Yes, I consumed the child I was to become who I am, a long time ago, a long time ago," says one, eyes clouded and distant, remembering. "A tragedy, yes. But, eh, so do we all."

[frenchiefie]

OMG i am def not a writer so this def won't be a fic but like... since shadow milk holds the power of deceit, I could totally imagine a fic where he pretends to basically like, revert to his previous self with no memories of his time as a beast, maybe even to the point where he deceives himself... he starts trying to get close to PV as a way to lure him in and use him, but starts to feel as if his time as a beast was just a bad dream, especially with how jumbled his mental state is from years in imprisonment, it's almost easier to write it off as a bad dream... the witches couldn't be *that* cruel, could they? Sure, he has more outbursts than he remembers, sometimes a crazed giggle escapes him when he sees someone get hurt... but it's easy to overlook when he has such an interesting cookie to focus on and talk with late into the night. He stays in the peaceful ignorance, till the other beasts eventually come to find him.

idk i had this a lot more thought out in my head but i'm drinking wine with my partner and i'm tipsy so hopefully this concept makes sense lmfaooooo

he does eventually regain full understanding of himself in the present but with a lingering, genuine feeling of connection (and perhaps other feelings he can't- or doesn't want to - dwell on) with that thief of a cookie who took his soul jam 😞

I'm just trying to decide if this would be more interesting as a concept before or after their initial encounter. Like is this PV's first time ever meeting SM face to face and doesn't know his history, or does he already know him and is somehow convinced that SM forgot everything he did as a beast 🤔

ANYWAY this idea is up for grabs if any writers want it. Like please I need more fics of them 😭😭😭