#the killer for the pies fucking rules

[killedthekat]

im retroactively experiencing the cultural event known as Blaseball via the wiki and dang i really should have gotten into it when it was still going.

[it-is-i-zim]

May I ask you about n°22 -"your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores" for Captain Boomerang?

In short? His whole ass existence is ignored. He's my boy and he's often put in a dumpster and then that dumpster is set on fire and that on fire dumpster is then thrown onto a desert island and that desert island is full of demons that eat on fire dumpsters.

This is ESPECIALLY true when it comes to his comic counterpart. No one even wants to look in his direction unless they're a hater. For 2 years I've been fighting for my life about this man because everyone *cough cough* Tim Drake fans* couch cough* wanted to talk shit on him.

All I ever hear about is Kill the Justice League Boomerang. Don't get me wrong, I love him. He's everything I wish Comic Boomerang was, but it's only Kill the Justice League Boomerang right now. Up until like 2021, it was pretty much only Jai Courtney Boomerang, who I'm not particularly fond of btw. He literally does not even look like Captain Boomerang at all.

But in all seriousness, what the fandom likes to ignore is that he's a former Flash Rogue. For me there was always this sort of complex morality that I liked when it came to the Rogues, but because Captain Boomerang is most often Suicide Squad member, if he shows up at all honestly, that part of him is ignored in both canon and fanon. Canon writers want him to be a mercenary or an assassin so bad but it just doesn't fit him. And fanon doesn't want to touch him at all unless their a Tim Drake fan. Then they'll go overboard with the murder and the stabbiness.

Like... Captain Boomerang is not a killer unless put in extreme circumstances. That's how Rogues work. They aren't going around and killing innocent people and everyone acts like that's what Boomer does because he's killing people (usually fascist dictators btw. Not usually random people) for the US government. Not even of his own free will. He's got a bomb in his head and if he doesn't murder these people he's killed.

Even the game fucks this up btw, using Mirror Master and Top as examples of Rogues that'll be mad that Boomer killed the Flash. Like... If this is Evan McCulloch specifically... Do I need to remind the class he dressed up as Pied Piper to kill Pied Piper's parents to accuse Pied Piper of murdering his own parents? I know that's when he was one of Blacksmith's Rogues, but he's still a Rogue. And with Top... He tried to start a war between Rogues so Captain Cold, who literally made the no killing rule and is a stickler for the rules, murdered the Top. And if I learned anything from the story where Walter West as Dark Flash nearly kills Captain Boomerang... The Rogues can and will have the intention to kill a Flash if they're legitimately a danger to their safety. And Kill the Justice League Flash would have for sure killed countless people if not for the Squad killing him so honestly I don't think the Rogues would actually care at all. They just probably don't want to hear Boomerang brag about it constantly.

Also I would like if they elaborated on the giant humanoid snake people with prehensile tongues that live in the Australian Outback. What the hell I'm intrigued.

[darlingbeehive]

HELLO new q refugees following us realized our first post was long so rewriting in hopes we can shorten it:

bodily 21(22 soon once 13th hits!) collectively known as sweetheart hive

we are (undiagnosed but atp unable to fucking deny it no matter how much we've tried,) traumagenic system (likely p-did or osdd- their is some amnesia and most of it is emotional amnesia but rn we don't want to look further as that might cause more distress right now,)

right now the closest we can estimate our system is 2300- with 500-ish being introjects based off mcyt (dsmp, osmp, earth smp, qsmp, hermitcraft, empires smp, x-life, and the life series/traffic series(+ brainmade ocs that were crammed into the setting and ocs),) only seconded by our mlp introjects from gen3 mostly with multiple gen4 members as well: keep this in mind and do not throw a fit if you accidentally interact with a "double" who is a ticc toby who is happily dating jeff the killer, or a tommyinnit who is a trans women now 20 years old who has avian and raccoon hybrid traits and hosts 160 lethal diseases and that is literally it for her super powers, or one of the 3 Mexican pinkie pies who is dating an anger holder Minty!!

we don't always tag ourselves, we don't owe you a syslist or tagging ourselves when that's stressful: we also don't owe you guys anything about getting someone to front- some alters have never fronted because their roles are PURELY INNERWORLD and we are a Big Numbers System- you are more likely to get a webkinz moon fox to front than Jesus from the Bible. If you attempt to trigger us to get x or y member to front without us having requested for a front switch and triggering that you will be blocked.

we are syscourse neutral: we try to tag whatever the op is so endos/pro-endos and anti-endos can avoid eachother but we might miss some sometimes- do tell us and correct us when this happens okay?

you are most likely going to be interacting with Dec! an introject of the front room!! yes!!! the one most systems front from!!! literally that got turned into an alter!!! and one of the front gatekeepers- fae has.. far too many sources and is genderfluid + aggressively aroace even in non-aroace sources, fae is acting as a host and is extra aggressive in preventing most alters fronting as a means of being sure those out of sys are safe for other alters to interact with.

we run the custom emoji blog @introjis ! if you have any want for an emojis go there! we do you alters, ocs and fav characters for free as long as we have a ref and a "base emoji" to go off of! please do feel free to request similar emojis to others- we do not trace or claim any emojis as original ideas we just want our silly emojis and work purely under a redraw ordeal unless it is verifiable that it came from someone in our system, in which we get their permission before tracing said artwork/old emoji

we don't support ccs for the most part with Technoblade being the one exception(due to us having a "nothing good comes from speaking ill of the dead that were beloved" type ruling,) so please do not assume us posting anyone would mean such!

we ran 9 accounts on Quotev with one being a shared account with someone we saw as family, if you recognize us from any of them do tell us!

[halfblood-princes-crown]

story about my Umbridge teacher (idk if you remember me telling you about her tho 😭):

Back in HS, I brought absolutely zero school supplies, I didn’t give a single FUCK and always borrowed pens or picked them up from the floor and declared that it was mine. I haven’t had a pencil case since the fourth grade. All I had was my killer brain and my designer bags, and that was all I needed to survive. ✨

The Umbridge Teacher made a bunch of rules about school supplies, and if you don’t have a pen, a pencil (💀?), a highlighter, a calculator, and a protractor (💀?) with you, points will be taken off of you. When she created that rule I didn’t gaf, nor did the teachers.

A little fun fact about myself: I always carry lip products with me, I’ve done this since forever and still do. Lipstick? Got it. Lip tint? Got it. Lip liner? Obviously. Lip gloss and lip oil? You’ll never catch me without at least three. I did this at school too, lip liners and lip glosses were my faves, and during lessons I would sometimes take them out and put them on. Most of the teachers didn’t care so I was like whatever.

Anyway, during our History lesson (I think it was History? I don’t really remember which class it was 💀), she practically barged in without warning and claimed that she would be observing our class for today. She started straight up harassing students and getting all in their personal space, practically interrogating them and trying to take their books away from them so she could look at their work.

Before she barged in, I had just taken a few lip liners and glosses out of my makeup pouch because I was looking for a specific lip product, and when she barged in I was near the door and low-key got jumpscared. I was internally panicking and shoved some of my lip products in my pouch and hid it quickly. There were like 2 lip products that were still on my desk, but I was too busy shoving everything in my pouch and trying to zip it up that I didn’t realise. When I did, Umbridge Teacher was walking towards my desk so I just scrambled some worksheets that were already on my desk on top of the products. I didn’t have time to open my bag and put my pouch in, so I merely quickly shoved it on my lap below the desk and tried to hide it subtly with my sweater.

When she finally came to my desk, she of course began nagging me with questions, and after a bit she started asking about school supplies. This was basically how it went down (but way less dramatised lmao):

Umbridge Teacher: So.. where are your pens?

Teen!Me: oh, I currently don’t have any on me.

Umbridge Teacher: Well, don’t you have a pencil case?

Teen!Me: Nope, sorry.

Umbridge Teacher: I can clearly see your pencil case on your lap, stop fussing around (🤨? like girly look at yourself) and take them out

Before I could form a response, this HOE leaned down and tried to grab my pouch away from me. I was like wtf and started resisting, and she continued yanking it from me while trying to open the zipper. AND THEN she put both of her nasty cloven hooves on my pouch and YANKED it away from me. She was opening the zipper and she shoved her hand in my pouch to see if I had pens inside, I got anxious and abruptly grabbed it back. And ofc due to my disastrous luck, she had already managed to take out like 3 or 4 lip liners from the pouch.

Apparently she didn’t realise that they were lipliners and had assumed it was a pen or a pencil, she was pretty much like “hah! I can see that you have your pens with you. You thought you could get out of doing work in lessons by pretending like you don’t have a pen?!” I was quite literally dead silent for a whole 3.14 (Pi) seconds because my brain was trying to register whether or not she actually realised.

Then I could see that she detected the expression on my face, and that was when she noticed that those pens in her hand weren’t actually pens. She read the label and was like 😃, I had zero idea what to do or say so I just smiled innocently at her in a poor attempt to do some damage control. Thankfully, she put my lipliners back on the table without uttering a word and quickly moved on to another student.

To this day I still wonder why she never gave me detention for that, I’m pretty sure it was either bc she knew who my father was (he was very well-known in the school) or bc I was one of the very few people she didn’t completely despise 😭😭

I have a gazillion more stories about HS, so if you want I can spam your inbox with incidents that happened! Love u 😘

Moon 😭

I was reading this like "if me and moon went to school together, I would have been invisible to her" 😭 I was the one with pencils and pens because I drew a lot back then. If K wasn't at school then I was quiet in the back of the class, doing my work and drawing in my sketchbook 💀

But yea, that rule was common in my schools. Not every teacher had it, but most did, so I was reading this like "Is that not a normal occurrence?" 😭 But yea, she would've had to deal with my mouth if she had touched my shit like that. I have no problem fighting old people.

That reminds me of this one lady in K and I's old highschool. She got mad because Me and K were walking to class during the pledge of allegiance. Told us that "if we can't respect our country then we need to go back to where we came from" all three of us are black, was she coming with us? 💀 That was a hell no from me

But yes, I'd love to hear your stories ☺️

[slickshoesareyoucrazy]

My Loneliness is Killin' Me

I must confess I've never actually been a Britney Spears fan, but I'm glad she's out of conservatorship and that's still a catchy tune.

For serious, that line has been stuck lingering in my head for about a week now thinking about where I can still go and what I can still do because of affection starvation. Buckle up if you're gonna read this, because it's probably going to be a long, rambly one. (Again).

I started rewatching Pushing Daisies a couple weeks ago with a dear friend who's never seen it (at a distance...like all of my dear friends except for J, even the ones I grew up with, she's 200+ miles away from me now). I mean, I couldn't let another moment pass without introducing my friend to Ned the Pie Maker (Lee Pace, sans elf costuming, circa 2007-9ish...I mean fucking look at him).

I told her, truthfully, that Ned the Pie Maker is probably the fictional character (other than obviously Egon Spengler) that I've had the biggest romantic-fantasy sort of crush on. I mean it's hardcore. It's worse than George Bailey. It's worse than Dwayne Wayne. It's worse than Chris Stevens from Northern Exposure. Clearly I have a thing for tall, soft-spoken, shy/awkward nerds. And I've watched Pushing Daisies all the way through about 5 times (this is time number 6; and it's short, 2 short seasons for American TV because until he started writing about a serial killer, American TV didn't appreciate Bryan Fuller at all). But I haven't watched it since I turned 35. This is my first watch since I began exploring and trying to understand my own trauma history. This watch is showing me why I like the show and Ned so much (beyond the witty writing and the bright colorful styling and cinematography and the fact that Lee Pace is smoking hot).

Not to spoil the show for people who've never seen it, but it's a romantic comedy with happy, optimistic, hopeful overtones but a really sad, complicated, dark underbelly. Ned has a superpower. He can bring dead things back to life (with obvious, serious caveats and consequences, of course...every superpower has these) by touching them. Once. If he touches them twice, dead forever (there's another rule, but I won't spoil that one because I don't need to in order to get this shit out, in case anyone else wants to give the show a try). Before he knew the rules of the game, he saved his dog, and then his mother, the beings who loved him the most (his dad was distant and kind of a neglectful asshole). But he only gets Mom back for a couple of hours, because she tucks him into bed and kisses him goodnight (second touch...dead forever). He tries to use his gift with compassion and responsibility through a childhood of basically raising himself and being unable to snuggle his own dog. And then, as a man, who just makes pies, he sees that his childhood best friend/first kiss has died. And he touches her once, ostensibly to say goodbye, but he just can't bring himself to touch her again...because he loves her so much. So it's a touchless love story; a love story full of inconvenience and longing; an ABNORMAL love story that required a lot of adaptation and patience.

(not touching ^^^)

And I love that (and I love Ned) because he decided she was WORTH that patience and adaptation. After spending a lifetime being lonely and disconnected, maintaining an important, real connection comes with sort of this 'whatever it takes' attitude. I have that. When I make a connection. And sometimes that's good. When it's reciprocated (like it is with J and A, and like Ned has). And sometimes that leads me to getting used by shitty people. Because they made me believe the connection was real with all this seeming patience and adaptation; validating me, and I believe it because even if it's a lie, I'm lonely and affection starved and I want to believe it.

And so a couple nights ago we watched an episode featuring a main supporting character, Olive. Her parents ignored her as a kid. To the point that they didn't notice she was missing for days. Olive had stowed away with two criminals, who were kind to her and paid attention to her, and she grew to love them over the two days she was away from 'home,' because they genuinely liked her and cared about her. In the show, obviously, the robbers are really the good guys, because they were kind to Olive, but in MY actual life, I've thought of how many truly shitty people I've connected to out of loneliness. I've been having nightmares about the last one I connected to lately. And I've been thinking about how I definitely could and probably will connect to some other shitty person because as awesome as J is (he's actually quite similar to Ned the Pie Maker in many ways...he just can't bake a pie...), I'm still often pretty lonely. J can't be with me all the time. Clearly. It's not his responsibility to rid me of loneliness...even if it were possible for him alone to undo 25 years of drought before we met. I hope the next connection I feel is a Ned (or an Olive or an Emerson or a Chuck), because when I feel it, I'll put my 'whatever it takes' attitude and effort into maintaining it. Even if they're a criminal. Because the criminals in real life rarely have hearts of gold like they do on Pushing Daisies.

[choslut]

͏ ── 呪術廻戦 : THRILLER !!

‹ 𖥔 ࣪ ˖ A CHOSLUT KINKTOBER .

NEWSFLASH !! the weather’s gotten colder and the nights are getting darker, and there’s an unsavoury chill in the air. that can only mean one thing… spooky season is rapidly approaching, and everyone’s doors are locked and curtains shut as they try to ward off anything scary. you can try to run, but you certainly can’t hide… bringing you this year’s THRILLER, broadcasting live from CHOSLUT HQ !!

‹ 𖥔 ࣪ ˖ WELCOME to my (second) kinktober !! originally i wasn’t gonna go through with this because i already had a blog reopening event on during september, but with some daydreaming (and a little convincing from my mooties) i bring to you my 2024 kinktober!

‹ 𖥔 ࣪ ˖ THIS YEAR, people everywhere are locking their doors and shutting their curtains. why? because this year is like no other… this year, everyone is terrified of the dangers lurking in the streets. from bloodthirsty vampires to soul-sucking demons, nobody wants to be caught in the danger zone… but there seems to be one willing to take the risk. good luck… you’re going to need it.

‹ 𖥔 ࣪ ˖ this kinktober is based around JUJUTSU KAISEN characters, who will be listed below. all works and anything to do with this event will be posted under the tag CHOSLUT'S THRILLER, so make sure to follow it for any relevant updates.

EDIT : i’ve removed the release dates due to feeling a little pressure to get everything out on time. of course, the works will still be released, but the event may still run over into november. sorry about that, but still look forward to what i have in store!!

EDIT 2 : DRIVE IN MOVIE and FORGIVE ME, FATHER have been cancelled. i really want to get the other two out, and they will be posted on 28th and 31st october respectively. sorry for anyone looking forward to those, i may revisit them in the future!

it’s kinktober, so it’s already a given that all works listed below will be NSFW. minors and ageless blogs MUST NOT INTERACT or you will be blocked immediately. please adhere to the rules set and the tags along with each work, and enjoy the nasty surprises waiting in store!

THIS YEAR’S SPECIAL EDITION, FEATURING YOURS TRULY IN…

‹ 𖥔 ࣪ ˖ SCREAM

starring serial killer!FUSHIGURO TOJI

he’s coming. he’s coming and there’s no way youre going to escape, but there is one way to get him to spare your life, no matter how unsavoury it may be. who knows? maybe you can get a little something out of him too…

this movie contains the following . . . stalking, death threats, predator/prey dynamics, pet names, masturbation (f), dirty talk, hybristophilia, knife kink, posessiveness, blood kink (?), praise kink, dacryphilia, p in v sex, creampie

‹ 𖥔 ࣪ ˖ CLUB DEMON

starring incubus!CHOSO and succubus!TSUKUMO YUKI

becoming addicted to a mysterious man and his best friend (?) was not on this year’s bingo card, but now that it’s happened, it seems like there’s no way out…

this movie contains the following . . . threesome, slight crack, masturbation, supernatural activity, slight choyuki, sexual fantasies, slight voyeurism, pet names, clubbing, oral sex, teasing, dirty talk, praise kink, nipple play, voice kink, tribbing/scissoring, cum swallowing, making out

‹ 𖥔 ࣪ ˖ COSTUME PARTY

starring GETO SUGURU, GOJO SATORU and IEIRI SHOKO

partying is so not your scene, but your girlfriend wants so desparately not to miss the annual eta theta pi halloween party that you give into her whims and go with her. the night seems to be going well, but then you end up meeting her too (weirdly interesting) best friends. they seem trusting enough, so there isn't much that can go wrong... right?

THIS WORK CONTAINS DARK CONTENT. i cannot stress this enough. read the tags.

this movie contains the following . . . drugging, heavy dubcon, foursome/orgy, smoking, drug usage, loss of memory, pet names, (bad) flirting, sexual coercion, praise kink, dumbification, oral sex, blowjob, throat fucking, slight dacryphilia, masturbation, voyeurism, photo-taking, aftercare

© — this kinktober event belongs exclusively to choslut. do not copy, repost or translate any of the works on this list.

graphic edited by me. dividers made by @goxjo (thank you so much!! <33

[sleepystarsiri]

Bad Sans Poly w/Error

I was given a prompt to ramble about and... Ended with a drabble instead of a small ramble...

A drabble of 2536 words... Written over the course of 11+ hours. Fun!!

————

Error was unsure of the BSP, happy for them, but unsure why he was jealous. Yes, he was single, but... He was happy being alone. He didn't have to risk another relationship ending by being glitched out if he was single...

He lost his first love that way. So why... Why when he was with the others did he feel like he was going to cry when he saw their soft, gentle affections toward each other? It hurt... It made his chest ache and his sockets sting with tears.

He ignored it, pushing the emotions down whenever they surfaced. He could sense the confused, wary looks from Nightmare, but he ignored them. He started to distance himself, holing himself away in the Anti-Void. He barely had the energy to keep up his job, but he managed to.

Instead of visiting the castle to check in, like he usually did, he just laid around in his section of the Anti-Void, bundled up in blankets and watching UnderNovela. That was how Nightmare and the gang found him when they got worried enough to break the unspoken rule of staying out of Error's 'home'.

It was... A chaotic mess, not the normal neat area Error preferred.

Error was asleep in his beanbag chair, curled into a small ball, wrapped in his blanket. He looked terrible. His sockets had bags under them and his scarf was messy, frayed and stained with chocolate.

Concerned, Cross reached out to touch Error's cheek before the others could stop him. Instead of crashing, like they expected, he nuzzled into the hand, purring sleepily. Cross stroked the bags beneath Error's sockets and Error yawned and slowly opened his sockets. His eyelights were hazy and unfocused until he blinked...

Then he gave a glitched screech and jumped backward, tumbling over the back of his beanbag chair.

Cue a freakout and panicked apologies from Cross... Followed by a pause as they saw what was in the beanbag chair. Error had been cuddling up to hand-made dolls of the BSP. He glitched, sputtering, and made his strings yank the dolls up to the tangle of strings and dolls that made up the 'ceiling'.

He hissed at the poly, glitching and blushing vibrantly. He tugged his scarf up to hide his face, emotions all over the place. Embarrassment, panic, affection, love, sadness, pain, anxiety.

Nightmare’s confused, shocked expression morphed into one of realization at Error’s emotions. He stared at Error with a wide socket and Error caught his gaze, tensing up. Shame flooded Error’s emotions as he looked away, his glitches increasing in number.

“Error...” Nightmare said gently, his voice cutting through the air of the Anti-Void, and the glitch tensed up.

“I d-don’t want t-to taaa-talk about it, N-Nightmare.” Error growled lightly, his voice glitching more than it had before.

“Error, we’re going to talk about it. One way or another. You look horrible. When was the last time you washed your scarf? When was the last time you left the Anti-Void?” Nightmare growled back, stalking toward him as his tendrils flicked angrily. Error winced slightly at his approach, feeling the weight of his anger, his concern.

“Yyyy-Yes-Yesterdayyy.” He grumbled, curling up and tucking himself into his coat. “I’m fff-fine. D-dd-don’t need ttt-to talk about iiii-it.”

“Error.” Nightmare’s tone went gentle as he knelt in front of the glitch. “Please. We need to talk about this.”

The glitch just twitched, shaking his head. He growled faintly, twitching violently, before he exhaled a soft mist of shimmering blue, red, yellow, and green. It dissipated moments after he exhaled it.

“I ddd-don’t want to ttt-ta-talk about it.” He muttered irritably, curling up tighter. He pressed his face into his knees, trying to remain calm.

“Error, please.” Nightmare repeated gently, reaching out and holding a hand toward him. Error glitched out, then muttered mutinously, but gently placed his hand into Nightmare’s. He fizzled at the touch, then calmed. It always happened when he was awake, if he didn’t outright crash. Nightmare’s lack of a traditional Soul meant his touch wasn’t as overwhelming or as painful as everyone else’s. “Thank you.”

“Sss-still don’t want-ant to talk a-abou-out it.” His voice glitched out a bit before he sighed and closed his sockets. “...But… F-fine. I’ll ttt-talk.”

“Thank you.” Nightmare repeated, clearly relieved. “Come on, Error. Let’s get you into clean clothing, fed something other than chocolate, and into a comfortable place.”

He gently pulled Error up, the glitch swaying slightly on his feet before he steadied himself. He winced and reached up to rub his skull, sleeve sliding down and revealing scratches and burns up and down his arm. He didn’t really care, since he usually was covered in scratches and scrapes. Ink’s paints were a bitch to deal with…

Nightmare gently grabbed his arm, pushing his sleeve up and Error blinked, eyelights hazy, before they focused and he looked at the scrapes.

“Oooh-ohhh… Ink caaa-caught me. Fresh-ssshhhh had to come ggg-get me.” Error said, reaching up to rub his face tiredly. Nightmare narrowed his socket, doubtful of his explanation, but not wanting to call him out. “Don’t give mmm-me that look, Nnnn-Nightmare. I’m not an iiii-idiot. I know whaaaa-at they look like, wh-when paired with my sss-state. You can asss-ask Fresh if you dddd-d-don’t believe me.”

He rubbed his arm, glitching as he tried to heal it. It healed a bit, then glitched back to how it was. He grumbled slightly, squinting at his arm in annoyance.

“...Alright, I believe you.” Nightmare sighed before he gently healed Error’s arms. The other glitched a bit at the influx of magic, then settled. He was trying to ignore the concerned (and suspicious) stares of the others. Killer’s stare was the most suspicious, but he was slowly starting to realize what was wrong.

“Glitchy.” Killer called lightly, firmly, and Error slowly looked over, staring toward where Killer was. His glasses were nowhere to be seen, so he was hard-pressed to see anything, especially not that far away. He made a glitched sound of acknowledgement. “You’re depressed, aren’t you?”

“Whaaa-aat Sans isn’t?” He quipped back, rolling his eyelights, but nodded slowly, making Killer’s sockets widen a bit.

“Are you depressed because of us?” Killer clarified and Error shrugged a bit, the reaction noncommittal. Killer rubbed his face, sighing loudly. “Are you depressed because we’re so affectionate in front of you?”

Error shrugged again, closing his sockets. He swayed in place, trying to stay on his feet. Nightmare moved and scooped Error up bridal-style, making him glitch out and nearly crash. He clung to his scarf, curling his fingers hard into the fabric. It took him a few moments to calm down, blinking away the error signs that popped up in his sockets.

“It’s not because of us, per se.” Nightmare told Killer and the others, adjusting his grip on Error and opening a portal to the castle. They walked through, the portal closing after the last of them was through. “Error, don’t fall asleep now, you need to clean yourself up and change… And eat.”

Nightmare gently tapped Error’s cheek with a tendril, but he growled and lightly nipped it, earning a startled moan from Nightmare. It took a moment to process and Error crashed while Nightmare flushed. The others started laughing at the two, while Nightmare huffed and continued to walk. He put Error down on a bed before backing off. Moments later, Error rebooted and his face flushed brilliantly.

“Sss-so-sorry-” He stammered to Nightmare, tugging his scarf over his face. Nightmare blinked, then started laughing.

“You really do have it bad for us, don’t you?” Nightmare sighed and Error hissed at him, glitching out wildly, then forced himself to calm. “Oh, hush, don’t get so defensive.”

Error just growled at him, carefully rolling to his feet. He staggered a bit, then caught himself. He blinked a few times, then squeezed his sockets closed, shaking his head wildly to clear it.

“Uuu-ugh. Ffff-fuck-fucking Voices...” He rubbed his head, then glared at Nightmare, crossing his arms and trying to ignore his embarrassed flush. “And ss-sh-shut up. I don’t waa-want to cause aaaa-any ripples.”

“Ripples?” Cross piped up and Error nodded, motioning vaguely between the members of the poly. Cross blinked, then deadpanned. “Wow, you’re more oblivious than I was.”

Error narrowed his sockets at him, growling lightly, and Cross rolled his eyelights.

“You’re an idiot if you think we don’t want you to join, stars, glitchy, we’ve been dropping hints for AGES!” Killer complained, throwing himself onto the bed, pouting at Error, who glitched in surprise.

“W-what?” He sputtered, confused, and Dust snorted, amused at him.

“Go get a shower and we’ll talk after, while you eat.” Dust ordered, Horror staring sternly at Error and nodding sharply, firmly. Error knew that stare, it meant he was to obey… Or Horror would bodily force him to do so.

Error sighed and nodded, then slowly made his way toward the bathroom to get a shower. He paused to take his scarf off, stroking the fabric nervously. Dust moved over and gently took it, knowing how it felt to be attached to a scarf.

“Go shower, I’ll wash this myself.” Dust told Error, who nodded, then headed into the bathroom. He was a bit unsteady on his feet, but he managed. He closed the bathroom door, then stripped and carefully headed into the glass-walled shower. He closed it and turned the water on, huffing softly. The walls were made of frosted glass, so he was only a vague dark blur behind the glass.

He stepped carefully under the stream of water and began to wash his body, careful of all of the injuries littering it. He was more injured from Ink than he’d let on, and didn’t want to let on. He heard the bathroom door open and paused to glance over, not that he could see. But… It was just one of them getting the clothes Error had left piled in the middle of the bathroom.

Error focused back on cleaning himself before he cut the water off and opened the door to the shower. He leaned out, grabbing a towel and pulling it back into the shower. He dried himself off, then wrapped the towel around his hips, walking toward the door. He caught sight of himself in the mirror and stopped, turning to stare at the long, irritated red gash across his torso. It went from his right shoulder to his left hip. He sighed, reaching up to touch it.

“Fff-fucking squid. Stupid f-fucking-ing Soulless abomination...” He growled lightly, pressing his fingers against the gash, scratching harshly at it. That was a mistake and he clapped his hand over his mouth, rushing to the sink. He doubled forward, spitting and gagging into it. The noise made the others rush in.

They were met by the sight of Error coughing and spitting blood into the sink, a long gash across his torso trailing vivid red down black bones. He groaned, bracing himself on the counter as he slowly recovered, chest heaving from his coughing and gagging fit.

“F-fuckkk-king abomination… N-need to figure out w-where the hell his c-coding core i-is-sss...” He huffed to himself, then pressed a hand to the gash, focusing. His torso began to glitch, dark pixels began to slot themselves into the gash, sealing it and hiding it from view. He sighed in relief, then wiped the blood from his mouth and chin, spitting the last of it into the sink. He washed it out, then turned to leave, only to pause at the sight of the others.

Oh. Fuck.

“...Error. What the fuck was that?” Nightmare tried to ask it gently, but his voice was shocked and confused.

“...Eh-hhhh. Geno isn’t m-mmm-my bro. I was Gee-Geno. I’m ffff-from an alternate tttt-timel-line, a darker o-one.” He tried to explain, scratching at the back of his skull. He was trying to ignore the lack of clothing on his part. “Iii-it’s hard to expla-aaaain.”

“...Sooo- You’re wary of being with us because you’re still in love with Reaper?” Killer asked blankly and Error glitched and shook his head.

“Oh, n-nooo. No. I haven’t l-lov-loved Reaper since I beee-became Error. I los-ssst my memories from-mmm before for a looo-long time… So the o-only-yyyy emotion I feel for h-hiii-him is fond remembrance fo-ooor a past love.” Error clarified, shrugging and lowering his hand so it dangled by his side. He shuffled slowly toward the door. “I neeee-eed clothes...”

“Huh? Oh, right! S-sorry!” Cross sounded confused before the group shuffled out. Dust left a pile of clothes, topped by Error’s scarf, on the counter. Error closed the bathroom door and dropped the towel, pulling the clothes on. Ah, the usual ‘Sans’ outfit… He hated it. At least he had his scarf. He put his scarf on, tucking his face into it, before he shuffled out.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, twisting his scarf around, in his fingers.

“So… Why are you wary of being with us, Error? If not because of holding feelings for someone else?” Dust asked, leaning against the wall and playing with a knife he’d stolen from Killer.

“...’s because ya lost… Yer first love… When ya turned ta Error?” Horror asked slowly, tilting his head as he looked at Error. He looked startled at being read that easily, but he nodded.

“Yyyy-yeah...” He sighed, closing his sockets as he rubbed his face. “Thaaaa-at’s one reason.”

He flopped backward onto the bed, throwing an arm over his sockets.

“What are the other reasons?” Dust was now interested, moving over to sit on the bed near him. He leaned down to stare at him, looking curious.

“...Ttt-tou-touch.” Error moved, staring blankly up at Dust. “T-touch-ch hurts. Nightmare ddd-doesn’t-n’t have a traditional Soul-lll so it doesn’t h-hurt as much… Nor i-issss it as overwhelming...”

“Cross could touch ya earlier.” Horror pointed out and Error shrugged.

“Ddd-don’t know why… Uuuu-usually I crash from tou-uuuuch.” Error stated, then froze as he felt a hand on his. His sockets filled with error signs, but he blinked them away. “Ow.”

He turned his head to see who was holding his hand. It was Dust. He stared, shocked, then turned his hand to gently hold Dust’s. He marveled at it, a static-y purr starting up in his chest. He couldn’t help it… Even with the pain, he was touching someone aside from Nightmare!

Sure, it was a bit painful, but nothing he couldn’t handle, nothing that he didn’t deal with daily. The glitching hurt sometimes… But… Stars, he missed touching people…

Nightmare smiled, looking away as his tendrils swayed happily. The happiness Error felt was clear on the glitch’s face and in his aura. He suddenly snapped his tendrils out, catching Error and keeping him from pouncing on Dust.

“Error, don’t jump the gun, you’ll crash. Small touches are the only thing we know are okay, we don’t know how you’d react to hugging, let alone cuddling.” Nightmare chided gently and Error slumped in his hold.

“I mmm-miss being able to-oooo hold, hug, ccc-cud-cuddle, etc others…” Error sighed, looking down.

“Baby steps, Error, baby steps.” Nightmare reassured, gently stroking Error’s skull with one hand. Error sighed and nodded slowly.

[goodnightmemes]

DEXTER SEASON TWO SENTENCE STARTERS (PART ONE)

Lines taken from 2x01-2x06 of the show Dexter. Feel free to change pronouns or edit in any way to better fit your needs. Here is part two.

❛ It's not what I want, for what I want doesn't matter. This is the only way I know how to survive. ❜

❛ I really need... to kill somebody. ❜

❛ You're in control of your urges, not the other way around. ❜

❛ Can we please secure this motherfucking crime scene ? ❜

❛ It's not him that you miss. Because what he had to offer wasn't real. The way he made you feel about yourself...That was real. ❜

❛ I'm just trying to figure out some way to feel alive! ❜

❛ This stuff never gets to you? ❜

❛ I'm more of a crying on the inside kind of guy. ❜

❛ This neighborhood? It's full of crazies. I'd lock my doors. ❜

❛ Tons of options: Everglades, alligators, pig farms, sulfuric acid, wood chipper, incinerator. Hell! Even meat pies. ❜

❛ So this is the man who stands between me and death row. ❜

❛ There is no such thing as the perfect crime. Not in my experience anyway. ❜

❛ If I believed in God, if I believed in sin, this is the place where I'd be sucked straight to hell. If I believed in hell. ❜

❛ I'm not so much doing this to you as I'm doing it for me. ❜

❛ Now, it makes sense. That's where you disappeared to at all hours of the night like Clark fucking Kent. ❜

❛ If the eyes were a window to the soul, then grief is the door. ❜

❛ I've been preparing for this my entire life. ❜

❛ I'm sure someone with a heart could answer that question. ❜

❛ You know those words don't mean anything, right? ❜

❛ Get used to food references because... I like food. ❜

❛ I go to stalk a killer and I end up with a new car. How did that happen? ❜

❛ Nothing stays buried. ❜

❛ Everyone in that room has heard or lived far worse than anything you've ever done. ❜

❛ The worst killers are usually the ones who think their murders were somehow... just. Even deserved. ❜

❛ You just hop from one lie to the next, no shame, no embarrassment, you just don't give a shit. ❜

❛ You're lying to yourself if you think you don't care. ❜

❛ I'm not sure of what I am. I just know there is something dark in me. ❜

❛ Things, people, who never mattered before are suddenly starting to matter. It scares the hell out of me. ❜

❛ You were right. I'm sorry to wake you up, but I had to let you know that you were right. ❜

❛ In our most paranoid moments, we fear that everyone is talking about us. That's become my reality. ❜

❛ It makes me feel like the whole world could explode at any moment. ❜

❛ I don't have a badge. I have a laminate. ❜

❛ You haven't got the first idea who you are, have you? ❜

❛ You don't kill this many people because it's a chore. You do it 'cause you like it. ❜

❛ I've always been good with parents. The key is to simply think of them as aliens from a distant universe. ❜

❛ The last guy I had sex with tried to kill me. ❜

❛ Okay, this is the first time I regret not being a bigger nerd. ❜

❛ He asks you a question, I want you to think of your answer first and then tell him the exact opposite, okay? ❜

❛ You know, I've been thinking about you breaking up with me, and, well, I don't think it's in your best interest. ❜

❛ There are no absolutes. No one's all good or evil. ❜

❛ You make yourself into a monster so you no longer bear responsibility for what you do. "I can't help it. I'm a monster. "Of course I was gonna do that. I'm a monster." It's sad and it's pathetic... And it breaks my heart. ❜

❛ You don't think there are monsters in this world? You don't believe people are evil? I'll show you evil. ❜

❛ For the first time, I feel the future might hold something different for me. It's possible I'm just fooling myself, but I'm willing to take the risk. ❜

❛ I suddenly find myself weighing the benefits of electrocution versus lethal injection. ❜

❛ Sweet mary, mother of fuck, that's good! ❜

❛ I never expected to get better. ❜

❛ You think you're charming, don't you? ❜

❛ And you're not the least bit pissed off that this man got away with murder? ❜

❛ Healing is all about focusing your rage on the person that's hurt you. ❜

❛ I'm not the person I'm supposed to be. It's like I'm hollow. ❜

❛ I hide in plain sight, unable to reach out to people close to me. I'm afraid I'll hurt them. Like I've hurt so many others. ❜

❛ If you can't be happy for me, then maybe you shouldn't be here. ❜

❛ You made me into what I am! ❜

❛ If you turn back now, you'll go right back to the way you were...hollow, angry, alone. ❜

❛ I will get you through this. I swear. Just come back to me. Okay? ❜

❛ You ran a background check on my boyfriend? ❜

❛ Imagine that... a life with no more secrets. ❜

❛ Everyone has a moment when they realize their value system is different from their parents'. ❜

❛ Rumor has it you have a knack for attracting serial killers. ❜

❛ Sorry if I was short with you this morning. I'm lost without my morning coffee. ❜

❛ I thought you were different than ____, but you're the same. Actually, you're worse. You made me trust you. ❜

❛ I have been patient and understanding, but there's only so much I can take. ❜

❛ What in the name of fuck are you doing up so early? ❜

❛ When I get pissed, I say stuff I don't mean all the time. "I hate you," "I faked it," "You're hung like a grape." ❜

❛ Stop being a douche bag and go fight for her. She's fucking perfect. ❜

❛ I heard what you said. I just don't take orders from you. ❜

❛ You want to hit me? Go for it. I've been waiting for a chance to take your ass out. ❜

❛ Nobody fucking listens to me! ❜

❛ Last time, you came back covered in blood. ❜

❛ Apparently my new life involves a love triangle. ❜

❛ The voices are back. Excellent. ❜

❛ I've spent years looking the enemy in the face, and I'm telling you ____ is dangerous. ❜

❛ Chin up little sister, these things have a way of working themselves out. ❜

❛ You attacked those people because you wanted to. ❜

❛ All my life, I've done what someone else said I should do, been who he said I should be. I followed his rules, I stuck to his plan. I never stopped to think about what I wanted and what I needed. And now I don't know who I'm supposed to be. ❜

❛ I will kill you. I have to. I just don't need to. It's very empowering. ❜

❛ There was a time I would have done anything to protect ____. I would have even lied. But today I told the truth... even though I knew she'd get hurt. ❜

[kth1]

Piquant [Jungkook x Reader]

Piquant [Jungkook x Reader]

Pi-quant / adjective: having a pleasantly sharp taste or appetizing flavor.

⟶ Credit: @kimtaehyunq​ ⟶ Genre: Smut | 21+ | Vampire AU | One Shot ⟶ Warnings: explicit, sub!jungkook/whiny lil thing, vamp!jk, oral (M&F), fingering, blood/blood play, biting, period blood, noona kink, adult content, bondage(M), unprotected sex, language, semi overstimulation, semi cock-warming, creampie, squirting, roommates to ?, multiple orgasms, etc ⟶ WC: 12k ⟶ Summary: Jungkook is your awesome roommate who also happens to be a vampire. There’s nothing wrong with that of course, even with the playful tactics he does to fluster you. Until you realize those quipping taunts meant more than he led on. ⟶ Teaser: “He savored your flavor; his mouth finally got the taste it has been curious about for a long time now. He wanted more before his taste-testing was over, and he knew exactly how to get it.” ⟶ Author’s note: Hello everyone, this story is a precious gift to @jkeuphoriadreamland​ – as Yoly fully enjoys a bit of a whiny brat version of Jungkook. And NOONA KINKS. I tried my best to write him as a sub, and I truly hope you enjoy this fic. Nervous as all hell because you are a wonderful, glorious writer; and gifting you a fic of my own makes me kasdjhf. Anyways, this is unedited bc reasons - I had fun being your Peach Peep and writing this for you! (I didn’t mean to make it as long as it did… oops. xoxo)

“You smell pretty tasty.”

“Well, I’m not!” You retorted.

“Let me have a quick taste? That’s all I’m asking for.” Jungkook requested.

“Koo, no! You have plenty of bottles of blood in the fridge – just heat some up.”

Jungkook snorted with disgust, “Tch, that blood is synthetic. It’s not as good as straight from the source.” His finger trailed up the inside of your wrist, his body taking a step closer to yours.

You snatched your wrist back to yourself quickly, glaring up at your pest of a roommate. “Oh no no no – Jeon! You stop that!” Jungkook took another step, a grin present on his sculpted face. You respond with a pointed finger, raising your eyebrows in question. He wanted to play this game again.

“But Noona, please!” He whined with a pout. The vowels drawing out with the sentence with a childish tone, but his eyes shared something deep and dark. Thirst.

“I am not your bloodbag Jeon Jungkook!” your accusatory finger now prodding his chest.

“True, you’re not. But you are my friend.” He smiled, cupping your hands in his, “friends help another out.” He let out a little giggle when he saw your flustered face.

You scoffed, laughing as your roommate continued to plea. “You don’t need help! You have blood in the kitchen! B negative to be exact. It’s a fresh stock!” You shooed him, ushering him to turn around and pushing him towards the opening of the kitchen.

“Noona!” he droned again.

Oddly enough, Jungkook adored using this nickname towards you. Even though he is a hundred and something years older than you, his ripened age of vampire is in his early twenties – when he was changed into one, he found it humorous to call you Noona because your human years have surpassed his frozen age. Thus resulting, in his mind, you being ‘older’ than him. That, and the fact you get flustered up over the nickname.

There’s no doubt in your mind that your pesky little vampire friend could overpower you at any second if he really wanted to, but there was a firm alliance between the two of you. He has control over his hunger after all, he’s not a savage. Just because Jungkook is a vampire doesn’t mean he was a monster. For years vampires have lived among the human race, they aren’t out to rule the world or anything. Just trying to survive like every other creature.

Still, he and you were good friends. Actually, when you first met him you developed one of the biggest crushes on the mysterious vampire – but that feeling subsided drastically when you realized more about his lifestyle.

The two of you met through friends of friends. Trustworthy, as you had his back and he had yours. And now, you two shared an apartment in the busy city of Seoul, making ends meet as he works at the local vamp lounge, being a bartender. You wallow yourself forever in an office desk job providing customer service over a phone and through your computer.

“I swear to god if you ask me one more time, I’m going to throw my silver jewelry at you!” you threatened. “And stop calling me Noona!”

He scrunched his nose, annoyed at your rejection. “Ahh, you’re no fun.” He grumbled under his breath, turning away and departing towards the kitchen.

“It’s my blood! My property!” you yelled to the back of his dark ruffled hair, watching it sway with each of his steps before it vanished behind the wall.

“Then stop bleeding around me! Don’t get another paper cut and I wouldn’t ask!” he shouted from the other room.

The shuffling noises from the fridge to the microwave was audible enough to hear. A hint that he’s reheating a bottle of blood. Luckily for him, you were nice enough to stop by the convenience store on your way back home to pick him up a fresh batch of blood. Picking up his favorite flavor for his special acquired taste.

You looked down at the coffee table that was littered with a pile of mail, some ripped open and some still untouched. Your eyes darted at the piece of envelope that was sharp enough to break through your skin and cause a nasty little cut. You mentally scolded the piece for causing a stinging pain in your index finger. The irony of the rent notice cutting into your wallet was the act paper that cut into your flesh.

With your hand still close by, you examined the cracked cut that adorned a leaky line of red with a bead of blood threatening to drip off. “Wouldn’t ask.” You mocked Jungkook, speaking to yourself. “Oh please – you’re such a begger.” You sucked on your finger, attempting to take the small sting away and ridding your blood while you continued to reorganized the mail on the table.

The audible footsteps of Jungkook resonated as he approached back in the living room, bottle attached to his mouth. You glanced over your shoulder to see what was up with his lingering, and he answered your gaze with narrowed cut, stink-eyes. Sipping bitterly hard on his warm thick fluid drink, he rolled his eyes and continued down towards his bedroom.

He heard what you said.

Jungkook was gone, a scheduled vacation to meet up with some old friends for the weekend. You have the whole apartment to yourself for once, and during this time you had an untimely visit from your aunt flow. It tainted your mood, unwanted pains and cramps forcing you out of whack. Your weekend consisted of kissing your lips to Ben & Jerry’s selection of ice cream flavors, watching movies and downing your own dosage of Advil and other pain killers.

The apartment wafted with your heady scent. Something you couldn’t pick up with human smell alone but to a vampire like Jungkook, he could pick it up instantly. Like a shark in a water, he can catch whiff of all kinds of scents with those advanced heightened senses.

You were fast asleep in dreamland, a heating pad atop your stomach that lulled your cramps at an ease. Curse the world that during this period, your cramps were ungodly painful, and you felt like complete and utter shit.

What you didn’t know was that your roommate had decided to cut his group hang out short – coming back home in the middle of the night. Not like he couldn’t come and go as he pleased – it was his house too. But tonight, it was slightly… different.

He stepped up the stairwell in the apartment complex, fidgeting with the ring of keys in hand. A strange smell entered his nose, something foreign yet so similar to him. It forced him to halt his actions, standing still while looking down the corridor. It was coming from this floor – his floor.

Jungkook reached level 3, turning his way down to his apartment with the scent leading him all the way to the front door. A succulent aroma enticing him, ticking his hunger. He soon realized that sweet pungent smell that he zoned into was your scent – your blood was lingering in the airway in a heavy dosage.

“Oh fuck!” he unlocked the apartment door in a rush, speedily running in as fast as the bulk of your musk entered his sinuses. Immediately Jungkook thought the worst, thinking something happened to you; you were hurt and bleeding out. Were you okay? Why are you bleeding?

His feet brought him to your bedroom door, “Y/n! Y/n!?” he’s frantic. The moment Jungkook busted your bedroom door open almost off its hinges, he was relieved to see you intact and unharmed – seeing your body sprawled out across your mattress fast asleep.

But the sudden commotion jolted you up out of your slumber, the booming sound of your door flinging open and Jungkook’s voice calling out your name startled you.

“Kook?” You whipped your head towards him, a groggy voice to match your terrible bedhead you sported.

“Shit, sorry! Fuck, I didn’t mean to wake you! I just – I,” his thoughts were cut off, that rambling of his mouth seized when you shifted yourself on the bed, rolling the comforter around. The blanket that sealed the majority of your scent now accidentally releasing in a wave, the sweet tangy smell hitting Jungkook face first.

His hand latched to his nose, plugging his ability to smell you any further. Internally he was fighting his natural urge to go for it, to have a taste of this juicy aroma that was causing his mouth to water and fangs to sharpen. This impulse was worse than any other time, like when you got papercuts or accidentally nicked yourself with a knife. You always had a peculiar smell, something that made him curious, and now he’s invested.

He knows he needs to leave the area, go get himself a bottle of blood or find a unfortunate prey on the street, quickly. He can’t touch you; he shouldn’t touch you – but god do you smell so good and your scent was incredibly inviting.

His backpack slunk off his shoulder to the floor with a thud, the intoxicating smell was so deadly that it was forcing a haze of thirst run over him. “I thought you were hurt.” He confessed.

You rubbed your eyes to remove any forming crusts, “Hurt? What? I’m not hurt. That’s why you woke me up?”

Jungkook shook his head, staring over at your confused and puzzled face. “N – no Y/n, you’re bleeding. Like a lot.”

It took moments for you to register what he was implying. Widening your eyes when you finally came to realization. “Oh no… shit. Sorry Koo. I’m fine I swear.”

You scurried, flipping the covers over you to witness a decently large stain that had accumulated through your night shorts. You bled through your bottoms, something you haven’t done in years, yet mother nature is always good at being unpredictable. You sighed, face palming yourself to how you practically ruined the fabrics and it will take a miracle to clean them completely.

Jungkook froze, all instincts fighting to break free the moment his sensory eyes laid on the darkened patch that decorated between your legs. His fist tightened; his body completely stiff with blown out eyes. “Run Jungkook, fucking run.” He ordered himself internally.

You carefully moved your body around, attempting not to get any more blood on your sheets. Thankfully you didn’t have any cramps right now. Typically, you were very cautious around your roommate during times like these. Plugging yourself up with tampons from beginning to end of your cycle, refusing to stay around him or the apartment for too long, even he would take time away to give you your space. It was out of respect for another, established as a primary rule before you two signed your contract to the apartment.

As you hobbled closer towards the door in which Jungkook stood, you couldn’t understand why he refused to move out of your way.

“Kook, I have to go to the bathroom.” You seek to brush pass him but Jungkook’s hand snatched your arm – grip strong.

In a slow raspy voice, he breathed, “Noona.”

You blinked up at him, watching a flicker of red flash over his darkened orbs. You felt caught, trapped by his intense stare. His build was larger than yours, almost menacing when his body hardened to block the frame of the doorway.

“Jungkook… relax…” You felt the temperature of your body shift. Should you be worried? Scared? Embarrassed?

“I can’t.” his other hand held onto your free arm, slowly backing you away from the door with trembling steps. His eyes frantically searched your face, pupils wide while the chocolate brown of his eyes shaded to a vibrant red.  

His eyes were demanding, a scare or warning that there was no going back from this. You’ve witnessed this look before when you visited the bar he worked at, when his eyes catch onto a delicious treat in the crowd. It won’t be easy to escape this situation. Jungkook was invested in getting what he wanted, what he was craving…

“This – this would be weird. It’s – Jungkook listen to me for a second.” The back of your legs touched the edge of the bed. “Jungkook!”

He hummed, glossing his eyes over you once more. His tone beckoning you to continue.

“This is period blood!”

He shrugged, rubbing his hands along the expanse of your arms, not allowing you to sit down just yet. He can feel the warmth of your body, how you are much warmer than usual. “It’ll just taste a little off. It’s not like I haven’t had it before.”

“Ew, Kook! No that’s gross! Like, do vampires actually enjoy? This?” You tried wiggling yourself out of his grasp. But he stepped closer – closing whatever distance there was between the two of you. You swallowed thickly, feeling quite intimidated and small under his presence. But you took note, his tight chest now flexed in front of you and hands held firm to your arms as if he was holding onto dear life.

“Y/n.” Jungkook whispers, leaning closer to your head. His phantom breath tickled the shell of your ear, “Please let me have a taste. Can I please…?”

It sounded so sensual coming from him. A shiver running down the base of your spine from the odd request. His hands now ghosted your hips, fingers etching a tingly sensation into your exposed skin. He carefully played with the waist band of your shorts – dipping a finger under it in a teasingly way.

Jungkook was controlling himself to all extremes. He knows he can’t attack you the way his nature wants him to, you’re his friend after all. He shouldn’t be stalking towards you like this. He cannot ruin you the way you’re ruining him right now. But he’s surely thinking about it.

You felt shy, nervous but oddly turned on by your roommate’s intimidation. All his persistence, his pleading whines slowly getting to you. You should feel disgusted – right? The idea of blood, your blood, your period blood, being taste tested by your friendly vampire. Which makes you question yourself even more when you tell Jungkook, “Okay…”

You’re shocked and so was Jungkook. Your confirmation is all he needed to hear, so he didn’t need to stop his action of snaking his hand down your shorts, slowly trailing his fingers towards your core.

A small gasp escaped him the moment the freshly soaked patch on your undies came in contact with the pad of his index finger. The urgency of pushing his finger down onto the cloth to collect whatever residue he could overwhelmed him.

It was an odd feeling – your roommate exploring his wondering hand down your shorts. What you didn’t expect was how it still felt somewhat good. The sudden contact of your lady bits now getting attention not by your own hand, but of someone else’s. Causing your body to jump with a sexual alert and now you’re the one holding onto Jungkook’s arms as if you were going to buck under him.

Jungkook brought his fingers back up to meet his face as he inspected the redden stain that now coated the tips of his digits. A strange manner – something no human in their right mind would do – Jungkook sniffed at your remainder. Naturally this would be so revolting for a human. But Jungkook is a blood-sucking vampire. Any form of human blood wired him up and he lived off of it, literally.

You watched him with your bottom lip between your teeth. You watched as he stuck his fingers in his mouth and exhaled a very audible groan thought his nose.

“Fuuuuck, Noona…” his tongue dragged between his fingers, then lips to savor the flavor. Suddenly his hand disappeared back to the waistband of your shorts, this time less hesitantly now. “You tasted like this all along?” He speculated while advising you to sit down, tugging harshly at your bottoms.

You nervously fumbled trying to catch his hands before he could hoist your bottoms off. He was fast, desperate for more. “Kook! You said a taste!” you squealed.

“I’m not finished tasting!” he growled. A more aggressive side taking over his demeanor. In his swift act of removing your bottoms you heard the ripping of seams. Fabrics pulling apart. Then your used panties and shorts were discarded off to the side – there was no saving them now.

Jungkook held your hands, staring down at your now pinched thighs that hid his juicy treat. He can sense your uncertainty, your nervousness – so he tried to look as apologetically pleading as possible while kneeling down in front of you. “Noona – please!” The pitch of voice didn’t match the way of his eyes that stared you down. “I’ll make it feel good, I promise. Just let me show you!”

He shoved his face between your knees, attempting to pry your legs apart, that strong scent now mere inches away from his mouth. Jungkook couldn’t control his hunger any longer, not when there was free blood just asking to be eaten.

It was almost pathetic at how desperate Jungkook was being, wiggling his head further into you. His eyes glowing pure red as they fixated at the crack between your thighs. He dragged his lips across your skin, planting reckless open mouth kisses. The sight of your roommate on his knees for you sparked a deep desire within your core.

“Kook! Let’s talk about this!” You flushed as you pinched your thighs as tight as possible. Jungkook’s hands firmly held yours still. He grunted at your resounded rebuttal, pleading more with a high pitch – needy whine.

He wasn’t listening, he couldn’t hear you as his hunger took over his senses. His throat felt dry though his mouth watered for your flavor. Heat embedded into your cheeks, rocking a wave down to your bundle of nerves. You squeaked at the shifting movements of Jungkook wedging his face even more. “Kook is this even right?!”

Complete turmoil ran through your mind – you’re sharing yourself with your friend. Someone you had a crush on, and now that attraction crept back up. An act that you two have never experienced before. This wasn’t your average ‘oh here take some blood from my wrist’ situation. Jungkook was aiming for more than just a snack and it didn’t seem like the vampire didn’t mind what-so-ever.

“I’m okay with it Noona – are you?” He nipped your leg lightly, slowly dragging his now sharpened fangs on the soft skin. His lips formed a pout as he looked up at you with reddened puppy-dog eyes. “I won’t bite you.”

Everything about this situation seemed so wrong, but Jungkook was making it sound so right. You never realized how the excitement of the situation was causing your chest to rise erratically, an ache in your core now persistently present and you swore the puddle down below wasn’t just blood now.

You were nervous and body slightly shaking. It’s late, it’s wrong, this whole circumstance entirely dangerous. But that didn’t stop your body acting on its own accord by widening your legs just enough for Jungkook’s head to slip in. A spark lit bright in Jungkook’s eyes when he laid them upon your dirty flower, the sight looking as appetizing as ever.  

“Yeah.” You breathed. “It’s okay with me. Don’t bite me or so help me god –“

“I won’t.” Jungkook didn’t hesitate to slide himself in – licking up the blotches of blood that escaped onto your inner thighs. The sensual feeling of his tongue tracing patterns around your pussy.

Lewd noises came from Jungkook, devouring your juice as if it was the best meal on Earth. Satisfaction releasing through his nose that moment the flat of his wet muscle licked up between your lips, flicking at the tip of your clit.

He released your hands as he felt you ease into him, moving them to your upper thighs to kneed lovely circles into them.

“Oh!” you moaned. Your fingers carded though his hair – head nestled deep between your legs. “Koo-!”

He grinned against your sex. A slight giggle escaped his lips, “Yes, Noona?”

Jungkook looked up at you through his eyelashes and with a cock of his eyebrow, mouth entrapping your cunt. He flicked his tongue up you once more just to see your reaction.

You shuttered – back landing onto your mattress. You openly sighed with a ridged breath. The dangerous mouth of Jungkook eating you up like it was his job. “Fuck, Kook.” You giggled at your shameless moans. The feeling of bashfulness creeping up on you from enjoying the sensation, those disgusting thoughts fading away against the immense pleasure. Stimulation being particularly focused on your small bundle of nerves, especially when Jungkook sucked on it.

The mess that dressed your cunt was most definitely already cleaned up by now. But Jungkook continued to pleasure you in return – after all he did say he’d make it feel good.

He savored your flavor; his mouth finally got the taste it has been curious about for a long time now. He wanted more before his taste-testing was over, and he knew exactly how to get it.

“Let me thank you, Y/n…” he purred.

Snaking his fingers under you, he teased the pads of his digits around your entrance. Prodding slowly along with the rhythm that his tongue set. Your cunt clenched around the insertion of two of his fingers that eased in effortlessly.

You allowed him to have a taste and now he wanted to repay you back by giving you a treat you won’t forget. You gasped for air the moment Jungkook’s fingers curled up into the thicket of your inner walls, pressing long drawled out strokes against it.

Your hips bucked, jerking up into the wild tongue of Jeon Jungkook. It was sinful the way he ate you out, and even at the right angle you felt the sharp of his fangs that threatened to dip into you. His word was true, he wasn’t going to bite you, just clean you up.

With the constant thrusts of his vicious digits, he was also swiping out any hording residue of your unfortunate mishap that got you two in this situation in the first place. Of course, this luscious taste is distinct, but Jungkook can also relish in the flavor of your natural essence that extracted from your cunt. And the mix of these two delectable tangs together soon made their way to the top of Jungkook’s palate.

Your body tightened, the sudden rush of your climax rushing through you as goosebumps rise across your skin. The fist you steadily held in his hair, tightened. Your back arched off the mattress, Jungkook’s hand holding your hips securely down.

Vibrations ran through your body while you moaned Jungkook’s name, creaming all over his face. He groaned in return, lapping up every inch of you.

He leaned back, removing his mouth and fingers. Wiping the back of his hand over his mouth, Jungkook peered up at you with constraint. You remained laying, staring at the ceiling and feeling completely washed out. That just happened? You had one of the best orgasms of your entire life all because Jungkook was thirsty?

“You good, Y/n?” A mousy voice drew your attention out of your thoughts, back down at the man who hesitantly stood up. His hands moved your legs back together, and he assisted you to sitting back up right on the edge of the bed.

You nodded, reserving your thoughts for another time as you looked up to Jungkook. His eyes were no longer blood-lust red but instead his wide doe-eyed nuisance you’re oh-so used to seeing. They wouldn’t be so annoying if they didn’t work on you, but they did. Every. Damn. Time.

“I’m good, Kook! Uh – thank you.” Your expression of gratitude stammered out of your mouth faster than you could think.

Jungkook murmured under his breathe, but it was loud enough to hear the “Yeah, of course.”

Oh boy. You can feel it – the awkwardness setting in.

Before there were any more unsettling silences between the both of you, you spoke up. “I should really get myself cleaned up, if you can excuse me, I should really go to the bathroom.”

With that announcement you scurried, more like dashed yourself to the bathroom that was adjacent to your room. Leaving Jungkook to stand in your bedroom bewildered. He glanced down over at your discarded ripped bottoms that lay lifeless on the floor, still stained with your pungent aroma. He faltered battling with his inner thoughts when his lips quivered ever so slightly.

“Fuck.” He seethed the profanity through his teeth while palming over his groin.

It’s been a week since the misadventure that happened between your roommate and you. Determined, you choose to take the path of act-like-everything-is-fine. Nothing was wrong, no of course not. Right?

You had a full week to dwell on these thoughts, by yourself. No interests in opening your mouth about it to your best friends, or any random stranger at a bar or even the same clerk you run into at the convenience store every now and then.

So what – you let Jungkook have a taste of your blood? You’re an adult, and it was perfectly fine! He needs blood to live anyways – if anything you were doing him a favor! So, you told yourself…

But strangely enough after that night, after the mind-blowing orgasm that left your core fluttering for days even at the thought of that night, Jungkook distanced himself from you. No matter how many times you addressed him to partake in a casual event that the two of you normally participated in like enjoying a movie on the couch, having drinks together, running to the store or even playing one of his blasted videogames – Jungkook declined more than often. It was always.

Jungkook was hardly to be seen, stating he picked up more shifts at the lounge or hanging out with others. Meanwhile his nights remained occupied, and your days were busy with your office job – it caused more of a space between the two of you. When his actions persisted, you couldn’t help but think there was something wrong.

By day four of post orgasm those flooded doubts came running in. What you two did wasn’t right, you fucking knew it. Jungkook must have known it too. “This totally fucked up everything didn’t it?” It’s the only excuse you could devise with the series of events.

Now day seven you sat there in the middle of the couch; legs crossed over another as your foot impatiently tapped in the air. It’s been exactly a week from that treacherous night, and the more you thought about the risky behavior you both endured, the more it couldn’t escape your mind. You’re putting too much effort into something that shouldn’t be minded.

At least, that’s what Jungkook was doing – right? Not minding the incident…

With a glass of wine in hand, you sipped with resent as your flickered through the list of movies to preoccupy yourself with. Something needed to stand out, something to distract you from your irritated mindset. Maybe a comedy, maybe some horror with a bit of action?

You settled for something, clicking play and started up towards the kitchen. Swallowing the remains of your glass in honor of filling it right back up to the brim. In the course of your tipping the wine bottle into your cup, watching the dark liquid pour out of the nozzle so fluidly, you heard the entrance of your apartment open up.

That can only be one person – Jungkook.

Placing the bottle of wine back down on the counter, you turn with a full glass in hand. You walked out of the kitchen to be met with the emptying of the living room once again. Jungkook must have bee-lined it straight to his room.

A sudden rage rose up within you, not particularly enjoying this cold-shoulder act Jungkook insisted on giving. You want to confront him; you’re getting tired of this odd behavior and if there was an elephant in the room that refuses to leave then you will kick it out with all your might.

“Jungkook!” You hollered, feet stepping down the narrow hallway towards his room that was hidden in the very far end. “Kook!” Your voice belted his name a few more octaves higher.

Your knuckles contacted his bedroom door, tapping against the wood. “Can you open up?”

Through the wood you can hear the rummaging of Jungkook throughout the room. He was ransacking his drawers, the sound of his chair wheeling back and forth as his steps moved to and fro. “I’m busy right now.”

A stern huff escaped your lips. To calm yourself you took a long swig of your wine, hoping it cooled you down – or even give you more of a liquid courage to speak up.

“It will only take a minute!” You barked.

He didn’t reply back to you, but instead he continued to rustle around his room for god only knows what. With this indication, you felt peeved and your hand was fast to the doorknob. Twisting the handle fast enough to fling the door open so you can face him.

Jungkook was in the midst of tucking in his black fitted button up shirt, belt still hanging loose through the loops. Matching with his black sleek trousers and set of tuxedo shoes that went along with the monochromatic attire for work. For a brief moment, your mind zoned in on how Jungkook would look… when not just dressing, but undressing. That thought bubble was popped abruptly when he whipped his head in your direction and yelled at you.

“I said I was busy!” he repeated, tone fully capturing the blunt of his attitude.

“Jungkook, come on you’ve been avoiding me all week.” You inclined.

Jungkook ruffled out the last bits of his shirt, tapering it into the band of his pants. He fastened his belt security along his waist with the clinks and clacks. “I’m late Y/n. I don’t have time for this.” Jungkook breezes past you towards the bathroom with his stationary bag lugged over his shoulder. He eyes himself in the mirror, tidying up his hair and quickly rinsing his mouth with mouthwash.

Your feet pattered to the bathroom door, now leaning your body against the frame of the entrance. You can notice the harsh side-eye you receive from Jungkook, but you pay no attention in giving a reaction to it. “Kook, what did I do for you to avoid me? Was it because of what happened?”

There was sadness laced inside your voice, but it was taken over by puzzlement. You were just concerned, what happened to the dynamic between the two of you? Why can’t Jungkook even look you in the eyes half the time and run away to steer clear of you?

He spit his mouthwash into the skin, checking his teeth in the mirror for any imperfections. He shimmied the other string of his bag on to his other shoulder and turned to leave the bathroom, seeing that you now stood in his way he gave you an uneasy glare. “Move.”

“What the? No! –“ you protested. Your finger jotted out towards him, “Stop avoiding me!”

He can tell by the flare of your nostrils that you were fuming, and your tone of voice rising with each word you spoke only added to the obvious fact that you were indeed pissed. If it wasn’t for the clear sight that you’re holding up a cup full of alcohol, he’d most definitely would have smelt it lingering off of your breath. Jungkook attempted to grab the glass of wine out of your hand, assuring you that “you probably drank too much already.”

“Hey! – No, give me that!” You argued, holding tight with your fingers circling around the base. He’s shuffling around, pulling at your wrist to let go of the damn thing, but it was when his hand latched over yours that covered the base an unexpected shatter echoed in the apartment.

Wine spilled between the two of you, decorating the bathroom floor and your feet with the murky dark liquid. Pieces of bladed glass scattered around, and you winced when you felt the sudden jab of a shard that dug itself into your palm.

You yelped, jumping back in surprise and pain. You held your hand out, outstretching your fingers to see the blossoming of red liquid leaking from the shard. “Fuckin’ hell!”

“Shit! Y/n, I’m sor –“ Jungkook cut himself mid-sentence after reaching out towards you. The blood oozing out from that blade of glass was spilling out your sweet tasteful scent, and it wired Jungkook. His inner thirst now aroused.

Pain was plastered over your face as you ripped the piece out from your palm. You pressed firmly against the open wound, looking at the mess that is now below you. Glass everywhere and wine seeping into the cracks of the tiles.

Your eyes met up with Jungkook’s just as he was pushing pass you, down the hall and out the front door. Astonished at Jungkook’s utter rude mannerisms, you held your mouth wide open. He just up and left you in the middle of a mess that was caused by him. That you now have to clean up after taking care of this fresh cut inside the palm of your hand.

And he still didn’t answer your questions.

Another week went by with your poor attempts of consulting Jungkook and him avoiding you like the plague. And with the last ‘real’ incidence where the two of you spoke more than a few syllables, you ended up with a fresh cut to your hand and having to mop and sweep up glass shards and your favorite flavored wine off of the floor. And at this point, you felt like you were avoiding him just as much.

The animosity in the air between the two of you went down a gruesome hill. Tumbling down into smithereens where neither one of you can easily look at another. Jungkook still remained busy as ever, staying out of the house only until you leave for work. The only things that made you know he was still alive was the empty blood bottles left in the sink, the shower curtain being tossed every-which-way, and the half-hazard filing through your piled up mail when he picked out his belongings and left yours disorganized.

Needlessly to say, Jungkook stressed you the fuck out. You were bending to his routines, you were seeking shelter away from him, and all casual activity between the two of you completely vanished. Your confusion turned into spiteful hatred, wanting to smack your roommate upside the head.

Now you’re on week three of roommate-distancing. Your room became your safe haven. The living room was a crossfire full of casualties. The kitchen is a death wish. And the bathroom became your secret chamber when you needed to relax with a steamy relaxing shower and your bubbly loofah.

All this time, your mind already grew curious about Jungkook. There was no way you can repress your emotions when it came to him completely shutting you out. But you did stop remembering that night that turned the sequence of things between the two of you. You wanted to forget; you don’t want to think about it – ever.

You spent weeks dwelling over this roommate dilemma, and it tainted your mood entirely. Your job lacked enthusiasm, your tv didn’t please you enough after watching the same junk over and over. Tonight, you felt appropriate to go out for the night, treat yourself. Because you out of all people know you deserve some fun after the bullshit you are handling.

Fuck it – you’re going to the bar.

Pleather jeans hugged your legs, a blouse that you had tucked in lays low on the neckline flaunting your clavicles and upper chest. You jeweled yourself with a silver body chain that connected at your neck and dipped down between your breasts underneath your shirt. To top of your rocking outfit, you selected your best pair of open-toed red high heels lacing up the front and pinning up half of your now curled hair.

After finishing off the last touches of your make-up you gave yourself a quick look over in your standing mirror. Amused with your selection of attire you gave yourself one last twirl before grabbing your purse and heading out your front door.

You just needed time out, grab yourself a few drinks. There’s no shame of going to the bar alone, plus you enjoyed becoming acquainted with the bartenders here and there. It always gave you a sense of comfort knowing, even though it’s apart of their job, you can vent to them about your worries.

The Snake Pit, a clever yet sinister name for a bar tended to be one of your favorite hot spots to visit. Not only it had a dancefloor and an elongated bar that stretched to the full extent of a wall, electro pop music, and it had its own special feng shui to it.

Heel’s clacking against the hard-wooden floor beneath you, you strutted yourself over to an available seat by the bar. You smiled sweetly at the oncoming bartender who was headed your way, “Hey there! It’s been a while hasn’t it, Y/n?”

You handed over your card to the young chipper male who gleamed down at you, “Open a tab for me please. I’ll start with a mojito, Jin.”

“One Mo-Jin-To coming right up!” he smiled, whipping around to grab the appropriate glasses and mixtures. You bobbed your head to the music waves as you checked out the crowds around you. It was packed here tonight, and you’re happy to see people enjoying a great time.

“How’s it been?” Jin questioned after placing the glass on a coaster in front of you. He leaned in resting his elbow against the bar. Jin was a notorious little flirt, but with good intentions. He just wanted to make his customers as happy as possible – or maybe just enjoyed swooning the ladies to give him better tips.

“It’s… alright. Been better. Just needed to blow off some steam. And of course, I came to visit my favorite bartender. Can’t ever forget a face like yours.” You laughed along with Jin, taking a quick sip of your drink. “Oh? You made it a strong one.” You gave him a thumbs up, “yup, definitely my favorite bartender.”

Jin responded with a playful wink before leaning back up to assist other customers who beckoned for his attention. “Let me know when you need round two!”

And round two came sooner than later. Possibly drink three being concocted as you continued to sip down your mojitos like they were juice. When you grabbed your freshly made glass, you made your way to the dance floor to find some fun.

Within the course of an hour the beat of the music picked up drastically. Bodies swayed left and right in formations, lights flickering and buzzing around your sights. You were so into the rhythm that your hips moved naturally to the tunes.

Until a hand grabbed at your waist, turning you slightly towards them. A man slightly taller than you and maybe just as tipsy as you decided to take his chance on dancing with a pretty lady. “Hey!” he slurred over the loud music. “Let’s dance?”

His invitation wasn’t much of an invite, considering that he was already dancing along with you. But you accepted with a wide smile, urging him to come closed so you could relax your arm around his shoulder as you continued to drink. “Might as well, it is a dancefloor.” You giggled.

The bar felt like you were playing musical chairs with suitor on suitor. Eventually your drink vanished completely, and you were on your third dance with another random, but handsome, stranger.

“You smell just as pretty as you look.” He whispered into the shell of your ear, rocking his pelvis into your backside. His hands found a home on the curve of your hips, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his confession.

“That’s got to be one of the better pickup lines.” You hummed. “I’ve heard worse” you teased as you whipped yourself around in place, now placing your hands through the man’s hair. It was thick and hardened with some sort of product. You glanced around at the bar, noticing your favorite bartender flirting along with an innocent girl that sat right in front of him. A couple having a heavy make-out session just a few feet away from their interaction.

But you found a spare seat that was left empty, a motivation for you to go back for another drink? Or just relax from dancing since you felt like you needed a break.

“That’s not very nice,” the man prodded. Nudging your head aside so he could place a tender kiss against your neck.

With reflex you jerked your body away, avoiding the man and pushing him away. “No thank you.”

As you were turning on your heel, the male stepped close to you once more. Arm linking around your body, “Where do you think you’re going? Thought we were dancing?” He grinned eerily, an odd ominous vibe now shining from him.

Your hands came up to shove him away, but there was a movement in a blink of an eye that you didn’t catch. Maybe your vision was impaired, but you could have sworn you were just in the clutches of this man, and now he stands five feet away from you with a bewildered look.

“Back off.” A low grumble resounded next to you, a face popping into your perception. Jungkook?!

Jungkook’s jaw was clenched, grinding his teeth against another as the muscles flexed on the sides of his jaws. His arm was now linked around your waist, holding you close to him.

“What the fuck man?”

“She said ‘no’, didn’t she?” Jungkook challenged the man, stepping in front of you now to face the male. From here you can see his back tensed up under his dark t-shirt. You couldn’t comprehend the duel going on between the two, or maybe you couldn’t hear over the voluminous blaring of techno beats.

When the male fled the dancefloor, Jungkook turned to look at you. “What the fuck Kook!” You blurted. He was taken aback for a second, confused why you’re all of a sudden yelling at him. “Excuse me? Shouldn’t you be thanking me!?”

“Not that. I don’t care. But what the actual fuck?!”

All your pent up and inner rage towards your roommate from the past few weeks was making you hostile. Even seeing his face stirred you up to the point you wanted to hit him for being so idiotic.

“Y/n, seriously. Not right now. I just need to get you out of here. Please.” He grabbed your elbow, leading you a few feet before you tugged back on your arm.

“No!” Your hand gripped around his wrist, trying your damn near hardest to pull him off of you. “You need to explain right the fuck now!” You stomped your feet, throwing a small tantrum.

Jungkook’s patience was very thin, especially when it came to drunk you. He stepped closer, tugging your body next to his. “Fucking listen to me for a second, dammit. I need to get you out of here. I’ll talk to you when we’re outside.” He spat back at you.

“Why?” You rebutted, glaring up at his face.

“Cause you’re fucking bleeding, Y/n! And if it wasn’t for me that sleazy vampire would have had you for dinner!” He bit back. Both him and you were bickering back and forth, drawing attention from surrounding bystanders.

“What’ do you mean I’m ‘bleeding’” you air quoted with your fingers. You belted out an obnoxious laugh. Your unpleasant emotions were getting the better of you – resulting in making an ass out of yourself when all your roommate was trying to do was help you out. “Next thing you’re gonna say is that we’re friends too, right?”

Jungkook’s nostrils flared, his brows raised as high as they can reach. You were acting quite absurd and he didn’t understand what had gotten into you. “Y/n, I can fucking smell you.” He seethed out the words through his teeth. That’s when you noticed his fangs were now elongated and sharp. Jungkook wasn’t joking around.

A moment of realization kicked in and your eyes widened. “Wait, really?” You trembled.

“Yes. Now let’s get you out of here.” Jungkook escorted you through the crowd, hand now holding yours. The two of you quickly grabbed your tab from your helpful bartender while Jungkook looked out for any wondering eyes. If both he and that strange vampire could smell you, he was sure others can too.

Jungkook followed close behind you, being extra protective while scanning the areas outside on the way back to your apartment. When the two of you made it about four blocks down in complete silence, besides the sound of your heels hitting the concrete below, you decided to chirp up. “You said we’ll talk outside. So, talk.”

“Alright. What do you want to talk about?”

Your feet came to a halt, twisting your neck to look at Jungkook who walked a few paces behind you. “Seriously? You can’t imagine anything, not one thing, as to what I want to talk about?”

Jungkook ignored your stare, dismissing the obvious topic of interest by responding with. “Well, it’s easy for a vampire to tell another vampire apart. For one, they don’t have a heartbeat. So, when I saw him up on you, I grew curious.” A smug little grin pulled up on Jungkook’s face.

You balled your hands into fists, frustration pulling on every nerve in your body. “Don’t play coy with me! Stop. Fucking. Ignoring. Me. Jungkook.” You marched yourself right up to where he stood, invading his personal space. “I’m tired of it. Just talk to me. What did I do?”

“Nothing.” He mumbled. “It was me, not you.”

You snorted; the classic phrase used in so many cliché break up scenes. But this time, it’s not a break up. It’s literally two friends who have a weird misunderstanding with another. “Oh? So that’s it? It’s you and so you avoid me?”

“Keep walking, we’re only a few blocks away.”

You shook your head in defeat, crossing your arms and held tight to your body. The faster you get home, the faster you get to clean yourself up and the faster you can close off Jungkook. Little did you know that your furious speedy walk gave your butt just enough jiggle in those pleather jeans you decided to wear. Giving Jungkook something to admire from a far as his senses were being laced with your aroma.

“I’m sorry Y/n…”

“No, I’m sorry I have a shitty friend like you.”

Jungkook kept up with your pace, walking step by step along with your strides. He knows you don’t truly mean the words coming out of your mouth. It was his fault, and he was trying to admit blame for it all.

As the two of you made it up the stairwell in your apartment complex, Jungkook tried speaking up to you once more. “Y/n, look I know what I was doing wasn’t –“

“I don’t want to hear it.”

You slotted the key into your door, twisting it open and walked yourself into the darkness of your living room. Your night out became a terrible mess, rounding back to the initial problem that you’ve been trying to avoid. Once you kicked off your heels, tossing them aimlessly across the floor mat, you did the same to your purse and keys.

“Y/n.” Jungkook’s voice broke through. He reached for your arm, tugging you to face him. “Look I’ll talk all right?”

“Oh? So, I go weeks with being ignored by you, but you can’t last a night when the tables are turned?” You mocked Jungkook, looking at your roommate straight into the eyes.

“I had to, Y/n!” Jungkook pleaded for reason. “Please, I needed time okay?”

By now you were sobering up, any remains of your alcohol intake must have been sweated out during dancing and on your walk home. Jungkook was sporting his infamous doe-eyes while he looked desperately back into yours.

“Time? Time?!” you rose your voice. “Time to be an asshole? Needed time to ignore me when we could have discussed the problem? You literally circumvented yourself away from me for weeks? Was eating me out that terrible?!” Your fingers found their way to pinch the bridge of your nose.

“Whoah! Y/n, Y/n whoah whoah. No!” Jungkook grabbed at your shoulders and leveled his head with yours. Surprise took over his body, clearly the both of you were having polar opposite battles going on with your minds. “No that’s not the – that isn’t. Gah… Fuckin’ hell. Eating you out was great! I enjoyed it.” Jungkook eased his hands over your shoulders, “Wholeheartedly, even when I don’t have much of a heart to comment by, I promise you. I think… it was too good actually. But, that wasn’t the problem at all!”

Your face froze in place with your mouth forming an ‘O’ shape. Only a few times you closed it, just to open it up and speak. “Wait… I’m confused. What’s the problem then?”

Jungkook exhaled a long, exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes at you. “Y/n. Your – uh your blood is a problem for me.”

“Well now I’m slightly offended, Jeon! You said I smelt good!” You wacked his chest with your palm. During which, a brief flicker of red cut through his irises and it made you pull your hand right back from him. It was at that moment, even when Jungkook’s gazed turned to a scowl, you knew he meant something else.

“You should really get yourself cleaned up.” His voice didn’t sound like a sincere worry, but more of a threat.

You snapped back at him, “You should really learn how to control your hunger.”

Jungkook squinted his eyes at you, licking his lips with a fixed gaze. He leaned forward suppressing the enigmatic smile he wanted to show you. “May I remind you, Noona, you’re bleeding right now.”

There it is again, that pet name that he enjoys cooing you with. The name that slightly makes you shy because you yourself don’t know how to react. Or maybe it riled you up, it was his way to flirt around with you shamelessly.

Your heady scent wasn’t as strong as the last time, no not at all. It was as dull as usual when you covered it up with tampons, only a faint aroma wafting from you. Not a pile of blood decorating your skimpy nighties in the middle of the night.

But it was the fact that Jungkook has already had a taste of your blood, he knows what it tastes like. He knows how good that succulent flavor drips so freely from you. Jungkook refuses to let any other vampire pry on you, like that bastard back at the bar. This blood was favorable, and god dammit he’ll protect it at all costs.

You crossed your arms over your body, staring down Jungkook who was quickly turning into the Jungkook from a few weeks ago. “And if I am bleeding, you sir, aren’t getting any of it.”

Jungkook held back his tongue, prodding it against the inside of his cheek instead. Your scent secretly became a dangerous drug for Jungkook. Almost addictive in a sense. He was lucky to have been walking the streets near The Snake Pit, smelling your custom flavor in the air. But he was so completely unlucky when he skipped out searching for a quick drink that he was left thirsty.

And the agonizing walk from the bar back home to make sure you remained safe, getting a nice view of your ass swaying with each step in those tight pants, only tantalized him further because all he could do was sniff you out. You invading his vicinity only teased him worse.

He let out a breathy sigh again, “What can I do?”

“I’m sorry?” You blinked at him.

“I haven’t eaten tonight, and I know there isn’t any more bottles because you stopped buying them… what can I do to get some of your blood right now?”

You quizzed Jungkook, “I don’t know, what can you do?”

Jungkook reached for your hand, unfolding your arms from your front. He raised it to his face, where he placed your palm flat across his cheek. His hunger was forming an empty pit in his stomach, he physically could feel his abdomen churn inwards at the thought of your blood touching his tongue. His voice came out as a soft whisper, “I’m so sorry for mistreating you recently.”

Jungkook’s thumb rubbed along your inner wrist, stepping closer to your body. He can feel your heartbeat pick up pace, the warmth of your hand against his face grew clammier the longer he stared at you. “I – I would really love some, if you let me. I was good to you last time, right Noona?”

His words were sweet, his eyes were sweeter with the pleading look he emitted even when the color of his orbs turned to that deadly crimson. Fuck. You don’t know what it was about Jungkook that triggered you in the most sinful of ways.

Was it the way his smile looked so dashingly sexy even when he’s being a childish punk. The effortless good looks no matter what style of clothes he was wearing? His entire aspect, the living (well actually dead) embodiment of Jeon Jungkook was everything you actually craved.

You breathed, “Yeah… You were very good to me.” All of those memories of that night flooded back. The feelings. The satisfactions. How hot and heavy Jungkook’s tongue felt against your swollen sex.

“Let me be good to you again.” Jungkook advised, kissing your inner wrist now.

“Only on one condition.” You stated as your grab both of Jungkook’s wrists in your hands. You guided Jungkook down the apartment hallway, ignoring the poorly lit areas and towards his room. After pushing open his door with a foot, you pointed to his bed.

“My bed is the condition?” He grinned amused at the option in front of him. Thinking that this condition was nothing serious, but easier for him. He complied to sit down facing you with a questionable look. “What now, Noona? You have me.”

Your hands reached behind your neck, unclasping the body chain you decided to wear out tonight. “This. This is my condition.” You held the long piece of jewelry up. “It’s pure silver. I’m sure you understand.”

Now you drew Jungkook’s curiosity even further, what did you have in mind with that chain? He never knew his roommate was so kinky before. You peaked his interests with entertainment.

“Wrists. Now.”

“But how am I going to be good for you if you cuff me?”

“Do you want my blood or no? Because I’m certain just about a minute ago you said –“

“Okay. Okay. Fine.” He shook his head while displaying his wrists out to you.

The burn of the chain sizzled against his skin as you twisted it around another, tying his wrists together. It was painful for a vampire, not only does it burn but it also paralyzes the affected, so they cannot pull the material off of the area so easily.

Jungkook’s face had irritation written all over it. The pain biting him with annoyance. The only thing keeping him going is the fact that whatever he may do will give him the blood he desired.

“This is for you ignoring me for weeks.” You raised his arms above him, pushing him back onto his bed and securing his wrists to one of the posts with the assistance of a sturdy belt.

Jungkook groaned out, “Hey, I said I was sorry!”

“Apology is not accepted.” You smiled.

He watched you carefully, eyeing your bar outfit, your face, the excitement behind your eyes sparking at the actions you chose to partake in. “So, this is my punishment?” He winked.

You shrugged, making your way over to the other side of his bed to sit down next to him. “I’m pretty sure this is a reward for you, since you want my blood.” You reminded him waving your wrist in front of his face.

There was struggle, Jungkook’s eager bloodshot eyes now zoning in on the span of your wrist. You watched as his adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow. He was thirsty.

When his eyes glanced back over to yours, he had desperation screaming from them. His breath turned jagged, inhaling your lingering scent some more. “Noona – please. What do you want?”

You leaned back laying down and used Jungkook’s abdomen as your pillow, staring up at the ceiling. His innocent pleas sounded mesmerizing to you. You wanted to hear him talk, to confess.

“Besides my blood what do you want, Jungkook?”

Jungkook leered down at you. With this angle he can see the expanse of your neck on show, stretched long and elevated on his waist. He can only dream about sinking his fangs into that supple skin, slurping up whatever poured out of you.

“I want to put my mouth on you.” He declared.

You rolled your eyes, turning to face him. “I said besides my blood.” Indicating that he would want to repeat the same process as last time.

“Not down there. Not right now at least.” His eyes conveyed a secret promise.

A blush snuck up to your cheeks, raising the color of your skin to a warmer shade.

“Would you like that, Noona? Will you let me put my mouth on you?” He said with excitement. The strain of his wrists tugged at the post, Jungkook eyeing you through heavy lids. “Please, let me do something. I’ve been smelling you all night.”

On a whim you perched yourself up over Jungkook, straddling above his waist. “No.” You smiled wryly once you grabbed at the hem of his shirt.

Jungkook parted his lips, licking over his set of teeth. The two of you exchanged a brief heated look, a challenging gaze. Then the sudden tear of his shirt ripped in two as you tore the seam apart with all your might. You exposed his flexed stomach all the way to the top of his chest. “And that’s for my shorts and underwear.”

Jungkook whined, not at the lose of his shirt, but at the bold movement of your actions. It was hot. Your initiative was something he’s never seen before coming from you. And the image of you hovering your dirty flower right above his pelvis is forever going to be ingrained into his memory.

His chiseled upper body was on full display for your eyes now, disregarding the shreds of his shirt still linked around his arms. Fuck, Jungkook was sexy. The entire idea of this sculpted creature under your demand was turning you on second by second and you decided to take advantage of your leverage.

“Noona, just a taste please?” Jungkook begged with a reedy voice. He thrusted his hips up into you, wiggling his eyebrows. He was under your control, completely wrapped around your finger and it didn’t stop him from begging.

You fingered at his nipples, running your thumbs around the softened skin to cause them to perk up. You traced patterns with the tips, running up and down along his abs. “Where do you want to put your mouth?” You inquired. Tapping your digits around his cool skin. “Here?” you prodded, pointing at his upper chest right under his clavicle. “Hm, what about here?” you ran your finger over the prominent vein that bulged out of the side of his neck from constraint.

You watched the way Jungkook’s eager looks turned into anguish, the agony of not having what he craved was tormenting. Your teasing wasn’t helping, you were testing him.

“Anywhere.” He stuttered. “Everywhere.”

Jungkook gasped when you pushed down your weight onto his hips, his growing bulge now receiving attention instead. You smirked; you knew Jungkook was turned on by this. “Jeon? What do we have here?”

He swallowed thickly. Trying to straighten out his mind to respond to you properly but nothing but natural instincts were getting in the way. “I’m hard. I’m horny. And you’re extremely hot right now. As much as I am hungry, I’m thinking many other things about you right now.”

“Enlighten me, Koo.”

Jungkook dropped his head back onto the pillow under him with a whimper. He was parched, he was sexually aroused, and infuriated that he couldn’t do anything about either of them.

“Noona please!” He cried. “Do whatever you want, please. Just help me out.” Jungkook drawled on and on. His wrists continued to strain against the custom-made handcuffs that burned into his skin, rendering him from movements.

Jungkook pointed with his chin towards the junction of your bodies, “Help me.”

It dawned on you, how sleeping with your roommate right now probably wouldn’t be the wises of ideas. And those uncertainties were calculating on your face. Jungkook notices this, jumping at his opportunity to speak. “Y/n. Hey – Look at me. I’m okay with this.” His voice came out soft, still whimpering under you.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Fuck yes! You have no idea how much I need you to touch me right now.”

You hesitantly unbuckled his belt and unlooped the button to his jeans. His dick was prominently swollen, being constricted against the layers of materials. With a swift tug at his bottoms just below the curve of his ass, you released the beauty of his hardened thick cock, red at the tip with a spruce of precum glossing over the head.

Jungkook exhaled a shuttered breath, his cock aching to be touched. His member twitches cutely at the ghost of your hand hovering above it, and another whine resonated through his nose. You couldn’t help but admire the curve of his dick, the vein that ran over the underside of it. How soft his frenulum looked to the touch.

“Is this what you want Kook?” you firmly grasped at the base of his dick, right above the well-groomed hairs. His hips jolted up at your touch, flexing his muscles and pulling his arms from the restraints.

“Y – Yes!” he choked out. “Help me Noona. I promise I’ll be good for you.”

You didn’t doubt his promised plea. Last time he promised you something he surely delivered it.

You smothered his leaky precum over the head and through the slit. Fisting his shaft nicely just to watch Jungkook thrust his head back further into the bed. The angel of his jaw tilted back that showed up his thick neck was a delicious sight to witness.

To surprise him, you dipped your head down. Kissing your lips to the tip of his dick and running your tongue along the area. You hummed in satisfaction when Jungkook’s thighs started to shake underneath you. Who knew you’d have this power and demand over your friend.

Your mouth sank down, taking him in an inch and he choked out vowels. He tasted of a sweet salt, miraculously this part of his vampire body remained animated. “Noona!” His teeth remained clenched together, fangs threatening to bite into his bottom lip. “Don’t stop.”

The wetness of your mouth coated along the rest of his cock, submerging him as far as you can go and wrapping your hand around whatever portion you couldn’t reach. His tip touched the back of your throat when you took him in. Subconsciously you made sure to suck hard as you pulled away.

A string of saliva linked between your mouth and his dick, thinning out right before it snapped. Jungkook groaned out at the sight. He was painfully hard, and his stomach constantly reminded him he needed to drink before he depleted himself.

He whimpered as you abandoned his member, letting it relax against his stomach. He huffed out with a buck of his hips, “I was good to you last time!” he reminded.

“That you were.” You sat at the edge of the bed, untucking your blouse from the band of your pants. “So good.” You blushed.

“What are you doing?” His kicked you softly with the side of his foot. Your fingers found their way to the zipper of your bottoms, undoing them and shimmying them off. The blouse and bra you wore was soon tossed to the side. “I’m going to ride you if you let me.” You peered over your shoulder, baring your backside to him.

Jungkook’s eyes lit up, beaming the red hues that decorated them. “Yes, please. My god – please ride me.”

You straddled yourself over Jungkook’s waist, making sure not to fully sit down on top of him just yet. You wanted to tease him of the sight from a few weeks ago. Your lovely lady-bits wafting his favorite flavors together. “I guess I was bleeding a little bit huh?” You laughed to yourself.

His mouth watered; lips parted. Your smell lingers into his nose and filled his lungs. Jungkook was thankful you tied him up otherwise he was sure to have attacked you to get this treat.

“Rub yourself on me, please. I want you to coat my dick.”

He caught you by surprise, this lewd sentence spilling out of his mouth. But you conceded, sitting yourself back on his throbbing member, just to run yourself up and down on it. Your wetness caused an embarrassing and loud squelching noise, your taint painted on Jungkook’s cock like a canvas.

He met the swing of your hips with his own, grinding up into your slick sex. His pressure was forceful up into your folds as if his dick was asking for permission to enter you. “Is this what you want?” you teased again.

He nods vigorously, controlling his impulse to thrust up into you. His hunger remained dominant, but the lust for you became top priority.  

You locked eyes with him the second the tip of his dick threatened to push past your hole. He was yearning to break through and glide his dick against your velvety sleek walls. His lips are pink and bitten while he continued to let out those cute pleading noises you enjoy hearing so much. Jungkook’s eyes fluttered closed in a tormented bliss.

He was ultimately at your mercy, within your clutches and you could break him at any moment. Leave him hot and heavy to get back at him if you really wanted to. You didn’t speak, just waiting for a sign that he was close to his breaking point.

Jungkook whines again brokenly, “Please, please Noona. I want to be inside you. Can I please?”

So needy. So deprived of his wants and wishes. You feel for him, you really do. Feeling him shake like a leaf from the anticipation of plunging his cock so far up into you. And you allow it.

You leaned down further, allowing just the head to sink in. He groans out your name the moment you slipped him back out, just to repeat the process once again now easing yourself all the way down on him. You stiffed a moan yourself, humming along with the series of loud whiny noises escaping his mouth.

“No more ignoring me, Koo.” You rolled your hips up. “If we have a problem, we should address it. Right?” You circled, bobbing yourself on his cock. “Right?” Your hands found perch on his chest, pinching his nipples enough to harden them and forcing an animalistic growl out from Jungkook.

He gasps, choking out breaths, “Right!” his eyes skewed shut. Jungkook’s wrists were bleeding, pinned together tightly. His lust fogged mind wished to get his hands on you, to guide the movements of your hips or even flip you over just to pound himself inside your cunt.

His eyes opened just enough to stare at the way your body moved on top of him, a small raspy groan leaving him. God you look like a delicious treat – he’s even questioning himself how he lasted this long without taking you before.

The pants that hugged his thighs were preventing him from widening his legs. The fabric softening the blow of your ass landing down on him. The stinging burn of pain mixed with the immense pleasure of your pussy clenching around his smooth cock has got him spinning down in spirals.

“I – I’m, Noona. So close.”

“No.” You asserted, slowing down your pace to a halt. “Not yet.”

Jungkook kicked his feet out, eyes blown wide. “What, Why!?” His cock twitched inside of you the same way his hips jerked up.

“Bite me first.” Your wrist made its way in front of Jungkook’s mouth. His tongue swiped out licking your delicate skin. His mouth latches onto you with no hesitation, the sharpness of his fangs burying themselves inside forcing you to hiss at the sudden infliction.

It was like biting into a peach, liquid spilling all over her mouth. Jungkook sucked with fervor, drinking down your delectable juicy liquid while his hips jutted up into you. He wanted you to continue, keep moving before his orgasm gets denied. He muffled a cry against your bleeding wrist when you swivel your hips at a certain angle.

You were panting in the open air, picking up your speed to meet his urgency. Face gorgeously flustered, unshed tears sparkling from Jungkook’s eyes. Your blood pushed Jungkook over the edge, freefalling down into a pit of pure bliss. He chases his orgasm, using a sharp uncoordinated sloppy thrust to bury his cock deep inside your cunt as he came. Cum jetting out of him in streams like a fountain.

His fangs retracted from your wrist, being replaced with light butterfly kisses over the wounded area. Jungkook flops back to the pillow, short of breath. Portions of your blood smeared around his lips and also his dick.

“Holy shit – “ his words faltered.

You gave him his moment, allowing him to take it all in before you moved off of him. Lifting your body off of Jungkook he cuts your action with a sharp tone, “Where are you going?” His eyes dawdled on your exposed body, forcing you to freeze mid pull-out.

“I? I was going to clean up?”

He shook his head frantically, “Don’t get off me just yet. Ah. You didn’t cum – I want to make you cum.” Jungkook edged his hips up with a spasm of overstimulation, his member hiding back inside of you. “Sit back down on me please.”

He was softening inside of you; you can feel it slowly shrink and the idea of cock-warming to get you off wasn’t something that sounded promising.

“Kook, it’s really okay. I don’t need to.”

“I want you to. Get me out of these chains.”

You sighed, leaning forward enough to hold Jungkook’s cock inside of your super slippery walls. Giving Jungkook the opportunity to place hot open-mouth kisses to your breasts that dangled down in front of him. The make-shift bondage was released, pulling the chains off of his ruined wrists. They’ll heal back shortly anyways.

His hands latched to your waist in a blink of an eye, digging his nails into your skin. There was a pool of mixed liquids between the two of you, glistening in the light. He didn’t bother to yank his pants off, he wanted to focus on you instead. He guided you to run your hips a certain way, tilting them down so your clit can run against his pelvis.

“Hold me inside you, can you do that for me Noona? I’ll get hard again just by watching you use me.”

His voice was filthy whispering those sentences in the air. Involuntarily causing you to clutch around his dick.

“Ah – just like that,’ he cooed. “Play with me, do what you want.”

He continued to pilot your lower half on him, running your drenched pussy into him. Your breath turned labored; clit throbbing with sensitivity from the build up of stimulation. Your hands ran the expanse of his chest, his biceps, around his collarbones and up. Finger’s interlacing with the tendrils of his hair at the nape of his neck.

He was bringing you close to your release just as his cock started stiffening back up. Your breath caught in your throat, a brief squirm of your body reacting to his dick prodding into your sweet spot.

Your mouth dropped open, pleasure taking over your face. “Right there?” Jungkook taunted. “You like my dick against that spot?” You nodded like a bobble-head. He moved you again, repeating the action.

You never noticed how your hips were moving on their own accord now, how greedy you were being as you used your roommate as a pleasure toy. A very hot, sexy, vampiric sex toy indeed.

The moans escaping you were coming out as a song, heighten with each second your lower stomach started tingling. It was happening. You were at the brink of your orgasm, railing your clit into Jungkook. “Fu – fuck. Kook!” Your eyes clamped shut and your bottom lip was bruising from your demanding teeth. “I’m so – gasps – im so close.”

You practically hiccuped the moment his fingers pinched your bundle of nerves, tweaking it between the two digits. Forcing your body to thrust forward with a maddened cry. Orgasm after orgasm erupted through you, vibrations shooting through your body the same way you squirted all around Jungkook.

Jungkook caught you before you could collapse on top of him, sitting his body up so he could hold you in his arms. He petted your hair as you rested your head in the crook of his neck trying to calm down from the aftershocks of your numbing body.

“Hey, it’s alright, I gotcha.”

The warmth of your body captivated him. Your smell of arousal and blood dampening his body and sheets are sure to stir some problems in the future if he didn’t get it cleaned up quickly.

“Thanks…” you murmured under your breath, inhaling his manly scent.

“Clean I get you cleaned up?”

You nodded, circling your arms a and latching your legs around him. Exhaustion was whipping over you and you swore you started to see stars in your peripherals. What was it about Jungkook that caused the best orgasms you’ve ever received?

He chuckled, “Noona, I’m still inside you right now. If I’m gonna clean you up, I need to be able to move. You’ve made a mess everywhere.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, trying to get a better view of your blush fucked-out face.

“I feel a little weak.” You embarrassingly whispered.

“Of course you do – I fed on your blood. And you came about 3 times in a row.” He held you tighter, shifting himself to swing his legs to the edge of the bed. Everywhere was soaked. Leaking fluids colliding with anything it touched. It was then he decided sleeping in your clean bed will be easier for the both of you. “I’ll get you something filled with vitamins to help you replenish.” He gave a quick peck to your temple, examining the way you dozed off.

© All rights reserved under @kimtaehyunq​ - do not copy, repost, modify, edit, or translate any of my work without my direct consent. This tumblr is the ONLY place my fics are posted.

[arsenicpanda]

002 Betty

This is an oooooold ask game question, but let's jam!

|002 Betty Cooper

How I feel about this character: She is my future-PI, ends-justify-the-means darling and I love her. Betty believes in capital-j Justice and will pursue someone she perceives as a perpetrator to the ends of the earth, using (almost?) any means necessary. This makes her an extra terrible cop but a great PI and a fascinating character. Betty is the girl next door cracked open to reveal all the insecurities and pressures that being the Good Girl Next Door would create, and instead of some “oh, she’s under pressure but otherwise normal” we got “nah, she’s ruthless and dark and smart as fuck but also yearning to be loved” and then we let her be loved, not some Strong Independent Woman or a perpetual second choice, but someone’s first choice, how fucking rare is that? That a woman with darkness in her gets to be loved without the condition that she hide or “fix” that darkness? It’s a breath of fresh air. Betty goes from being unsure of herself and struggling with her ~darkness~ to be certain and confident and decisive and comfortable with her chosen level of ~darkness~ in 4x16. I mean, then things go to shit and she seems to be overconfident, even cocky, and unaware of just how dark she’s gotten (Betty gets the line of how dark she gets to be of "maybe don't be a vigilante killer", which is a normal line for all protagonists and therefore doesn't bother me), but I assume she’ll come back to her normal state of being equal steps from being a hero and being a villain, rather than her current state of being much closer to being a villain than being a hero. I’m excited to see it, and I hope to god they don’t fuck it up.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Jughead, mainly. Donna is good for hatesex but nothing long term, and Veronica is good in the comics. Toni is good too, and I’m itching to see her one-on-one dynamic with Tabitha because I already like it in theory and can’t wait to see it in practice. Also, my two OT3s are Betty/Jughead/Toni (bugoni) and Betty/Jughead/Tabitha (bugabitha), but especially bugabitha because omg investigative power throuple that covers the full spectrum between Mulder and Scully, give it to me now, please. If Riverdale would just open its third eye, it would have bugabitha + varchiereggie endgame, let me tell you.

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Oh god, Betty has terrible and underdeveloped friendships. Uh...Charles? I love her interactions with him, the way he’s like “Betty, you’re so great at catching serial killers, I love you, please love me” and she’s like “But you’re a serial killer”, like that’s peak comedy and I want more of it, please.

My unpopular opinion about this character: idk if this is unpopular, but I think, while she’s been (for the most part) a great girlfriend, she’s been a shitty friend to, well, all of her friends. She’s so focused on her mystery, her mission du jour, and her family that she kind of just lets her friendships fall to the side, especially her friendship with Veronica, like holy shit. Like, the bad friendship goes both ways with Archie and Kevin, but Veronica has been a very supportive and helpful friend to Betty, and the show rarely shows Betty doing the same, which is a huge bummer. It’s very much a case of the writers choosing to mainly write Betty’s mysteries, but as a result of that choice, she just looks like a bad friend, which is unfortunate. I wish it wasn’t true, but alas.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I wish she had been a PI and former FBI agent post time skip instead of an FBI trainee. It would have made everything she did in 5a fun instead of deeply uncomfortable at best.

my OTP: Jughead, obviously. Even with everything that canon has done to try and injure this ship, it stands pretty damn tall. Like, they just line up, there’s no disputing that. Interests, priorities, attitudes, beliefs, they all just fit. I’ve never seen two characters who are so clearly soulmates before; there’s just no denying it.

my cross over ship: Uhh...none? Maybe she’d be cute with Tsubaki because they’re both big on Justice? But then Tsubaki also very much follows the rules, so that might not work.

a headcanon fact: The reason Betty is only a trainee is because she took the time to get a Masters in Psychology after college and therefore only joined the FBI recently. She never visits Charles, but she sometimes gets letters from him that she immediately throws in the trash.

[antlerqueer]

hey megan, is it just me or are people playing younger and younger fcs more and more by the day? i feel so uncomfortable seeing fcs that are under 21 being played by people over 21… especially fcs like emily alyn lind, olivia rodrigo and whitney peak whose resources are from when they were all minors and then some from when they were freshly 18. i’m just grossed out by this. wanted to know what you thought about people playing 18-19 year old fcs.

Before my answer, I'm going to preface this with: I am close to being 28 years old. I've been on this website doing tumblr rp (on and off) for over 10 years. I am old and have opinions.

Now brace yourself for a long post.

I understand the base level of appeal. Whitney, Olivia, Emily - they're all beautiful young women who people admire for so many reasons. Emily and Whitney are fantastic actresses and Olivia is a powerhouse right now and she's freshly 18. They have star power, and they are conventionally attractive young women, which is what the rpc has always (and maybe will always) want to play. For people on this platform who are somewhere between 15-25, playing 18-21 year olds is (in my opinion) pretty reasonable. 25 doesn't always feel much older than 21, especially those who turned anything over 20 during the pandemic. It's societal/cultural arrested development.

Personally, again as someone who is 27 going on 28, I don't know if I could comfortably play a character 21 or younger. I have characters who are 21 or younger, but my 19-21 year old characters are dormant and haven't actually been played since I was like 25. Even as a 25 year old writing a 19 year old felt a bit off, but it worked for her characterization and I felt better because the character is ace and I would never have her in situations where she was going to be involved in smut. (She was a serial killer. It's a whole thing.)

Many of us have experienced trauma at young(er) ages. Is that an excuse for people my age to be consistently writing 18 year olds with freshly 18 year old faces? Absolutely not. Is part of the reason people find comfort in doing that because we'd all like to reclaim a bit of the youth we feel we may have lost? Yeah, probably. This isn't the place or platform for it, but people use it that way.

I'm sure many people have said this much better than I have and in far fewer words, but we are better off now than we were in 2015, in 2012, and especially 2011. We don't have rps where it's kids (meaning under 18, which is US-centric of me but I think we can accept under 18 as children as a general rule of thumb) roleplaying other kids using I*n S*merhalder and M*tthew D*ddario for 15 year old boys who can't keep their hormones in check with the N*na D*brevs (who were always written as Latinas) and the other TVD girlies except Kat because y'know... the rpc has always been racist and especially anti-Black.

Anyway, there's tons of reasons people may play younger muses. For some people it's the only way to get folks to respond, for others they're trying to recapture their youth. I am going to venture to say that most of us find it uncomfortable, which is why we've stuck to our RPHs, indies, and 1x1s. I find it a red flag when someone 25+ is writing mostly younger muses because I worry about the maturity we can project onto characters who are 18-21. Hell, television has done enough to show teenagers as adults (Veronica Lodge running 3 businesses at once before graduating high school? Aria Montgomery dating her fucking teacher and being "mature" enough for that? Veronica Mars as a PI investigating and finding the answers to a murder case people twice her age couldn't do? It's always been there.) Hell, I've had moments where I've forgotten the ages of the characters I'm writing against and had to be put in check, and am grateful for it.

TL;DR: Unfortunately, I have to say it: We Live In A Society. Youth is heavily valued and our culture has put many people into arrested development and this is the selected outlet for some. It sucks.

[ehliena]

FilAms referring to the Philippines as the acronym PI while they are calling homelanders for the use of Filipinx and Pinxy is peak irony. That is without adding these two facts: the letter F is a loaned letter in Tagalog from the oppressors (and its corresponding phoneme too) and that the demonym is an appellation to Felipe II of Spain. And for someone like me who reads and writes in Baybayin since age 15, to write a Baybayin X seems like a dark humor scene in a Taika Waititi comedy. (Yes, I do Baybayin shiz for fun, but not as serious as Kristian Kabuay and NordenX.)

I first encountered PI among FilAms during Christmas vacation 2002 in LA; and Pilipinx when I joined the theatrical production of a FilAm musical at CalState East Bay in 2016. I understand that it is their culture and I respect it, and I assimilate. I easily assimilate with what I call my Nickelodeon voice, which I have acquired from when jailbroken cable services became a thing in Mega Manila and through my theatre background. But when in Rome, we live the Roman way, so as the Santa Mesa-born foreigner, I have to hide that dark laughter every single time someone uses PI.

But of course, 2020 had to make us see PI-using FilAms pressuring homelander to use Filipinx, citing political correctness and gender neutrality (while white American Pemberton, the killer of Filipino transwoman Jennifer Laude, was given an absolute pardon by Duterte).

So, let us start my TEDtalk.

P.I. is a colloquial acronym for Putanginamo (the equivalent of Fuck You) used by conservative Filipinos who probably are only retelling a story.

Tsismosa 1: “Minura ni Aling Biring si Ka Boying.” (Aling Biring cursed Ka Boying)

Tsismosa 2: “Oh? Ano ika?” (Really? What did she say?)

Tsismosa 1: “Malutong at umaatikabong PI.” (A hard and surging PI.)

Then I imagine PI as the curse when FilAms say some sentences:

“Are you flying back to Putangina?”

“I miss Putangina. We went to Boracay.”

“Duterte is President of Putangina.”

But it’s fine with me. I understand they mean well and I know that Americans, as first world as they are, have poor grasp of history. It’s a little sad though that FilAms have not always been reminded of this special footnote in the history of the United States:

P.I. stands for Philippine Islands. That’s the colonial name of the Philippines as a commonwealth republic under the United States, which the republic stopped using when the 1935 Constitution was enacted in 1946. Yes, in case people are forgetting, the Philippines has long been a state with full sovereignty recognized by the United Nations (of which we are a founding member of and wherein Carlos Romulo served as President) and recognized by Shaider Pulis Pangkalawakan.

Also, RP is used to refer to the Republic of the Philippines before the use of the standard two-letter country code PH.

I’m not saying FilAms should stop using PI to refer to the Philippines but I’m saying that the roots of that practice is from American oppression that homelanders have already cancelledttt.

Our oldest bank in the Philippines is BPI. It stands for Bank of the Philippine Islands, originally named El Banco Español Filipino de Isabel II because it was founded during Queen Isabella II’s reign. It was a public bank by then; perhaps comparable to the Federal Reserve. Upon its privatization during the American occupation, the bank started using BPI for the sake of branding because it was the Americans who christened us with P.I. (I have a theory that Manila was a character in Money Heist because the Royal Mint of Spain used to have a branch in the Philippines and operated very closely with BPI. And my other supernatural theory is that our translation of peso which is ‘piso’ affects our economy. ‘Piso’ means ‘floor’ or ‘flat’ in Spanish.)

Now, going back. To me, P.I. is more appropriate an acronym for the ethnic group of Pacific Islanders. I don't think I need to explain further why. These would be the natives of Hawai’i, Guam, Tuvalu, Kiribati, and other islands in the Oceania continent, and maybe even New Zealand. If a curious FilAm raises a question of whether Filipinos are Pacific Islanders or Asians or Hispanics, the answer is long but easy to understand.

The Filipinos live in a group of islands within the Pacific Plate. The Philippines is an Asian country, following conventions of geopolitical continental borders from the other. We are Hispanics by virtue of being under Spain for three fucking centuries. And Teresita Marquez is Reina Hispanoamericana because why not? (We could’ve been a part of America still if not for the efforts of Quezon.) So, the quick answer is that the Filipino is all of it.

Yes, the Filipinos have an affinity with the Pacific through nature and geography. Think of the earthquakes, volcanoes, flora and fauna, and the coconuts. And they even look like us. The earlier inhabitants of the archipelago were Pacific Islanders who were introduced to Hinduism and Buddhism as being closer to the cradles of civilization India and China. Then, the Islamic faith has grown along with the rise of the kingdoms and polities in Southeast Asia. The Spaniards arrived in the archipelago, to an already civilized Islamic polity - too civilized that they understood how diplomacy is necessary in war. We knew that it resulted to the defeat and death of Magellan who was fighting for Rajah ‘Don Carlos’ Humabon. Then came the 333 years of being under Spain AND (sic) the Catholic Church which made us more Hispanic. Our Austronesian/Malayo-Polynesian languages (Tagalog, Bisaya, Kapampangan, Ilocano, Bikol, Waray, Cuyonon, etc.) have kept our Asian identity intact - unlike Latin American countries where the official language of each is one of the Romance languages; thus "Latin".

(It is only towards the end of that 333-year Spanish rule that the 'Filipino' emerged to be something the oppressed could claim, and for that we thank the poet in Jose Rizal. I see a parallel in how Christians claimed the cross, the former symbol of criminals in Jewish tradition, to become the symbol of God’s love and salvation through Jesus. Wow. That’s so UST of me. Lol.)

You add into the mix that our diaspora is so large and identifiable, the data gatherers decided to mark the tables with “Filipino” - too Asian to be Hispanic and Pacific, too Pacific to be Hispanic and Asian, and too Hispanic to be Asian and Pacific.

What many FilAms do not realize everyday is that unlike the words Blacks, Latinx, Asians, or Pacific Islanders, or Hispanics, the word Filipino is not just a word denoting an ethnic group. At its highest technical form, the word Filipino is a word for the citizenship of a sovereign nation, enshrined in the constitution of a free people whose history hinges on the first constitutional republic in Asia.

By state, we mean a sovereign nation and not a federal state. (Well, even with Chinese intervention, at the very least we try.)

By state, we mean we are a people with a national territory, a government, and a legal system inspired by the traditions of our ancestors and oppressors. It may be ugly, but it is ours, and we have the power to change it.

This one may be as confusing as Greek-Grecian-Greco-Hellenic-Hellene, but let’s examine the word 'Filipino' further when placed side by side with related words.

*Pilipinas is the country; official name: Republika ng Pilipinas. It is translated into English as “Philippines”; official name: Republic of the Philippines. Spanish translates it into “Filipinas”, the Germans “Philippinen”, the French “Les Philippines”, the Italians “Filippine”.

*Pilipino refers to the people. It is translated into English as Filipino. The plural forms are ‘mga Pilipino’ and ‘Filipinos’.

*Philippine is an English adjective relating to the Philippines, commonly used for official functions. It may be used as an alternative to the other western adjective ‘Filipino’ but the interchangeability is very, very nuanced. Filipino people not Philippine people. Filipino government and Philippine government. Philippine Embassy, Filipino embassy, not Filipino Embassy. Tricky, eh?

*Filipino also refers to the official language of the state (which is basically Tagalog).

*Filipiniana refers to Philippine-related books and non-book materials (cultural items, games, fashion, etc.) which could be produced by Filipinos or non-Filipinos, inside or outside the Philippines.

*Pinoy is a colloquial gender-neutral demonym; comparable to how New Zealanders use the word Kiwi.

The demonym Filipino has evolved from that of referring only to Spaniards in the Philippines into becoming the term for the native people who choose to embrace the identity of a national.

It started from when Jose Rizal wrote his poem “A la juventud filipina” and he emerged as an inspiration to the Philippine Revolution through Andres Bonifacio’s leadership. (But take note of ‘filipina’ because ‘juventud’ is a feminine word in Spanish.)

Today, no less than the 1987 Philippine Constitution, which was neither written by Hamilton nor a group of straight white men but by people of different faiths, genders, disabilities, and skin colors, in its first five words in both Filipino and English versions read: "Kami, ang nakapangyayaring sambayanang Pilipino", translated as "We, the sovereign Filipino people” validates the legitimacy of the word as gender-neutral, alive, aware and awake with our history of struggles.

Article 14 Section 7 of the current Constitution says Filipino is the national language. And while I agree that it is not really a real language but an alias for Tagalog, it is a conscientious codification of a social norm during the time of Manuel Quezon as he is aiming for the world to recognize the unified Filipinos as a sovereign people. People. Not men. Not heterosexual men. People.

It is a non-issue for the homeland Filipino that the word Filipino refers to the people and the language. But FilAms are concerned of political correctness due to an understandable cultural insecurity also felt by other non-whites in the US. And there is added confusion when FilAms pattern the word Filipino after the patriarchal Spanish language, without learning that the core of the grammars of Philippine languages are gender-neutral. The Tagalog pronoun "siya" has no gender. "Aba Ginoong Maria" is proof that the Tagalog word 'ginoo' originally has no gender. Our language is so high-context that we have a fundamental preposition: “sa”.

It is difficult to be a person of color in the United States especially in these times of the white supremacy’s galling resurgence. Well, it’s not like they have been gone, but this time, with Trump, especially, it’s like the movement took steroids and was given an advertising budget. But for FilAms to force Filipinx into the Philippines, among homeland Filipinos, is a rather uneducated move, insensitive of the legacies of our national heroes and magnificent leaders.

The FilAm culture and the Filipino homeland culture are super different, nuanced. It’s a different dynamic for a Latinx who speak Spanish or Portuguese or whatever their native language is - it reminds entitled white English-speaking America of their place in the continent. It should remind a racist white man whose roots hail from Denmark that his house in Los Angeles stands on what used to be the Mexican Empire.

Let’s use a specific cultural experience by a Black person for example: the black person not only has Smith or Johnson for their last name, but there is no single easy way for them to retrieve their family tree denoting which African country they were from, unless the Slave Trade has data as meticulous as the SALN forms. Let’s use a specific cultural experience by a Mexican-American with Native American heritage: the person is discriminated by a white US Border Patrol officer in the border of Texas. Texas used to be part of Mexico. Filipinos have a traceable lineage and a homeland.

Filipinos and FilAms may be enjoying the same food recipes, dancing the same cultural dance for purposes of presentations every once in a while, but the living conditions, the geography, the languages, social experiences, the human conditions are different, making the psychology, the politics, the social implications more disparate than Latinxs like Mexicans and Mexican Americans.

I don’t know if it is too much advertising from state instruments or from whatever but FilAms don’t realize how insensitive they have become in trying to shove a cultural tone down the throats of the citizens of the republic or of those who have closer affinity to it. And some Filipino homelanders who are very used to accommodating new global social trends without much sifting fall into the trap of misplaced passions.

To each his own, I guess. But FilAms should read Jose Rizal’s two novels, Carlos Romulo’s “I am a Filipino”, materials by Miriam Defensor Santiago (not just the humor books), speeches of Claro Recto, books by historians Gregorio Zaide, Teodoro Agoncillo, Renato Constantino, Nick Joaquin, Regalado Trota Jose, Fidel Villaroel, Zeus Salazar, Xiao Chua, and Ambeth Ocampo, and really immerse themselves in the struggle of the Filipino for an unidentifiable identity which the FilAms confuse for the FilAm culture. That’s a little weird because unlike Blacks and the Latinx movement, the Philippines is a real sovereign state which FilAms could hinge their history from.

I have to be honest. The homelanders don’t really care much about FilAm civil rights heroes Philip Vera Cruz and Larry Itliong, or even Alice Peña Bulos, because it was a different fight. But the media can play a role sharing it, shaping consensus and inadvertently setting standards. (But it’s slightly different for Peña Bulos, as people are realizing she was already a somebody in the Philippines before becoming a who’s who in the US, which is somehow similar to the case of Lea Salonga who was not only from the illustrious Salonga clan, but was also already a child star.) How much do Filipino millennials know about Marcoses, Aquinos? Maybe too serious? Lol. Then, let’s try using my favorite examples as a couch potato of newer cultural materials accessible to FilAms - cultural materials on television and internet.

FilAms who only watched TFC wondered who Regine Velasquez was when ABSCBN welcomed her like a beauty queen. Those with the GMA Pinoy TV have a little idea. But they did not initially get why the most successful Filipino artist in the US, Lea Salonga, does not get that level of adulation at home that Velasquez enjoys. Was it just Regine’s voice? No. Well, kinda, maybe, because there is no question that she is a damn good singer with God knows how many octaves, but it is the culture she represents as a probinsyana who made it that far and chose to go back home and stay - and that’s already a cultural nuance Filipinos understand and resonate with, without having to verbalize because the Philippines is a high-context culture in general, versus the US which is low-context culture in general. I mean, how many Filipinos know the difference of West End and Broadway, and a Tony and an Olivier? What does a Famas or a Palanca mean to a FilAm, to a Filipino scholar, and to an ordinary Filipino? Parallel those ideas with "Bulacan", "Asia", "Birit", "Songbird".

You think Coach Apl.de.Ap is that big in the Philippines? He was there for the global branding of the franchise because he is an American figure but really, Francis Magalona (+) and Gloc9 hold more influence. And speaking of influence, do FilAms know Macoy Dubs, Lloyd Cadena (+) and the cultures they represent? Do FilAms know Aling Marie and how a sari-sari store operates within a community? Do FilAms see the symbolic functions of a makeshift basketball (half)courts where fights happen regularly? How much premium do FilAms put on queer icons Boy Abunda, Vice Ganda? Do FilAms realize that Kris Aquino's role in Crazy Rich Asians was not just to have a Filipino in the cast (given that Nico Santos is already there) but was also Kris Aquino's version of a PR stunt to showcase that Filipinos are of equal footing with Asian counterparts if only in the game of 'pabonggahan'? Will the FilAms get it if someone says ‘kamukha ni Arn-arn’? Do FilAms see the humor in a Jaclyn Jose impersonation? Do FilAms even give premiums to the gems Ricky Lee, Peque Gallaga, Joel Lamangan, Joyce Bernal, Cathy Garcia Molina, and Jose Javier Reyes wrote and directed? (And these are not even National Artists.) How about AlDub or the experience of cringing to edgy and sometimes downright disgusting remarks of Joey De Leon while also admiring his creative genius? Do FilAms understand the process of how Vic Sotto became ‘Bossing’ and how Michael V could transform into Armi Millare? Do FilAms get that Sexbomb doesn’t remind people of Tom Jones but of Rochelle? Do FilAms get that dark humor when Jay Sonza’s name is placed beside Mel Tiangco’s? What do FilAms associate with the names ‘Tulfo’, ‘Isko’, ‘Erap’, ‘Charo’, ‘Matet’, ‘Janice’, ‘Miriam’, ‘Aga’, ‘Imelda’ and ‘Papin’? Do FilAms get that majority of Filipinos cannot jive into Rex Navarette’s and Jo Koy’s humor but find the comic antics of JoWaPao, Eugene Domingo, Mr Fu, Ryan Rems, and Donna Cariaga very easy to click with? Do FilAms know Jimmy Alapag, Jayjay Helterbrand, Josh Urbiztondo? Oh wait, these guys are FilAms. Lol. Both cultures find bridge in NBA, but have these FilAms been to a UAAP, NCAA, or a PBA basketball game where the longstanding rival groups face each other? Do FilAms know the legacy of Ely Buendia and the Eraserheads? Do FilAms know about Brenan Espartinez wearing this green costume on Sineskwela? Do FilAms know how Kiko Matsing, Ate Sienna, Kuya Bodjie helped shape a generation of a neoliberal workforce?

That list goes on and on, when it comes to this type of Filipiniana materials on pop culture, and I am sure as Shirley Puruntong that while the homeland Filipino culture is not as widespread, it has depth in its humble and high-context character.

Now, look at the practical traffic experiences of the homelanders. People riding the jeepneys, the tricycles, the MRT/LRT, the buses, and the kolorum - the daily Via Crucis of Mega Manila only Filipinos understand the gravity of, even without yet considering the germs passed as the payments pass through five million other passengers before reaching the front. Add the probinsyas, people from periphery islands who cross the sea to get good internet connections or do a checkup in the closest first-class town or component city. Do FilAms realize that the largest indoor arena in the world is built and owned by Iglesia ni Cristo, a homegrown Christian church with a headquarters that could equal the Disney castle?

Do FilAms know the experience as a tourist's experience or as an experience a homelander want to get away from or at least improved?

Do FilAms understand how much an SM, a Puregold, or a Jollibee, Greenwich, Chowking branch superbly change a town and its psychology and how it affects the Pamilihang Bayan? Do FilAms realize that while they find amusement over the use of tabo, the homelanders are not amused with something so routinary? Do FilAms realize how Filipinos shriek at the thought that regular US households do not wash their butts with soap and water after defecating?

Do FilAms understand the whole concept of "ayuda" or SAP Form in the context of pandemic and politics? The US has food banks, EDDs, and stubs - but the ayuda is nowhere near the first world entitlements Filipinos in the homeland could consider luxury. But, that in itself is part of the cultural nuance.

Do FilAms know that Oxford recognizes Philippine English as a diction of the English language? While we’ve slowly grown out of the fondness for pridyider and kolgeyt, do FilAms know how xerox is still used in the local parlance? Do FilAms know how excruciating it is to read Panitikan school books Ibong Adarna, Florante at Laura under the curriculum, and how light it is to read Bob Ong? Do FilAms realize that Jessica Zafra, with all her genius, is not the ordinary homelander’s cup-of-tea?

Do FilAms know that Filipinos do not sound as bad in English as stereotypes made them believe? Do FilAms really think that Philippines will be a call center capital if our accents sound like the idiolects of Rodrigo Duterte’s or Ninoy Aquino’s Philippine English accent? Do FilAms realize how Ninoy and Cory speak English with different accents? Lea Salonga's accent is a thespian's accent so she could do a long range like that of Meryl Streep if she wants to so she wouldn't be a good example. Pacquiao's accent shows the idiolect unique to his region in southern Philippines. But for purposes of showing an ethnolinguistic detail, I am using President Cory Aquino’s accent when she delivered her historic speech in the US Congress as a more current model of the Philippine English accent.

Do FilAms bother themselves with the monsoons, the humidity, and the viscosity of sweat the same way they get bothered with snowstorms, and heat waves measured in Fahrenheit?

Do FilAms know that not only heterosexual men are accepted in the Katipunan? Do FilAms even know what the Katipunan is? Do FilAms realize that the Philippines had two female presidents and a transwoman lawmaker? Do FilAms take “mamatay nang dahil sa’yo” the same way Filipinos do? Do FilAms know the ground and the grassroots? Do FilAms know the Filipino culture of the homeland?

These are cultural nuances FilAms will never understand without exposure of Philippine society reflected from barrio to lalawigan, from Tondo to Forbes Park. It goes the same way with Filipinos not understanding the cultural weight of Robert Lopez and the EGOT, or Seafood City, or Lucky Chances Casino, or what Jollibee symbolizes in New York, unless they are exposed.

The thing though is that while it is harder for FilAms to immerse to the homeland culture, it is easier for homeland culture to immerse into the FilAm’s because America’s excess extends to the propagation of its own subcultures, of which the FilAm’s is one.

We’re the same yet we’re different. But it should not be an issue if we are serious with embracing diversity. There should not be an issue with difference when we could find a common ground in a sense of history and shared destiny. But it is the burden of the Filipinos with and in power to understand the situation of those who have not.

Nuances. Nuances. Nuances.

And while I believe that changing a vowel into X to promote gender-neutrality has a noble intention, there is no need to fix things that are not broken. Do not be like politicians whose acts of service is to destroy streets and roads and then call for its renovation instead of fixing broken bridges or creating roads where there are none.

The word ‘Filipino’ is not broken. Since Rizal’s use of the term to refer to his Malayan folks, the formal process of repair started. And it is not merely codified, but validated by our prevailing Constitution, which I don’t think a FilAm would care to read, and I cannot blame them. What's in it for a regular FilAm? They wouldn’t read the US Constitution and the Federalist Papers; what more the 1987 Saligang Batas?

The bottomline of my thoughts on this particular X issue is that FilAms cannot impose a standard for Filipinos without going through a deeper, well-thought-out, more arduous process, most especially when the card of gender neutrality and political correctness are raised with no prior and deeper understanding of what it is to be a commoner in the homeland, of what it is to be an ordinary citizen in a barangay, from Bayan ng Itbayat, Lalawigan ng Batanes to Bayan ng Sitangkai, Lalawigan ng Sulu. It is very dangerous because FilAms yield more influence and power through their better access to resources, and yet these do not equate to cultural awareness.

Before Rizal’s political philosophy of Filipino, the ‘Filipino’ refers to a full-blooded Spaniard born in the Philippines, and since Spain follows jus sanguinis principle of citizenship, back then, ‘Filipino’ is as Spaniard as a ‘Madrileño’ (people in Madrid). The case in point is Marcelo Azcárraga Palmero - the Filipino Prime Minister of Spain.

But the word ‘Filipino’ was claimed by Rizal and the ilustrados to refer to whom the Spaniards call ‘indio’. The term was then applied retroactively to those who helped in the struggle. It was only later that Lapu-Lapu, Francisco Dagohoy, Gabriela and Diego Silang, Sultan Kudarat, Lorenzo Ruiz, and GOMBURZA were called Filipinos.

The word 'Filipino' was long fixed by the tears and sweat of martyrs through years of bloody history in the hands of traitors within and oppressors not just of the white race. The word Filipino is now used by men, women, and those who do not choose to be referred to as such who still bears a passport or any state document from the Republic of the Philippines. Whether a homelader is a Kapuso, Kapamilya, Kapatid, DDS, Dilawan, Noranian, Vilmanian, Sharonian, Team Magnolia, Barangay Ginebra, Catholic, Muslim, Aglipayan, Iglesia, Victory, Mormon, IP, OP, SJ, RVM, SVD, OSB, OSA, LGBTQQIP2SAA, etc., the word 'Filipino' is a constant variable in the formula of national consciousness.

Merriam-Webster defines Filipina as a Filipino girl or woman. Still a Filipino. Remember, dictionaries do not dictate rules. Dictionaries provide us with the meaning. To me, the word Filipina solidified as a subtle emphasis to the Philippines as a matriarchal country faking a macho look. But that’s not saying the word Filipino in the language is macho with six-pack.

The word Filipino is not resting its official status on the letter O but in its quiddity as a word and as an idea of a sovereign nation. The words Pilipino, Filipino, and Pinoy are not broken. What is broken is the notion that a Filipino subculture dictates the standard for political correctness without reaching the depth of our own history.

If the Filipinx-Pinxy-Pilipinx movement truly suits the Filipino-American struggle, my heart goes out for it. But my republic, the Philippines, home of the Filipino people, cradle of noble heroes, has no need for it (not just yet, maybe) - not because we don't want change, but because it will turn an already resolved theme utterly problematic. The Filipinos have no need for it, not because we cannot afford to consider political correctness when people are hungry, abused, and robbed off taxes. We could afford to legalize a formal way of Filipino greeting for purposes of national identity. But as far as the Filipinx, it should not be the homeland’s priority.

We may be poor, but we have culture.

From Julius Payàwal Fernandez's post

[holylulusworld]

Not your life any longer

Summary: Dean Winchester, notorious mobster, lady killer – the man holding your life in his hands will not let you go.

A/N: I had a request for a stripper!reader fic with Dean so here we go with a mini-series to this request.

Pairing: Mobster!Dean x Stripper!Reader, Benny Lafitte

Warnings: angst, language, Dean being an emotional tornado, tension, light dub-con touching (Dean is a mobster and dangerous in this)

Explosive - Masterlist

While you glare at him with angry eyes Dean ignores you, rather unimpressed. He’s humming a Zeppelin song while tossing clothes onto the floor.

Dean opened your drawer, had a look at your clothes and decided you don’t need anything but the things you are wearing.

“Nothing wearable. My girl will not run around in cotton panties and bras not even pushing her tits up.” Snickering Dean tosses most of your clothes to the floor.

“Hey!” Picking your favorite sweater up you press it to your chest. “I like my clothes! I am not your doll or something. Why can’t you just leave me be…?”

Stopping in his tracks Dean rips one of your sleep shirts into two halves, stalking toward you to press you into the wall. “You’re mine and my girl wears nice clothes, not scratchy old shirts.”

“Not everyone can run around in a suit all day long.” Looking at Dean’s black suit, the perfect tie and his matching shoes you smirk. “I like to run around in a comfy shirt and panties after work.”

“Panties - not lumps. I’ll buy you silk and lace, not this cotton rubbish.” Muttering Dean looks you up and down. “I want you in sexy lingerie for me.”

“I…” Whining you must watch him grab your favorite sweater. “Not that one! If you dare to destroy I’ll…” Not knowing what you will do you fight for the piece of clothing.

“Fine.” Pecking your lips Dean hums as he let go of your sweater. “You can keep ten pieces and you will have dinner with me tomorrow.”

“Fifteen…”

“Damn, you’re a hard negotiation partner.” Smirk on his lips Dean picks a cotton panty up to shred it into pieces. “But not your underwear.”

“I want one pair of cotton panties…” Fighting like a married couple you glare at each other. “I’ll wear those in bed…”

“You can keep sixteen if you toss the panties away.” Looking at the worn-out panties you bite your lip, nodding. “Deal?”

“Deal…” Shaking Dean’s hand you must admit, he’s handsome and scary at the same time. How can a man kiss you softly and shoot a man within not two minutes?

“Will you ever let me go?”

“Nope. You’re mine now. I decided so the moment you moved your cute ass on stage and shook it to ‘ramble on’.”

His eyes soften for a moment as he can see the uncertainty in your eyes but then it’s gone, and the mobster rolls his shoulders. “I still can call the cops and you can explain what happened…”

“Why are you threatening me? That man…he tried to…” Sniffling you drop the sweater to his feet. “You are the same…”

“I am the…” Angrily clenching his jaw Dean grabs your arms to force you to look at him. “Don’t compare me with that son of a bitch! You work in my club, take my money so you are mine…”

“You can’t own people only as you pay them. I am not a whore you can pay to have sex with you…” Dean’s features harden and you find yourself pinned to the wall. One muscular thigh slides between your legs and you gasp as he presses it to your core.

“Let me clarify a few things, Sweetheart…” The nickname rolls easily off his tongue, even tho he’s looking at you like he considers to kill you. “This sexy little body is mine. I will touch you and you will love it…”

“That’s rape…” Now he pants heavily and you cry out as he rubs his thigh against your clit. “Sir…”

“I will not force you into my bed, but you need to learn your place. Tonight, you’ll be my good girl and will listen to my rules. I will provide anything you need and all I want is a little respect.”

“How long will you provide everything? Until you get bored again? I know what you do with the girls in the club. Two quit just last month…”

“Hmmm…” Smirking Dean darts his tongue out; wets those plush lips and you are engrossed in watching him lick them instead of listening to his words. “For someone not wanting me, you are checking me out way too long.”

“I wasn’t…I just…” Stammering you meet his eyes and the anger is gone. “You are dangerous for any girl. You leave a trail of broken hearts…”

“…and pussy’s…” Dean adds and you give him a dirty look. “It’s true…” Brushing his lips over your cheek he smirks against your skin. “After me, no girl will ever cum for another guy.”

“Self-confident much?” Shyly looking at Dean you lick your lips. “Why do you toss all the girls away? Was the sex bad or did you get bored?”

“Jesus, Dr. Phil. Stop analyzing me as I like to have sex. All the girls, they were good, very good in bed, but you can’t talk to them about anything. None of them knows who Zeppelin is or anything else.”

“Only as I know a few Zeppelin songs you will not let me go?” Blinking a few times, you press your hands against his shoulders. “That’s crazy!”

“Yeah, Baby Girl. I am crazy about you and your cute ass. I could tell you I like the way you dance or the tiny sway in your hips when you go on stage. I could tell you I know about your plans and that I admire your ambitions…”

“I wasn’t good enough…” Grumbling you look at the ballet shoes. “I tried so hard, but I didn’t get the chance to dance for them. They didn’t even let me try…”

“Assholes…” In a split-second Dean’s mood as back to soft and comforting and you wonder if he’s a case of Jekyll and Hyde.

While Dean strokes your cheek you glance up at the tall mobster. “I could help you. I only have to call a few people. Pay a man here and there or threaten his family.”

“No…” Placing your index finger onto his lips you look shake your head.

“I wanted to make it, show everyone I got talent, but it wasn’t enough. I am a stripper, nothing else. Someone getting paid to show her body. That’s the reason you believe you own me…”

“Sweetheart, I do not own you…” Lips claiming yours Dean wraps his arms around you. “But you are mine.”

“That’s the same…” Mumbling the words against his demanding lips you feel lightheaded. His musky scent surrounds you and the tiny voice in your head tells you to just give in.

“No, it’s not the same, Y/N. I own a few people and they’ll do anything for me, but you are special. I want to treat you like a queen and my dirty whore at the same time. I’ll make you feel like a princess…”

“Princess…” Glancing at the sweater you bite your lip. “I still want my sixteen pieces of clothing.”

“You can keep the ballet shoes too. Just in case…” Pecking your cheek Dean turns his attention back toward your drawer. “Who wears those?” Snickering Dean tosses your boy shorts at you.

“I will keep those!” Scrunching up his nose Dean uses all his strength to rip the shorts into two halves.

“No fucking way. You can wear my boxers or shirts…” Grumbling you rush toward your drawer to grab your favorite clothes. Your sweater, an old pair of jeans and two dresses end up in your suitcase. “Four, Sweetheart…”

While Dean is busy checking your underwear out, growling as he finally finds red lace panties you try to smuggle more clothes into the suitcase. “That’s eighteen.” Dean plays with the red panties smirking as you try to hide the clothes.

“Sixteen…” Lying you shuffle on your feet. “I swear…”

“I can see you are lying, Sweetheart. If you tell me the truth, you can keep those two pieces…” Looking at your suitcase you sigh heavily.

“I lied…I hid two panties…”

“Good girl…” Pecking your lips Dean hums as you place your hands against his chest. “Put the red ones in too and kiss me as you mean it and you can keep five more items.”

Considering his offer, you look at your drawer. Your favorite lazy Sunday shirt and a crop top are still in the drawer.

While Dean watches you, even studies your face you take him by surprise as you wrap your arms around his neck to press your lips softly against his. “I…uh…”

“Damn, you are too gentle. Take what you want, Y/N. My girl needs to learn how to get what she wants.” Nodding you press your lips against his, fist his hair and Dean smirks as you force your tongue into his mouth.

“You taste like pie and whiskey…” Giggling you lick over his lips before you let go of Dean. “My mom makes the best pies in my hometown. She’s got a shop…”

“God, I knew you are the one…” Licking his lips Dean watches you toss the top and shirt you like into the suitcase. “Can you bake?”

Surprised by Dean’s question you nod silently. “I learned from the best, my mom and grandma. My cherry pie is famous…”

“Damn you. If you keep on talking dirty to me, I’ll have you naked on that bed in a blink.” Dean whispers the words while you are busy with more things you want to smuggle into the suitcase.

“No! I want my favorite mug!” Fighting with Dean over an old and damaged mug you scream bloody murder. “Please…” Sniffling you look at Dean, give him your best puppy dog eyes along with a pout.

Benny is busy carrying your few belongings out of your apartment while you slowly realize Dean tries to rule your whole life.

You know him for not even a day and he already got rid of the clothes he didn’t like and now he’s about to toss your favorite mug into the dumpster.

“I want it back or I’ll scream…” Lips pursed you glare at Dean and his eyes darken once again. You assume the mobster, this dangerous man only standing inches from you doesn’t like backtalking.

“I said, it’s ugly…” Smashing the mug against the wall Dean watches the pieces fall to the ground, a triumphal smirk on his lips.

He doesn’t see you flinch away from him as he destroys your mug, nor does Dean realize you loved the mug.

“Boss…” Benny sighs seeing your sad face. “I think she liked the mug…”

“It was ugly…” Watching you turn your back toward him Dean rolls his eyes. “You should get used to losing things. Your life is no longer yours…” Cupping your face Dean forces you to look up at him.

“So you lied…you want to own me…”

Dean doesn’t react to your words. Before you can say more he slings an arm around your waist to lead you out of your apartment, out of your home.

The mobster has you in his claws and you don’t know if he wants to keep you safe or torture you. All you know is this is not your life any longer…

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[radramblog]

Radiohead Retrospective Part 4: We’ve got heads on sticks

Your name is Thom Yorke. You’ve just released what is considered one of the best albums of the 90s, if not of all time, and you’ve achieved a level of fame that at least one band member considers akin to the Beatles. Through the release of OK Computer, you’ve proven that even if people are pretty much over Oasis at this point, British rock bands still rule the airwaves. You’re also stressed the fuck out over just about all of this, and having a very hard time accustoming to the life of a celebrity- let alone the usual mental health issues.

What will you do?

Apparently, the answer was to write the fourth album to be as far away from the previous few as possible, seeking influence from IDM groups like Aphex Twin, jazz stuff, and just some bizarro instruments and experimentation and leaving a lot of the “rock” stuff behind. The primary genre listed for Kid A is usually Electronica or Ambient, with various off-kilter rock subgenres lagging behind, crying “you’re still gonna do guitars and stuff, right?”

Well…not as much anymore. But this era of Radiohead, this career-suicidal swerve, still proved monumentally successful, and showed that the band still had it, and that sometimes artistic risks do pay dividends.

A side note: I usually link music videos for the tracks I discuss as part of each post, as you’ll have seen in previous parts of this series. Kid A, however, doesn’t have any singles, and it sure doesn’t have any music videos. So…maybe just listen yourself. I’m probably in over my head here anyway.

I think the first 5 notes of Everything In Its Right Place are some of the most iconic in all of music.

Some personal background- Kid A was the first Radiohead I ever listened to. A particular cool and good mate of mine was a fan in high school, but I’d never listened to them at all, and I trusted his opinion musically, so I went to buy one of their CDs the next time I was at the shop. And for whatever reason, the cheapest one was Kid A at 10 bucks, and I didn’t want to gamble more than that, so that’s the one I got.

So the opening notes of Everything In Its Right Place were the first Radiohead I ever heard. And considering how much I obsessed over this band, in high school and beyond, it’s no surprise that this song is one of my favourites.

Not only did this song introduce me to Radiohead, it was effectively a gateway track for electronic music in general. This was the early 10s, and the majority of what I knew as electronic stuff was the EDM that was drowning the airwaves at the time. I hated that stuff out of principle, because being a hipster like that was definitely a personality. I don’t think I would ever have gotten into Vaporwave, into IDM, or into any electronic music the way I eventually would were it not for Everything In Its Right Place.

Now that I’ve spent 250 words talking about myself and not the actual song, we should probably stop that. Everything In Its Right Place is defined by this steady build of layering vocals and effects onto the relatively calm synth line, distorted vocals and word salad lyrics and manipulated noises growing and getting more chaotic before it just stops- the vocals fade out, the effects drop, and you’re left with the synth line- except it’s been slowly changing itself the whole time, and you don’t realise because you’ve been distracted by everything else at the same time.

It’s worth noting (and I don’t know if this was the case with OK Computer, because I don’t have an original copy of that one) that this was an album without liner notes, without the lyrics in the cover booklet. But at least in this case, the lyrics don’t matter as much as the v i b e. At least, that’s what I think.

On the topic of unintelligible lyrics, Kid A has a title track! I believe literally two Radiohead albums do this, the other being The Bends (though Hail to the Thief and In Rainbows do appear as lyrics). The song itself is an ambient, quiet piece that feels something like a twisted nursery tune- incredibly affected vocals, a syncopated (?) percussion, and a synth (I think???) that…I don’t know how to describe it, but it feels nursery-rhyme-y. If you’ve heard this song a few times, or you know what to listen for, you can piece together the lyrics somewhat- and they are, frankly, kind of unsettling. What is standing in the shadows at the end of your bed, can it please leave? And imagery of the Pied Piper is always either extremely silly or extremely unnerving, with this clearly leaning towards the latter. There’s a lot going on here- especially for a track most probably wouldn’t listen to outside the context of the full album. I know I generally don’t- not the kind of thing I generally am in the mood for.

 We’re at 850+ words, and we’re only up to The National Anthem? Fuuuuck. Well, anyone who wasn’t on board the IDM train can at least appreciate this one more, it’s got an actual bassline. A killer one, at that, that drives the whole track. Well, you know, that and the B R A S S. Seriously, it sounds like they invited a marching band to this bad boy. The combination ends up sounding mostly like controlled chaos, a jazz band traffic jam wound together by that B A S S. But the bass can’t hold it forever, and eventually that shit breaks free and just, it just honks all over the place.

I’m frustratingly running out of things to say about this song I really like, as opposed to the other songs I really liked. Unfortunately, ya boi forgot to take his neurotypicalification pills today, and so I’m getting very distracted. Hopefully, that slightly unhinged nature suits the album somewhat.

The next song, How To Disappear Completely, is a Big Mood with a fun story attached. The main lyrics- I’m not here, this isn’t happening- were allegedly something none other than Michael Stipe from R.E.M. told Thom to help him deal with that massive stage fright that came with Getting Big. Fun trivia aside, this song is gorgeous, luscious with massive strings, an acoustic bend, aethereal vocals, and a background drone running through the thing that makes sure your hair is always a little on end through the thing. It’s a song whose lyrics are an attempt to escape anxiety, whose instrumentation serves more to reinforce it- a calm, melodic piece that builds into nervous swells and threatening strings. A song about fighting your fear, and losing.

Fuck me it’s a bit depressing isn’t it. It’s potentially the most emotionally revealing song the album has- a lot of the lyricism on other tracks is more metaphorical, or subtle, but the meaning in How To Disappear Completely is evident even just from the title. You get lost in the strings and they go from calming, to imposing, to downright menacing (and then back again) in the song’s final minute.

Treefingers, on the other hand, has a lot less to say, and by that I mean it’s an instrumental. A very atmospheric, ambient one, and thereby one I don’t have a lot to say about. I’m not sure I’m particularly good at commenting on regular music, but this kinda thing is a whole different animal. I have no idea how to interact with discussing this. I like it? I will say, that one note right at the end, that echoes for a bit, the one piece of clarity in this muddled, reverbed sphere, feels especially poignant, for reasons I cannot describe.

We go from ambient instrumental to arguable the most rock-song-like track on this album, Optimistic, certified banger that it is. Some might argue that it doesn’t fit here, but like, did they even hear the lyrics? The bridge? It more that deserves its place on one of the best albums around. The little way the guitar scales up during the chorus is excellent, the proggy drums and riffs are glorious, it’s just a very good rock song.

Also this is the first song with the lyric “dinosaurs roaming the earth”, which, aside from being a bit of a non-sequitur, would return two albums later. And I’m really looking forward to that one.

In Limbo is a song I kind of always forget exists until I hear it again. It’s antimemetic, the way the song goes slipping from my mind until I hear those opening notes again. I’m going to be honest, it’s probably because it’s also the most mid song on the album. Far from bad, but it isn’t doing anything that How to Disappear Completely or Optimistic aren’t doing better. If I had to remove any track from this album, it might be this one?

Watch me get fucking lynched from the fandom for that one, if I ever post this to r/Radiohead or whatever. Which I might, though as much as I’d like more people to read my things I’m also extremely anxious about the potential response. Like the album I’m discussing today, I’m terrified of fame.

Incidentally, In Limbo is also the shortest track on the album (Treefingers beats it by 11 seconds), though this isn’t initially obvious online at least, because people keep messing with Motion Picture Soundtrack. But we’re not there yet, hang on.

We go from the forgettable (to me) In Limbo to the utterly mesmerizing Idioteque. Anxious but danceable, confusing but emotive, messy but tightly controlled. I love this fucking song to death. The reason I got the particular Radiohead poster that I did was because it has lyrics from this on it.

I’ve heard that lyrics for this album were largely pulled from a hat, and nowhere is that more clear than here (or maybe Everything In Its Right Place). Despite this, there’s a pretty clear theme in them, a continuation of some of the themes of this and the last albums. A condemnation of wealth and cowardice in the face of ecological disaster. In the form of an apocalypse disco.

What a lot of people don’t know about this track is that it actually samples an extremely old electronic music piece- one written in 1973, on a particularly old computer. The track, mild und leise, is a very interesting track considering its age- I’m reminded of Selected Ambient Works by Aphex Twin- not so much musically, but about how that reason was as influential as it was because it was the first time songs had sounded like that, because it was the first time songs could sound like that- I suppose it’s somewhat similar in that way, if older. These pieces and their composers inexorably linked by the allure of technology, and how that could be used to define new eras in music history- in Radiohead’s case, it certainly defined the next few albums in their lifespan.

Jesus mild und leise is long, it’s still going as I write this. I need to get back to Kid A, man!

Idioteque leads directly into Morning Bell, admittedly another less memorable song. Largely percussion lead, plenty of falsetto, and with a very unsubtle theme if you listen to the lyrics. I recall seeing someone saying that “cut the kids in half” was a really surprising and spooky line, and, yeah, sure, it sort of is, but it’s only particularly bad if you don’t pay attention for the rest of it. It’s about divorce, dude, it’s not subtle.

Or apparently not, according to one interview, but Thom said the interpretation isn’t invalid, so haha still winning baybeeeee.

I think the only part of this I really can’t do without is the outro, because the last minute and a half of this song is really cool. The mumbled lyrics go really well with the rising percussion and eerie effects that end the track.

Our final song is Motion Picture Soundtrack, or, Exit Music (for Walt Disney’s Depression Nap). This and Street Spirit I think are what really cement Radiohead’s reputation for brutal closers, both of them being tragic but hauntingly beautiful in different ways. In this case, it’s the instrumentation- glittering harps attempting the echo 50s Disney. There’s actually a version of this song from the OK Computer era with extremely different instrumentation, piano rather than organ, and no harps (and a third verse that is utterly brutal). Regardless, this is the song they chose to close the apocalypse that Kid A is on- the final lyric being “I will see you in the next life”, as the glittering echoes into the night. Poignant and tragic, but a little hopeful- the next life hopefully won’t have the struggles and pain of this one.

And then, of course, there’s the hidden track. Nicknamed Genchildren by some (that’s just the username of the dude who uploaded it to Napster back in the day), officially known as Untitled, and the true closer to the album. With Spotify slapping it right at the end of Motion Picture Soundtrack, it’s not clear the true nature of this song- it’s actually hidden on the original album, after several minutes of silence, just long enough that you’ve forgotten you left the player running (or you’re still crying from Motion Picture Soundtrack). I don’t think there’s a real word for what this sounds like other than heavenly, and incredibly brief piece I’ve heard compared to the pearly gates. After all, if we end on “I will see you in the next life”, then what can this be but that?

 Thus closes Kid A, a gorgeous and powerful album, yet an insane swerve for any rock band to pull, not just Radiohead. A bold strategy, and yet it paid off for them- Kid A would not only be massively influential, it was also massively successful both critically and commercially- but not to the standard of OK Computer before it. But they obviously weren’t trying to do OK Computer part 2, just as that album was deliberately not The Bends part 2.

Kid A would pretty much get a Part 2, though, less than a year later. And it’s that album we’ll be discussing next week, obviously. Until then.

[sierraraeck]

Staying Hidden

BAU x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: Aundreya reveals everything that has been going on, and visits some of the team members in the hospital while trying to evade notice. Story eighteen.

Category: Angst.

Warnings: Cussing. Brief mention of sexual assault, drug use, and death.

Word Count: 4.8k

A/N: I still know nothing about how gangs work, this is all for entertainment purposes.

I have some explaining to do.

My given name from birth was Clara Spade. If you recall, I grew up with divorced parents and a sorry excuse for a father. When I was 14, I witnessed a mass killing by one of the most infamous serial killers of all time, the Storefront Slaughterer. Somehow, I was spared, but my identity was soon leaked to the media, and my mom, sister, and I were put in witness protection. At this point, my identity was changed along with my name, which was now Cassy Sae. I don’t know how, and I never figured out when the Slaughterer caught wind of my whereabouts, but he did, and he followed me home one night. He burnt my entire home down, taking the remaining two members of my family with it. I jumped out of the back window, barely surviving until Agent Gideon found me and took me back to his isolated cabin house in practically the middle of nowhere. As the news reported, Cassy Sae died in that fire as well, the same day Aundreya Chambers came into existence already at the age of 15. I attempted to go back to school, live as close to a healthy and normal life as I could, but I let my rage get the best of me. I decided that I wanted to hunt down the man that took everything from me, dropping out of high school. I left Gideon, telling him that I couldn’t burden him anymore and had to do whatever came next for me on my own. He reluctantly let me leave, and I found myself on the streets of Chicago. There, in a small self defense gym I’d started frequenting after hours, I met a girl only a few years my senior named Xena. She befriended me and admired how quickly I was picking up on all of the concepts being taught, despite the fact that I never officially took a class, only watched thinking I was going unseen. Xena told me about a group of people who could help and protect me, and before I knew it, I was meeting a man in his early 50s who went by the name of Rafael. Little did I know that I had just been coaxed into joining one of the most feared and revered gangs in the northeast.

One of the first things I learned was how to make money in the form of dancing. It was also when I created the Alionth persona. I was one of the youngest members to have ever joined the Cloaks (I was almost 16 at the time but it was an unspoken agreement that I was now 18), and I picked up on most everything very quickly. I started out low in the ranks, mainly just dancing and drawing new members in or being a distraction while another operation was going on behind the scenes. At one point, I remember that an operation wasn’t going as planned and they needed information from a patron at the club. I wanted to help out and be a part of the ‘more important things’ so badly, that I took initiative without permission. I started performing for the patron, and pick-pocketed him in the midst of it. I returned to Xena, and another boy, with the information I’d gathered from his phone and wallet. It helped them complete their operation, and they were impressed with my skills, even though they were irritated I did it without permission. After that night, I started moving up the ranks. It was also that night that the boy I’d met earlier with Xena started using me. His name is Jamar, but most people know him by his last name, DeLeon. He was the 19 year old son of another revered gang leader. Rafael happened to be close friends with his father, and agreed to look after DeLeon after he died. Rafael also took in the members of that gang, which helped spike the power and ‘popularity’ (for lack of a better word) of the Cloaks. DeLeon and his rowdy friends were hard to control, so in order to appease them, Rafael essentially let them do whatever they wanted, as long as it didn’t hurt the Cloak name. The ‘Cloak name’ did not explicitly include Cloak members.

I was fresh, and had skills that apparently made me ‘special,’ so DeLeon and his boys decided I would be a great way to celebrate the success of that night. And ‘come on, you’re half the reason it went so well. Don’t you want to celebrate with us?’ This was also my first exposure to hard drugs. I was on and off them from here on out.

But beyond that, once I started to be recognized for my pick-pocketing abilities, and being able to track people down for information, I got moved to be a private informant for the gang, and I was damn good at it too. I spent the most time communicating my findings with Xena and DeLeon, so they became the closest people to me. In all of my free time, I looked for the Slaughterer. When I finally found him and asked Xena and DeLeon to help me set up a trap for him, they helped me without hesitation. It was my idea to tip off the FBI, which they were obviously hesitant about at first. But I convinced them that if we caught one of the FBI’s most wanted, and instead of hurting him turned him over to the FBI, it would make us look better to them and hopefully keep them off our asses. We discussed it with Rafael himself, and he thought that it was a good idea. I was surprised and relieved, and once the FBI had the Slaughterer in custody and everything went according to plan, it was enough to get me moved up to the rank of ‘Head of the PI unit.’ That’s when I started being known as The Figure. I was 18 at the time, and for a while I seemed untouchable. I was training other members, three of which were Sydney, Deen, and Corbyn, my three closest friends going into the ring, and we were finding people left and right. I scoped out traitors and infiltrators as a part of my lead job (that’s when I met Christina who was working with Derek at the time), and the gang seemed to be as strong as ever.

Then, one day, I found out that Xena Adaland is the granddaughter of Rafael Adaland, the gang’s leader. She, like DeLeon, was three years older than me, and was pissed that I was now higher in the ranks than she was. She challenged me for my PI spot, and the rules were simple. Whoever lost, would leave.

The day before the challenge, which would be a series of fighting, investigating, and persuasive tactics, Rafael came to me and told me that I had to win, no matter what it took. I was stunned, and even though I pushed for more information, he wouldn’t tell me why. Regardless, I did win, and Xena was forced to leave, and her grandfather let her. No, not just let her, he encouraged her. Once she left, I essentially became the replacement daughter to Rafael, which meant I was in even closer contact with DeLeon. Our relationship had always been very twisted, but once I was under more direct protection by Rafael, he almost completely stopped how he’d been treating me. Almost. I didn’t understand how fucked up it was at the time, but we even started dating once he started treating me better. However, there were bigger problems. The FBI was closing in on us, which I later found out was the reason why Rafael was okay letting Xena leave. He wanted her safe and away from this mess when it imploded. Rafael and I had been working closely side by side for a year now, and I could tell he was feeling like he had nothing left. Xena was gone, his life’s work of building a foolproof gang was collapsing, and DeLeon was slowly pulling away. He and I both knew that the FBI and police were looking for someone to blame, someone to go down for this, and only one of us was going to get out of this whole thing. He all but told me I had his blessing to screw him over and take the gang for myself. I was 19 and he was almost 60, so he knew that the one thing he might be able to leave was a legacy, one that I might be strong enough and smart enough to carry on. What he did tell me, was that what he was about to do was for me and for the rest of the gang, and that it would take the heat off of us, long enough for us to preserve what was left of the gang. For a while, I thought that he would be turning it over to Xena or DeLeon, but when it came down to it, it was me that he chose. I took it in stride and with honor.

That night, when Rafael ended up dead in his office, I fully understood what he was talking about before. If the FBI found the gang’s leader dead, they would have someone to blame, and the spotlight would no longer be on me or really any of the rest of the members. The gang would essentially collapse.

DeLeon had different ideas, though. He thought that I had killed Rafael, the closest thing to a dad he could remember, and was out for revenge. He returned to his old ways of treating me, and left me with a scar to prove it. I fought through all of that shit, knowing I still had a responsibility to protect and salvage the gang. I had to tell them to disperse and find me in a month or so when things had cooled down. I pushed the gang underground, and that was the start of the ring. Whoever could find me again would have passed the first test to see if they were worthy or not to be in my new ring.

Deen found me first, then Sydney, then Corbyn. Others came to me as well, either from the gang or outside of it with other skills that were desirable. I started going by the name Alionth, and the former gang got turned into my ring of elite criminals. I ran a tight ship underground until I was 21.

Xena had been marinating in anger since she lost to me, and decided to get back at me by hurting one of my best friends. She kidnapped Sydney while on a job, and threatened to hurt her if I didn’t show up. It had only been days prior that I met Sydney’s husband Todd and her newborn daughter, Jayana, who I ran into again on my second case with the team. I should have known it was a trap from the beginning, but I’d been getting cocky and wasn’t exactly thinking straight, due to the amount of drugs pumping through my system.

I showed up and was ambushed by both Xena and DeLeon, who explained to me that they’d found each other again after the Cloaks crashed. They bonded over their mutual hate for me, and decided to fuck me over together. They killed Sydney right in front of me, and then left just in time for the FBI to capture me and throw me in prison. If you remember, I was in there for four years from 21 to 24, and then I escaped. I ran right back to my ring, which accepted me with open arms. I was laying low for a while, and decided I’d let things cool off before taking the lead again. Before I could do that, though, I received an interesting visitor.

Agent Howard Archer came to visit me, and he wasn’t there to arrest me. He was there to hire me. He told me about the BAU and a certain unit chief he was not a fan of. He was just a step higher than Aaron Hotchner, and did not like the way he was running the BAU. Not to mention, Hotch was a threat to Archer’s position, and there was a potential competition between the two for the vice-presidency if something were to happen to the vice president. Archer wanted to ensure his future spot, and needed Hotch, and the VP, out of the way. He later informed me that another reason he had such a strong distaste for Aaron was because he failed to solve a case involving the murder of Archer’s son. I asked if he had a preferred way to get two FBI agents out of his way, and he told me he was familiar with my work and was prepared for whatever consequences followed. In other words, he would be satisfied with me killing the vice-president, and pinning it on Hotch.

He had me from the moment he introduced himself as an agent.

I went in to meet the team, which did not go as well as planned. Either way, I agreed to help Archer, and privately investigated each member after that first day. I knew Hotch from my past when I was still in contact with Gideon, but I didn’t think it would be as hard as it was. I thought that I could just come in, get the job done, and then move out. The problem was that there was an odd sense of loyalty to this man I’d met only a few times. It was odd, how he seemed to respect me, and he was even the first person (outside of Gideon and the people I worked with on the streets) that actually accepted my skills. I was one of the ‘bad guys’ from prison, but he always seemed to have some sort of appreciation for my information and willingness to work with him. There was just something about him that was calming, and each day I spent with the team, the harder it became for me to follow through. Aaron Hotchner was a natural born leader, and he was phenomenal at his job. Not to mention that the rest of the team, the rest of his family, really did care about him. I started questioning if I’d be able to tear apart this family, especially when I didn’t agree with Archer at all. Archer claimed that Hotch didn’t run the BAU well, but after spending time under his leadership, I totally disagreed. I also started building connections with people who weren’t obligated or pressured to like me like basically everyone else in my life. They made me feel better about myself, about my abilities, and I realized there was a constructive way in which I could use them. They unknowingly convinced me that I didn’t have to stay on the path of destruction I’d been on for my whole life, and that I could actually make something of myself, something that I didn’t hate. Something I could wake up every morning to and look in the mirror and not hate who was looking back at me or what she was doing everyday.

So I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to follow through with what I had agreed to do. Archer was persistent, though. He checked in on my progress, and at first I told him it would take time, which it would. But by the end of the three years I’d spent with the team, my excuses were just becoming lame. Not to say that the events that followed were lucky, because the whole Spencer and me going to prison thing was not lucky, but it gave me a legitimate excuse as to why I wasn’t working towards ‘the goal.’ It also gave him an excuse to come and threaten me while in prison. I didn’t know how I was going to get out of my deal with Archer, all I knew was that I had to. I was not going to tear that family apart, despite the fact that I already seemed to be doing that all on my own. But if they could survive the tornado that was me and my past, they deserved to be left alone after that.

Yet, I could tell that Archer had become restless, and the moment he mentioned going to someone else to get the job done if I couldn’t, I knew. He was the first one that really cemented my theory of Xena and DeLeon being back, but it was worse than I thought. He was working with them. Probably to do my job and kill me in the process, considering I knew his plans and could easily expose him, effectively wrecking everything. Unfortunately, he had no idea who he’d just gotten involved with, especially now that they were working as a team, and Archer was way too cocky and way too stupid to heed any of my warnings and assurances.

I had bigger problems at the moment, though. I always seem to.

Xena and DeLeon were back, and they were back with a vengeance. I knew that they had to be behind everything that had gone wrong. Some runner finding Maeve even before Spencer could, my father finding me and making weird comments like he knew what I had been up to, Spencer’s frame job and going to prison, and then of course, the detectives finding Spencer and I at my motel. I knew Xena had cameras in that room, and I saw her outside of the building as I was being shoved into the police car. I even wondered if they were behind the kidnapping of Derek’s cousin and Maeve. The three of us learned from the same person, and I was worried I wouldn’t be able to match, hell overcome, the two of their minds working together. I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to work both angles at the same time: stopping Xena and DeLeon from afar and Agent Archer from all too close. But honestly, it didn’t really matter, because I had to find and stop them before they could wreck anything else, no matter what it cost me.

So I left the hospital leaving only that simple note behind; my unofficial resignation from the BAU. If I went off the grid, Xena and DeLeon would have to spend all of their time chasing me, and would have no time to spare for messing with the team. At least, that’s what I hoped.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

I was successful at staying hidden for about four months. While Xena and DeLeon hopefully didn’t have enough time or energy to keep tabs on the team, that didn’t mean I didn’t. I kept up with every case of theirs, and even left their main suspect tied to a chair in his living room one time as a sort of gift since he kept evading them. You know, since I was conveniently in the area at the time.

When I heard about the explosion, I rushed back to DC from some small town in Georgia. I’d been spending time in all different states and towns, hoping it would be enough to keep those urchins on my tail while I figured out a way to trap them. But this seemed more important, especially because there was a chance that whatever explosion hurt them could have been planted by Xena and DeLeon. I couldn’t be sure of anything regarding their involvement anymore.

I showed up to the hospital after hours, and stood outside the three adjacent rooms housing Derek, Aaron, and JJ. All three were hooked up to a plethora of machines, and were out cold. I just stood there watching them, convincing myself that this wasn’t somehow my fault with each steady beep of their monitors. The hospital was almost peaceful like this, which was odd for me to admit considering how much I hated them.

I don’t know how long I’d been standing there when I heard faint footsteps approaching from behind me. I whipped my head around to face the noise, but when I scanned the hallway behind me, there was no one there. You are getting really paranoid.

But I figured that’s what was keeping me alive, so I just rolled my eyes and moved on. I allowed myself only a few more minutes for now, making sure that the three of them were still alive before heading out.

I came back a couple days later to check on them again. I again did it in the middle of the night, so all three were in essentially the same state, but a bit more color had returned to their faces. I moved a couple paces over and leaned against the wall behind me. I shut my eyes for only a little bit, and when I opened them, I spotted her. Emily was sitting down in the chair in JJ’s room, her full focus and attention on the woman in front of her. I was in a corner of the mini lobby outside of their rooms, and by the looks of it, she hadn’t noticed I was there. My heart was racing as I attempted to slip by her room and out of the hospital. I had almost completely cleared the room when Emily made eye contact with me. It was for a split second, but it was enough for her to recognize me. I didn’t wait to see what happened, because I started a full on sprint out of the hospital.

I decided that I couldn’t go back there; it made me too careless. I was absolutely defenseless and in a weakened state of mind. It was too risky, for me and them alike. Staying hidden until I could figure a way out of this was my only option.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

The whole team had been shook by three of their members getting hurt in an explosion. They were all relieved that Derek, Hotch, and JJ were alive and that no serious damage had come to them. After closing the case Rossi and Preniss decided to be the ones that stayed with them, especially overnight. Penelope had stayed with them for four days straight while the rest of the team finished the case, so she deserved to be relieved of duty for a while, Tara got called to do more inmate interviews for research, and Reid just overall needed sleep. He’d been trying to figure out what Aundreya had meant by her note, where she was now, and what she was doing in all of his free time, including the midnight hours. Of course, everyone wanted to know more about these Xena and DeLeon characters, but even Garcia couldn’t find anything on them. Whatever was going on, there wasn’t really anything they could do about it. Reid knew this, but refused to give up. He finally agreed to go home, get some rest, and spend time with Maeve after some heavy convincing from Rossi and Prentiss. Which just left the two of them to be there together, or take shifts. A few days into it, Prenitss called Rossi in a minorly confused state.

“Sorry, I hope I didn’t wake you,” Emily started.

“I’m actually only a few minutes from the hospital, so that’s not a problem. What’s going on?” Rossi for the most part sounded calm, but Emily’s profiler ears could hear the slight concern behind them.

“Don’t worry, nothing’s wrong they’re all doing fine,” Emily started, and she heard a small sigh on the other end of the phone, “It’s just that, um…” Now that she was thinking about it, she wasn’t sure if she should tell anyone about Aundreya or not. Emily knew that whatever she was going through was very personal, and she probably didn’t intend on being seen, let alone having word get to the entire team. Plus, it probably wouldn’t benefit every member to know that she was around, but wouldn’t tell them what’s going on…

“What is it Emily?” Rossi questioned.

“I think… I think I just saw Aundreya. Here, in the hospital,” Emily answered. She wasn’t completely sure what to do with the information, and her and Rossi had always had a good relationship. He had this soothing, sturdy, knowledgeable vibe about him, and figured if she should tell anyone about this, it would be him. She also knew that Aundreya had trusted him, opening up about things she really hadn’t told anyone else, so it felt less violating to tell him.

“Hold on, I’m almost there,” was all Rossi offered before hanging up. It wasn’t exactly the reaction she’d been expecting.

When Rossi met her in the small lobby on that floor, he jumped right in with, “Yeah, I’ve seen her too.”

Emily’s eyes widened just slightly, but it didn’t really shock her either that he’d spotted her first. It just sort of made sense that he would. He always was better at keeping things a bit more compartmentalized and aware of his surroundings. Granted, Emily was pretty good at that herself, but when it came to her other team members, she could get a little clouded. “What should we do? Do we do anything?”

“I don’t think so. I’m not sure it would do any good, and she seems like she wants to handle this on her own,” Rossi replied.

“Whatever this is,” Emily pointed out. Rossi nodded, and after a few minutes, she added, “Is this what it was like when I was gone?”

Rossi turned to face her head on, “If you really want to know, yes. Except, we thought you were dead.” Not like we know for sure Aundreya isn’t, he thought, at least not yet.

“I’m so sorry for putting you all through that. It really sucks being on the other end of this. Not like the alternative is better…” Emily trailed off.

“You did what you had to do, and I’m sure Chambers is doing the same,” Rossi said with a small smile, “even if that means spending a few nights at my place.”

Emily looked over at him, mouth agape, “What? Are you serious?”

Rossi nodded. “I didn’t put it together until I saw her here a few days ago. I went home and just had this feeling that I wasn’t alone, and had heard a sound during the nights prior. I looked around my house and saw that one of the beds wasn’t made exactly like it had been for all the years I’ve lived there, and the window made the same squeaking sound I’d been hearing. I’ve tried to pay attention to when she’s there, but it’s very infrequent.”

“Probably random if she’s trying to fall off the radar,” Emily added.

A few more moments of silence passed before Rossi asked, “What would you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Her situation is somewhat similar to yours. If you were her, what would you be doing right now?”

It wasn’t a bad thought. They put themselves in the shoes of the unsubs all the time, why not use the same technique here? “Uh, well, I’d be trying to go underground right about now. She’s clearly running from someone, or multiple someones, which are probably those other two names on her list.” Emily thought a bit more and continued, “When it was me, I wasn’t only running from Doyle, but I was also running to Declyn. If she’s running from those two people, what or who is she running to?”

“That is a very good question,” Rossi agreed. They both pondered this for a little while longer before taking a break, realizing they weren’t going to come with the answer tonight, and definitely not at a hospital where three of their friends were staying.

“Are we sure we aren’t going to tell anyone?” Emily sounded concerned.

“I don’t think that will help. And there are people who I don’t think need to know this,” Rossi said with a knowing look, “But, if we get any more information, or just happen upon evidence that points towards her needing our help, along with something we can actually do about it, then maybe we will. But until then, I think you and I should keep this to ourselves.” Emily nodded and the pair remained in silence for the rest of the night, mulling over the next moves they’d make and next questions they’d ask tomorrow, hoping they’d be enough to make a difference.

Series Taglist (open)

@justanothetfangirl @kris-stuff @blameitonthenight21 @wooya1224 @unded-bride @swiftingday @dezzxmx

[if-found-return-to-gusu]

Thanksgiving

I guess…. Thanksgiving is the only thing I can write about next to avoid talking about… 

 But all in all Thanksgiving was pretty uneventful. I mean it was nice, but not much to actually TALK about you know?

I spent it with Lan Zhan and his brother. They’d had a big fight with their uncle, but I was still surprised they were spending the holiday without him. Apparently he had asked them to spend it with him and they had refused.

Lan Zhan… he had some trouble with his family which resulted in him being largely disassociated with them for a long time. But recently his uncle has been reaching out. I think he’s trying to bridge that gap and make amends.

I’m really glad that at least Lan Zhan has had his brother this whole time. Lan Xichen. He really is a nice man. Very kind, and I think very sad. He takes care of his brother at his own expense I think. I’m very glad of this but I really hope that he has someone reliable to take care of him too. I’m pretty sure I’ve brought this up before, but I think Da Ge tries. And there was someone else Lan Zhan mentioned before. A Jin I think. Lan Zhan didn’t seem too pleased about him but I mean, is anyone pleased with the Jins? (Shijie’s children are half Jiang and directly descended from Shijie herself so they don’t count to this and I guess Jin ZiXuan could be worse but he’s on thin fuckin ice. )

It was kinda tense, actually. Thanksgiving. Delicious and friendly, but I could feel the absence of their uncle. I think they could too. I mean. I get it. I really do. I really REALLY do. 

But at the same time… he’s their family. Real honest and true family. And he wants to connect with them. He’s making a real effort, even if it’s rather clumsy. I get the feeling he doesn’t do emotional very well and well… this is an emotional time for all of them. So I get that too.

And… it’d really be a shame for Lan Zhan to lose his uncle. I know that he loves him. Despite everything he does. And Lan Xichen too.

But it’s not my place to patch things up. They treat me like family but I’m not really, am I? Not like that anyway. It’s not right for me to push my way in. 

Anyway. I showed up when they told me to. I couldn’t contribute much but I brought a couple of store-bought pies with me. I was greeted by the two brothers popping their heads out of the kitchen, Lan Xichen with a smile on his face and Lan Zhan with a smile in his eyes. (I think he was happy I’d actually used the key for once. Still knocked though haha. ) Lan Xichen took the pies from me, assuring me that the flavor was fine when I mentioned I wasn’t sure what kind they liked. He told me to wash up and sit down because dinner would be done soon.

That’s always so weird isn’t it? Dinner? It’s 2 PM! Only you, Thanksgiving. Only you. 

Either way. I washed up and went about setting the table. I can at least do that much. Made sure the silverware was just so, thank you I guess Madam Yu for actually sending me to that…. I guess what would you call them? Finishing school night classes? 

After all - had to be a polite young gentleman when they needed to show me off. No one wants a misbehaving orphan. 

Anyway. I know how to place silverware. So I did. Even folded some fancy napkins! (Youtube taught me that one. Not that damn night class). 

In the end we had so much food that we had to bring out a couple of TV trays to hold the excess. How much do they think 3 people can eat?

Lan Xichen took the blame for that one, saying he got excited that I was there. Turns out they made a lot of duplicate dishes so that I could have an extra spicy version! Like for real! Just for me! When I pointed out that while I was incredibly touched, I was and still am, I am in fact just one person with one stomach. Lan Xichen laughed and told me “that is the beauty of leftovers!” and then produced a mountain of tupperware for me to take home whatever I wanted. 

I may not be a real member of their family, but by god that’s not for lack of trying on Lan Xichen’s part. Well… Lan Zhan too. He’s the one who ended up carefully packing away the leftovers and putting them neatly in a bag for me when I went home. 

Lan Zhan always takes such good care of me. So saying that… that I’m not part of the family.. Maybe not entirely true. At least this little one. I can have that right? I mean I’m sure their uncle would HATE me and I’d never be accepted as family by the rest of them but… with the brothers…. I can have that can’t I? 

(See? I’m trying to let myself have things. I’m trying to accept what people are giving me. I’m trying. It’s hard but I’m trying.)

The meal was delicious, though a bit quiet. Neither of the Lan brothers talk much while eating as a rule but they were more than willing to respond to my mindless chatter. So I guess it worked out. 

While Lan Zhan packed up the food after we finished eating all we could I helped Lan Xichen with the dishes. He tried to protest but I remember throwing the ‘family’ thing back at him. Something like

“If you’re gonna treat me like family then you’re gonna treat me like family” or some bullshit like that. Basically guests sit on their asses while the hosts clean up but family helps with the chores. 

I remember he laughed and conceded. Between the two of us we got it done pretty quick. I remember catching Lan Zhan’s eye while I dried off my hands. He looked… tender…. 

I think… thinking back on it I think it made him happy that Lan Xichen and I get along. 

After ‘dinner’ was all put away, save for some snacks to graze on the moment our stomachs gained enough room to stuff something else in them, we set up some board games and movies to watch. Just stupid comedies and light stuff. No one was in the mood for drama. 

I was surprised to find that Lan Xichen had watched a lot of them already! 

“Huaisang often insists on movie nights and I’ll admit I’ve grown rather fond of them at this point,” he’d said.  Whoda thunk?

At one point I remember even going off into a quoting battle with him with one of the movies. He won, naturally, as he’s got a near perfect memory anyway. Haha. 

Lan Zhan, poor Lan Zhan. He had to just deal with us being idiots for hours. How did he ever survive? He couldn’t have been suffering too much though because I’m 99% sure he caught me cheating while Lan Xichen was distracted by one of his favorite parts of a movie and he didn’t say a peep.

Well he said my name but when I turned on the pleading eyes he just laughed and let me get away with it. (Have I mentioned how much I love his laugh? It’s little more than an extra-heavy exhale most of the time but it’s sweeter than the most heavenly music to me. I want to sleep wrapped up in that sound.)

Honestly just… whenever he laughs or smiles at me I have to dig my nails into my palm to keep myself from just throwing myself at him. Even now.. Especially now that I know what that kiss tastes like. 

I wonder… I wonder if he’d wanted to too… Lan Xichen turned back away from the movie and I remember both of us coughing and focusing back on the game. Pretty sure Lan Xichen gave us a rather pointed smile, the devil poking his head again, but thankfully he didn’t actually SAY anything. 

The rest of the night went smooth. We brought out some leftovers to eat even though we weren’t hungry and stuffed ourselves silly again. Through some ungodly strength of will, Lan Zhan sacrificed himself to put the food and dishes away again while I rolled on the floor like the over-stuffed goblin I am. 

While Lan Zhan cleaned up Lan Xichen said his goodbyes. He thanked me for coming, saying that it meant a lot to him that I was willing to share the holiday with the two of them. Said I made the whole thing the liveliest Thanksgiving he could remember having. I was going to say that must be a bit of a stretch but then I remembered how sombre they seem to be when left alone. Probably have had their share of rather dull ‘celebrations’. What’s the point of a celebration if you don’t…. You know… celebrate? Ah well. Not that I can say much anyway. I don’t remember the first 10 years of my life and the 10 years after that were… Well I’m not gonna say I didn’t have ANY celebrations that were just celebrations. Shijie and Jiang Cheng made sure of that. But there were no big family celebrations that weren’t just for show.  So I guess Lan Zhan’s family celebrations… well maybe they wouldn’t have been the most exciting but I bet they were more genuine than mine. So I guess he wins anyway in that regard.

Honestly I didn’t even realize how bullshit it all was until the Wens started to insist I spend some holidays with them. I didn’t want to intrude on any of the big ones but some of the smaller ones. Birthdays and such. The Wens know how to fucking party, is all I’m sayin’. Uncle Four makes some KILLER wine. 

Anyway, I thanked Lan Xichen for the food and all that and said my goodbyes. He went off to say goodbye to his brother and poof he was gone. Not sure what he said. Probably just embarrassing older brother stuff as he is entitled to. But Lan Zhan’s ears were a very pretty pink when he joined me in the livingroom again. And he didn’t look me in the eye for a few minutes there haha. 

The rest of our night went as normal. We stayed up for a couple more movies and went to bed (I spent the night). 

Ended up taking a lot of leftovers with me when I went home the next day which was good. I wasn’t going out to do any shopping of any kind on Black Friday. I refuse. On principle. 

So yeah.. That’s Thanksgiving. Not really eventful.

But… it was warm. And happy. The best Thanksgiving I can remember ever having at least.