#there are more details of what we talked about but I don't want to make a super long post lol

[beautifullilacsky]

oh honey. I have this feeling flowing through me, asking me to let it all out. Whatever it is that is in here. Could you tell me what is in here? I feel the need to put it on paper, but I don't know what to put on the paper. I hope the paper sees right through me and gently pulls it out of me.

I am happy to be in my childhood room, I truly am. I like my bed. But baby, ever since you've held me in it, it's not the same by myself. I crave feeling your arm wrap around my waist, pulling me closer to you. If I could hear any sound right now, it'd be your satisfied tiny sigh when you are comfortable. I want to feel it so close to me, letting me bathe into the same level of comfort.

It feels lonely without your "goodnight". I just really want to feel loved right now. Loved by you. I wish I'd feel wanted and craved the same way I do you. Are your feelings like mine? Sometimes I look down into the body of water that represents my feelings. Sometimes, the water seems to go so deep, I'm afraid to talk about it. I am afraid to overwhelm you with it. Maybe even more importantly, I am afraid your waters don't run that deep for me. This fear could be totally off; we just have different ways to show our love. I recognize mine, and I can feel my water get deeper and deeper at times, not even allowing one to see its deepest corners. I cannot see your water, though. I wish you took me there and showed me that it is just as deep as mine. I wonder if within there, lie the same wishes. I wonder if you also crave to hold my hand as we lay on the grass, watching the stars together. If you wish to listen to my voice as I talk, your head on my heart, allowing you to feel it beat and to hear my voice move through my upper body before leaving my mouth and finding you. If you also crave to learn about all of the tiny details about me; if you crave to know me on a level even deeper than my waters. If you wish to sit down in the dark together, and talk about topics that make you ponder, such as the reasons for being alive. The things that shaped you most in life, and your biggest wins. When you felt most proud of yourself, and if there was ever a time in which you wished you weren't born. I wonder if you want to trace your finger along every single centimeter of my entire body, exploring it. To feel the ground beneath your knees as you kneel down in front of me, feeling my hands cup and caress your sweet face. To lovingly stare at you in awe as we make love, admiring every inch of you. Do you also miss our deep talks? Our late night conversations?

Anyway. I guess that's what the paper pulled out of my filled mind. It is now late. I do not wish to keep you awake while you need to work early tomorrow, but still I wish for you. I wish for a moment in which you whisper me the same words, "we have all the time in the world". A little space for just us, where the passing of time doesn't matter.

[legalmente-loca]

They Were Real

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: You sacrificed your life for humanity twice. Days later you find yourself in an unknown room and with your memory lost. You must not overlook any details since it could be a lie. The most important thing that occupies the center of your head is to discover who he is... Who is that man named Dean Winchester.

They Were Real Masterlist

Word Count: 2,479

Tags/Warnings: memory loss, jump in time

Prologue:

Who makes the rules about what is right or wrong? Surely they are the same people who have never found themselves between a rock and a hard place. Surely, if they were put in that position, they would not know what to do and would end up choosing the “bad” choice. All people are hypocrites and if someone says they are not... It is because they are one of the most hypocritical people on the planet.

To what extent can a person be judged by their decisions?

To what extent would you judge yourself for your decisions?

You walked through the hallways of this abandoned building looking for the monster. Charlie hadn't really found enough information to attack with confidence, but it was enough. A vetala, that's all.

But as soon as you heard a voice, your senses took off and you pressed yourself against the wall, dust sticking to your jacket, knife raised.

“I don't see her anywhere, Sammy.” He said in a tired tone.

You felt him move to the other side of the wall and you strained your hearing. You didn't know who it was, it might or might not be your fighter, but if he was a civilian, he was complicating things.

You concentrated even more when you noticed that he didn't make a sound. You didn't think he was gone.

Then, you understood the cause of the silence.

You took a deep breath and gripped your knife firmly. You quickly moved your back away from the wall and turned around, knife firmly in front of you. At the same time you made your movements, he executed them. You were facing each other, pointing at each other.

“Hey.” He greeted and you narrowed your eyes.

“Do we know each other?”

“Not in person.”

“Are you what I should hunt?”

You looked each other firmly in the eyes, one wanting to guess the other's next moves.

“Let's admit it. No one will lower their weapons.” You said.

“You would really do me a favor if you did.”

“I don't do anyone favors.”

“Not even Charlie?”

Your face paled, putting you on alert upon hearing your sister's name.

“What did you say?”

“You heard me. I'm sure you do your sister a lot of favors.” He smiled sideways.

“How do you know her name?” You growled.

“We were talking.”

You both went around in circles, going in and out of the rooms while still pointing at each other.

“Did you murder her?” Your voice shook, but you didn't care. You needed to know the answer even if you didn't like it.

“No.”

You looked at him curiously, and although your body relaxed, you were still on alert. The dust at his feet fluttered with every movement and the stranger's green eyes shone in the rays of sunlight.

“What did you do to her?”

“What I told you. We just chat. Amicably I must clarify.”

“About what, genius?”

“But how much kindness.” He said sarcastically, but slowly raised his machete in a sign of peace. “We killed this vampire together and both sides get the credit.”

“What credit? They don't even pay us and I'm not sure you're not what I'm looking for. Besides, I don't need a partner.”

“Your sister thinks so.”

“Don't mention her.” You groaned and stopped walking.

“Okay, kitten, without taking out the claws.”

You rolled your eyes.

"Besides, it's not a vampire, it's a vetala."

He frowned and lowered his machete.

"What? No. Of course it’s a vampire.”

“Blood sucked, they hunt in pairs, it's a damn vetala.”

“I haven't heard from a second monster.”

“That's because I killed him.”

You raised an eyebrow. Dean could practically feel the arrogance oozing out of your pores.

“Okay, Lara Croft, are we doing this or not?”

“I don’t even trust you.”

“But yes in her, right?

You looked at him in confusion as he lowered his hand to one of his pockets.

“Hey.”

“Relax. It’s just my cell phone.”

And just as he said, he took his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed a number, raising it to his ear as his gaze remained on you. Someone answered on the other side.

“Charlie, there is someone who wants to talk to you.”

He moved his cell phone away from his ear and brought it closer to you. Seeing that you didn't let your guard down, he sighed and left the machete on the ground and then kicked it away from him.

“Believe me, I wouldn't do that for anything.”

You thought about it for a few seconds, looking him up and down carefully, looking for anything that would set off an alarm in your brain. But there was nothing.

You grabbed the cell phone and brought it to your ear.

“Charlie?” You said doubtfully.

“Ahoy, here I am.”

You breathed a sigh of relief and smiled.

"Are you okey." You nodded.

“Yep, alive and well.”

“So, this guy tells me you made a deal with him.”

"That's how it is."

The way she said it so easily made you frown.

“Just like that? So easy? Were you even planning to consult with me?” You asked angrily.

“I knew what you would say, little sister.”

“And you didn't think that maybe I have my reasons?” You looked at Dean with disdain, his reaction being a shrug. “How can you be so sure he won't betray you?”

"Listen, I've already talked to his brother too-"

“Oh, so there are two?” You interrupted her. “This just keeps getting better.”

“Everything will be fine. You just have to trust me.”

“You know I trust you.” You paused. “But it's them I don't trust.”

“Listen, little sister, let's make a deal.”

“Haven't you done enough for today?”

“Trust me and let's do this. If everything turns out as expected, then we'll move on with our lives and go out for a drink. If it doesn’t work out… I’ll admit I was wrong.”

“I like the sound of that. Although I don't think it matters much when we're dead, but oh well.”

“We have a deal?”

“In a minute you will have my answer.” You looked at the man in front of you. “If you betray us, can I take care of her?”

“No one will betray you.” Seeing that you didn't say anything, he sighed and put his hands in his jacket pockets. “But yes, you can. Damn, I'll even give you all the tools you want to torture her.”

You nodded and returned your attention to the call.

“I'm in.”

“Yay!” Shee exclaimed in a triumphant tone. “You won't regret it.”

“No, I won't.”

You hung up the phone and handed it to Dean. You decided to put the knife away for now. He gave you a charming smile that you actually didn't find charming at all and extended his hand.

“Welcome, darlin’.”

You watched his hand nonchalantly and he cleared his throat, removing it and instead combing his hair.

“My name is Dean and the other guy is my brother Sam.”

You sighed and extended your hand, giving him your name. He looked at your hand before extending his own. Your hands touched, a gust of wind moved the dust at your feet.

“Your sister told me that you know when people are going to die.”

“Exaggerate. They are just… Instincts.”

“Uh…” He nodded and let go of your hand, running it over his chin. “But are you really right?”

“Yes, why? Do you want to bet?”

He smiled sideways.

“You shouldn't bet with me, sweetheart, I always end up getting the most.”

"C’mon. I will tell you if anyone will die during the mission, and if it turns out that way, you will give me that machete.”

“What if I win?”

“What do you want from me?”

You extended your arms and turned around. Dean smiled, but preferred to save the perverted comments for when he got to know you better.

“Your knife.”

"Really?"

"What? Are you afraid of losing?”

You shook your head in amusement. The mere idea of fearing something you were so sure of seemed ridiculous to you.

“Of course not. I have never missed a premonition.”

“Then we have a deal.”

He extended his hand again and this time you took it without protest, giving it a firm squeeze.

“We have a deal.”

He smiled at you, and you couldn't help but smile back. You had to admit he was charismatic and engaging.

You still couldn't separate your hands from each other, your smiles like mirrors, and they reflected each other in your eyes.

You opened your eyes slowly, feeling them heavy. In fact, as you slowly gained consciousness, your entire body felt heavy. You turned your head to either side as you studied the unfamiliar room in which you lay groggily.

Where were you?

You sat up slowly, your body aching at the movement. You had an IV and you took it out, a little blood coming out. You placed your feet on the ground and a shiver ran through your body as you felt the cold surface. You ran a hand over your forehead and closed your eyes for a few seconds, needing to come back completely.

You were wearing a hospital gown, but you didn't seem to be in one. You looked for your clothes, but they didn't seem to be there.

Suddenly, you began to hear sounds of footsteps heading towards the room. You looked for something to defend yourself with and ended up grabbing the IV. You stood against the wall, behind the door. Seeing someone open it, you prepared yourself.

It was a man. A very tall man who slowly approached the bed, surprised to not find you there. You quietly walked up behind him and placed the tip of the IV against his back, applying light pressure to let him know that what was behind him was sharp and therefore dangerous.

“Stay still and don't make any noise, understood?” He nodded. “Now, how many people are in this place?”

“Listen, I-”

You pressed the needle harder.

“Answer.” You said firmly.

“Six.”

“I can finish all of you.”

“Wait, you must listen to me.” He said your name and you cocked your head. “…And you know me.”

“Nice trick, but it won't work.”

“It's the truth. Did you have an accident-”

“Stop talking! Take me to the people who kidnapped me.

“What? No one kidnapped you.”

“You want to die?”

He sighed.

“Fine…” He gave up. “I'll take you to them.”

“Good boy.”

You pushed him towards the door. You walked close to his back. The place caught your attention. It looked big, full of hallways, but there were no windows in sight. Were you in a bunker?

He stopped before turning and you understood. His friends were there around the corner, the room without a door.

“We’ll go into the room and you and your friends will answer some questions.” You whispered. “If you don't do it, you will die.”

“You must listen to me…”

“Don't you dare talk to me like you know me.”

He stayed silent and you gave him a little push to keep him going. When you two entered you observed the people scattered around the place.

"Guys…"

“Oh, heya, Sammy.” Commented a man who had his back turned. “How is she?”

No one turned their gaze towards you, they were quite busy reading.

“Why don't you ask her instead?” Your voice echoed through the room, making everyone turn around.

Those who were sitting stood up and stuck their noses out of the books. Each one seemed to be going through different emotions.

“I don't have time for this.” You growled. “Each of you will release what you have in your hand and hold it high. You will then head over and stand in the middle of the room. If anyone makes a sudden movement, I swear I will give him a big cut on their back.

“How did I not prevent it?” Lamented one wearing a trench coat.

“Do what I said.” You ordered.

Everyone obeyed and went to the center of the place, standing side by side.

“Now that there is order you will answer my questions.”

“The angel ruined it again.” A bearded man in a suit rolled his eyes.

“…And no one will speak unless it is to answer my questions.” You continued.

The room fell silent.

“What am I doing here?” You asked.

They exchanged glances.

“You live here.”

“I don't think I explained myself well.” You pressed the needle against Sammy's back.

"Wait!" The one in the rain trench coat exclaimed. “We are honest with you.”

"Did you have an accident." One with green eyes followed.

You softened your grip because he didn't seem to be lying. But you couldn't risk it. You weren't sure if they worked for someone or alone.

“Let's say I believe you. Tell me what is happening.”

“How much do you remember?” Asked an older man in a cap

“I ask the questions, old man.” You answered.

“Okay, okay. Let's start again. You are part of us…”

“You had an accident that left you in a coma.” Another followed.

“I don't remember any accident…”

“It seems that you lost your memory.”

“The question is…” The one in the suit looked at you curiously, studying you. "How much?"

You looked at each one of them. The only thing that made sense of his entire story was memory loss. That would be the answer to all your questions. They seemed confident when they spoke, even when one of their own was under threat.

At that moment, you remembered Charlie.

“Where is-?”

“Guys, something happened to my…”

You turned around, seeing Charlie, who was rushing into the living room.

“Bitch…” She whispered.

In your distraction, that man snatched your weapon and pushed you. You tried to get closer, but he pointed it at you. You sighed defeated and raised your hands.

But he, instead of continuing to point the needle at you, threw it on the ground, which surprised you. You lowered your hands as you looked at Charlie.

“What is happening?” You asked her.

“Something happened to you and you lost your memory.” The one in the raincoat explained instead.

“But… I don't understand…”

“Don't worry, you're safe here. We are your family.”

"Family?"

“What is the last thing you remember?”

“I…” You ran a hand through your hair. “I remember surviving with you, Charlie.”

She was thoughtful and something clicked in her mind. After the death of her parents and finding you, many years had passed in which you survived every day.

Everyone exchanged glances with each other, observing the conversation.

“What's going on?”

“That happened a long time ago, little sister.”

“I don't understand… How much exactly?”

Charlie walked over to you and held both of your hands.

“It was many years ago… Many years…”

Loca's notes: Ha! It's true that I deceived you. Summing up the prologue ahead of time is a gift of joy to you, my precious followers. Comment what you think, I love you!

Dean Winchester Series/Mini Series

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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[lieutenantbatshit]

CHAPTER 09 - once you go in, there's no turning back (hwang in ho x reader)

>> MASTERLIST

previous chapter | next chapter

----

You cupped your hands under the cold stream, letting the water pool on your palms as you brought it up to your face. The coolness sipped into your skin, a brief moment of relief as the tension in your temples eased. Droplets ran down your cheeks as it traced on to your jawline. You looked at yourself in the mirror as you dried yourself up, seeing Jun-hee behind, much to your surprise.

"Jesus, you scared me," your breath hitched as you rubbed the water away from your face using your shirt.

Jun-hee chuckled as you motioned to the side, awaiting her turn as she bowed to you. She moved forward to the sink to check herself in the mirror, then splashed some water on her face. Your skin felt refreshed, though you wished you had your skincare products with you to make you even feel better.

You went behind Jun-hee as both of you walked out of the bathroom, making your way towards the labyrinth of stairs down to the dormitory. You noticed Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Dae-ho, and In-ho already packing the beds, but the mattresses were being placed beneath the bedframes.

"Lights out in ten minutes," the voice said on the speakers. "Please prepare for bedtime."

"Pass it to me," you heard Gi-hun say as you walked near them, seeing them arranging the mattresses like a fort. The mattresses seemed clean, but its dust plumed into the air much to your sneeze as Jung-bae swatted his hand away from the dust.

"Bless you," Jung-bae said to you as you wiped your nose/ You sniffed, feeling the dust still lurking somewhere in your nostrils, only for you to sneeze again.

"God," you complained, turning away from the mattresses. "Please, excuse me."

"Excused," In-ho muttered. His voice was almost low but still audible for you, yeet you chose to ignore it.

"Is this really necessary? I don't like sleeping under there," Jung-bae complained, looking at the mattress being put under the bed with disgust.

"Once the lights go out, somebody might attack us," Gi-hun explained, his eyes fixed on the mattress he was arranging.

"What? Who?" Dae-ho asked, placing a mattress in front as a blockage, while Jun-hee held out the blankets.

"The prize money still goes up if we kill each other," Gi-hun said, his voice dark. "It's part of the game they designed."

"Seems like it," you said, nodding to Gi-hun in agreement. "This wasn't about the games anymore. They clearly want to see us fight up there. Some sort of a test for humanity, something like that."

In-ho scoffed from behind. "I think you're overreacting here. Even if that were true, people wouldn't do that."

As you were about to retort, Gi-hun turned away and faced In-ho, his expression dark but fearful. "In the previous games, dozens of people killed each other at night," Gi-hun pointed to the ground, his words pronounced every detail. "Right here." He sighed deeply as he continued. "You have no idea how people can change in this place."

In-ho looked away, sighing in defeat as he gave a small nod. "All right. I guess I didn't know what I was talking about. I'm sorry."

You raised an eyebrow, sensing his words with no hint of sincerity, as if it was perfectly memorized. Like it was an automatic response. You went back to your senses and listened more to Gi-hun, whose back was turned on In-ho. "Once it's lights out, we need to take turns keeping watch. I'll take the first watch. You should decide the order for the rest."

"I'll take after Gi-hun," Jung-bae raised his hand, then he looked at you and Jun-hee. "Both of you should get a good night's sleep for the rest of the night. It would also be better if you sleep at the bottom for your safety."

"I can handle myself," you assured, waving your hand as if to dismiss the idea. You turned to Jun-hee and gave her a small smile. "You can sleep for the rest of the night, Jun-hee."

Jun-hee nodded as she made her way to the mattress, seemingly wanting to sleep. She needed a lot of rest for her to get ready for the next games, hopefully to make it out in the end.

"I'll take watch after brother Jung-bae," Dae-ho said, giving a salute to Jung-bae, to which he returned. The two marines exchanged handshakes.

"That leaves me then," In-ho said, then he looked at you. "You can take watch after me."

You nodded and proceeded to get your blanket and pillow along with Jun-hee's, deciding to sleep beside her at night to accommodate her needs. You weren't knowledgeable on how to care for a pregnant woman, but you should at least try. You felt a sense of protectiveness for her, tucking her in.

You positioned yourself on the bed, placing a blanket over you. The lights dimmed as the piggy bank's light illuminated around the area. You could feel your eyelids drooping, growing heavier with every passing second. The world around you blurred, the edges of reality softening as your body sank deeper into the mattress. You could feel every muscle in your body ached with fatigue. No matter how hard you tried to stay alert, your body had already decided - there was no fighting it anymore.

----

Sleep had barely settled into your bones before something stirred you awake. Your eyes cracked open sluggishly, your mind swimming through the heavy fog of exhaustion. The world around was still wrapped in darkness, the dim lighting from the piggy bank overhead casting eerie shadows along the bunk beds. Your limbs felt weighted and slow to respond, and cold air stung against your exposed skin, making you shiver.

You slid out of the mattress, careful not to wake Jun-hee up. You rubbed your eyes as you blinked, sluggishly adjusting to reality.

And then, you saw In-ho.

He sat a few feet away, his back straight, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the sleeping bodies. He barely moved, barely even blinked, his silhouette rigid against the dim glow of the room. The sharp angles of his face were softened by darkness, but there was something unnerving about how still he was.

You moved slowly and quietly as you approached him, only for him not to react much. He didn't even flinch, didn't turn his head, but you knew he was aware of you.

You hesitated before lowering yourself onto the floor beside him, mirroring his posture - leaning back against the bunk, legs stretched out, knees barely grazing. The silence between you was thick, but not suffocating. Not yet, anyway.

"You can sleep," you spoke up as his eyes flicked towards you. "It's my turn to watch."

"The lights will open in a few hours. It's no use to sleep now," In-ho replied as he returned his eyes to the shadows ahead.

You nodded, letting the quiet settle again. You closed your eyes a bit as you could still feel a bit of sense of grogginess, but fixed yourself up when you felt dozing off again.

The room was steeped in silence, save for the occasional rustle of bodies shifting in sleep. The longer you sat there, the more the exhaustion sank into your bones, making your mind wander to places it shouldn't. Your fingers absently traced the fabric of your pants as your thoughts had already slipped somewhere else. Before you could stop it, the memory surfaced - your father.

The same silence. The same kind that used to stretch between you and him, late at night, when you'd wake up and find him sitting alone in the living room, a bottle of beer long gone cold in front of him. He would watch a movie while drinking, enjoying the rest of his night with a cigarette on hand.

You would watch the same movie to help you go back to sleep as he would gesture toward the chair across from him. And you'd sit, just like this, neither of you speaking, both of you staring at the TV in front of you. It was something unspoken, but shared.

You weren't sure why you thought of him now. Maybe it was the stillness. The weight of unspoken things hanging in the air. Or maybe it was In-ho himself - the way he sat there, unreadable, distant in a way that felt too familiar.

The thought made your chest tighten, your throat constricting around something you weren't ready to name.

"Appa used to sit like this," you murmured before you could stop yourself.

You felt In-ho shift beside you - just barely, just enough that you knew he had heard. He didn't turn to face you, didn't press for more, but he was listening.

Your fingers curled slightly against your knee as you exhaled. You didn't mead to say it, but now the words were out, lingering between you both, impossible to take back.

"He'd just sit there at night while watching a movie, thinking about things he never talked about."

In-ho didn't speak, but his breathing was steady, his presence solid beside you. The moment stretched, heavy with something neither of you had the energy to unpack.

"He passed away recently," you swallowed, feeling an ache on your chest. In-ho's faze flickered toward you, seeing his eyes with shock and... worry. "Hemorrhagic stroke. I was getting ready for work when eomma called me and said that they rushed him to the hospital. He suddenly felt dizzy and passed out in the ambulance. The doctors said he was in critical condition," you felt tears forming in your eyes as your voice cracked. "I rushed to the emergency room that day. The doctors said they couldn't do a surgery on him anymore. There was no brain activity anymore and his body was only relying to the machine. We went home and waited for more news. It took a while for us to decide but then..."

Your voice cracked, and before you knew it, the tears came - hot, unstoppable, burning their way down your cheeks. You bit down on your lip as if that would keep the sob from escaping, but it only made your shoulders shake harder, your breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps.

"When we were on the way back to the hospital, the doctors tried to revive him twice. As if he was waiting for us. When we arrived, we decided to take the medicines off and let him pass naturally. And just like that, in just a few hours, he was gone."

It wasn't just the fact that he was gone. The fact that life had ripped him away from you, without warning, without time to prepare. That there had been so many things left unsaid, so many moments you thought you'd have, but never would.

You pressed the heels of your palms against your eyes, trying to smother the sobs, trying to control yourself, but it was useless. You weren't just crying - you were breaking, unraveling right in front of him.

In-ho was still silent. But he hadn't left.

His fingers twitched slightly against his knee, like he had considered doing something - but in the end, he stayed still.

You sucked in a breath, swallowing back another sob. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this," you whispered, your voice raw, shaking.

For a moment, you thought he wouldn't respond. But then, softly, he said, "Because he mattered."

You blinked, fresh tears slipping down your cheeks.

In-ho exhaled, tilting his head slightly, his gaze fixed on the floor. "People like that... they don't really leave us. They just... stop being where we can reach them."

Something about the way he said it made your breath catch. It sounded too familiar, too knowing, like he was speaking from experience.

You wiped your tears away with your sleeve, trying to steady yourself, but the weight in your chest didn't disappear. It wouldn't, not for a long time.

In-ho didn't offer anything else. No empty reassurances. No forced words of sympathy.

But he stayed. And somehow, that was enough.

You could feel his gaze on you, heavy and assessing, but he didn't speak. You turned your face away as if hiding it would somehow take away the humiliation of breaking in front of him.

In-ho's fingers ghosted over your wrist before retreating, hesitant, like even the smallest act of comfort was something foreign to him.

You sniffled, forcing a shaky breath. "You don't have to pretend to care."

In-ho exhaled through his nose, something like amusement, something like frustration. "I'm not pretending."

You turned to him, expecting coldness, indifference. But instead, you found something else. His gaze was unreadable, but there was something softer, something hesitant in the way his lips parted like he wanted to say more but wouldn't.

And then, you felt his lips against yours. It was brief, deliberate. Not desperate, not hurried - but real.

His lips were warm against yours, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn't feel cold. His grip on you tightened as he pulled you closer, surrendering to the moment.

But then, the light came on. The bright, harsh, unforgiving light illuminating the room.

You barely had time to register the words before In-ho pulled away, the warmth between you vanishing as quickly as it had come. His expression was unreadable again, as if the moment had never happened.

"The third game will begin momentarily. All players, please get out of bed and get ready."

----

The moment the heavy doors slid open, a stark sterile brightness spilled into the corridor, making you squint against the sudden change. The space beyond was massive, eerily open, the kind of emptiness that felt designed to make you feel small.

In the center of the room stood a series of platforms and narrow walkways, forming an intricate maze-like pattern, interconnected in ways that felt delibrate, calculated. At first glance, there seemed to be no immediate danger - no spikes, no pits, no obvious traps.

"Welcome to your third game. The game you will be playing is Mingle."

You looked around as you saw the doors around the place, each with different colors. If this was Mingle, then you would be grouping yourselves, pairing up, and choosing sides. This game could be to form alliances, or something worse - something to force you into connections you wouldn't want.

"All players, please step onto the center platform. When the game starts, the platform will begin to rotate and you will hear a number. You must form groups of that size, go into the rooms, and close the door within 30 seconds."

"Oh, this game? We used to play something similar on school trips," Jung-bae spoke up. "We formed groups by hugging."

"Yeah, instead of hugging, we go into those rooms," Dae-ho pointed at the doors.

In-ho, Y/N, Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Dae-ho, Jun-hee.

"If the number is six, we can stay together," you said, earning a nod from each of your group. "We can be divided by three and two. So that wouldn't be a problem."

"If it's two, you and me pair up," In-ho stated with no hesitation. Before you could react, he leaned in and wrapped his hand around yours steadily and certain.

Your breath hitched, but you didn't pull away. The words sent a sharp jolt through your chest - not from fear, not from surprise, but from the way he didn't phrase it as a question. He wasn't asking. He was deciding.

His grip was firm, not forceful, but final. Like he had already made the choice for you - like he wouldn't let you end up with anyone else.

Your eyes flicked up just in time to catch the others watching. Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Dae-ho, even Jun-hee noticed. The way In-ho held your hand. The way he had spoken so casualy, so sure as if it was obvious. The way you didn't pull away.

Gi-hun's expression tightened, his brows furrowing just slightly, as if he was trying to understand what he had just seen. You could feel the weight of their silent questions. But In-ho didn't look at them, as if he didn't care. He didn't acknowledge their glances. He just kept his grip on your hand, his thumb resting lightly against your skin.

Gi-hun seemed to shake away his thoughts, focusing on the game ahead instead. "If the number is bigger than six, we'll get the additional people we need."

"Yeah, we have Geum-ja, Hyun-ju, Yong-sik, and Young-mi. These rooms look like it could only fit up to ten people," you replied, earning a nod from Gi-hun.

"No matter what happens, don't panic. Let's stay calm," In-ho said, his hand still not pulling away from yours. "We'll all make it out together here."

One by one, your hands with the others pressed against each other, stacking in a firm, unspoken pact. The weight of each palm settled atop the next, fingers brushing, gripping, grounding. The warmth of skin against skin was a quiet promise - whatever happened next, you were all in this together.

"Victory at all costs!"

"Let the game begin."

The first bell-like chime rang out. The platform moved with the players on it. The gasps echoed from the room as you heard the song, "Round and Round" play on the background.

Dunggeulge dunggeulge Dunggeulge dunggeulge Binggeulbinggeul doragamyeo chumeul chupsida

Beside you, In-ho stood perfectly still, his gaze fixed ahead, his posture unreadable. You glanced down to find his hand was still holding yours, fingers curled loosely but solidly around yours. You hadn't let go, neither of you had.

Sonppyeogeul chimyeonseo Noraereul bureumyeo La-la-la-la, jeulgeoupge chumchuja

You tightened your grip to In-ho as you could feel your insides shaking, terrified of what was next. You could already anticipate the chaos it would entail once the music stops, trying to force your way into those doors.

Ring-a-ring-a, ring-a, ring-a-ring-a, ring Ring-a-ring-a, ring-a, ring-a-ring-a, ring Sone soneul japgo modu da hamkke Jeulgeoupge ttwieo bopsida

Your stomach tightened upon hearing the music stop. Then, the numbers flashed across the screen. The platform clunked, almost sending you to the ground but failed, thanks to In-ho's grip on you.

"Ten."

You barely had time to think as you watched the players around you scramble, hands reaching out to others as they searched for a sense of safety in numbers. Your heart raced. You knew you had to act fast. In this game, alliances would form and be broken in a split second. There was no in between.

In-ho was beside you, his grip on your hand stayed. The pressure was mounting with each passing second. You could see the other players eyeing each other, trying to gauge who would be an asset and who might be a liability.

Without hesitation, you grabbed Jun-hee, Gi-hun, Jung-bae, and Dae-ho as you grouped yourselves together with In-ho. Gi-hun approached Hyun-ju, seeing they were four which was perfect for a group of ten.

"There's no time, Gi-hun," In-ho said as he gripped your hand tighter and ran to a door, the group following you. The green door opened and revealed the green walls around you, panting as you entered.

The timer beeped as the latch clicked, indicating the door has been locked. You peeked through the hole and saw that there were still players outside, sparing for their lives as the guards aimed their guns at them, gunshots echoing through the room.

You froze, seeing the bodies drop to the ground. You felt someone grab you from the side, burying your head over their chest. You sensed it was In-ho as his breath was shallow against your ear as he whispered something you couldn't quite make out, something low and protective.

There was only the sound of bodies hitting the floor, and the quiet safety of being pressed into him, as if you were tucked away from the madness. And in the midst of the chaos, his chest was the only thing you could hold onto, the only thing that could remind you that there was still something human, something warm, in a world that was falling apart.

"The following players have been eliminated: Players 013, 043, 049, 054, 060..."

As the doors unlocked, only the blood remained around the floor. The bodies were no longer there, enough for you to think whether seeing the lives taken away were just a dream. In the span of moments, the tension in the air shifted from uncertainty to something else entirely - a realization that the number didn't just matter for the game; they mattered for your survival.

----

At this point, you weren't sure anymore how you were able to survive the next rounds. It's as if you were just breathing and passing the time, only this time, your life was at stake. At first, it had been difficult to watch. The gunshots, the screams - it had shaken something deep inside you. But now, it was just another sound in the background of this twisted game. A signal that the rules had already been set - only the storng survive.

You had long stopped reacting, long stopped feeling the sting of it. It was as if you had slipped into a place where you could no longer be touched, where nothing mattered but survival.

"There are 126 people left and there are 50 rooms. So there won't be enough rooms for everyone, only for 100 people," you told your group as you scanned the room. "The rest will be killed."

Gi-hun seemed to look at you in horror, as if shocked to hear about your casualty on talking about killing. You kept your gaze in front of you much to his horror. But In-ho, he was more amused.

The platform rumbled, indicating that it was time to pair up.

"Two."

In-ho instinctively grabbed your hand as both of you ran to find empty rooms. The others around were still floundering, unsure of their next move. Your senses were full now, numbed by the constant violence, as if something deep inside you had already switched off. You had seen too much, felt too much, and the pain and fear had begun to fade away, replaced by something darker, colder.

This wasn't about survival anymore. This was about the true unraveling of human nature, something you were finally starting to understand.

As the players slowly paired up, you saw another playing trying to make his way toward a room, a look of uncertainty in his eyes. He was too close to that room that should've belonged to you and In-ho.

In-ho didn't hesitate. Without a warning, he stepped forward and grabbed the man by the collar, dragging him out of the room as he tried to make his way inside.

"What the hell? Let go of me!" Player 285 screamed as In-ho held him back.

"Get in!" In-ho ordered you and rushed inside, only to see another player already inside.

In-ho followed after he threw Player 285 out of the way, seeing Player 343 there.

"Get out," In-ho commanded, his voice deep and low.

"We were here first," Player 343 retorted.

You stepped forward as your hands came into a fist. Player 343's eyes widened in confusion. You didn't give him the chance to fight.

Player 343 was looking at you, their gaze cautious. It wasn't a look of fear - not yet. But it would be soon. He shifted in front of you nervously, eyes daring between you and In-ho, but he didn't know.

He didn't know what you were becoming.

In-ho was just there, just a few steps behind you. It wasn't like he was holding you back, but there was an unspoken understanding between you. He sensed it, didn't he? The change. The shift that was slowly creeping over you, turning your survival instincts into something much darker.

You were no longer just fighting to survive - you were becoming the predator. And Player 343? He was nothing but a prey now.

You didn't hesitate. His neck snapped easily under your fingers, the crack of bones loud in the stillness, his body crumpling at your feet. His body dropped to the ground, lifeless, in a heap of twisted limbs. The silence between you and In-ho felt deafening.

As you turned to look at In-ho, you felt his eyes on you - steady and unblinkingg. He wasn't surprised. He wasn't even acknowledging you. But you could feel the quiet recognition he had of what you were becoming.

"I never taught you how to kill someone for a game," In-ho said, his voice low, his gaze briefly flickering to the body at your feet before he stepped closer.

You blinked, the words settling into the space between you, but you didn't answer. Instead, you felt his fingers gently press against your skin, just above your pulse. His touch was strangely familiar, like it had always been there, like you hadn't notiveed how much you craved it until now.

In-ho cupped your face, his thumb tracing your jawline as if committing the feeling of you to memory. And in that moment, everything else - the game, the players, the chaos - faded away. There was only the quiet intensity between you.

He leaned in, his lips just a whisper away from yours, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt something real.

"Do you still have my ring?" He asked, his breath warm against your lips.

His words stung as you stood there with him, realizing that he had remembered it all along. You knew that you were no longer afraid of who you had become.

Without thinking, you closed the space between you, your lips crashing into his with a force that sent shockwaves through your body. It was intense, desperate - a kiss that was as much about claiming as it was about understanding.

His body was pushed against the wall as his hands were on your back now, pulling you closer, his touch burning through the fabric of your clothes as if he was marking you as his own. His lips were demanding, like he couldn't get enough, as if he had been waiting for this moment just as much as you had.

The kiss deepened, a quiet growl of frustration escaping him as you matched his urgency, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer still.

In-ho pulled back just enough to breathe, his forehead resting against yours. He was panting, just like you, as if the kiss had taken all the air from both of you. "You're learning fast from all the game."

The moment between you lingered, a ting of happiness on your chest yet the realization of who you had become felt heavy. The realization of the game not just killing the players, but how it could change them. And for the first time, you understood. The brutality, the death, the constant tension - they weren't just part of the game. They were a mirror, reflecting the truth about human nature.

When pushed far enough, we all become what we fear the most.

You had become the villain as the game progressed. It wasn't about power, it was because you had finally accepted the truth. In a world like this, the ones who survive aren't the ones who cling to their humanity - they're the ones who shed it and embrace the darkness inside.

You were already too far gone to turn back.

"Let's finish this together," you whispered, your words a promise, and you knew deep down, that you were both already lost in the game. "No more lies?"

In-ho nodded, cupping your face with his hand, and gave you the softest smile you haven't seen for years. "No more lies."

----

A/N: And so, we're back! The past few days have been hectic. I added a little update of my dad's condition to this chapter as a way of updating you guys on what happened. But yeah, I hope y'all enjoy the rest of the chapter as we progress Y/N and In-ho's relationship in the fic. Feel free to leave out your thoughts here, and I'll gladly interact with each and everyone of you. 🫶

Don't forget to leave a comment in this post to be tagged on the next chapter! ✨

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[gyeomsweetgyeom]

hi!! I had an idea for a funny/ prank type fic for frat boy jaehyun!! It’s that one trend where the girl talks about getting a wax appointment (or some other appointment) after a really long time and plays it off as a guy waxes her which usually gets the significant other really confused thinking “a guy waxes you..?” I HOPE U KNOW WHAT I MEAN 😭😭 have a good day💞💞

anoooooon!!! THANK YOU FOR THIS IDEA!!!!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ what do you mean, he? ⋆⭒˚.⋆

(cw: f!reader, TikTok trend, profanity sugestive, Jaehyun is such a fucking loser (affectionate) in this)

where the girl talks about getting a wax appointment (or some other appointment) after a really long time and plays it off as a guy waxes her which usually gets the significant other really confused thinking “a guy waxes you..?”

"Oh baby!" You sing as you push that door open to Fratboy!Jaehyun's room.

It's a handful of days before his birthday now and all week you've been doing the prep you need for a very romantic and heated night with your own Valentine Boy. You'd gotten your nails done, been doing face masks, done a few hair masks, gotten your eyebrows done, and finally today, "guess who got her coochie waxed!"

Your exclamation is met with a "hell yeah!" from down the hall and a flushed Jaehyun scrambling away from his desk to shut the door behind you.

"Ok, love the news, love the mental image, but what did we say about announcing things like that around here?" Jaehyun asks with rosy cheeks.

"But you guys talk about your dicks and balls all the time, why can't you hear about my coochie?"

"Trust me Sweets, I want to hear about her day and night, but I don't want everyone else to hear about her," Jaehyun chuckles while pressing a kiss on your cheek.

You throw yourself onto his bed, turning to watch him settle back into his chair. He rubs your calf softly, "how was it?"

"Hurt like a bitch, but I'm getting used to it. Ash is pretty good about soothing the pain and has good tips for aftercare and all that," you explain.

"Ash? Didn't you used to go to a Jane or something?"

You smile at him, finding it endearing that he listens to what others would consider to be useless details, "yeah, but Jane is on maternity leave, so now I'm seeing Ash. He's good too—"

"He?!" Jaehyun exclaims with his eyes wide with shock.

"Um, yes, he. Is that a problem?" You ask with a confused tilt of your head.

"A guy waxes you, Sweetheart?"

"What is so confusing about this? Yes, my waxer, Ash, is a guy." You state, still not understanding what his incessant questioning is about.

"Sweetheart, another guy is looking at your... lady bits. Like all up and intimate up there while you're probably like spread eagle and showing yourself to him. Shouldn't you only be like that for me?" He asks, speaking slowly and softly in the hopes that you'll understand his point of view better now.

You roll your eyes and push his hand off your leg, "Ash is a 50 something year old gay man who is married and talks about the recipes he most recently made while he's ripping hair out of my 'lady bits'. Can I make it any more clear that he's not interested and more importantly, I'm not either!"

You stand from the bed, throwing your hands up as you continue, "I mean, hello! I got waxed for you! For your birthday! Duh!"

"You know I don't need you to do anything like that. I'm sorry Sweetheart," Jaehyun apologizes, grabbing your hips and tugging you closer to him until he can nuzzle his head against your stomach, "I just went a little crazy thinking about another guy looking at my girl..."

"Your girl? Jae, guys look at me all the time—" you say with a look of confusion until you're interrupted by a single finger against your lips.

"Not you, my girl," Jaehyun mumbles, dragging his finger down from your lips to the waistband of your pants, "her my girl."

You push his head away with a scoff, "oh fuck off, Jaehyun. Coochie privileges revoked until your birthday."

"Damn..."

[nightingale-prompts]

The thing in the graveyard was called "The Lover" (Harlot it too mean)

Despite what the stories say he rarely appeared. Tourists and armature ghost hunters have tried to capitalize on the popularity of the trend. A sort of fandom formed for those who guessed about the appearance and origin of the supposed ghost.

Truly to only people who saw him were lonely. The lover would appear to them as a young and beautiful young man. He didn't attack and only sometimes did he try to convince you to leave with him. Other times he'd just sit with you and listen. He'd lean on your shoulder. He'd cry for you. Anything that could ease your pain.

You couldn't film the encounters and no one could describe him in detail.

Tim wanted to investigate this. He researched every story he could find of the ghost. Some stories said he was the spirit of a man abandoned by his partner and others said he was a demon that seduces mortals to drag them to hell. Tim gathered that The Lover only comes when you are alone, arrive after midnight and come on a moonless night.

Tim chose the right date and time as he entered the iron gates.

It was a desolate walk, like walking into nowhere. Until he felt a pair of arms wrap around him. They were cool to the touch. A weight pressed against his back.

"You finally came for me." A warm voice echoed in the silence.

The sounds of wings fluttered and beat in the distance.

Tim stilled. It's him.

Tim pulled away and turned to see the fabled "Lover". And he was everything described and more. He seemed to glow in the lantern light that Tim had prepared.

"What do you mean?" Tim asked.

He steeled his nerves whatever happened next he shouldn't let the ghost use him to escape. Every time so far the victim has run away.

"You are one of her knights. You must be here to free me." He said with a soft smile as he hugged Tim tightly. "I'm so glad it over. Thank you. Thank you so much."

"I don't know what you're talking about who's knight?" Tim asked unhooking his arms and feeling how solid they were and not ghostly at all.

Tim wreaked his brain to figure out if this ghost was mixing up something from hundreds of years ago. Maybe during the rule of the queen in colonial times? No, that didn't make sense either.

"It doesn't matter. You're here now. And we can leave." His smiled only faltered for a moment but it soon returned as he excitedly grabbed Tim's hand.

"Where do you plan on going?" Tim asked trying to ignore the way the boy looked at him like he was his savior.

"Home...I want to go home." He said sadly. "I don't belong here."

"You're a ghost. Shouldn't you stay here and rest?"

"I'm not dead!" He yelled pushing close to Tim "I'm alive! I swear! Can't you feel me?! I'm real!"

Suddenly Tim felt a pain of lips on his. They were cold but...soft. I'm pushed the boy away quickly.

"Stop that! What are you doing?" Tim yelled.

The ghost boy clenched his jaw as he was shoved away. His eyes were wide as he was caught off guard.

"That...usually worked. Guys usually listen when they think they will get something out of this." His voice was cold and bitter.

"So you really think I'll let you leave if you kiss me?!" Tim said incredulously.

The ghost's expression twisted in confusion.

"I don't have anything else to give. I just...want to leave. I'll do anything. No one will listen to me." Tears filled his eyes as he spoke.

The graveyard was deathly quiet again.

"Are you going to leave me here too?" A sob broke out as he spoke. "I can't last much longer. And she let you come here. So she must have forgiven me. She'll let me go if you let me out."

Tim saw the pain in the ghost's eyes and he did something stupid. He reached out and hugged him. A real hug. The kind his emotionally constipated family rarely gave. It was probably the only affection the ghost boy was given that wasn't forced or initiated by him.

Tim was still unsure if he should go through with this. He wanted answers but now only one question was on his mind.

"What's your name?"

"Danny....my name is Danny."

Kiss of Death- DCxDP prompt

A valentine horror.

Didn't matter why you were there or why you didn't run.

There was a graveyard older than Gotham itself. The names on the grave are weathered and unreadable from hundreds of years of exposure. The only reason one should come here was if you had managed to track your heritage to this gravesight after searching museum archives for burial records since the city wouldn't keep ones so old in the government building.

Unless...

You came because of the legend.

It's a new one. So it's more of an urban legend.

The story goes that the graveyard is haunted and a that anyone who comes here late at night will die. It's a simple legend, a very cliche and uncreative one at that.

But here you are. What was your goal? Ghost hunting? Graverobbing? Or perhaps your curiosity had consumed you and you had to know.

The air was thick. Like you are slowly choking on the darkness around you. Have you ever been in a room so quiet it was deafening? Like you are sure you must have lost your hearing because not even the wind would greet your ears. It was just empty space that wordlessly told you that you are alone. But that was just a room. A room that you leave and find solace in a trip of a light switch. This however was no room. It was the wide expanse of the outside world. In a place where streetlamps were not even a flicker in the minds of the residents that rest deep below your feet.

You chose a bad time to come. Perhaps you would be spared the wondering in the dark if you had the forgiving light of the moon on you. But such things were an afterthought, wasn't it? No tonight the moon was shadowed and the light of the stars would be your only salvation...but this was still Gotham. Could their light even reach you with the distant city lights over the horizon? Could the clouds mercifully move out of the way to give you some hope that you were not abandoned?

Now you were ill-prepared but you must have had some sense to at least charge your phone before you came. It's flashlight might be enough to get you back. But you're come this far. Brave or foolish you continue forward.

Until someone approached. You couldn't see them, only hear the muted footfalls of something coming near. Your ears so starved for sensation drank it like water in a dessert.

And in the light of your torch, a face appeared. A pair of baby blue eyes simmered in the light. A relieved smile on a pair of soft pale pink lips. A young man with tousled black locks appearing holding a small arm full of lilies and tulips.

"Finally, someone else. I thought I'd be here till morning." He said in relief as he came closer.

"What are you doing here?" You ask surprised that you weren't the only person here.

"I was cleaning the graves here and I must have lost track of time. Can you lead me out of here?" He asked softly and you'd hit yourself if you said no.

He clung to your arm as you walked him down the path.

The air began to get colder.

Where there was once silence you hearabout d the sound of crows beating their wings and making their wretched calls.

He clung harder to you.

That horrible curiosity got the better of you and so you began to speak.

"Why were you out here cleaning graves anyways." You asked.

"I was...helping. I come here alot." He said simply.

Nevermind the fact he was not dressed in clothes fit for cleaning. His white button-up shirt and dress pants were not something you get dirty. In fact, he didn't have a fleck of dirt on him.

"Where are your supplies?" You ask.

"I left them behind. I'll come back for them." He said curtly.

His grip on your arm tightened and it got colder.

"Just stay close please. I don't want to lose you in this darkness." He cooed.

You begin to feel lightheaded. The cold damp air made it hard to breathe.

You hear the crows...no ravens call out again.

"Never leave!" They repeated

"Trapped!" They called.

You hear a growl come from those pink lips, only they weren't pink anymore.

You look down at your companion and see a pair of bloody lips and a smile curled into a cruel but somehow sweet smile. A pair of glowing acidic green eyes that narrowed into pinpricks like a bird locking onto its prey. His once soft ebony lock now as stark white as snow caps.

You try to pull away but their grasp crushed your arm, hands like icy claws dug in.

" Where are you going?" He asked calm his eyes baring into yours.

Suddenly he did look very scary. No, he looked...so sad...so helpless and lost. His eyes where so warm and inviting.

"Don't leave me here. Help me. I promise I'll make it worth your while." His smile was so warm and inviting.

"Leave!" The ravens screeched.

"Run!" They called.

Even the screaming of the birds where drowned out as he pressed his lips to yours. It was too late. The sickly sweet scent of death and flowers filled your senses.

Why though, was his lips so cold? Why did they fill his mouth with the coppery taste of blood? Why did you feel so empty in the space you had hoped he'd fill in your heart?

But then a sharp pain struck your head and the warm trickle of blood flowed from your wound as a bird flew over your head.

You pulled away from the cloying embraces you perked in pain. And then you saw it. His face half half-rotted and skeletal. The once handsome man was a monster.

You sprinted away from him trying to frantically call someone for help on your phone. But foolish one had you forgotten. Your phone is also your flashlight and as you tried to use it you could only run blindly in the dark hoping you were still on the path. The sound of wind slicked the air behind you as you felt his icy breath on the back of your neck. You could only guess what was behind you as you heard no footsteps behind you only the feeling of being chased.

You dared not stop not even a moment and prayed that you didn't stumble. But mercy had found you as you saw the gate come into view and the solitary streetlight just beyond the boarder.

"You said you'd get me out! You can't leave me here!" A bloodcurdling screech rang out.

But you had already won as you made it out just barely with the graze of clawed fingertips at the back of your neck.

You closed the gate behind you and as you gazed into the dark abyss beyond the metal barrier you half expected it to be there. For it to snarl at you in anger watching you leave or slamming itself at the gate. But there was nothing. Not even the wind.

[wandaslullaby]

Power Run || Wanda Maximoff x Reader

summary: the turn of events ignites something inside you.

part 2 of test track

warnings: lactation kink

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

There was no doubt that you were a vivid dreamer but, the events that happened last night surely wasn't real. It couldn't be, there was no way you would infantilize yourself for Wanda. You weren't exactly attracted to women, but something came undone when Wanda outed you for essentially being a creep. It wasn't intentional, you were a sucker for tits and prying on Wanda isn't something that's illegal, it just felt like the universe wanted you there to see them.

For a long time you weren't a heavy sleep but how fortunate is it that after Wanda used her nurturing skills, something you always wanted from your own mother, you were breathing heavily and woke up freely without no disturbances.

"Y/N? You still asleep?" Tommy crept in, cup of hot chocolate with fresh cream and marshmallows in his hands.

You turned towards the voice, shaking your head as you watched Tommy come towards you. "Hot coco? I haven't had this since I was a kid."

Tommy frowned, he knew about your shitty homelife but never wanted to bring it up without you talking about it first.

"Mum usually makes this for us when we finally understand what we did was wrong. Bit strange since you haven't done anything." Tommy took a breath, "You didn't do anything wrong, right Y/N?"

The instant regret found you. You quickly shaked your head, taking the hot chocolate from him. "I haven't, has Wanda said anything?"

"Nope. She's been extra weird today though. Something must of lifted her spirts because before you came over, she was ranting to her best friend, Agatha about my dad."

You took a sip, moaning at the taste of the drink. "This is so good, how have I never had one?"

"Like I said, it only comes when you learn a lesson."

You stayed silent, taking small sips as Tommy started to tell you all the details of the party. As Tommy kept going on about Flash and how they made out in the garden, you couldn't stop thinking about last night. It felt like every time you fidgeted, you felt your panties getting wetter at the sight of how Wanda was with you. You weren't quite sure why you kept replaying the moments when you knew that it wasn't right.

"So now, I'm getting ready for a date with Flash. He is going to pick me up soon and going to head to the arcade."

"Is this my queue to leave then?"

"Definitely not." Tommy said. "Actually, I was thinking if you could help my mum out today? She really needs some help with house stuff and I kinda told her that you were good at that stuff..."

You signed, "I have to get back home, Tommo. Mum's probably going to go ma-"

"I just got off the phone with her, sweets. She is more than happy for you to be here helping a fellow neighbour out. Apparently, I've heard that you haven't done any chores for your neighbours in a while which is very disappointing." Wanda said, walking into the spare bedroom.

Tommy looked over at you, "Maybe that's why you got hot chocolate today?"

Wanda gazed at you, grinning at the sight of how dumbfounded you became. "I think Y/N knows exactly what she has done, baby. Isn't that right?"

You coughed, nodding trying to not look at Tommy's confused face. "I would be happy to help you. May i have a shower first?"

And that was Tommy queue to get ready. You both watched Tommy walk away, vanishing into the hallway. Now it was just you and Wanda, and for some reason you weren't exactly sure how to behave around her.

"I think you ought to have a bath, baby. We don't want to have another sticky situation, do we?"

"No, we don't" You breathed, and watched as Wanda held her hand out for you to hold.

"Hold my hand tight. Those little bambi legs can go so far." Wanda giggled, as you obediently held her hand and followed her. You thought Wanda would leave you for some peace but here she was, lifting you up to sit on the sink as she started to peel your clothes off.

Something about this felt invasive, but somehow you felt your head slump into her chest. Wanda didn't even bat an eyelid and carefully aided you until you were naked. She slowly unzips her t-shirt, something that nursing mother's would wear and pushed it to the side. "How rude of me, you haven't had any breakfast have you? You were waiting for Mommy weren't you?"

You didn't even respond and didn't fight when Wanda slowly lifted your head towards the direction of her tit. Wanda was about to explain her action but she hissed as you latched tightly onto her nipple, sucking aggressively. She tried to get you off but you only whined and carried on sucking.

"Slowly, baby. You are going to get a tummy ache." Wanda cooed as she watched from the mirror how well you were arched. She knew that you weren't stopping anytime soon, so she carefully took her phone out, and started to record you. The soft moans and whimpers coming from you was a sign that you were almost finished. She stopped the recording, placing her phone back into her pocket and stroked your crimson cheeks.

"You are going to drink me dry, baby." Wanda whispered into your ear but you didn't care, you were so drunk on her milk that you didn't want to stop. Wanda laughed not expecting you to be so open to this but as much as she wanted to watch the sight of you latching onto her tits, you needed a bath.

Your movements came to an end and Wanda slowly lifted your head, admiring the drunken state of you. She grinned, wiping the excess of her milk with her finger before giving you a kiss on your forehead.

"Did you like that?" Wanda whispered, stroking your hair.

"Mhm" you responded and detached yourself from her. Wanda waited until you were ready to get into the bath for the confusing to enter.

"W-What just happened?" You said, "Why does my tummy hurt and feel so full?"

Wanda breathed, she was totally excepting you to lash out. "You had too much milk, baby. You almost drank me dry."

You furrowed your eyebrows, "Drank you? How could I-" That's when you realised what you had done. You were levelled to her tits, looking directly at the swollen nipple on her right tit. Tears swam in your eyes as you huddled yourself, "I did that? I'm so sorry Wanda, I don't know why I did that?" You cried, "What's happening to me?"

Wanda heart sank, she knew that you were troubled but watching you fuss burned something inside her. "Nothing is happening to you, sweetheart, you just got a little carried away."

"Carried away? I sucked your tit, Wanda. That's what babies do!" You said, "I don't know why I'm turning into a needy little girl. I've always been independent and now i feel like I need your touch, 24/7."

Wanda wrapped you into her frame, gently calming you down. "It's okay to have these feelings, sweetie. I think you just feel a little neglected from home and watching how i take care of my boys, i can't imagine how jealous you would be."

"They don't behave like that, like me. I've never seen them be nurturing towards you. Why am I?"

"You're a girl. A sweet, naivee and stupid girl that just needed some female attention." Wanda laughed, almost turning it around to make you feel more embarrassed than you were.

You signed, not really understanding. "It won't happen again, I promise."

Wanda only agreed, but she knew that her remedies were taking effect quicker than she excepted. She knew once she poured a special something in your hot chocolate that something inside you that you tried to hide would come to the surface, and now that it has, Wanda needed a chat with Agatha, the town's secret witch.

[jasper-pagan-witch]

Three Kings Divination Spread

After rounds of testing and refining, I present to you, the completed Three Kings Divination Spread! This is a spread used for getting advice (which, in my opinion, all good tarot spreads should do to varying degrees).

Feel free to use this for yourself or for free readings, but do not use it for paid readings and do not claim that you invented this particular spread. I went through a lot of trouble to figure this whole thing out and troubleshoot it over on @jasper-tarot-reader. Other than that, I don't care what you do with it. Print it out, eat it, shit on it, I don't care.

Finally, if you independently decide to invent your own Three Kings-inspired tarot thing, great! More of us should be poking at Creepypastas for inspiration, and there are a shitload of other ways to approach this ritual-story and turn it into a spread, some of which I worked on before I narrowed down to this. Get silly with it.

The Story

The Three Kings Ritual was originally posted on Reddit's r/NoSleep under the title "Please don't actually try this." by FableForge. This is a ritual creepypasta focused on helping you tap into (but not travel to) a place that the OP calls the Shadowside in order to ask questions and have them answered, sometimes with more questions.

It's a very short Creepypasta and it's worth reading in full to understand this spread in its entirety. You need the context of the source for the reading to help it make sense, even moreso than the average pop culture tarot spread.

We are not going through all that trouble to tap fully into the Shadowside. Instead, we are using the general theory of this ritual-story as a framing device for a standard advice-seeking reading, potentially tapping into other entities (pop culture or not) for their perspectives.

The Setup

There are several things you need in order to get started:

three tarot decks

a strong appreciation for and decent understanding of the elements that line up with the tarot suits

a large surface to do the readings on, ideally with you sitting facing the north (or north-ish) so you have plenty of room for cards

something to prop up the Kings/Queen and Fool so that they can "see" both you and the other card

Ideally, you will want to use two decks with incredibly established "characters" for the Court cards, and one deck with unestablished "characters" for the Court cards for the querent.

You will then sit roughly as seen below:

The red cards are your significators, which we will talk about more in the next section, while the white cards with the black details are the actual ones you draw for the reading. I usually cap it at two cards each. You will be sitting facing the north (as is seen in the original Creepypasta) at a table or desk with plenty of space for the cards and reading to spread out.

This spread is broken up into two categories: In Court and Out Of Court. It is entirely up to you about whether or not your question is for within your Court or from outside of it. Regardless of the version, you choose the Court whose element you are most connected to.

In Court readings are typically best for questions in which you are the primary decision-maker but would like advice. This version has you as the King (represented by the King/Queen card) and grants you the Queen (represented by the other Queen/King of the same suit) and the Fool (represented by the Knight/Page of the same suit).

Out Of Court readings are typically best for questions in which you are on equal decision-making footing with others (typically spirit guides or deities) or you need advice from someone who is an equal. This version has you as a King (represented by the King/Queen) and involves picking two equivalent Kings (if you use a King card yourself, use two more Kings; if you use a Queen card, use two more Queens) from other suits.

If your tarot deck has renamed the Court members, choose from the "top two". For example, in the Transient Light Tarot, I would choose from the Crown (King) or Keeper (Queen) instead of the Champion (Knight) or Apprentice (Page).

(Since my practice with the four elements involves them having an allied element, an enemy element, and a neutral element, I typically pick the allied and neutral elements to the querent's element.)

This is why you need three decks - the Querent deck, the Queen/King deck, and the Fool/King deck - to represent their respective advice. Fandom decks for pieces of media you enjoy can actually be useful for this even if they otherwise suck as divination tools, since you already know the characters quite well.

I tend to work clockwise - the querent in the middle, the Queen/one of the Kings at the northwest/11 o'clock position, and the Fool/the other King at the northeast/1 o'clock position. But I've also accidentally reversed it a few times and it still came out fine as long as the cards were in their right spots.

The Reading

This is the most standard part of this reading. You are going to refer to yourself as King [Querent Name] or Queen [Querent Name] and use the formal titles of your Queen and Fool/other two Kings (if they have them) while asking your question. You will also have to repeat your query and any background information three times.

Do not belittle yourself in the reading - you are the querent, you are the one with the most agency in this reading, you are a King getting advice from your Court or speaking to Kings of other Courts, and there is nothing to fear. You are merely getting advice from beings that you respect the opinions, thoughts, and advice of.

When drawing cards for the reading, keep it balanced. Don't draw one card for yourself, three for the Queen, and two for the Fool. Everyone gets equal say in this spread.

Don't be surprised if the "advice to yourself" portion (the Querent part) just reiterates the problem. This is helpful too, because it gives you a good look at the situation in the context of the rest of the cards. You are both reading the cards separately (as advice from the different Court members) and together (as one giant clusterfuck reading, just separated into understandable chunks).

Finally, expect this to knock you on your ass if you pour energy into your readings. Three decks and an average of six cards plus searching for the three Court cards beforehand for the reading and, if you're me, tapping into the pop culture entities involved (even accidentally but I keep doing it) will wipe you the fuck out. At the risk of using a metaphor, you are not examining already-identified patches in your tomato garden, you are getting lost in the woods and fighting a coyote with nothing but a plastic water bottle and a stick you found on the ground. And sometimes that's what you need in life to get some good advice.

[jungkoode]

死 KKANGPAE | #04 死

† forest rendezvous †

"They say the most dangerous predators are the ones that make you feel safe before they strike. But watching him calculate each shot with deadly precision, you realize there might be something even more dangerous - the ones who warn you exactly what they are, and still make you want to stay."

next | index

⚔ chapter details ⚔

word count: 6k

rating: mature

content: forced proximity, piggyback, sniping, ominous threats, badmouthing, hinting at deeper wounds

☠ author's note ☠

A/N: Oh wow, apparently I even had author's notes saved in my drafts when I started writing this back in 2020? Past!me had *thoughts* and present!me is just here like (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻

So I'm basically taking those written thoughts and rechanneling them through my 2025 brain. And let me tell you, the cognitive dissonance is REAL. Like past!me was all "but it's a slow burn!" and current!me is just cackling in the corner because honey... you have no idea what's coming ｡･ﾟﾟ*(>д

I really debated on whether to include the piggyback scene or not. Had the whole thing pictured out a LONG time ago (we're talking pre-pandemic long, yes I am ancient, no I don't want to talk about it), but wasn't sure if I should add it here... you know, being a slow burn and all that jazz. But I think it works? They're both so against it that it's basically negative development at this point lmao.

Also, FORCED PROXIMITY MY BELOVEDS. If you think I'm not going to milk every single trope in existence, you clearly don't know me well enough yet. Just wait until we get to- *gets tackled by the spoiler police*

As always, thank you for reading! Your comments give me life and serotonin, which I desperately need because my caffeine addiction can only do so much. Stay tuned! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧​​​​​​​

⚔ socials ⚔

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tumblr/twitter: @jungkoode

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

"Shit—"

The word slips out as you struggle to your feet, using Jeon's hand like some kind of reluctant lifeline.

That's when your ankle decides to remind you exactly how badly you messed up trying to ambush him earlier. The adrenaline's wearing off, leaving behind nothing but raw, throbbing pain that makes you want to scream. Or cry. Maybe both.

"I think I twisted my ankle."

Jeon drops your hand like it's burning him, his expression morphing into pure exasperation. 

"You must be kidding me." 

"Yeah, because I love pretending to be injured during paintball." The pain makes your words sharper than intended. "It's my favorite hobby, actually."

He presses his hand against his face and you can practically hear the gears turning in his head. His expression shifts from annoyed to something more complex—like a storm trying to decide which direction to blow.

The silence stretches between you, thick and uncomfortable. You lean against the rock, trying to take weight off your ankle, but it just keeps t̶h̶r̶o̶b̶b̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶a̶ ̶b̶i̶t̶c̶h̶ hurting worse with each passing second.

Finally, Jeon clicks his tongue and strides over to you. Then he just... turns around. Stands there. Like you're supposed to know what that means.

When you don't move, he adds, "Hop on," in a voice that somehow manages to sound both annoyed and urgent at the same time. 

Like he's throwing commands to a dog.

You stare at his back, brain struggling to process what's happening. This is Jeon—Mr. Ice Prince himself—offering you a piggyback ride. The same guy who can barely stand being in the same room as you most days.

He glances over his shoulder, dark eyes meeting yours. "I said, hop on. We don't have all day."

"No way." Pride makes you lift your chin despite the pain. "I'm not getting a piggyback from you. I'll just... wait here."

His patience visibly snaps. He turns to face you fully. "You can't walk, and you'll be a liability." The words come out sharp and cold. "If someone from his team finds you, you're out. And now, you're on my team."

"What do you mean I'm on your team?"

"You ask too many questions." He bites the inside of his cheek, clearly t̶h̶i̶n̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶'̶r̶e̶ ̶a̶n̶n̶o̶y̶i̶n̶g̶ done with your attitude. "Were you or were you not with my team when shit went down?"

"What does that have to do with—"

"It's an improvisation game. It's V's thing, stealth. Remember?" His voice cuts through yours like a knife. "Whoever's with me when V strikes is on my team. Same goes for him. It's really not that complicated."

He takes a deep breath, face muscles shifting to something more controlled. When he looks at you again, he seems determined. 

"I'm not losing to V, especially not because of you. So either hop on," the gentleness in his voice has an edge that makes you tense, "or I'll pull rank and make it an order."

Your blood boils at that. The audacity of this man, threatening to pull rank just because you don't want to get a piggyback ride like some kid. But he's right, and that just pisses you off more. Your ankle's screaming, and you're basically a sitting duck out here.

Fuck. 

You hobble closer, swallowing your pride along with a string of curses. The warmth oozing off his body envelops you swiftly, making your heart do weird things in your chest.

Getting on his back is awkward and t̶h̶o̶r̶o̶u̶g̶h̶l̶y̶ ̶h̶u̶m̶i̶l̶i̶a̶t̶i̶n̶g̶ uncomfortable, but he lifts you like you weigh nothing. His body is all lean muscle under your hands, which is just... t̶h̶o̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶o̶u̶g̶h̶t̶s̶ ̶b̶e̶g̶o̶n̶e̶ not something you need to think about right now. You kind of want to knee him in the ribs, just because you can.

You don't, though. Your ankle's already betrayed you once tonight—no need to make things worse.

He starts moving with careful, measured steps. Neither of you speaks. If he's as annoyed as you are about this whole situation, he doesn't show it anymore. His focus is entirely on the game now, eyes scanning the darkness, body tense and ready. Like a storm gathering strength.

And that just pisses you off more. Here you are, swallowing your pride with every step he takes, while he acts like carrying you is just another mission parameter to execute. The quiet forest floor suddenly seems way more appealing than being trapped in his personal weather system.

His breathing is steady, a rhythm that somehow makes the tension worse. Because yeah, he's helping you, but it feels like being rescued by a particularly moody thundercloud. The fact that you need him right now doesn't make you like him any better—it just makes everything more complicated.

Your eyes are dragged to the edges of his tattoos where they disappear under his shirt. Each one probably has a story, but good luck getting those out of Mr. Storm-and-Silence here. 

Still, you're curious. 

Are they about pain? Strength? Or maybe he just likes sitting through hours of needles because he's t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶k̶i̶n̶d̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶m̶a̶s̶o̶c̶h̶i̶s̶t̶ that dedicated to his aesthetic.

The silence starts to feel heavy, pressing down like gathering clouds. All you can see is his back, and the closeness makes your skin buzz like it's charged with static.

"So where exactly are we going?" You break the silence because honestly, anything's better than drowning in his suffocating presence.

"Paintball weapon cache."

"Wait, what?" You can't keep the disbelief out of your voice. "I thought we were getting my ankle checked out—"

"This is a simulation." He cuts off. "V's games are unpredictable, but they mirror real scenarios. We adapt. We deal."

There's something under that icy tone—a competitiveness that makes you think this is more than just training to him. Your fingers twitch against his shoulders, and you try not to think about the muscle shifting under your hands.

"You do this often?" You find yourself asking, curiosity winning over irritation.

"Unfortunately." The word carries a gust of dry humor. "V likes his... creative training methods. Paintball, surprise drills, mock raids. He's impulsive, but effective."

"Sounds... fun?" The word tastes weird in your mouth.

"If you enjoy being perpetually ambushed." His dry tone makes your lips twitch despite yourself.

You fall quiet, thinking about these two forces of nature—Jeon's storms and V's thorny garden. Different kinds of dangerous, but both leaving destruction in their wake (duh, they're assassins?). One's all calculated precision, the other pure chaos—yet somehow they both keep the gang's deadliest division running. 

"So what's the plan now?" You try to keep your voice neutral. If you're stuck being his human backpack, might as well try to be useful.

"We arm ourselves." His voice gains a strategizing color. "It's not about having the most firepower. Real situations never go according to plan."

Something about his tone piques your curiosity even further. "Has he always been like this? V? With the whole paintball ambush thing?"

Jeon lets out a sound that's caught between amusement and irritation. "Yeah. You never know what to expect with that psycho. There was this one time when he—"

He cuts himself off abruptly. You can feel how his muscles tense against your legs, probably kicking himself for almost sharing something personal.

"When he what?" You can't help pushing. The rare glimpse behind his walls is too tempting to ignore.

"Never mind." His voice goes flat, that familiar coldness sliding back into place.

The silence stretches again, pregnant with all the things he won't say. It's strange, catching these tiny cracks in his perfect ice-prince facade. Makes you wonder what other stories he's keeping locked away.

As you move deeper into the forest, his competitive side starts showing through. He explains the rules like he's briefing for a real mission, all strategy and tactics.

"...And the objective?" You ask, trying to piece it all together.

"Last team standing wins." His voice rumbles through his back against your chest. "Or take out the opposing leader—me or V."

"Makes sense." You nod, hyper-aware of how his voice ricochets through you. "But why so intense? It's just paintball, right?"

The question slips out before you can stop it. But really—all this drama over some colored paint?

"It's never just a game." The edge in his voice could cut glass. "In our world, everything's a test. A challenge. We're constantly proving ourselves. You should know that by now."

His words sink in slowly. You do know—every day in this place feels like walking a tightrope, being watched, measured, judged. Even something as simple as paintball becomes another arena to prove your worth.

"This is exhausting," you mutter, and you actually mean it. The weight of constant training, constant proving yourself—it gets old fast.

"It is." Something in Jeon's voice makes you wish you could see his face. There's a pause, then: "But it's necessary. Keeps us sharp. Survival of the fittest and all that shit."

The bitterness in those last words catches you off guard. It's weird hearing him talk like this—like maybe he's not totally sold on the whole 'constant competition' thing either. The thought of Jeon having doubts about anything feels like finding a dent in what you thought was solid concrete.

He continues moving through the forest like he was born here, feet finding paths you can barely see in the dark. The trees loom overhead, their leaves whispering secrets you can't quite catch. Soon, you are opening your mouth again before your brain can stop you.

"How'd you end up here?"

His stride breaks—just for a second, but you feel it. The air grows heavy again, pressing down on your shoulders. 

"Circumstances. Choices." The words come out clipped, that familiar wall slamming back into place. "Same as anyone else."

You can practically taste the story he's not telling. Something dark and messy that turned him into this walking hurricane of a person. But pushing would be stupid, and contrary to popular belief, you're not that dumb.

"Right." You let it drop, focusing instead on how the moonlight catches on his silver chain when he moves.

Jeon picks up speed, and the trees seem to close in around you both. It seems to be a sign you are approaching your destination.

"So once we get the guns, what's the plan?" You try to break the weird tension that's settled between you.

"Find high ground," he says, voice low and focused. "Somewhere we can see everything but stay hidden. Sniping's all about patience and precision."

"And you think there's actually a spot like that around here?" You can't keep the skepticism from your voice. You've done your fair share of surveillance—good vantage points are rare as hell in this forest.

He just grunts, confident as ever. "I know this place like the back of my hand." He actually lifts one hand to prove his point, the moonlight catching on his rings. 

It shouldn't be as hot as it is. 

Silence falls again and the trees grow closer together, moonlight filtering through in weird patterns that make everything look kind of surreal. The darkness feels heavy, like it's trying to remind you both that you're not exactly on a fun camping trip here.

You watch him scan the forest ahead, all focus and precision. It hits you that this is his element—the quiet, the calculation, the waiting game.

"You really think this'll work against V's team?" The doubt slips into your voice before you can stop it.

"It's not about what works against them." He sounds almost philosophical, which is... different. "It's about playing to our strengths."

He pauses to lick his lip ring—a habit you're starting to notice—before adding: "Plus, I'm Chief of Tactical Assassinations for a reason. Best sniper in Kkangpae. Best in South Korea."

"Best in the whole country? For real?" You hate how interested you sound.

"Probably." His shoulders lift in a small shrug that makes you bounce slightly.

"Right." You roll your eyes. "Got any proof of that?"

"I do." The response comes quick, matter-of-fact. "They're all dead though."

A snort escapes before you can stop it. 

Shit. 

Okay. That may have been actually funny. But you're definitely not laughing at his jokes. He might have a sense of humor hiding under all that ice, but he's still an ass.

Jeon slows down as you reach what looks like the world's most underwhelming hideout—just a tiny hut tucked between the trees. His muscles go tense against your legs, like he's preparing for trouble. The way he lowers you to the ground is weirdly gentle for someone who usually acts like basic human contact might give him hives.

Your ankle screams in protest when you put weight on it, making you wobble slightly. Something flickers across Jeon's face—t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶m̶i̶g̶h̶t̶ ̶b̶e̶ ̶c̶o̶n̶c̶e̶r̶n̶ probably just annoyance at having to babysit you.

"You good?" 

The question catches you off guard. Since when does the ice prince care if you're okay?

You manage a nod, not trusting yourself to speak without letting out some embarrassing noise of pain. He turns toward the hut but pauses, throwing a glance over his shoulder.

"Tell me if you see movement." His voice drops to barely above a whisper. "Any movement."

Then he's gone, slipping into the darkness of the hut. You hear him moving around inside, probably doing some super-professional sniper inventory check or whatever the hell he does.

When he emerges, he's carrying two paintball rifles like they weigh nothing. You try really hard not to notice how the moonlight catches on his arm muscles as he moves, or how smoothly he closes the door with just a flick of his wrist.

He hands you one of the rifles, dark eyes scanning the forest with the kind of focus that reminds you why he's chief of his division. Then he just... crouches down again, waiting for you to climb back on.

The sight of him effortlessly holding a rifle while offering you a piggyback makes something in your chest twist. How dare he make this look so easy? How dare he be this capable and t̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶h̶o̶t̶ this insufferable at the same time?

You sigh, swallowing your pride along with several choice words about the universe's sick sense of humor, and climb back onto his back. His body is warm against yours and you hate that you notice. You hate even more that he's not even breaking a sweat carrying both you and the gear.

Stupid attractive jerk with his stupid perfect aim and his stupid strength. The least he could do is be ugly, but no—he had to look like that while being the most irritating person you've ever met.

Jeon stands like your weight is nothing—because of course he does. He adjusts the rifle with practiced ease, and you try really hard not to notice how effortlessly he handles both you and a weapon. It's t̶h̶o̶t̶ ̶b̶r̶a̶i̶n̶ ̶a̶c̶t̶i̶v̶a̶t̶e̶d̶ annoying how good he is at literally everything.

His movements fall into a steady rhythm as he walks, and you find yourself swaying slightly with each step. It's weird being this close to someone you can barely stand. The guy who's usually a walking natural disaster is suddenly all careful precision, like the calm before a storm.

The hill stretches up ahead, moonlight painting everything in silver and shadow. Somewhere in the distance, paintball guns are still going off. Sounds like V's twisted little game is still in full swing for everyone else who isn't stuck playing piggyback with their nemesis.

You watch the forest ahead, trying to focus on anything except how warm Jeon is against the cool night air. He moves through the undergrowth like he was born for this. The higher you climb, the slower he moves, until finally he stops altogether.

Without a word—because god forbid he actually communicate like a normal person—he crouches slightly. Your cue to get off this incredibly awkward ride.

"Here." His voice is barely above a whisper as he helps you down with surprising care. 

You scan the area, taking in the elevated position and clear view of the forest below. It's perfect for sniping, which makes sense given who picked it. But something about being this exposed makes your skin crawl.

"This is way too exposed." Your instincts are screaming at you to find better cover. The entire forest floor is visible from up here, which means you're visible too. "We need something more concealed."

Jeon turns his head just enough to catch your eye in the moonlight. "Trust me."

Two simple words, but they hit different.

Trust isn't something that comes easy in this life. Especially not between you and Mr. Hurricane himself. 

Yet here he is, asking for it like it's that simple.

You weigh your options, torn between your screaming survival instincts and his calm certainty. Finally, you give him a reluctant nod. What choice do you really have?

You can't help watching as Jeon sets up his position. The way he moves is t̶o̶o̶ ̶g̶r̶a̶c̶e̶f̶u̶l̶ irritatingly efficient, precise and purposeful. His eyes scan the terrain with a focus that makes your mouth inexplicably dry. 

Because it's weird seeing him like this. The usual cold, intimidating chief is gone, replaced by someone who moves with quiet, deadly grace. Every shift of his body as he positions the rifle speaks of years of practice, of countless nights spent perfecting each tiny movement.

The hurricane that usually swirls around him has settled into something different—a gentle breeze that makes your skin tingle. It's... weird. 

Almost peaceful.

You can't help studying him while he's focused like this. The way his dark eyes track every movement below, how his brow furrows just slightly when he's thinking. His silver piercings catch the moonlight when he shifts, and you find yourself leaning closer. 

Just to see better, obviously. For tactical reasons.

Movement near the cache catches your attention. Jeon goes completely still beside you, the kind of stillness that reminds you he's literally the best sniper in South Korea. You lean in further, trying to see what he's seeing, and suddenly realize how close you are. Your shoulder brushes his, but neither of you moves away. You're both too focused on the target below, who's digging through supplies like they've got all the time in the world.

"Wait for it..." His voice is barely a whisper, warm breath ghosting past your ear. His finger hovers over the trigger with the patience of someone who knows exactly what they're doing.

The poor soul at the cache has no idea what's coming. The air feels charged, like the moment before lightning strikes.

Then—bang.

The shot is perfect because of course it is. A splash of neon paint blooms on the target's back like some abstract art piece. They jump about a foot in the air, spinning around wildly.

"Dammit, Jeon!" The shout echoes through the trees. There's only one person who could make a shot that clean from such distance.

You bite your lip to keep from laughing. Even Jeon's mouth twitches at the corner—the closest thing to a smile you've ever seen from him. For a split second, a gentle breeze wraps around you both like a shared secret.

You nearly jump out of your skin when Jeon's eyes suddenly meet yours. For a heartbeat, maybe two, neither of you moves.

It's... t̶o̶o̶ ̶m̶u̶c̶h̶ weird. The way his dark eyes seem to see right through you, how his hurricane wraps around you like you're in the eye of the storm. Too close. You're close enough to count his stupidly long eyelashes, to see the tiny scar on his cheek catch moonlight.

Then reality crashes back in. Jeon shifts away so fast you'd think you burned him, putting blessed distance between you. The barriers slam back into place—he's your superior, you're just some annoying ensign he got stuck babysitting during paintball. That's all this is.

You lean back too, trying to ignore the way your heart's still doing gymnastics in your chest. It's unsettling, this weird moment of... something. Not respect, definitely not that, but maybe a reluctant acknowledgment that there's more to him than just being an ice-cold asshole. The way he handled that shot, the focus in his eyes, the subtle pride in his posture—it's t̶h̶e̶ ̶h̶o̶t̶t̶e̶s̶t̶ annoyingly impressive.

Jeon's already back in sniper mode, all business again like nothing happened. But the air feels different now. Like the air has picked up speed, swirling with renewed intensity as if trying to blow away whatever just passed between you.

You watch him work, wondering when exactly you started noticing things like how his jaw clenches when he's concentrating, or how his fingers move with such precise grace on the trigger.

You tell yourself the shiver down your spine is just from the cold night air.

"I should leave." The words come out low, almost like he's talking to himself. He stands up, towering over you, a dark silhouette against the forest green. "Won't take long for them to tell V where I am."

"What, you scared?" The question slips out before you can stop it. 

Since when does the great Jeon run from a fight? Especially with V?

"No." It's instant, defensive. His tone is laced with something like irritation. "With V, you play his game. I just landed a shot. He'll know exactly where I am the second he gets here." A pause. "That's why you're staying."

"I see." You answer automatically. Then your brain catches up.

Wait.

"Hold up—I'm what now?" The words come out sharp. "So I'm just bait?"

"Yeah?" He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, like he can't fathom why you're even asking. "You'll draw him out."

"Didn't you literally just give me that whole speech about 'making do' and 'real situations'?" Your voice rises with each word. "And now you're using your teammate as bait? Real nice. Guess I was right—you are a hypocrite."

"Sometimes sacrifices are necessary." His voice is cool, professional. "Plus, between us..."

He looks at you then, really looks, and something in your chest goes tight. Those dark eyes of his catch moonlight like black ice, beautiful and deadly. His stupidly long lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, and when he blinks, it feels deliberate. Like he's giving you time to process what comes next.

"You're the expendable one. Here, and in real life."

"Fuck off." The words come out sharp and mean, exactly how you want them.

His eyebrow arches, silver beads catching moonlight like a warning. "Watch your tone."

You can feel the hurricane bearing down on you again. It sneaks through the cracks in your attire, scratching at the outer layer of your skin. It is oppressive, suffocating. Engulfs your whole being almost instantly, almost as if to blow you off balance.

"So you're really doing this?" Your voice cracks a little, caught between rage and something that feels too much like hurt. "Just leaving me here as bait?"

He doesn't even blink. Those dark eyes of his are cold and distant now, like you're just another variable in one of his calculations.

"It's strategic, not personal."

"Strategic." You let out a laugh that's more like a snarl. The thought of being nothing but a disposable piece in his game makes your blood boil. Being used by anyone would piss you off, but being used by Jeon? That's a special kind of infuriating.

He takes a step back from you now, creating physical distance as if he was uncomfortable. Maybe, somewhere under all that ice, he actually feels bad about this. But t̶h̶a̶t̶'̶s̶ ̶w̶i̶s̶h̶f̶u̶l̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶n̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ you're probably just seeing what you want to see.

"Stay low and keep quiet." His voice goes all authoritative again, his standoffish nature coming right back. "If V knows it's a trap, we lose our advantage."

You cross your arms, watching Jeon's figure fade into the shadows. Every cell in your body screams to call him out, to demand better than being left as bait, but...

What leverage do you have? The answer hits like a slap: absolutely none.

He moves like a ghost between the trees, that hurricane of his dissipating until you're left alone with nothing but forest sounds for company. His words echo in your head, each syllable of "expendable" burning like acid.

You try to shift position, searching for some way to sit that doesn't make your ankle scream or your pride hurt worse. Hard to do when you're officially demoted to bait in this stupid paintball game. 

Stupid Jeon. How can he turn even mock battles into some grand strategic play? 

Your jaw clenches. At least real bait doesn't have to deal with the indignity of knowing it's bait.

The forest is too quiet now, like it's holding its breath. You try to focus, to be the good little decoy he wants, but between your throbbing ankle and the rage simmering under your skin, concentration's a lost cause. Your thoughts spin like leaves in a storm, each one circling back to how much you want to punch that perfect face of his.

Then—something changes.

It's subtle. Just the slightest shift in the air, barely enough to stir the leaves. But every instinct you have lights up like a warning flare. You freeze, hardly daring to breathe as you strain to locate whatever's setting off your internal alarms.

That's when you feel it—thorny vines wrapping around your lungs, making each breath sharp and dangerous. V materializes from the darkness like he was born from it, moving with the kind of liquid grace that reminds you why he's chief of stealth. Before you can blink, cold metal presses against your neck—his paintball gun, a very pointed reminder of how screwed you are.

The speed of it leaves you breathless. Or maybe that's his thorny rose aura, squeezing tighter with each passing second. His mastery of stealth isn't just reputation—it's terrifying reality.

"Shh, shh, shh." His breath ghosts over your ear, playful and deadly all at once.

You hadn't planned on screaming, but the way his aura constricts around you makes you reconsider.

"Where's Jeon?" V's voice is barely above a whisper, but something in it makes your blood run cold.

You hesitate. Part of you wants to sell Jeon out—serves him right for using you as bait. But something in V's tone makes you think carefully about your next words. This might be a game to everyone else, but V... V plays different.

"He left me," you manage, voice tight. "Twisted my ankle."

The laugh that follows sounds wrong, like broken glass wrapped in velvet. His thorny vines squeeze tighter.

"Typical Jeon." The way he says it drips poison. "Once a traitor, always a traitor." There's history there, old wounds still bleeding. "Abandoning a teammate? That's cold, even for him."

The paintball gun stays pressed against your neck. Except... is it really loaded with paint? Your stomach drops as you realize you have no way of knowing. Not with V. Not when he's got that edge to his voice that makes you think maybe this stopped being a game the moment he spotted you.

Every instinct screams at you to run, but you're trapped between fight or flight, knowing either choice could end badly.

"He's not here then?" V sounds almost disappointed, like a kid whose favorite toy got taken away. "Pity. I was hoping for a proper reunion."

The gun against your neck suddenly feels a lot more real. You're not the target—you're just the bait. Again. Except this time, it's not just your pride at stake.

"Should've expected as much..." His laugh raises goosebumps on your skin. "No loyalty in that one, hmm? Makes you wonder what he'd do in a real bind. Leave you to rot, probably."

You stay quiet, letting V's poison drip. Each word feels calculated, like he's trying to infect you with his hatred for Jeon. His vines constrict tighter around your lungs with every syllable, and you can't help wondering what made these two hate each other so viciously.

"That's Jeon for you." The words drip with disgust, but V's smirking like this is all some twisted game. "Self-serving. Cold. Doesn't care who he steps on to get what he wants."

The way he's focused on his little villain monologue gives you an opening. Adrenaline floods your system as you make your move—one hard stomp on his foot. His yelp of surprise is almost satisfying.

You shove the paintball gun away from your neck, twisting out of his grip. For one glorious second, you think you might actually get away.

Then reality hits. Literally.

V moves like water, flowing around your escape attempt like he knew exactly what you'd do. Before you can blink, you're eating dirt, his weight pinning you down. The gun barrel presses cold against your forehead, and you realize just how badly you miscalculated.

"Not bad, dear." His grin makes your skin crawl. "But not good enough."

You're pinned, his weight heavy and his presence suffocating. His thorns dig deeper with each breath, and you can almost feel them cutting through your skin. 

You're trapped, completely at his mercy, but damned if you'll let him see you scared.

He leans in close. "Let me give you a piece of advice." His whisper raises goosebumps on your neck. "Watch your back around Jeon. He's more dangerous than you think."

The warning in his voice sounds too personal, too raw to be just another mind game. Like maybe he's speaking from experience.

"Oh, I'm counting on it." The words come out steadier than you feel with V's weight pinning you down. You manage to keep your voice even despite the lack of oxygen making it to your brain.

Something flickers across his face—confusion, maybe suspicion. Those stealth instincts of his finally catching up, but too late.

SPLAT.

Paint explodes across V's back in a neon burst. His whole body goes rigid against yours, muscles freezing mid-squeeze. The look of pure disbelief on his face almost makes this whole night worth it.

When he turns to look over his shoulder, you already know what he'll see. Jeon emerges from the shadows like he was born from them, rifle balanced casually in those tattooed hands. Even playing paintball in the middle of the night, he somehow manages to look t̶o̶o̶ ̶h̶o̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶b̶e̶ ̶r̶e̶a̶l̶ irritatingly put-together.

He runs his fingers through dark hair, pushing it back from his face in a way that's probably supposed to look casual but comes off more like a shampoo commercial. The silver in his piercings catches moonlight, and honestly? It's just rude how he makes everything look so effortless. Like being unfairly attractive is just another one of his many talents.

V's weight disappears as he stands, and suddenly his whole demeanor shifts. The deadly predator from moments ago vanishes, replaced by that familiar chaos-loving trickster. His laugh rings through the trees as he claps, adorned with delight instead of danger.

"Bravo, Jeon!" V calls out theatrically into the forest shadows where Jeon now stands revealed. "Always hiding in the shadows like the snake you are."

Jeon's face is blank, but there's something razor-sharp in the way he moves

"Far better than always playing the fool to hide your incompetence, if you ask me." Jeon retorts sharply, ice crystallizing each syllable.

"Incompetence?" V's laugh has an ugly edge to it. "That's rich, coming from you. Can't even follow basic gang rules, but here you are, talking shit."

Something flickers across Jeon's face—too quick to catch, but his expression grows darker, more intense. Seems like V knows exactly where to stick the knife.

"A gang built on backstabbing might want to rethink its rules." Jeon's voice could freeze hell over. It's like the winds around him whip faster now.

"See, that's your problem." V tilts his head, a mischievous, lazy grin spreading all over his lips. "When I stab someone in the back, at least I don't cry about it after."

The smile he gives Jeon is pure venom—like he's referencing something that happened between them, something that left scars.

"Right." Jeon practically spits the word. "You only get emotional when you're the one getting fucked over."

They stare each other down, and you feel thorny vines trying to pierce through howling wind and rain. Finally, Jeon looks away first, shaking his head like he's trying to dislodge memories he'd rather forget.

Jeon's eyes find yours, and it's not concern you see there—more like he's doing some kind of damage assessment without having to actually ask if you're okay.

You don't give him the satisfaction of a response. He left you as bait, remember? Used you like some expendable pawn in his little game with V.

But something annoying nags at the back of your mind. 

Because he did come back. 

The moment breaks when Jeon looks away, that weird tension snapping like a rubber band. His typhoon-self settles back into its usual pattern as he stands there radiating smug victory. The paint splattered across V's back is proof enough of who won this round.

"That's it then. This round goes to me." He says it like he's commenting on the weather, not like he just outmaneuvered the most dangerous man in Kkangpae.

There's something almost boring about how he announces his win—no gloating, no pride, just checking another box on whatever mental list he keeps in that pretty head of his.

His eyes flick back to you. "Time to get you to the infirmary—"

"Let's not pretend you've suddenly gone soft, Jeon." V cuts him off, setting down his gun with this little head tilt that somehow manages to be both playful and threatening. 

"Oh, please." The disdain in Jeon's voice is too evident. "She just needs to get her ankle checked, and it's not like she can walk there."

V steps closer, moonlight painting him silver. There's something otherworldly about him now—like some fairy tale creature that lures people into trouble with a smile.

"I'll take her to medical myself." His voice drips honey-sweet mockery. "Sounds more fun than whatever boring escort you had planned."

You watch Jeon consider this, weighing something in his head. After what feels like forever, he just... shrugs. Like he couldn't care less what happens to you.

"Sure." His voice is pure ice. "She's your problem now."

Then he just... walks away. No backward glance, no hint that he gives a single shit about leaving you with someone who literally had a gun to your head five minutes ago. The winds that seem to surround him dissipate with each step he takes, leaving you feeling weirdly hollow.

V turns to you with that signature grin of his—the one that's equal parts charming and concerning. He offers his hand with exaggerated gallantry, like some twisted prince charming.

He then scoops you up, bridal style of course because that's V for you, and you can't help but notice he's stronger than he looks. The transition from ground to air is smooth despite your resistance, but what choice do you have? Crawl to the castle?

Your eyes find Jeon one last time as V starts walking. Something in your chest twists when you realize he's not even looking back. You hate that you wanted him to fight this, to show something about handing you over to V. Your twisted ankle is his fault, after all.

But his face might as well be carved from stone. If he feels anything about this situation, he's buried it so deep even his hurricane can't dig it up.

next | index

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[pieflavorpie]

OK so I have thoughts and feelings and a LOTTA them. Here's my list [which is arbitrary and could change tomorrow in all honesty]

1. Percy.

Taliesin put so much love and attention into this character, that it made Caleb & Nott feel cheap to me for a WHILE. Taliesin literally told Sam how guns were constructed in rather extreme detail meanwhile Sam barely used basic chemistry knowledge & Liam was only using the Keen Mind feat instead of taking notes. I had to sit to myself and remind myself that these people each have their own strengths and weaknesses and research clearly wasn't either of those [which probably why I couldn't get into their characters but oh well].

While I'm not on the "Critical Role has to follow writing techniques" train due to the fact I'm into this because it's an unconventional story. But. Percys arc is ridiculously satisfying. I know he was supposed to die, but the entirety of VM being him learning how to cope with [&live with] the grief of his family and all the mistakes he has made. I've never felt prouder in a fictional character than when he talked to his wife instead of calling in on a Devil's deal and selling his soul again. Breaking his cycle. And then the subsequent "i think I wanted to be a clockmaker once" and him choosing a healthy pathway forward!!! It's so rewarding after we see this man break himself into so many pieces continuously, just to find the point he initially broke. He learns that maybe that doesn't matter.

And then there's the actual personality of Percy. That man is a perfect depiction of darkness and pompousness. Able to take the mick of himself sometimes, and able to communicate. Having the rare issue where it wasn't trust issues with other people, but trust issues with himself. He trusted the people around him so much, and had so many lighthearted moments with seemingly no hint of darkness. And it made his Moments hit harder.

2. Mollymauk/Kingsley

Grouping these 2 together as joint 2nd because I view these 2 as intrinsically linked. I can't bring up why I like Molly without mentioning Lucien/Kingsley, and vice versa. I love the analysis of what makes a distinct soul, I love how open the interpretation of what Kingsley IS is. Is he just the rememnants of a severely traumatised & scrappy Mollymauk after spending too much time as the neosomnovum? Is he a different fragment of Luciens soul? Is he a mixture of different parts of Lucien and Molly? Is it fair to say that as Molly IS a part of Lucien?

And the book, oh gods the book. So many things Tal just randomly blurted out that were wrapped in so well. I will never get over Brevyn's kiss to the forehead. "Long may he reign" being a song the tombtakers sang. "Empty" being repeated due to Lucien's worst fear being puppetted just like his brother.

There is not a week i don't spend contemplating what would've happened if we kept Molly. If something would've happened with the Hag, how Vess Derogna would've acted (if we even met her), how he would've impacted the direction the M9 went, or how he would've reacted to the forced amnesia on Rumblecusp, and the subsequent Thing With The Moonweaver at Traveler Con.

And Kingsley, oh how I want Kingsley to be explored more. His 2 episodes in the specials were GREAT. How he is the guy to Get Shit Done, and how he's so button-pushy. I will never forgive the cast [/lh] for pushing him to the side so much. Having him be the only one not mentioned in the BH finale and only talked about above-table to seemingly reduce what Ashton had just been through. It feels like Tal has to force other characters to bring him up outside of "yeah we tried to bring out dead friend back and It Got Weird."

And they don't have the excuse of him being the pirate king either, cause Veth made it canon that Kingsley helped gather Luc when he ran away up north. He is contactable. Im fairly sure Jester said she was in contact with him [like she is with literally everyone I love that girl so much].

Anyway, also love him being a rogue. Go, buddy, get that self confidence.

And also I personally relate to the way identity was talked about during both eras by both of these characters during different parts of my life.

3. Asha

Honestly would be further up but we did not get enough screentime with her to justify that. There are sooooo many ways to interpret this 1 version of the Wildmother and it has kept me thinking for days about the nature of Nature and change and possibility.

She has convinced me to play a druid for my first campaign, a changeling druid who grapples her identity to the nature around her by covering herself with thorns and brambles. All inspired by how Asha only seems to show 2 strong negative emotions besides hunger. Guilt, for the pain her discovery has brought to her family. And anger at her wife for leaving her to face this mission with a substitute. These emotions are what ultimately anchor her to her mortality.

Nature never really feels guilt for the hunt, or anger at the prey. And yet, to us those emotions are perfectly natural. So in this case, where does the domain of Nature stop? Melora/Asha is the goddess of the Wild, so it's probably safe to assume natural human emotions don't come under her purview. But in the grander scheme, are we natural? As human beings? Are the buildings we roost in natural, as they are made from the dirt and mud that are processes made possible from what we had in Nature? Is being a God with Nature as your domain also make you a God of progress and potential?

And isn't that an incredibly interesting concept.

4. Ashton.

Would've been higher than Asha, if he had had a better finale. It felt like he had narrative progress, with people coming to save him as he died, but he came out without much of a change in mindset since The Shard. He literally martyred himself, intending to die for good and no one really bothered to emotionally check in on that afterwards. If he has finished with his martyr complex, I don't think its done through actual help, it feels like it was done because he's realised that his friends will fight through thick and thin to bring him back. But that doesn't mean anything for someone's mental health in a world like this. It could make people feel trapped, or could make them too reckless with the "I'll be fine my friends will get me if I die." Like No?????

And i love his parallels with Laudna, even outside of his probing. They are both stunted beings, perpetually childish. Laudna because she never got the chance to grow up, being ostracised since before the Briarwoods came up and ruined everything [and then Delilah wouldve purposefully kept it that way for Manipulation Purposes]. Ashton because he never really got to be a child. Laudna coped with her loneliness by making a shit ton of dolls. Ashton had never had a doll until Laudna gave him one. And neither of them really get the community they deserve within the group.

I think the best example of this with Laudna is Swordgate. Marisha said on 4sd that Laudna was upset about Orym using the sword anyway, and then Delilah got into her head. I was also immediately off put by Orym using the sword due to the fact it had killed so many of the Bells Hells and had literally sent Laudna to her own personal hell for an indetermined amount of time for her. A sword does not have to be possessed to be Evil. But it was the fact that noone responded to her actual, valid reasons it was all pretty much the message of "you can't be trusted, this is all Delilahs machinations" like WHAT. Which, mini tangent here, i feel like is why I also prefer VM to BH because it seems like BH had so many completely impossible moral quandries that they seemed to completely dismiss the complexities of their own friends situations after 1 conversation. I feel like they should've had a few more [and I mean only like 2] sessions that was just BH getting to be a mercenary group because for like 100 flat episodes they were Not A Mercenary Group. Maybe getting to explore Marquet a lil more.

Anyway, tangent over. I just think its sad Laudna got dismissed due to her being manipulated and Ashton often got dismissed because of his brash attitude and low Charisma. Before the Solsitice he was continuously getting drunk and even said he'd started shouting at seemingly nothing and no one bothered to explore it. Besides Laudna. Anyway.

Love the concept that Being Broken isn't a wrong thing to say. Most of the time it's all like "oh no don't say that!!! You're wonderful!" But no this guy is just fundamentally and mechanically broken. They are someone who's had to be reformed so many times that some pieces just don't fit anymore, and there's nothing to replace them. And maybe you don't have to be a rock guy who was literally shattered to have that. I personally relate in all those times that I failed tests as a gifted kid that, upon reforming myself afterwards, I lost the piece of me that cared about working. Later, being shattered as I'm told by my college that I'm flagged for undiagnosed ASD and need 25% extra time and loosing that part of me that felt I could trust adults to understand me. But it's not always bad. I felt part of me break away when me and my friends turned 18, and we went out and I realised I didn't have to treat my friends like glass physically. That i could hold them and hug them and they will reciprocate.

And I think where the term "broken" comes into play is when you actively start to grieve those parts. In BH we watch Ashton mourn the ability to trust. Idk. I hope we see more of him in future.

5. Caduceus.

Look, I love Cad, I just also love every other Tal character I've seen. And Cad just narratively and as a complex character comes up that little bit short to me. I love watching his clips. But the rants I did about the others' themes and how they get me to think? I don't get that with Cad so much. I get him, honestly I do. I love him repping the aroaces in that wonderful gossipy way. I love how he only ever silently panics and won't call attention to himself [I only realised how much of myself I saw in him in that moment when they stole a ship and I was like "...oh."]. I love how he canonically did drugs just to try and connect with what felt like a dying connection between him and his God [again something that wasn't really touched on but Holy Shit]. I love how he only apologised for being weak when he asked his Goddess whether his family was OK. He does have depth. Depth that never seems to be taken much deeper than surface level with the Nein and I can honestly only hope that Cad and Kingsley are treating each other well cause they really both need somebody on the outside to Talk To.

I don't actually Know the other 2. So this is it:)

[henry-fox-biggest-stan]

My byler headcanons

Both are HUGE lotr fans (hehe). Will more, but mike would fight you on it.

Both are pretty good at maths and are science nerds

Will has cowritten a dnd campaign with mike at least once. They argued over plot holes and minor details. Maybe to make it funnier they didn't tell dustin and lucas that will actually knew all the plot (cause he helped create it), just revealed towards the end that will the wise had been secretly a spy to the big bad all along (since the beginning, will had been leaving little clues. "Guys we shouldn't do that", *knows things it doesn't really make sense for him to know*, *some of his decisions ended up harming them, oops*). The gasps and feelings of betrayal were genuine.

More of the party than byler, but they all definitely went into the woods behind will's house with plastic swords and pretended to fight. Cmon they 100% did. Bonus if while wearing costumes. Maybe they even recorded themselves if they got ahold of a camera (if Jonathan had one at that point). I keep imagining the party as babies recording themselves. Will is the one carrying the camera (he's the most careful), you have mike saying "today is tuesday, third of June of 1980, and we are going on an adventure" or smth to the camera (which is pretty wobbly), etc. Mike is the one that kept the recordings in his basement. He doesn't watch them, but he can't bring himself to throw them out.

About lotr, again. Will likes Aragorn but he isn't like, obsessed, meanwhile Mike doesn't know if he wants to BE Aragorn or be WITH him.

Mike loves star wars. Will doesn't particularly care about it (he doesn't dislike it, it's more, he enjoys it, he finds it entertaining, but he also thinks it's forgettable).

Will is a film snob, Mike is a book snob.

"Smalltown boy when Mike gets vecna'd" "should I stay or should I go when Mike gets vecna'd" wrong. Sweet Child O' Mine as mike's song when he gets vecnad. It's so byler from mike's pov.

"Gawain is the best knight out of the round table" "I have never in my life heard such an incorrect opinion".

Eachother's moms absolutely love them.

They hung out at castle byers, a lot. Also mike’s basement.

Mike never apologized for the "it's not my fault you don't like girls", mostly cause 1) he didn't mean it like that, and didn't think will took it that way and 2) when his parents get mad (at each other or at his sisters and him) they never apologize afterwards, just ignore it. That's what mike's used to. Will kinda wishes he did apologise, but he also doesn't want to bring it up again. At least before they started dating. That doesn’t take away from the fact that he hurt him, but he know fully understands he didn’t mean it like that.

Mike is also a star trek fan, will has watched some episodes out of pure love, cause he finds it SO boring.

Mike has read SO many epic poems and medieval fantasy novels it's insane.

So many sleepovers as kids, specially when Lonnie was still around. Will slept at the wheeler's once a week at LEAST.

Notice how will barely rides his bike after s1? Mike rides, and will sits behind.

Will is so intrigued about mike's relationship with nancy, and so is mike about will's with jonathan. "You guys don't even act like brothers but like friends!!" "What do you mean you don't know what books Nancy reads? She doesn't give you recommendations and talks with you about them?"

Jonathan babysat mike, 100%. When his family had to go and he was younger, they called Jonathan to babysit and paid him like 10 dollars (they called Jonathan cause they knew he was a responsible kid, and he was also Joyce's son so way better than a stranger). Will has also 100% babysat holly. Same reasons as Jonathan, responsible and familiar,

Nancy is like, intimidated by Will, a little. Listen, he's her boyfriend's beloved brother so she really wants him to like her + she just can't figure him out. Between will's quiet nature and all that happened regarding the upside down and him that they still have no idea about (how did will survive so long? What happened to him there (he never talks about it)? How did he communicate with the lights? Why him?) he's just an enigma to her. Will on the other hand is pretty comfortable around her, he has known her most of his life and thinks she's pretty cool. When Nancy saw will knew how to use a gun she thought she found an opportunity to bond with him and began talking to him a little. Will was wobbly out of lack of practice, "keep your aim straighter and firmer" “...okay". Nancy's nervousness around Will was taken from this fic Imao.

Jonathan and Mike have a pretty stable relationship. No, Jonathan doesn't hate mike, he just looks at him and sees a little kid trying to act older that his age and hopes he stops soon. Mike trusts Jonathan so much, like, they could be in a life or death situation but as long as Jonathan is there he feels safer, Jonathan will handle it, there's nothing to worry about. Mike also hates Steve. When he found out Jonathan beat him up once (and won!) his respect for him multiplied four times.

Will learnt morse code after s1, because he was afraid he would get kidnapped again. If that was the case, his mom wouldn't need to write the alphabet on the wall, he would be able to properly communicate through the lights with morse code. Mike doesn't know this.

Will was NOT thrilled about living with el after s3 at first Imao. He grew to like her but the first weeks were rough. He didn't hate her, not at all, he just didn't really know her much and was jealous of her (and her relationship with Mike).

"What if they are talking about me right now?" Mike, about Will and El, after they moved to cali. They are not talking about him.

Max hangs out with Will in his room, Mike really doesn't get it.

Will likes cuddles, and Mike is super clingy.

Robin enjoys annoying Mike so much she finds it so funny. Mike reminds her a lot of Nancy, and he has got such a judgy stare, she loves to provoke him. She thinks he's a nice kid, a little nervous, with eyes she can sometimes recognize (since she wore them too). She asks Nancy about him, Nancy finds herself unable to answer specific questions due to lack of knowledge, and frowns and presses her lips together. Robin notices similar gestures between both siblings, and the same nail biting habit. He seems a bit sad, and Robin doesn't know what to do with that.

With Will she vibes, she feels a bit bad for him after learning about all that happened (Will can tell, he hates it) and he also reminds her a bit of herself, she was quieter in high school, more drawn to herself. Sure, she wasn't fighting monsters neither did she have more than 1 friend but still, something felt familiar (eventually she learnt another similitude they had, she began talking about girls and such around Will without fear. Will didn't know how to react at first, robin did it on purpose, to show him "see, l'm talking normally, you can aswell, I'm not saying anything wrong". Will likes her. She was energetic and funny and a bit strange, it felt weird to find someone else, and he could see something closed in her eves every once in a while, a secret, a locked door. Will decided they were more alike that he thought). They bonded over cinema and shared movie and music recs. She puts her arm around his shoulders a lot.

Horrible runners, both of them. They can run in life or death situations, but don't ask them to run in a race cause they'Il die after 3 steps.

All the party falls asleep on each other since forever, including mike and will.

No pet names, unless you include "dude"

They were each other's first kiss, and I really do believe that.

Will definitely makes fun of Mike for not smiling in photos.

Mike never calls Will William, but Will does call him Michael sometimes (he's the only out out of the party allowed to because Mike hates it, however Will told him years ago that he like the way Michael sounded like, so Mike relented)

As kids, their tables were next to the other's in class, if they weren't allowed to be in pairs, it slowly became a game of "how closer we can slowly get our tables to be before the teacher notices".

(Baby byler) I think that as far as mike's friends go, Will might be Ted's favorite. Sure, he makes subtle homophobic comments (you see Michael, see what happens) but like, Will is a quiet, clean kid who can take his cue to leave (unlike Dustin) and who, instead of making mike more agitated (he was definitely a kid with lots of energy), manages to somehow calm him down. Hell, he barely even notices he's home anymore, and that's if he is, sometimes they're out in the woods or god knows where. Finally some quiet.

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

Hello!!

I really enjoy and look forward to your works!! I'm always excited when i get a notification of yours jaja.

My friend and I are planning on beginning a fanfiction of our own. I was wondering if you could give any tips on the writing process or maybe things you wish someone had told you when you had started.

I hope you're having a lovely day!!!!

Hello @frizzothehobbit thank you so, so much for the wonderful ask! I've been thinking about this, and I wanted to consider it properly before I answered, because there's so much to talk about regarding this subject. But I can't be thinking about this for all eternity, so here it is, my answer!

First off, I feel like a dinosaur because I started writing fanfiction more than 20 years ago... dear lord, I'm ancient! And if everything feels daunting when starting out, it's because it is! But it doesn't really have to be. Why, you ask? Because if you've decided to write fanfiction, there's already passion behind your intentions, and that is SO important! So, first off, and everybody's favourite:

WRITE WHAT YOU WANT!

Which is basically the same as saying: write for yourself. And as overused as this expression is, it's still true. Obviously we, authors, thrive on comments and feedback: it makes us grow! - And when I say this I'm not just talking about positive feedback, but constructive feedback! - But if you write what you want and love it, you're already halfway to writing a good story. Next:

INVEST SOME TIME IN YOUR STORY!

We, as authors, all wrote (and will write) drabbles at one time or another. Or mindless one-shots that we just needed to get out of our heads and onto the page. It's sooo valid. But my advice if you want to write a longer story: plan it! It helps avoid the 'oh-so-dreaded' plot holes (and this is actual advice I would have loved when I started... it would have saved me a lot of unfinished fics!) And of course, no two people plan the story the same way. I, for one, just think it through in my head (mostly in the shower, before falling asleep or doing mindless tasks such as cleaning), but I know other authors who plan every chapter and every step of the way so, here's another one:

FIND WHAT WORKS FOR YOU!

Be it in storytelling (first person, past tense, present tense, different POVs...), in planning (plan every single detail, just plan the direction of the story or don't plan at all...) or in deciding how much of a canon character are you willing to change. And this brings me to another point:

DON'T BE SCARED TO WRITE OUT OF CHARACTER!

Nobody is going to crucify you for that! It's fanfiction, people, it's not a history paper or a thesis. If you find yourself constantly thinking about this, you'll always doubt your work, so try to avoid dwelling on it, if possible.

CHECK FOR TYPOS

Mistakes are going to happen. You just can't avoid them. Unless you find yourself a Beta (and even then, it happens!). Typos, grammar and spelling mistakes fly by us authors when we're excited about our storytelling, so re-read what you wrote as many times as you want/need! I know I must have my fair share of mistakes (alas, I apologise for English not being my native language in every fiction I write), but I re-read my chapters a lot of times (I'm not even going to say how many - it's unhealthy!) and trust me, it shows if you don't give your story at least a good thorough read! Speaking of reading...

READ! READ! READ! READ A LOT!

Devour books, fanfiction, papers... whatever you can get your hands on. It's another cliché when it comes to writing tips, but it's overused for a reason. Reading a lot helps build a great vocabulary! And it helps you avoid annoying repetitions... Which brings me to another awesome tip:

USE A THESAURUS!

Suuuuuuuch a big help! Especialy when you're not a native speaker! Sometimes I find myself so stuck on a word that a thesaurus truly saves my life! Also:

DON'T BE AFRAID TO EDIT!

The scene isn't turning out the way you wanted it? CUT IT! It doesn't move the story forward? CUT IT! It doesn't fit the character? CUT IT! I've cut entire 1k+ scenes from some of my fanfictions because they made the story take a turn that I didn't like! Which brings me to another important tip:

LET THE CHARACTERS DO THEIR THING!

Sometimes your character just runs away from you and starts doing stupid shit. It's a known fact amongst all authors. Just let them be. Run with it. If the scene doesn't suit the story (say it with me...) CUT IT! But I've found so many times that the best plots in my stories come from characters who just decided they didn't give a flying f**k about me and went rogue! Last but not least (and because this is becoming a thesis in itself):

DON'T BE DISAPPOINTED!

Not all fics get comments. Not all fics get a lot of views. Not everyone who reads and likes, will comment. It's alright. We authors are used to it. And although it's a known fact that many authors have praise kinks (me included), and love to know people read and like their stories, don't expect too much and you won't be disappointed.

I really didn't want to end on that sad note, and maybe some people will disagree with me, but it's astounding how big the difference is between views and likes (or kudos on AO3) and comments. #CommentsMatter!

Also, and here's an extra:

DON'T COMPARE YOURSELF TO OTHERS!

We all have favourite authors, and we all wish we could write like someone we idealize (Oh, Edgar Allan Poe, how I adore thee!), but it's not fair to compare yourself to another author. You're not more or less than another writer! YOU'RE YOU! And that's already awesome!

Oof... maybe I could have gone on longer than this... maybe I could've added more tips. But this is what I thought of, and I do hope you, and other people, find them somewhat helpful! Thank you again for the wonderful ask!

Love you! ❤️

PS: Engage with the community! Not only is it heartwarming, comforting, and rewarding, but as a commenter myself, I love having little debates with authors about why they wrote a scene in a specific way, or what they have in mind for what's coming next! Whatever it is, I guarantee you'll have a good time!

[trickingbell]

Day 9: Encounter ~ Undone

This week 2 drawing is for @bardace's Sissel Delune! Who has a few comics of her doing Yomiel's hair on their blog. I think that's Adorable!!! But the "Undone" half gave me ideas. Like last time; Below are my Sissel notes. Happier this time!

"Not everything I've heard is like Angel's predicament. There's actually some pretty funny ones. Maybe if I ask around enough, I can find a Yomiel that doesn't wear that awful red! So far, no luck. Red suit, tall blonde hair everywhere I listen in. Which is strange...there's no Sissel that looks like another. Which is bad news for you. I'm not taking pictures of every Sissel for no reason! We're doing a ranking!! I'M different but YOU stay mostly the same?? What's really your type of woman???

Mostly. Mostly the same. There are probably things some Sissel's aren't announcing to everyone, I don't feel like investigating too much. It's for the best lest I get some more awful details. Avoiding the less fortunate Sissel's stories is easy if I trail Delune, though. She's hard on herself but it just means she's more likely to talk about you. Nothing but good or embarrassing things either, of course with a damn picture to boot. Her bag is too small to keep that many...

I've basically lived her life with all this damn talking, makes sense she writes. Got a hell of a lot to say about you. Same college, just like us. Proposed at the same time, not like us. OH, not like us at all, she made your hair like that! Yours was already that shape when we met. She cycled through a few(Pictures...obviously) before you settled with the cone. That's really cute actually. I can imagine how happy you must've been to find something that fits you, then was made just for you. It's sweet. Delune says you would've cut your hair otherwise, thank god she saved you. Your hair...I would mourn if I lost it.

It didn't last very long though. You called her from work about an emergency, the rain had got you and your umbrella was too short to keep your head under it. Delune found you blindly stumbling down the road with your hair in front of your face trying to find her or go home. THAT was a picture I had to see! No, I didn't take a picture of her picture, just in case you think about asking. Embarrassing shots like that are best kept for a Sissel to laugh at and her Yomiel to not know she took them. The karma would get me, then you'd find out where I keep mine.

Anyway. You should let me do your hair. I want to make a style for you too!"

[itsnesss]

𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐲 | minho (xo,kitty) × fem!reader

summary | it's valentine's day, and this year is special because you're with minho. he has prepared a romantic surprise

warnings | fluff, romance, slight tension

word count | 2.3 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

It's Valentine's Day. A day that would normally seem like any other, but this year, it's different. This year, it's special because you're with Minho.

Since you started dating, everything has changed for you. Before, Valentine's Day was just a day you passed through without much emotion, but now, every detail feels new, exciting, full of promises.

You're waiting in front of your dorm, nerves running through your veins. You know Minho has something planned for today, but you have no idea what. The only thing he's told you is that you shouldn't make any plans, that he would surprise you. The uncertainty makes you anxious, but in a good way. With him, everything is different.

Suddenly, you hear footsteps approaching and see him. Minho. He walks toward you with a charming smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

"Hi," he says with his usual smoothness, but today there's something more in his voice, something that makes you blush. "Are you ready for your surprise?"

"I'm always ready for whatever you plan," you reply, smiling warmly. "Although, I have to admit, you've got me pretty intrigued."

Minho looks at you with an expression that could be described as satisfied, like he's very sure of what he's planned. He extends his hand to you, and without thinking, you take it.

"Let's go," he says, guiding you out of the building. He doesn't talk much, but there's something in his gaze that tells you he's excited, and that makes you feel even more excited too.

The campus is quiet, as if everyone has decided to give Valentine's Day a break. The streetlights glow softly under the dark sky, and the cold February air brushes against your face as you walk beside Minho. You don’t need words to know you're exactly where you want to be. You're with him, and that’s all that matters.

Minho takes you to a nearby park, a secluded corner of the campus that you've never noticed before. It's small, tucked away, but perfectly lit, as if it's a secret hideaway just for the two of you. In the center of the park, there's a table surrounded by candles and rose petals scattered across the ground. Everything looks like it’s straight out of a romantic movie, and you can't help but smile at the beauty of the gesture.

"Minho..." you whisper, surprised by what you see. "It's... incredible."

He shrugs, but the smile on his face tells you he's proud of what he's done.

"I wanted it to be something you'd remember," he says, looking at the place with a mix of pride and modesty. "Something that makes you know how important you are to me."

You don't know how to respond. Emotion floods you, but instead of words, what comes out is a hug. You move toward him, wrapping your arms around him. Minho doesn't hesitate to respond, holding you tightly, as if he needs this moment just as much as you do.

"Thank you," you say into his chest, feeling the beat of his heart. "Really, thank you."

"It’s the least you deserve," he murmurs, kissing your hair. "I don’t want you to ever forget what you mean to me."

When you pull away slightly, he looks at you with those dark eyes that always seem to know what you're thinking, what you're feeling.

"Would you like to sit down?" he asks, pointing to the table, and you nod, still blushing from his sincerity.

Minho pulls out a bottle of wine and two glasses that he'd hidden in his backpack, and starts to pour it with a calm smile. There's something about his tranquility that soothes you, something in his presence that makes you feel at home, right here, with him.

"This wine is from the first time we went to that restaurant together," he says as he pours. "I wanted us to have something that would remind us of that moment."

You look at him, surprised. You didn’t know that night, so casual at the time, meant so much to him.

"Minho, you didn’t have to do all this."

"I didn’t want it to be just any Valentine’s Day," he says. "I wanted to do something for you, something that was ours."

The wine has a smooth, sweet taste, but nothing compares to the feeling of having him there, sitting across from you, smiling as if everything is perfect. And it is. Somehow, everything in this moment feels like it's in place.

After a while, he stands up and extends his hand to you.

"Shall we dance?" he asks, and the request is as unexpected as it is perfect.

"To dance?" you ask, laughing nervously. "But we don’t have any music."

Minho smiles with that quiet confidence you adore.

"We have everything," he says, and with an unexpected move, he pulls out his phone and plays a soft song in the background, a calm melody that seems to embrace the night.

You take his hands, letting him guide you through the movements. The world fades away around you as you dance together, under the stars, in the silence of the park. The light from the candles flickers gently around you, and all you can feel is the softness of his touch, the warmth of his closeness.

In that moment, everything feels simple and perfect. The two of you, in the middle of a cold night, creating memories you’ll never forget. Every step you take with him makes you feel closer, more connected to something you can't even describe with words.

"I love you," Minho whispers, his voice soft but full of meaning.

Your heart leaps at hearing it, and for a second, the world stops. You don’t need to respond, because in your eyes, he can see the same. But you do anyway.

"I love you."

The final embrace you share, in the middle of the small, lit park, is all you need to know that this Valentine’s Day will be one you’ll never forget. Because it’s not just another day. It’s the day everything became more real, deeper, more yours and his.

[incorrect-ironwidow]

LETS TALK ABOUT THE AO3 TAGS

Note: this post contains a small spoiler, without context or detail, from Heavenly Tyrant.

So, it came to my attention (and I know many of you have already noticed too), that Iron Widow has several incorrect tags on AO3. I will leave some of the main examples in a print below for those who haven't seen it yet, but in short, the tags in the drop-down menu and those suggested as "official" when you are going to post a new fic appear giving titles to the characters or relating their names in the books to the real names of Chinese historical figures.

@xiranjayzhao, more than once (and even in the Heavenly Tyrant acknowledgments), talked about how the characters, despite having similar names, are not made as a historical reinterpretation, their characters do not seek to be a new, realistic or faithful version of their historical names. Rather, they are inspired by that historical essence, being completely original to the books in which they appear. In other words, it is not right to give them historical titles or relate them to real historical names (as happens with the tags for Qin Zheng and Sima Yi) as if they were new faithful versions of those people.

I opened a ticket with AO3 support to explain the situation. Because, despite knowing that the tags are written by the fandom, just the fact that they are in the drop-down menu and are suggested when posting a new work already makes people feel influenced to use them (it shows that they have more views/are commonly searched/used). I am not sure how long it will take or if they can solve the situation (in fact, please, if there is any volunteer who works with AO3 I would be extremely grateful to hear from you about how we can solve the issue and what the site can do), but I know that avoiding the continued use of these tags can help.

And, that is why I am writing this long post, to talk to you; creators in our fandom!

To ensure that your work has the correct tags and so that our creations do not reinforce a misconception about the books, which the author has said many times was not their intention when writing the characters, we need to change (and start to not use) the tags in the drop-down menu and in the suggestions when the characters have titles and names that were never presented in the books. In other words, for the Iron Triangle tag that reads "Gao Yizhi/Emperor Taizong of Tang | Li Shimin/Empress Tianhou of Zhou | Wu Zetian" change it to "Gao Yizhi/Zhang Yizhi | Li Shimin | Wu Zetian", for the tag that reads "Empress Tianhou of Zhou | Wu Zetian/First Emperor of Qin | Qin Shihuang | Ying Zheng" change it to "Wu Zetian | Qin Zheng", and so on. The same goes for individual tags with character names, choose to write only the name of the character that appears in the book or, if you feel it needs more context, add "(Iron Widow)" after the name (like write "Sima Yi (Iron Widow)" if Sima Yi is a character at your work).

With time and use, I believe this may even influence the correct tags to be suggested and appear in the drop-down menu, making it easier to search for works from our fandom on AO3.

Anyway, if you have any questions about the issue or how to correctly tag your work, don't hesitate to ask, I'm here to help. And, if you want to add more to this discussion, please feel free to use the comments or reblogs!

That's it for now, I can't wait to see all the future content you'll create for Iron Widow/Heavenly Tyrant (especially with our little Valentine's event starting tomorrow)… <3

[amalthiaph]

Get to know your mutuals!

Thanks for the tag @leapingbadger! LET'S GO!

What's the origin of your blog title? EDIT: I'm stupid, it says "blog title". So, "Daughter of Eve" is one of the names they call humans in Narnia. It used to be "Management Trainee Skywalker" from that Chinese bootleg of ROTS, but as much as I like that one, something really unpleasant happened to my blog during the time it was my name, and every time I open my page, I read it, and be reminded of that one time, so I decided to change it. (One day, I will have the courage to tell that event, but for now, I'll begin to get over it.)

But I don't wanna waste this. So, for the origin of my username: Jupiter's Moon. Amalthea is one of Jupiter's moon. I first used this for League of Legends, and unfortunately, 'Amalthea' is already taken so I tried to change the 'e' into 'i', and that's how I ended up with this spelling.

OTP(s) + Shipname: OKAY, this is going to be great. The answer is Caspian x Susan. They're my first ever OTP. I want to begin this with saying I really like the book canon Caspian x Ramandu's Daughter but Caspian x Susan ended up being a lot more interesting to me. IDK what's up with me but I always go for the ship that doesn't end up together, bec I think happily ever afters are boring, give me some angst, some wishful longing, the AUs, the fix-its, these things are what makes a ship interesting.

Some of the other ships I like are LeviHan (RIP Hange), Zutara (we all know how this ended), Tech x Phee (I still wanna believe Tech lives), and Anidala (this is self-explanatory).

Favorite color: Canary yellow. But for art, layout, and clothes, I like shades of brown.

Favorite game: League of Legends, Need for Speed, Criminal Case, Minecraft

Song stuck in your head: The World Will Know from Newsies: The Broadway Musical

Weirdest habit/trait? Here, let me revise the question: "What's not weird about you?"

Hobbies: Drawing, Reading, Singing

If you work, what's your profession? Architect (I just passed the licensure examination!)

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be? Any job where I'll be able to design spaces. Designing is therapeutic to me.

Something you're good at: Art.

Something you're bad at: Human-ing

Something you love: My cat, my family, my hyperfixations.

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: Star Wars, Narnia, and Newsies

Something you hate: Just like @leapingbadger, I also hate the current state of the world, especially in the country I live in. Election is once again near, and the leading senatorial candidates in the polls are not-so-good people. There are agriculturists, a great lawyer ,an animal rights activist, and a labor rights activist running for senate but the majority of the people in this country surely won't vote for them because "they're ugly" or "they're not stars".

Something you collect: hatred, and Lego sets, and books

Something you forget: I'll do you a better one: "Name something you don't forget".

What's your love language? Acts of service. Also remembering the tiny details of the stories I tell.

Favorite movie/show: Star Wars (with the exception of the Sequels and Resistance), Narnia, and Newsies

Favorite food: Tinola.

Favorite animal: Cats. I accidentally typed "cars" but you would have gotten it anyway.

What were you like as a child? Quiet, introverted, and stuck in her own little world.

Favorite subject at school? Maybe English. Also geometry.

Least favorite subject: Chemistry

What's your best character trait? I like to learn as much of anything as I can, also very observant. Oftentimes, it ticks me off when people aren't like that.

What's your worst character trait? I'll do you a better one: "Is there a character trait of you that isn't bad?"

If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be? Try "What do you not want to change?"

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet? Serial killers a day before being executed. I have so many questions.

Tag as many mutuals as you want!! (Sorry if you've been tagged before): @loge2718 @mimpinightmare @dragonrider9905 @ahsokastechie

Get to know your mutuals!

What's the origin of your blog title? When I was in middle school, someone told me "you dress so goth, but your personality is so happy. You're like a really cheerful grim reaper. A joyful soul collector." And that's been my username for most everything ever since!

OTP(s) + Shipname: Oooh, right now it's Jayvik, and tbh I can't think of another one, this is one of the first ships I've been really really into tbh. Other dynamics focused on my blog have actually been more platonic, like Irondad

Favorite color: Red!

Favorite game: Dungeons and Dragons! Both as a player, and DM!

Song stuck in your head: The Challenge - EPIC

Weirdest habit/trait? I download thousands of still frames of tv shows that I love so I can make memes out of them. But I have to sift through and delete all the pictures that are blurry or unnecessary, which takes hours. I think it's super fun because I'm autistic and really enjoy sorting stuff lol

Hobbies: Writing, playing DnD, making memes, and hanging out with my friends!

If you work, what's your profession? Not so much a profession lol, I work at a toy store. It's a part time job while I'm in college, studying to be a radiologist!

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be? Realistically? Radiologist. But ANY job I wish? Professional DM or Professional DnD player, like the people on Dropout or Critical Role haha

Something you're good at: I'm good at writing stories! I can write them well and write things that make people feel deep emotions, and I like that.

Something you're bad at: Recognizing when someone doesn't want help haha. I tend to try and fix things or help people when they just want to vent, and it ends up frustrating for both of us.

Something you love: I love stories. Any kind, I love so so many

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: My favorite shows and stories, my dnd campaigns and characters, my stories and ideas

Something you hate: Fascism. Bigotry. Willful ignorance. Fearmongering. Propaganda.

Something you collect: Dice!! I'm a dice goblin for sure haha

Something you forget: I often forget chores unfortunately

What's your love language? Physical touch and acts of service

Favorite movie/show: Ooh right now it's definitely Arcane haha

Favorite food: Sushi!

Favorite animal: Cats!

What were you like as a child? In a word? Unwell haha. I'm a good bit better now, still struggling with a lot, but better than I used to do

Favorite subject at school? English, I was always good at that class

Least favorite subject: Chemistry. I hate that shit so much lol

What's your best character trait? I think that I'm kind and willing to stand up for others

What's your worst character trait? I can be disrespectful to some types of spirituality unfortunately. It just doesn't make logical sense to me. I have two friends that are fully convinced that a cursed doll gave some youtuber testicular cancer. And I just can't see the logic or critical thought in that

If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be? Mmm. All of fascism shit is definitely damaging my calm so I'd love to change that specifically

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet? Harry Allen. Google him he's a badass transgender cowboy

Tag as as many mutuals as you want!!

@sb-essebi @glitternightingale @blatterpussbunnyfromhell @captainhollowstories @kydrogendragon @misforvendetta @poetryinmotion-author @bocularteletheric @kai-ovillager @thatoneneuvichiliauthor @4amarcanethoughts @alexspearsxoxo @kotonni @buckybucananbarnes @kakesuwolf @martybaker @patheticjayce @sleepycrowhours @aixabi @up-the-bracket @snoopyviktor @emdashflower @humanshapedstress @hellsalore @juuzousmom @softandslow @fangirlshenanigans04 @batmans-attic @lvrstrsh @bluemoyai @tearexxwrites @bodyofvvater @lifeandeathepub @areesespiece @lancesblueazaleas @monaisme @milkywaysipper @carmendyy @tseecka @heazueken @tophat-69 @velocitychroma @prjctdiva @gremlinofchaos @ourvectorviktor @kenjinx @jxmimac @gh0stedvhampir @voxconcordia @arcaneheraldslawyer

ngl I tried to tag ALL my mutuals that I have, but this was how many it allowed me to do before it made me stop lol so here's as many as I could fit!

[keferon]

“Mistakes on mistakes until” ch 69 spoilers below!

Ahahahahahahah here I go again

Mistakes on mistakes until until I can draw Jazz with my eyes closed

I woke up, checked my phone, woke up for real and decided that whatever plans I had for this day yeah no they can wait a little bit kfkgnfk

Also. Consider listening this while reading. Or don't who am I to tell you what to do~