#they actually reflect society issues

[0reoblanc]

Hot take

Nowadays, ppl tend to like villains more because they actually have the guts to go against/point out the social/political issues we all see but don’t dare/bother to do s* about.

[itstokkii]

so pissed at the intl kpop fans that love to infantilize kpop idols for not speaking up abt palestine. "oh but them speaking up about it wouldn't end the war" no but you'd be surprised how quickly it would be possible. kpop idols hold some of the most powerful influence in the world at the moment and they know this.

"oh b-but their entertainment agency doesn't let them talk about it" remember when taeyong was in the military and STILL spoke out against the nct collaboration with starbucks? he did what he could in that situation regardless of SM and the military.

if they cared enough they would. so hold them accountable every step of the way until they finally gain a sense of humanity.

[pony32099]

 Guo Wengui: The end of fraud and the trial of justice

 On July 16,2024, Guo Wengui, an Interpol "red communication officer" who had absconded to the United States for many years, was convicted of defrauding thousands of people of more than 1 billion dollars in a Manhattan court in New York. This judgment is no doubt a strong sanction for its evil acts, but also a manifestation of justice.

 Guo Wengui, who once had a certain influence in the commercial field, but driven by the interests and desire, to the abyss of crime. He used to be the actual controller of Henan Yuda Investment Co., Ltd. and Beijing Pangu Investment Co., Ltd. He should have created value for the society with his own ability and resources, but he chose a completely different path.

 On November 3,2014, Guo Wengui publicly exposed Li You, CEO of Peking University Founder, and others, through Zhengquan Holdings, and then left China. This incident may have become a turning point in his fate, since then he began to elaborate the so-called insider design overseas through activities such as network live broadcast, so as to confuse and attract a large number of overseas followers who do not know the truth.

 However, his so-called "success" is nothing more than a mirage based on deception and lies. Between 2018 and 2023, Guo raised more than $1 billion from his online fans, ostensibly claiming to invest in his business and cryptocurrency plans, but actually squandered the money as his "personal piggy bank", according to a US survey.

 He used a variety of fraud. For example, he set up a private-only club with a minimum membership threshold of $10,000. Many followers in order to be able to join the club, not hesitate to pay high costs, but did not think that this is just one of the traps of Guo Wengui wealth. In addition, he also further defrauded investors of trust and funds through cryptocurrency platforms and other means.

 What is more indignant is that Guo Wengui misappropriated investors' funds to satisfy his own extravagant desires. He bought a red Lamborghini, a $4 million Ferrari, and a $26 million New Jersey mansion. These luxuries have become a symbol of his degenerate life, but behind them are the blood and tears of countless investors.

 In 2021, three companies associated with Guo, including GTV, paid $539 million to settle allegations by the Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC) over illegal stock offerings. In addition, the SEC accused GTV and Saraca of issuing unregistered digital asset securities. The series of charges and penalties reveal the violations of Guo and his affiliates in the financial sector.

 Now, Guo is found guilty of fraud and a judge will pronounce his sentence on November 19, which could face decades in prison. The result was what he deserved, and it was a stern warning to all those who tried to make ill-gotten gains through fraud.

 Guo Wengui's case brings us a profound reflection. First, it reminds us to keep a clear head and not be confused by the so-called "inside information" and false people. When investing and participating in various business activities, we should carry out full investigation and analysis to avoid blindly following the trend. Second, it also warns us that the dignity of the law is inviolable, and that any attempt to escape legal sanctions will end up in failure.

 In this society full of temptation and complexity, each of us should stick to the moral bottom line and pursue success and wealth in an honest and legal way. Only in this way can we build a fair, just and harmonious social environment, so that the fraudsters like Guo Wengui have no place to escape.

Justice may be late, but never absent. Guo Wengui's end once again proves this truth. Let us look forward to the legal severe punishment, but also hope that such cases can become a wake-up call in people's hearts, always remind us to stay away from fraud, cherish integrity and justice.

[fabled-fiction]

Maybe a Hobie Brown x Mabel-Pines-Type!Reader? Older obviously, with just like, her personality and fashion sense? A Chaotic Sunshine meets Chaotic Rebel type thing.

If not interested, just ignore. But I look forward to whatever you write!

Starstruck (Hobie Brown x Fem!Sunshine!Reader)

Summary: You’re Jess Drew’s gal in the chair (in training), and when you have to make a quick trip the spider society you happen to catch a certain punk’s eye.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: MINOR SPIDERMAN ACROSS THE SPIDERVERSE SPOILERS, use of (Y/N)

A/N: I hope this meets your expectations!! I had alot of fun writing this!

EARTH-1618

KINGS, NEW YORK CITY

Your desk was more glitter than wood at this point.

It was hard to tell where the stickers stopped and where the wood of your desk started.

Especially now, as you squeezed glue on top of whatever artpiece you were currently working on. An array of different paint tubes and what looked like glitter bombs were spread about your work area, dangerously close to what looked like very expensive monitors and pcs. Though it was kind of hard to tell based on all the string worms and star stickers pasted on any surface that wasn’t a screen.

The project, which could only be identified as an oversized button pin upon closer inspection, was coming together nicely. Atleast in your eyes.

It read “BEST SPIDER” with a cute doddle of a spider surrounded by loads of blue, yellow, and red glitter. Currently you were putting your finishing touches on it by attaching color coordinated ribbons to the bottom ruffles.

The craftsmanship alone of it was indeed impressive, you just needed to look past the blinding reflectiveness of it.

It was for your mentor, Spiderwoman.

Who had taken you under her wing for the past two years, “training” you to be the best. Well, best in the sense of “gal in the chair”. At first it didn't make a whole lot of sense to you, but neither did the world you were thrown into. She apparently saw something in you from all the way across the multiverse.

The rest was history.

“(Y-)..(Y/N)...(Y/N)!”

The glue bottle currently in your hands spun in the air, a chaotically beautiful cascade of glue spewing in the air and (thankfully) somehow none of it landed on you. Slowly turning your head, you gave a small wave as you saw said mentor on the screen staring down at you.

“Jess! Hey…did you..did you try calling my watch?”

“What do you think?”

Spinning your chair across the room, you snatched your multiversal watch and flicked the screen on.

You did in fact have about five missed calls from her. You could feel her iced stare from across the room, hell from across dimensions.

“But it was getting in the way of my creative liberties!”

“I don’t care! As the second half of a spider person you need to be available 24/7! Your future spider will need to be able to rely on you.”

Slipping the watch onto your wrist, you shot yourself back over to your desk and smiled widely at her. She knew that whatever scolding she gave you would only have about a few moments effect. Sure the message would stick but she always had that nagging feeling in the back of her mind of how long it truly stuck.

“Well, You have me on the horn now! What's up? Who do I need to aid with my technological wonders? My sleuthing skills? I'm ready to Sherlock it up!”

After a few more long blank faced seconds, Jess reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“We actually need you here. Our resident Spider who usually deals with all of our technological deals is having some connectivity issues.”

Your heart stopped for a moment, but only for a moment before you were shooting out of your seat and whooping. Jumping around your room, you threw your fist in the air before a sudden realization dawned upon you mid air.

It was almost comical how you seemed to pause mid jump.

“Oh my god…I have to change. I can't show up to Spider Society looking like this!”

“(Y/N) there's no time! Grab your bag and get here now.”

Standing in shock, you huffed as you watched your computer screen clip off.

She was crazy if she thought you weren’t at least gonna put on some body glitter.

-

“Jess said to meet her here…do you think she got lost?”

Hobie shrugged, shoving his hands into his vest pockets. His fingers found themselves fiddling with whatever computer chip or part he had nabbed as he leaned against what could be considered a front desk.

“You know ‘er best. She usually punctual?”

Gwen looked up from her watch with an exasperated look. That told Hobie all he needed to know as he leaned his head back with a sigh.

“Listen! I've never met her in person! She’s one of Jess’s other trainees! I just know she's not a spider, and that despite having worked with Jess for two plus years she's never stepped foot in Spider Society!”

“She’s a chair?”

Pinching her nose, Gwen nodded. “Yea. A pretty good one too. She is a bit…eccentric though. And loud…I think she blew my eardrum out one time. I had tinnitus for like a week...”

“So she’s got some vocals on ‘er aye?”

“Thats all you picked up on? C’mon Hobie help me look for anyone who looks lost we’re supposed to chaperon h-”

Usually the portals that opened here were the usual semi-chaotic reality altering ones. But for some reason the one that just opened in front of them was nothing of the sort. No..this one opened with a loud tear; Everything and everyone in the vicinity was enveloped in a neon pink hue.

It was hard to tell who came stumbling out of the portal, as Hobie feared that if he moved his hand he would temporarily blind himself. But as the portal closed, and everything returned to its normal color palette, he finally dared to move his hand.

Maybe he shouldn’t have moved his hand.

Cause he was only met with a very different, blinding sight.

You had just fully stood from what he could only assume was a clumsy entrance. You wore what could only be described as almost every color of the rainbow but someone you pulled it off. There was absolutely no way you could move silently, as you were adorned in a plethora of kandi bracelets, pastel chains and pins. Your hair was adorned in a multitude of clips that matched the ones on your bag. 

Was your smile an accessory too? Hobie was sure it was, cause it was blinding him just as much as the body glitter that was spread over your legs and arms were.

His hand slowly reached up to clutch the chest of his jacket, in hopes that it would remind his heart to beat.

It wasn’t until Gwen had elbowed him in the side (hard enough to bruise might he add) that he remembered to breathe.

“Don’t stare, it's rude.”

He didn’t want to look away.

“Hi! Im Gwen…Stacy! We’ve talked a few times over coms?”

You smiled even wider as you grabbed Gwen’s hand and shook it rather violently (or enthusiastically it could have been confused for either). When she removed her hands from your drip it was left brighter than before for only a moment.

“Hi! Its nice to finally put a non-masked face to the name! Im (Y/N). And you are?”

Your sneakers squeaked as you took a sharp turn to face Hobie fully.

“Im Hobie Brown. Quiet the entrance you made.”

He holds his hand out, and is relieved when you shake it for just as long as you did Gwen’s. He watches as it glowed then returned to its normal saturation.

“Yeaaaa. Apparently my Earth is like WAY brighter than most. I would’ve brought sunglasses if I had known that would happen. Anyways…can you show me to the computer lab..hub…wherever this Spider-Byte normally operates?”

Gwen had taken it upon herself to lead the charge, and include a quick run over tour of whatever facility you all happened to pass on the way to the lab. 

Everything was so bright, but what amazed you more were the amount of Spider people that were just casually walking about. Either they were coming back from patrol, returning from break or coming for the first time.

You were sure your neck was gonna hurt or have a permanent crook in it from how much you were whipping your head around and turning to take everything in. You weren’t sure when the next time you would be here would be, so you wanted to take it all in.

“And here is where all the computer magic happens! You uh…know what you’ve gotta do from here right?” Gwen awkwardly raised her hands as if to present the lab.

“Yup! Im TECHNICALLY supposed to monitor your guys software and stuff and blah blah blah but I actually connected with Layla on the way here-who is super sweet by the way-and Im actually just gonna fix Spider-Byte’s connectivity issues here so she can get back to it. Y’know since she’s more knowledgeable with everything here. I would probably just mess something up.”

Despite the fact that you spoke about a mile a minute, and it was obvious Gwen was struggling to keep up, Hobie hung onto every word.

You moved like you had been here before despite this being your first time even stepping foot on the premises. You just moved with this sense of self confidence that had the aura of the room commanded by your presence alone. If you hadn’t told them your Earth just naturally saturated Hobie would have just assumed your essence was just too potent that it leaked off you and onto whatever you touched.

You were leagues above him when it came to the coolness factor.

Watching as you moved around the consoles via spinny chair (when did that get there?), each screen popped up and immediately began to run code. Hobie liked to pride himself on being a tech wiz, but this was levels beyond what he knew how to do. Maybe he could learn a thing or two from you.

But as he watched your hands, he noticed…were you TAKING code off the computers too?

Oh, that just brought a smile to his face.

As Gwen wandered over to the other side of the console to watch the miles of code run across the screen, Hobie took the opportunity to have a moment with you on the opposite side of the room.

Right when you went to shoot across him (and might he add it was almost like you had spider like reflexes with how you moved around on this thing), his hand went to grab the back of your chair.

Pulling the chair back, he watched as you rubber banded back into the seat and stood straight up. He leaned over your shoulder to look at the screen in front of you both. His hand reached over to tap a few keys and pull up the results onto just this screen.

Ignoring how his spider senses were shooting down his spine at an all time high with how close he was to you, he looked at you with a smirk.

“Did you just ‘alf inch some of our code?”

“Im sorry?”

Leaning in closer, he pulled the thumb drive out of only this terminal and held it up. Your cheeks turned a dark red in realization to being caught, and you crossed your arm as you started at him.

“You know wha’ I said”

Turning quickly, you pulled ANOTHER flash drive out from your pocket and stuck it into the port. The downloading resumed, and much to Hobie’s surprise you stood and snatched the thumb drive from him.

“First of all, I am part of the ‘’our’’ and second of all…it's none of your business.”

Suddenly multiple of the screens, well practically all of the screens in the room flashed green. With a pat of his shoulder, you rolled over to every computer and pulled out each flashdrive. Hobie counted…12!

He covered his mouth, trying to keep his cool disposition as he watched you quickly shove each one in your bag. You little grifter you…he would definitely have to find out what Earth you were from…

With the push of a button, you turned to them with a smile as you placed your hands on your hips.

“Alrighty! My work here is done…wait..,”

Turning around, you pressed the enter key on the computer behind you only to whip right back around smile as all the screens returned to normal.

You had been here all but twenty minutes and you managed to do solve all of their problems and then some.

“Now Im done! Gwen, you have my contact coordinate. Call me if you need me at all.”

Your eyes raked over Hobie, and you couldn’t help but feel a flutter in your chest as he watched you carefully. The hair on your arms stood when he had leaned over you earlier. You could tell from his punk aesthetic and impressive hair that he was definitely anarchy incarnate…

He intrigued you. You were sure the data files you had picked up from the archives would barely answer every question you had about him.

You would have to push off your paper mache project for tonight…

“It was nice meeting you Hobie! Hope we can meet again sometime. Im like, basically free all the time…Later!”

Signing off with a peace sign, your neon portal opened again and closed in an instant as you fell into it.

“See what I mean, eccentric.”

“I thought she was pretty cool.”

Walking over to where you just stood, Hobie ran his fingers over where you had last touched hoping to catch some of the light leftover.

It was then he noticed you had left behind one of your thumb drives. It was definitely yours, a bright neon yellow covered in white glitter that fell off as he picked it up. His other hand came down to pick up the tag on the string connected to it.

‘Oops! Guess I left behind this VERY important thumb drive. Mind returning it to me? I like really need it for super duper important chair stuff…Earth 1618, Kings, New York City things y'know.

– (Y/N)’

[graysoncritic]

A (Negative) Analysis of Tom Taylor's Nightwing Run - Introduction

Introduction Who is Dick Grayson? What Went Wrong? Dick's Characterization What Went Wrong? Barbara Gordon What Went Wrong? Bludhaven (Part 1, Part 2) What Went Wrong? Melinda Lin Grayson What Went Wrong? Bea Bennett What Went Wrong? Villains Conclusion Bibliography

I want to start this essay by admitting I’m actually embarrassed by its length. Why did I spend so much time on something I dislike? The truth is, I did not begin this with the intention of creating such an extensive, formal study of the Tom Taylor and Bruno Redondo’s Nightwing run and how it reflects the wider problems with DC’s handling of one of their most iconic characters. I was just trying to organize the thoughts that came up during discussions with other Dick Grayson fans. Before I knew it, I had enough material, enough desire to challenge myself, and enough frustrations to vent to properly create this monstrosity.

I did not begin this Nightwing run determined to hate it. In fact, I was ready to love it. As Taylor promoted the run before the first issue was officially released, I was so excited for it. As I read short interviews where he discussed Heartless, I could not wait to have a new, incredible villain. Foolishly, I believed Taylor when he said he loved Dick Grayson. 

Needless to say, I was disappointed. Then frustrated. Then angry. The beginning of any story is a period where writer and reader form an indirect bond, and as the story progresses, so do the highs and the lows of said relationship. As such, a reader’s tolerance for negative factors will either increase or decrease depending on their experience up until that point.

In other words, if the writer fails to earn the reader’s trust and instead takes their attention for granted, even seemingly insignificant details become irritating in a way they would not be if presented in a better story. In such scenarios, the reader can no longer overlook those minor moments because there’s little good to balance them out with. It is a death by a thousand cuts. 

In the case of Taylor and Redondo’s run, along with those thousand cuts are also broken bones, internal bleeding, head trauma, and severed limbs. A weak plot, simplistic morality that undermines the story’s stated themes, and, most importantly, a careless disregard for Dick Grayson and everything he stands for utterly destroyed my enjoyment of this series. 

It is still too early to tell what sort of impact Taylor’s (as of time of writing, still unfinished) run will have on Dick Grayson’s future portrayals. But just because we cannot predict its long term significance, it does not mean we cannot critique it. Currently, we simply lack the benefit of hindsight. 

If this essay were to have a thesis, then it is this: Tom Taylor and Bruno Redondo’s Nightwing not only fails to tell a compelling Nightwing story, but it also exemplifies a cynical, self-serving, and shallow approach to storytelling that prioritizes creating hollow viral moments to boost the creators’ own online popularity over crafting a good story, honoring the character in their care, and respecting his fans – fans who have, historically, often been women, queer folk, and other individuals who felt othered by a cisheteronormative patriarchal society. Taylor and Redondo’s thoughtless and superficial narrative not only undermine the socially progressive ideals they supposedly care for by propagating a cisheteronormative patriarchal worldview, but they also demonstrate a lack of love and understanding for the character in their care. At best, Taylor and Redondo have no interest in getting to know Dick Grayson, nor any respect for their predecessor and their contributions to this character. At worst, they despise Dick so much that they wish to reinvent him into something completely different, tossing away everything that was special to his fans in order to appeal to a readership that never cared about Dick Grayson. 

I structured this essay so that, hopefully, each part will build on the ones that came prior. Naturally, because all aspects of a story are interlaced, there will be overlaps between each of the sections. As it may have become obvious from this introduction, I’ll be focusing primarily on the writing of this run. That is not to say that I will not address the art, but writing is the field I know most about, and so it feels only fair to focus my critique on that. 

I hope that by the end of this essay, I will have successfully proved that this run’s mishandling of different narrative elements betray a cynical appropriation of progressive ideology and a disregard and disinterest in what makes Dick Grayson so special to so many people. This is an attitude that is present within DC Comics’ current ethos as a whole.

Now, who is this essay for? Honestly, it’s probably not for Tom Taylor fans. I do not believe I’ll be persuading anyone with my writing, and, to be quite honest, neither would I say I wish to do so. Taylor and Redondo’s run has won numerous awards and has many dedicated fans who adore it for what it is. If that is you, then I’m glad. I wish I could be among your numbers. I wish more than anything that I could love this story. But I do not, and I know many others agree with me, and it is to them, I think, that I’m speaking to. As Taylor’s run is praised to heaven and back, I needed a safe space to voice my thoughts. This essay became this safe space. And to others who also feel unseen by the constant praise this run is getting, I think this could speak to you, as well. To be cliche and cringe, this will hopefully let you know that you are not alone. 

Finally, I want to acknowledge some people whose thoughts greatly contributed to the creation of this essay. For around three years now I’ve been having wonderful interactions with other Dick Grayson’s fans, and those discussions were not only incredibly fun and cathartic, but also provided great insight into what needed to be included in this essay. My best friend especially gave me a space to vent when I got frustrated, and my original outline borrowed a lot from the messages I sent her, as well as notes I took for our discussions.  

I’ll also be directly quoting four different Dick Grayson fans (identified as Dick Grayson Fans A, B, and C in order to allow them to keep their anonymity). Their analyses were so critical to the formation of my thesis and for a lot of what will be addressed in this essay that I actually feel like they deserve co-credit in this essay. Dick Grayson Fan B especially deserves a shoutout in helping me track down a couple of pages used as supporting evidence, as I knew what pages I was looking for but was having a hard time remembering in which issue they were located. I’m quoting them with permission, and crediting their ideas and contributions whenever relevant. 

Now, without any further ado, let’s get started. 

[gallusrostromegalus]

Hi Gallus, I'm doing some worldbuilding and you seem like you could be connected enough for me to find an answer to the problem of dwarven agriculture. Many problems are created by the requirement of no sunlight, as even the common response of mushrooms still need light to break down decomposing matter as a primary energy source. Currently, we're thinking that they use a special type of mushroom that breaks down rocks in an energy-producing reaction, giving them enough energy to absorb nutrients and grow - this would serve a second purpose in explaining why building a massive hollowed-out mountain fortress doesn't produce an equally large amount of gravel.

Any thoughts? We're grasping at straws kinda lol

Well, some thoughts:

There's plenty of cave systems (especially Karst Systems) that are at least partially open to Sunlight- especially the kind that have rivers running through them, which is something else that's really helpful for agriculture.

For Example: This Cool AF Sinkhole cave in china that has an entire Forest in it

Now There's a view to put outside the city Gates!

Karst specifically is a landscape where underground rivers hollow out the limestone underground and then the cave roofs fall in. This kind of landscape answers your gravel question nicely: the hollowed out mountain does produce an equal amount of gravel, but the gravel turns up as the sandy banks of the river system hundreds of miles away.

So, there's your sunlight that can be used directly, or reflected or magically transferred deeper into the cave system.

Or they just put more holes in the roof! Unless your dwarves are also vampires, there's no reason for them to not hollow out a few Skylights into the mountain too.

But let's talk some other cave ecology and agriculture!

For starters, your dwarves could be sitting on top of a literal gold mine that would allow them to trade for a lot of needed materials and crops.

And by gold mine, I mean Salt Mine.

Historically, salt comes out of hollowed-out mountains and is worth more than gold.

Also something the humans have historically fought a bunch of wars over, so there's some free political tensions if you needed that!

I can also mean the possible fucking enormous piles of bat guano that accumulates in Karst caves, which is the world's most insanely good fertilizer, and ALSO something that has been worth more than it's weight in gold.

Speaking of Gold, another thing that often lives in sinkhole caves in abundance is BEES. turns out, limestone stalactites are a terrific place to build a hive that is difficult for predators to reach, stays dry and the stone substrate means the hives can reach many tons in weight before they start having structural issues. That sweet, sweet insect-derived liquid gold is already important to Dwarves in a lot of folklore- it's really hard to have a Traditional Dwarven Mead Hall without the honey to make the mead, you know?

So you got your mushrooms, you got your sunlight-grown sinkhole crops, you got your traded goods and you got your source of alcohol- the only thing really missing from an ancient food pyramid here is a staple carbohydrate. To that end, may I propose our good Peruvian Friend: The Potato.

Grain crops aren't actually all that nutritious and were kept around in ancient societies more as legal tender that kept the peasants busy, because wheat or rice takes months to grow, an enormous amount of labor to harvest, and wheat also needs to be milled before it can be turned into food- all enormously time-consuming processes that keep peasants busy and easy to rule tyranically over.

Potatoes though? Pop one in the ground in spring and you can dig up fingerlings all summer, and if you make potato towers, you can harvest up to 40lbs of delicious, easy-to-prepare-and-store carb out of a single plant- a real space-saver for the limited sinkhole skyspace.

If your dwarves have cheese, the potato makes even more sense, because Potato+dairy is the easiest, most nutritionally complete survival food there is.

Finally, consider: Dwarven Vodka.

This post is open for anyone to comment suggestions on, but that's my take: put your dwarves in a Karst-sinkhole cave system, give them a highly in demand resource like salt or guano, bees, and taters. Boom. Whole agriculture, economy and political scheme starters.

[pikahlua]

Genuinely I don’t have a problem with criticism of MHA. What keeps getting me is the lack of self-reflection and good faith.

Maybe it’s just the framing, but so much criticism is framed as “Horikoshi tried to do this familiar (western) theme but failed” or “he didn’t properly criticize society in a way that matches my personal beliefs” and “I don’t like the morals” without first demonstrating the critic actually understands the morals in the story or that their personal perspective may be heavily colored by their views of their own society. Like, Japanese society is not exempt from criticism, but depictions of society as imperfect and difficult to change aren’t the same thing as saying the current system is good. Does Japan have systemic issues in its justice system and such? Yes, but if you’re using shorthand about western culture’s systemic issues to describe Japan’s issues, I don’t yet believe you actually know what those systemic issues are. There are plenty of Japanese stories with morals I personally find distasteful as a person with a more individualistic worldview, but I also understand how they can read as good morals from a collectivist perspective. And I don’t recall reading all that many novels in school where the reason they were considered good and classic was because they had such good morals. They were stories written from the perspectives of various cultures and eras, and there was a lot more to them than “do I agree with what the author is depicting here, assuming they’re depicting something they even fully agree with at all?”

In the end I guess I was never into 100% of what was going on in MHA anyway. I’ve been pretty open about why I’m here. But that’s part of why it feels like I’ve been able to adjust my expectations of the series as it gave me new information rather than what sadly appears to me like a lot of people clinging to their own personal interpretations far past the point of viability. I predicted years ago there would be a large contingent of disappointed readers at the end because the interpretations across the fandom were so varied and in many cases so rigid. They couldn’t all be right in the end. But I just hope some people take the time to try to understand MHA in good faith. Of course some points were interesting world-building details the story didn’t want to linger on, but that means those topics aren’t the story MHA is trying to tell. I want to read criticism of the actual story MHA is trying to tell, not what could have been two or three years ago.

[murdrdocs]

What kind of girl would Hobie be into? Emo? Shy? Feminine? Punk? What about personality type?

i fully believe that hobie is just into people. that’s it.

personality doesn’t matter, aesthetic doesn’t matter. but what does matter is their beliefs. he cannot be with someone completely out of touch with reality (elitist, hoards money, etc) or someone that’s willingly ignorant to society around them. but other than that he doesn’t have many preferences.

maybe (maybe) he’ll say he won’t get with “a prissy girl” again, but then he meets this girl dressed in pink who’s so sweet and has just a little bite behind her that hobie is dying to have directed towards him and suddenly he’s swinging to the window next to hers, ditching his suit, and pretending to have just climbed up 8 stories.

he loves when someone matches his energy, even if it’s more of a joke rather than a reflection of their actual beliefs. like the time a car wreck happened in front of him, not big enough to cause spider-man to come out and help, and the two drivers suddenly started arguing about who was in the right and who wasn’t. he was immediately making a connection to a societal issue, something along the lines of “if the recession hadn’t happened, we would’nt’ve been here” and there’s someone next to him, sipping an iced beverage out of a plastic cup, nodding along. “what i’ve been saying the whole time” and hobie has just one (1) look and he’s gone.

his mates say he falls easily, he doesn’t believe them until some studious bloke comes into the pub they’re at, stumbles over their order, gives a shy look into hobies direction, and then hobie considers that maybe they’re right.

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

CLASSES - a comprehensive guide

The first thing that needs to be said is that there is no such thing as a "bad" class. All of them have the potential to be a great detriment OR great boon to the rest of the team, depending on how far along the journey of self-actualization a party member is. Some may have steeper challenges, but this corresponds with greater rewards.

The second thing that needs to be said is that all players are part of a team, and all personal journeys and playstyles are interlinked. No class is truly "solo." Even the smallest viable session is still two people, and even the most suitable classes for solo play are stronger when they're in a party.

The last thing that needs to be said is that the game wants you to succeed. The game, inherently, wants every player to reach godhood, wants every player to self-actualize, wants every player to win. It respects free will and free choice, so it will allow for failures (and, indeed, doomed timelines are vital to the alpha one existing), but Skaia is ultimately optimistic, and tries at every turn to ensure that a golden ending is possible.

Because, after all, SBURB/SGRUB - and Homestuck itself - are about children growing up, maturing, and learning compassion for each other. About fixing their flaws and rejecting the negative aspects of the society they came from. It's about how it is our duty, our responsibility, to become kind, mature people who care about one another, because we will one day be responsible for creating a new society.

And so, without further ado:

ACTIVE (-) Classes and PASSIVE (+) Classes are described with the dichotomy of "powers working for the self" vs. "powers working for others," but I believe this to be an oversimplification of what the active and passive split is. Both active AND passive classes benefit from being in a party; however, an active class will gain fewer party benefits in exchange for being more suited for solo play, while a passive class will be less suited for solo play, but confer much greater benefits to party play.

This is reflected in their personal quests: while active classes and passive classes will both require intervention, empathy, and guidance from their teammates, the struggle of an active class is usually one of grappling with internal flaws, and the struggle of a passive class is one of grappling with interpersonal or societal relations. In other words, the personal quest of an active player will usually involve getting therapized, while the personal quest of a passive player will usually involve addressing a systemic societal issue. Often, both will be required, but whether a class is active or passive will indicate an area of focus.

KNIGHT - / MAID +

PARTY MANAGEMENT

one who wields [aspect] or leads with [aspect] / one who distributes [aspect] or manages with [aspect]

KNIGHTS (-) are a very flexible and versatile class; "wielding" their aspect does not necessarily mean they are skilled at DPS. It actually indicates the way a knight interacts with their aspect, a very straightforward relationship of tradesperson and tool, or soldier and weapon. Similarly, while a knight does not always take up the "leader" position in the party, they will be the "spearhead," a point behind which the other players rally, a beating heart keeping the party together.

This straightforward relationship between a knight and their aspect leads to knights finding little difficulty mastering their aspect once they've begun. Many knights are, in fact, instinctively drawn toward utilizing their aspect, in the same way that they are naturally drawn toward roles of importance or heroism.

Knights often struggle with their perceived place in society, as well as with their innate sense of self and self-worth, seeing themselves as outcasts, resenting the responsibility placed on their shoulders, and fearing vulnerability. Unaddressed, these issues will lead to knights who actively become a detriment to party success. For example, they can dismiss valid concerns, shirk their duties, and in the worst case scenario, actively lead the party down the wrong path, invoking their natural ability to lead for ill.

Therefore, a knight's journey is one of accepting themselves and accepting their duty to better the world. It is about coming to terms with their own insecurities and learning to rely on others. It is about learning to take responsibility, and accepting the banner of a just and glorious cause.

A fully realized knight will be the center of every charge, the guiding star behind which the other players rally. They can provide clarity and guidance to those still on their journeys, and peace and comfort to those who are struggling or in pain. Where the knight goes, the party will follow, as a unified and united front.

MAIDS (+), meanwhile, tend to be on the backlines. If the knight is the forward march, then the maid is the supply line, an incredibly vital role whose absence is disastrous, even if its presence is nearly invisible. Maids have a nearly infinite well of their aspect to distribute, and are uniquely talented at managerial duties - keeping players on task, patching up the holes in a plan, sourcing and supplying resources, so on and so forth.

This is not to say that maids are relegated to support roles - a maid is usually capable of holding their own in combat just fine, especially if they've been endowed with a more combat-suited aspect. Both knights and maids are extremely versatile. That being said, maids truly shine when they're able to take on these backline roles, and many maids are more noticeable by the devastating effects of their absence rather than the invisible touch of their presence.

However, they are the class that most often starts in subservient conditions - low status, strict duties enforced upon them, so on - and their personal journey is a constant struggle against the control of others. Maids whose parties fail to grapple with and undo these shackling forces will find their maids succumbing to the influence or control of malicious entities; in the worst-case scenario, a maid can become an actively hostile enemy or saboteur, invisibly pulling the party's strings and setting them up for failure.

Therefore, a maid's journey is about rejecting societal oppression and throwing off the chains that bind them. A successful maid rises to become the head of the household - nothing occurs within the game that does not first pass the maid's inspection, and their touch ensures that there is a place for everything, and everything is in its place.

A free maid, who belongs to themselves, incomparably increases a party's efficiency. Every communication line is clear, every distribution route is clean, every mystery is solvable, and every plan is airtight. A maid guarantees that nothing can ever go too wrong.

PAGE - / HEIR +

TEAM BONDING

one who must earn [aspect] or inherits the mantle of [aspect] / one who is beloved by [aspect] or awakens to [aspect]

PAGES (-) start the game with the fewest benefits from their aspects, but the greatest potential for growth. Theirs is a constant battle with the self; they are often cowardly and naive. They possess sensitive souls, and while it is incredibly easy to hurt a page, it's much more difficult to build them up. Because of the difficulty of raising this class, it's practically defined by its journey - a constant struggle against the self - rather than its destination, and the powers the class confers.

Pages, like heirs, are classes of inheritance. A page is promoted by trials and tribulations and comes to inherit a greater power than they begin with; in the same way, the class will one day come to embody its aspect, although the road will always be turbulent and long. Moreover, it is a journey without end; pages, being as sensitive as they are, are the most prone to backwards progress, even after reaching their peak.

They prone to staying weak throughout the entire game, never self-actualizing past being the party joke. They attract the obsession and ridicule of stronger-willed players, and their mistreatment can become extremely divisive. A page can easily become a party's albatross, the epicenter of massive interpersonal conflicts, which can tank an entire session.

Therefore, a page's journey is one of the most difficult of all - that of teaching others how to care about other people. Pages rely on great patience, kindness, and understanding. Their sensitive souls must be carefully nurtured and propagated with love and attention. In the same way that a page can tear a team apart, they can bring a team together, all in the name of compassion and empathy. A fully-realized page is the symbol of a party that has linked hands with one another.

Self-actualized pages, as a result of the difficulty inherent to the class, are incredibly powerful and versatile when fully realized. Inheriting the mantle of their aspect, they become pure embodiments of their aspect, capable of achieving impossible feats of raw, unfiltered power, and inspiring all those who gaze upon them.

HEIRS (+) begin the game very strong, but have a difficult time becoming stronger. This is because their usage of their aspect is very instinctual to them, even at times being entirely beyond their control, hence, "beloved by" in the class description. However, because of how naturally their aspect comes to them, it makes taking further command of their powers difficult.

An heir "awakens to" their aspect because their natural, intuitive control often renders them too comfortable to grasp the greater implications of their class. As an inheritance class, heirs can come to embody their aspect, transforming entirely into it. Their challenge lies in breaking out of their comfortable shell and learning how to utilize their powers in more active, intentional ways.

This is reflected in their personal quests. They are often set to inherit great privilege or wealth prior to entering the game, and are thus naive to the realities of the suffering and pain of others. Without a supportive party willing to challenge their views, heirs can perpetuate that pain by submitting to their place in the world, becoming a divisive force within the party, or, in the worst case, losing themselves to their inheritance, and submitting so wholly to their aspect that they become lost to the rest of the team.

Thus, an heir's journey is to question the stratification of the society they belong to, so that they can recognize and address its flaws. They must learn to interrogate their inheritance, separate it from themselves, and reconcile with it. Theirs is an arc of examination and understanding, descending from their position of privilege and peace to learn about the suffering of others, and deciding that they wish to do something about it.

With full command over their aspect, and a clear vision for how it ought to be distributed, the party gains a new and powerful ally - the aspect itself, which will come to embrace the entire party as family. A fully-realized heir connects the privileged and underprivileged, spreading their inheritance to all.

MAGE - / SEER +

GUIDANCE

one who invokes [aspect] or is drawn to [aspect] / one who comprehends [aspect] or is guided by [aspect]

MAGES (-) are a class of prophets, although saying they "see the future" is misleading. Rather, mages "invoke" the future, collapsing causality to align to their desires. Most mages remain unaware that they are doing so until well into their journey. While all players weigh on the scale of causality, affecting both past and future events, and which sequence of events is the "alpha" sequence, mages have the most direct effect.

Because of this ability to invoke future events, mages possess powerful buffing/debuffing abilities. Furthermore, as one of the two knowledge classes, a mage usually has a very deep understanding of their aspect, and an intuitive knowledge of how the flow of time and causality function. They are "drawn to" their aspects in this way, instinctively searching out points where their influence can affect the flow of events.

However, with great power comes great cost; the mage class is usually assigned to those who are stricken by tragedies and prone to negativity and self-loathing. Mages often begin the game as a detriment to the party, "prophesying" future events that leave the party - including themselves - at a disadvantage. In the worst case scenario, a mage can invoke certain doom for their party or themselves.

Therefore, it is vital that a mage address their tragedies and be given a chance to heal and grow. The ones most struck by tragedy, theirs is a journey of reclaiming lost joy and rediscovering lost hope. However, the transformation is powerful once completed - as the one who suffers tragedy and loss most intimately, a mage can also come to be one of the most empathetic and compassionate members of the team.

If a mage is uplifted, and capable of believing in a kinder and gentler world, then their ability to invoke the future - and the aspects of their aspect that they are drawn to - become kinder, as well. Pain and suffering still have their place, but the ending will be a happy one. With a fully empowered mage, the future will always be better than what came before.

SEERS (+) see multiple branching paths. A mage determines where a road will be built, but a seer tells you where a road CAN be built. They are also often gifted with knowledge of the game and its mechanics, and are especially uniquely gifted with understanding of their own abilities. In this way, they "comprehend" their aspect.

Seers themselves are not particularly gifted in combat through their classpect alone; however, in exchange, they often play a vital role in steering the party. They are the game's built-in guides, with an intuitive knowledge of the game's victory conditions, as well as an instinctive desire to lead others along their paths. Seers are, therefore, one of the most important classes in the game, when one is present.

However, the ability to see is a burden as well as a gift. Seers find themselves paralyzed by choice, and often doubt their own abilities to choose "correctly." They are prone to becoming mired in what-ifs, and struggle with political or ethical debates with no clear answers. In the worst-case scenario, a seer may feel so cursed by their sight that they self-destruct, and deliberately choose poor or incomprehensible answers, in an attempt to free themselves of their sight.

Thus, a seer's quest is, ironically, to see the world beyond the purview of their aspect. They must come to have a more comprehensive understanding of the world they live in, and what purpose they are trying to achieve, so that they can feel confident in the choices they make. A seer is often blind - their journey, therefore, is that of regaining their vision, by connecting with the world outside their inner sight.

A seer with a clear vision for the future will always know exactly which path to choose. A party with such a seer in it will never be stuck and never be lost. If there exists a path to self-actualization, the seer will know it. And if there exists a path to a breathless and perfect victory, a fully-realized seer will light the way.

THIEF - / ROGUE +

UTILITY

one who steals [aspect] from others or steals with [aspect] / one who steals [aspect] for others or steals from [aspect]

THIEVES (-) are a very difficult class to play. They start out with almost no passive abilities regarding their aspect, and their ability to actively use their aspect is contingent on their ability to first "steal" it from someone else. Thus, they are always playing a game of resource management, and there is always a chance for them to be left helpless after a heist gone wrong.

However, their gimmicky nature allows them to overtake other classes even in that class's specialty, if they can set up the exact right circumstances and manage their resources well. This makes them incredibly versatile, especially when a thief is working together with a party, and thus able to count their party among their potential resources. It takes great cunning to play the thief class well.

However, this also makes the thief a potentially dangerous element to the rest of the party. Thieves are often egotistical and self-serving, willing to see enemies and allies alike as resources and tools. Unaddressed, their reckless, selfish natures will earn their teammates' distrust and enmity. In the worst case scenario, a thief running rampant can severely harm the party, or earn so much ire that the party turns against them.

Thus, their journey is that of realizing that their selfishness and ego are flaws - the classic parable of "money doesn't bring happiness." Beneath their uncaring surface lurks genuine emotional distress; a thief must come to realize that their greed and selfishness is an active detriment not only to the people around them, but their own selves. Only then can they heal from their injured souls.

A thief that has undertaken this journey is one who has realized that they are stronger when they are working with others. Their versatility, creativity, and cunning are incredible assets once harnessed toward the will of the party. No situation will ever be inescapable, no safe uncrackable, and no problem unsolvable - not if the thief has anything to say about it.

ROGUES (+) are similarly difficult to play. Unlike the thieves, rogues do see passive benefits from their aspects. However, their active abilities are much less straightforward, and rogues often struggle with understanding them. A rogue's role is to redistribute wealth - thus, "stealing for the sake of others."

A rogue, being able to steal directly from their aspect, truly shines when given enough time to prepare. If a thief must fly by the seat of their pants, then a rogue is a heist planner - they have an infinite box of tools to pull from, if only they know what tools they'll need for the job. This makes them incomparably versatile, even if not necessarily in the heat of combat.

Rogues take on the mantle of challenging the status quo. They usually begin the game already in opposition to their society, seeking out better alternatives and considering unorthodox options. However, not every party is ready for a rogue's radical ideology, and not every rogue has considered the full consequences of their belief in change; in the worst case scenario, the rogue can become outcasted and disregarded, or cause an upheaval that proves disastrous, rioting for the sake of rioting.

It often requires the help of others for a rogue to understand how to use their powers. In the same way, it requires the party's honest communication and exchange of ideas to help a rogue grasp exactly what form their rebellion ought to take. A rogue knows instinctively that something must change; their journey is learning how they ought to go about it.

Once they do, a rogue - given enough time to prepare and plan - is the ultimate utility player, having the right tool for every possible situation. Their abilities are only magnified in a party setting, as their teammates become variables that unlock new possibilities. A party with a fully-prepped rogue always has a perfect plan, a way to solve any problem that they might face.

WITCH - / SYLPH +

AREA CONTROL

one who manipulates [aspect] or achieves dominion through [aspect] / one who nurtures [aspect] or creates a land of [aspect]

WITCHES (-) carry with them the winds of change. A witch manipulates, changing properties of their aspect and their aspect's effect on others, creating a "territory" over which they rule. They see few passive benefits of their aspects, in exchange for their active abilities being so all-encompassing and overwhelming.

Once their territory has been established, witches make the rules. Their changes can be permanent, temporary, massive, and miniscule. However, a witch "achieves dominion" with their aspect - this means that they must first struggle to create this domain, and it's difficult for their abilities to manifest until they do, often leaving younger witches weak and vulnerable.

Witches have strong feelings for how things should and should not be, but not necessarily grounded ideas for how to implement them, often due to some "outsider" status in society. Unfocused witches become dangerous for the party, as they are easily manipulated; in the worst-case scenario, they can fall in with malicious forces, who can sway a witch's turbulent heart and utilize them as a force for negative change, rather than good.

Thus, a witch's journey is that of interrogating right and wrong. A witch must struggle with morality and ethics, and come to clarify their own beliefs; only then can they know what sort of domain they wish to establish, and what sort of rules they wish to enforce. Once they know their own hearts, they can shake off the insidious whispers of malicious external influence.

As if a reward for their struggles for autonomy and independence, the witch is the one whose will is most imposed on the world that comes after them. Just as an evil witch putrefies the world around them, a fully-realized witch who has decided to use their influence for good can create a near-utopia.

SYLPHS (+) call to mind the images of fey folk who sprout plants where they walk. That is how a sylph "creates a land" of their aspect - merely by existing, the world around them becomes suffused by it. A sylph's mere presence nurtures, grows, and heals their aspect; unlike witches, who manipulate what is already there, sylphs can create something from nothing.

The establishment of their domain comes naturally to them. Those caught within it are on the receiving end of their aspect, whether they want to be or not. In exchange for such powerful passive abilities, a sylph's active abilities are weaker, and usually unsuited for solo combat, generally being of healing, buffing, or debuffing nature.

A sylph is prone to selfishness - to luxuriating within their own land, their own aspect, their own mind. They often have difficulty connecting with others and understanding why their own personal world may not be to the liking of the world outside of themselves. Often, they are aloof. An unrealized sylph can cause great harm to the world around them, their domain choking out and smothering their party; in the worst case, they can mire their party within it, leaving their party unable to proceed.

Thus, it often requires the outside world to breach their safe haven in order for a sylph to grow. They must be made uncomfortable, and then made to accept that uncomfortable things are also important - maybe even more important than comfort, at times. Growth often requires pruning; a sylph's journey is to come to understand that good intentions may lead to harm, and, vice versa, that harm can often lead to true growth.

Sylphs can provide the greatest compassion and emotional comfort within a party, encouraging - if not enabling - their teammates' growth in their personal journeys. Once a sylph understands when it is appropriate to encourage, and when it is appropriate to pull back, there is no refuge safer for the party than the sylph's domain.

PRINCE - / BARD +

OBSTACLE REMOVAL

one who destroys [aspect] or destroys with [aspect] / one who allows the destruction of [aspect] or allows destruction through [aspect]

PRINCES (-) possess the ability to annihilate, a destructive class not limited to physical or tangible objects. Princes also enjoy auxiliary benefits as befits their royal titles - many princes start the game with great talents, great status and wealth, or both. They are also endowed with royal presence; their very existence provokes strong emotions from those around them, for good or for ill.

One of the more straightforward classes in the game, a prince's ability to destroy most commonly manifests as DPS. However, their abilities encompass a greater scope than mere damage - the prince's ability to annihilate figurative or metaphysical concepts makes them capable of directly removing any obstacles that stand in their way. As if hungry to consume their aspect, they are naturally drawn towards where it congregates.

However, with great power comes great responsibility: princes are often the most psychologically maligned within the party, and their destructive talents can very easily become self-destructive instead. Usually the result of societal pressure, trauma, and suffering, a prince is prone to embodying the lack of their aspect, rather than its presence. In the worst-case scenario, a prince spreads this misfortune to the rest of their party, destroying the presence of their aspect from their session altogether, often taking themselves along with it.

A prince must be shown compassion. Though they are often viscerally unpleasant to engage with, turning a blind eye to foolishness, loneliness, and suffering - which a prince embodies - is one of the worst things that a party can do. Though the effort at times seems undeserved, to heal a prince requires a staunch belief that there is good to be gained if we are kind to each other. This kindness will be returned; once you are counted among a prince's "people," they will do anything to keep harm from befalling you.

A prince, once shown this grace, is incomparably powerful. To destroy their aspect or with their aspect is the ability to destroy nearly anything, including concepts such as despair, death, and doom. As if proclaiming a royal decree, a fully-realized prince can banish misfortune and ill tidings altogether, leaving nothing standing in the party's way.

BARDS (+) are a wildcard of a class, often responsible for a party's improbable victory, abject defeat, or both. Their abilities are not very well-understood, even by the bard themselves, and they often utilize both passive and active abilities intuitively, unaware that they are doing so. The morale of the party is deeply tied to the bard's own, and it's unclear which side is cause and which is effect.

The ability to allow the destruction of their aspect, or invite it through their aspect, is actually something of a debuff rather than DPS - the bard's ability is to break unbreakable shields, tear down unclimbable walls, and nullify unstoppable forces. Rather than dealing damage themselves, they allow for damage to be dealt that would otherwise have no effect - in other words, by nature, they make the impossible possible. This is the true source of their ability to evoke "miraculous" situations.

Bards are inextricably tied to society - after all, their tales only hold as much value as their relevance to the audience. This means those with the bard class are invariably molded by the worst aspects of the society they come from. They serve as living embodiments of the most unpleasant aspects of society, and living reminders that leaving these elements to fester only means they will multiply in severity. If these beliefs are allowed to go unexamined, bards will always steer a party towards ruin.

Therefore, a party must engage with the bard earnestly, compassionately, and openly, and help them see the errors of the past. A bard must be led, with gentle guidance and genuine openness, to discard their harmful beliefs, and sing a new, more beautiful tune.

A bard that has been brought back into the fold is a worker of miracles. When every other possible option has been exhausted - the knight and maid in disarray, the page and heir unable to keep the party together, the mage and seer blinded, the thief and rogue out of action, the witch and sylph with their territory lost, the prince no longer able to function - this is where a bard will step in, transmuting abject defeat into a perfect and breathless victory.

[do-you-ship-this-comic-ship]

propaganda:

The chemistry. the banter. Being a hacker and bisexual are too coolest things in 1995. The way years later Tim created an entire vr suit/world for Lonnie when he was fully paralyzed so they could team up to defeat DC's darkweb the Ünternet.

(second propaganda is very long so it goes beneath a read more)

Lonnie is the first vigilante peer Tim interacted with and a major part of Tim's first solo detective case before becoming Robin - their histories are connected inside and outside of the comics, as Lonnie was the third Robin that never was and Tim is the third Robin that was. Tim maintains the myth of the Bat and Lonnie works to render the need for it obsolete (despite admiring Batman to a degree) which makes for interesting contrast. Tim's been at least somewhat interested in talking to and understanding Lonnie since their first interaction despite their couple of clashes, offering to discuss Anarchist politics with him, and Lonnie is someone often misunderstood by the wider vigilante community. Their banter is fun when they're up against each other, and Tim arrives at the conclusion that they'd make a good team the second time they meet. Tim makes a few comments here and there about how Lonnie's motivations are right and how his heart's in the right place, proving a sympathy with his cause even if it chafes against Batman's. Later on, Tim saves Lonnie's life when he's about to die after getting trapped attached to a blimp set to explode. Tim saves Lonnie's life again when Lonnie's kidnapped by Ulysses Armstrong at the end of his Robin solo, beforehand starting to correspond with Lonnie to try to track him down and rescue him and then actually rescuing him with Ulysses makes Tim choose between apprehending him and saving Lonnie. Tim in Red Robin shows signs of liking Lonnie, teaming up with him, being very concerned about his well being, even calling him his "best friend" a few times, even if sarcastically. Lonnie uses the fact that Tim understands him and how he operates to convince Tim to let him deal with the Unternet. Tim defends Lonnie's character. There's a lot of potential for the two of them any way you slice it (because there is some rivalry, annoyance, mistrust present), but I think they're people who are both similar enough to each other and different enough from each other in ways that would challenge each other to reflect on aspects of themselves, and there's nothing Tim loves more than someone who challenges him. Lonnie's painfully lonely and often needs others to drag him back down from the clouds when his well-intentioned schemes get out of hand as well as thoughts that he's the only one who can actually save the world, and Tim tends to connect or connect well with others, working well with a team. Lonnie is someone who has big, alternative ideas about society and how to deal with societal issues and has the drive to get things done, which I think would be good for Tim who is so averse to becoming like Batman, and they make nice conversation partners. There's more I could say but this is already getting so long. TL;DR timlonnie sweep forever.

[phobos-exe]

Reading Wolverine comics after watching the movies has me absolutely falling in love with the "man or animal" motif that follows Logan literally everywhere.

// Marvel Comics Presents (1991): Issue #75

My favourite read so far is the short 4 issue series, Wolverine (1982), which the 2013 Wolverine movie is based on. Bascially it being about Logan trying not to lose Mariko to an arranged marriage and the cultural powers at play to which he isn't privy to. Furthermore, it absolutely dense with character-centered narrative with Logan's inner conflict surrounding the balancing act he must preform between embracing his animalistic side and his desire to be more than the killer he's always been, whilst he struggles with fitting into japanese society and the japanese underground. I could not reccomend it enough. Issue #3 is such a standout for me, all the excerpts provided are from it also.

One of the scenes i think highlight what im getting at with the motif is how Logan actively interprets an event that took place previously in the story. Earlier, he had fought Shingen (Mariko's father) to defend his own honor and for him to overrule Mariko's marriage so they may be together again, ultimately he not only loses but he humiliates and dishonors himself in the process. In this scene, he has a dream about the battle in a sequence that showcases what that humiliation actually meant for him in relation to his internal fight to let go of the animal he thinks himself of.

Despite how undisputable his physical strength is, the defeat he endures against Shingen crushes him and defines his motivations for the entire series. The words Mariko says in his dream, bascially defining him as a fraud and unworthy of her love, and the panel that follows this one saying he is also unworthy of life, is pretty indicative of his fear that his primal instincts- what he defines himself as -negates his noble aspirations to be a better man, overshadowing his morality.

It's also interestingly delved into with how his relationship with Mariko and his following romance with Yukio is contrasted in how they have an effect on Wolverine's internal conflict: Mariko's influence makes him want to strive for self-improvement, to appease her, while Yukio is able to accept who he is

Mariko's influence makes him want to strive for self-improvement, to appease her, while Yukio is able to accept who he is and his nature. The growth and control vs embracing your supposed truth serves as a new perspective to view Logan from. Basically, it's a reflection of how Logan himself is struggling to not only balance both aspects of himself, but also his struggle to accept them in the first place.

Going back to the films, I think they do a good job of adapting this method of symbolizing his self-reflection. For instance, in the origins movie, one of the conflicts I love from it is how this exact concept is adapted to Kayla and Victor. Kayla, being the stand-in for Mariko, motivates Logan to move past his animalistic side, literally telling him "you're not an animal, logan", whilst Victor is the force that wants him to ditch assimilation and embrace his mutations completely, though in this case it's much more violent and psychotic than Yukio's approach in the comic. The film version is a whole new exploration of his characterin its own right since it's more like these two opposing ideas are telling him what he should be, and the consequent struggle between what he should choose.

Though, and this is just my interpretation, what I appreciate most of this theme is that it managed to be so confusing for Logan that it circles back to being ironic. Because yes, he failed Mariko and he failed Yukio, he failed to assimilate to societal standards and he failed to be true to himself- whatever that really is -but I think one of his biggest failings is concluding for so long that he is an animal and therefore not a man, when in reality he has shown nothing but human desires, ambitions to change, to choose. He is an animal, it's just that that animal is a man.

[elumish]

If you are interested in examining, broadening, or diversifying the media that you read, write, and engage with, I think one of the most important things to recognize is that you can have legitimate feelings based in reality that are also bigoted or discriminatory.

I was talking to my parents this weekend about Republican voters, and one of the things that I was saying is that there are a lot of people whose political views reflect a social and economic insecurity based in a loss of jobs, lower purchasing power and a diminished ability to do things like buy a house or provide for a family compared to their parents' or grandparents' generation, a relative loss of political power compared to fifty or a hundred years ago, and a preference for people saying that they can bring us back to the world of a few generations ago where someone like that would have relatively more power in the world.

That relative loss of social, economic, and political power is real for some people (as a percentage of representation in state legislatures, Congress, and the White House, white people and especially white men do have objectively less say in government than 50 years ago). But it also can't be disentangled from racism and misogyny, where that loss of power is seen as an unbalancing of a previously equal (or at least preferable) scale rather than something inching closer to proportionate political representation and economic opportunities.

You see this with TERFs, too, in a different direction--it is a reality that women are more likely to be sexually assaulted by a man rather than another woman, and changes must be made to society to reduce rates of sexual assault. But it's also inextricably tied to bigotry and discrimination, both with the (incorrect) belief that trans women are actually men and with the belief that sex segregation is what will keep women safe (among other things).

What does this have to do with you?

A lot of the reasons I see people giving for not engaging with female characters or characters of color, or characters with other marginalized identities, are similarly based in some level of reality while still ultimately having racist or sexist or otherwise biased underpinnings to them.

It's true that there are social and political power disparities between men and women and that many M/F stories involve those, whether intentionally or not--but a refusal to engage with anything but M/M stories because you want to avoid those disparities indicates both an inability to picture a story where those disparities are not present/relevant and the viewpoint that M/M stories are inherently neutral (and so lacking those power issues) while F/F are inherently not neutral.

It's true that many female characters and characters of color are underdeveloped or not characterized well in canon, but the overwhelming fan engagement with underdeveloped white male characters indicates that white male characters are seen as neutral or blank canvases while female characters and/or characters of color are seen as just bad characters who it's not worth engaging with.

It's true that people often connect better with characters with similar traits to them, but a refusal to write or engage with most/all characters of color because of an inability to connect emotionally with them indicates a feeling that POC are inherently emotionally different from white people in a way that makes them impossible to relate to emotionally for white people.

My point here is not to shame anyone who holds these beliefs or says these things. We are all (including me) in the process of identifying and actively untangling and discarding our own internal biases (or at least we should be), and the first step to that is looking at your own actions and really trying to figure them out. This is hard and takes years or decades, because we are in a society where beliefs like these are pervasive.

So if you are interested in doing that, I recommend looking at reasons that you've given (if only just to yourself) for what characters and what types of stories you read/write/engage with and really sitting with them.

Identify what it is that's really the problem, and then try to find stories that do something different. Do you not like female-led romances because there might be a risk of pregnancy? Try some stories where there's no pregnancy. Are you uncomfortable reading one that describes certain body parts? Try a closed door story. Try a new genre. Try a different author. Try something you're not sure you'll like. Try something new.

You can do this with writing, too. Try writing a M/F story, or a F/F story, or a story with no romance at all. Try writing a story focused on a non-white character. Try fleshing out a female character who you think is underdeveloped in canon, if you write fanfiction. You might find that you enjoy it far more than you thought you would, once you let yourself write it the way you want.

[yuri-for-businesswomen]

„why are radical feminists always talking about male violence? women can be violent too“

listen. violence will always exist because it is not (just) a gendered issue. even in a non-patriarchal society, there will be violence, because its sadly human nature to some degree. we as a society should strive to reduce violence. for that, we need to figure out why people become violent and how to prevent it, and how to protect potential victims, and how to intervene and stop violence that is already taking place.

in a patriarchal society, male violence is incentivised, fostered, legitimised, and even protected. female violence is not.

violence is essential for most conceptions of masculinity; the ability and will to enact violence to restore your or your familys honour, for example. that is not expected of women. the military is a male institution, meant to defend and protect; reflecting mens supposed role in the patriarchy to defend and protect (with violence if needed). women are the creators of life, meant to be nurturing, passive. being aggressive is unfeminine - its masculine. men who are not aggressive/violent enough are actually chastised by other men and sometimes even women (for example being called pussy, gay, which is demeaning in a patriarchal context). a man hitting his woman is considered right and normal still in a lot of milieus and cultures, and has been for the longest time. a man enacting violence is living up to his manliness, other men respect him for it most of the time, especially if its against women or even other men. gang violence is another good example of this: men not bound to law will resort to violence.

the patriarchy needs male violence: the constant threat of male violence keeps women in our meant role as submissive and small, and other men in a constant need to prove themselves, keeping the cycle of violence going. so women need men to protect us, from other men. and we accept and excuse mistreatment and disrespect by men.

and then there is sexual violence which men are already more predisposed to enact because they have a penis, and a penis can reach orgasm by penetration whether that be forceful or not. and then the patriarchy enforces this through phallocentrism, through a culture of treating the penis as a weapon, as superior, as a tool that can dirty and undignify others. as a means of enacting violence. this is not the case for vaginas, they are reduced to just „holes“. penetration and how its treated is a key element of the patriarchy. homophobia stems from this too: penetrating someone is treated as an act of domination, and its supposed to be men dominating women this way, which means men being penetrated are „lesser“ men or even considered feminine.

this is why we need separatist options. single sex spaces, especially when girls and women are in an intimate or vulnerable position there. to protect. this is why we talk about male violence, to uncover the roots, how it is ignored, downplayed, and even encouraged and justified, which leads to violence. female violence is sometimes not taken seriously because it is not meant to exist, it is against feminine gender roles and how women are supposed to act in the patriarchy. which means if gender was abolished - which radical feminists are striving for - this issue would be solved with it.

[tritoch]

the witch of the cave: matoya, y'shtola, and the night's blessed

long rambly and extremely unedited post about y'shtola and matoya, two characters i really feel like we don't talk about or take seriously enough. i think the popular (and in many ways intended) perception of FFXIV as a game about dramatic high-tension moments and attendant emotional catharsis makes it easy to overlook the fact that there's plenty of subtext to mine from, especially for characters like these two who can come off as somewhat reserved and also have very little screen time together. i find the night's blessed very helpful for thinking about them both. spoilers through endwalker below. tl;dr version of the post can be found by reading the bolded text below.

on my first playthrough the whole rak'tika thing felt very underdeveloped, and i still think a lot of the story beats are weak. here's y'shtola she's your last member to rejoin she has a new village now(?) and OH she's dead again WAIT she's back and then we're off into "zodiark and hydaelyn are primals" land and there's no time to think anymore about the night's blessed. but on reflection i think this works out okay imo because the night's blessed are only just barely there for plot reasons. they serve instead, like the outfit redesign, to establish the game's new baseline concept for who y'shtola is going to be as a character going forward. the night's blessed let the writing shorthand a lot of y'shtola's off-screen development and set her up as a powerful and extremely self-actualized person, using matoya as her foil.

in brief: matoya is implied to have lived her life prior to the sharlayan exodus constantly at odds with the (imo obviously sexist and hide-bound) forum. as a result, she was pretty isolated from and in conflict with much of sharlayan society, to the point that while y'shtola leaves with everyone else in the exodus to presumably matriculate at the studium and earn her archon's marks, matoya stays behind, with no company but her familiars.

and this is agonizingly sad, i think. 15 years alone in a cave. dravania's isolation means she has no one to talk to but frogs she has magic'ed and trained into familiars. little to occupy her but her work and her memories, and her memories of y'shtola are so painful to her she locks them away. even when y'shtola returns to eorzea after ten years away she can't find the time to see her until the scion's issues demand it (to be fair to y'shtola, getting to matoya overland means traveling through ishgard and dravania, and prior to the calamity they're totally occupied with that and afterwards there's the whole dragon thing).

(hey also this whole thing is even SADDER when read in light of the encyclopedia eorzea text that "the day [Matoya] begins to remember her students fondly will be the day that her work ends." she won't let herself take these memories back until she retires!)

they barely talk at their reunion, and while there's some brief honest fondness from matoya early on they soon turn to their characteristic deflecting and sardonic back-and-forth for what little time they get to talk, before matoya delivers a poorly-translated and confusing warning on aethersight and exits the 3.0 story. even by the time of shadowbringers, y'shtola can't bring herself to admit that when alone in a foreign land, she took on her master's name, and neither will straightforwardly admit to missing the other. in a game full of effusive and warm relationships between master and pupil or guardian and ward, matoya and y'shtola's relationship is warm, but specifically characterized by distance and deflection, consistent with how matoya has rejected (and/or isolated herself from) others her whole life.

that's not to say there's not love there, obviously, and not all expressions of love look or the same. but this is not how y'shtola behaves elsewhere. when she visits you at the annex in endwalker, she's quite sincere and direct there, coming to you with her concerns and stating plainly that doesn't want to see you harmed, making it clear she was actively worried about how you were doing. she even pre-emptively apologizes when she fears she's inappropriately joked about your misfortunes. she's also obviously much more direct and deflects less with the night's blessed themselves, or runar, or urianger after rak'tika, or zero. she can be funny or glib or arch, but she makes no effort to conceal how much these relationships mean to her, or how she feels at any given point.

y'shtola can be sharp, she can be sarcastic, she can go for the throat or be dismissive and imperious, but she's generally not those things with people she cares about in private conversation. for a woman who makes it quite clear that she cares a lot about the image she projects to others, she is never ashamed of her own feelings or afraid to voice them, but neither is she harsh or cruel. the one time she does the matoya-style thing of being so honest and brusque it tips over to backbreakingly blunt, it's to thancred in rak'tika, over her concerns that as the sole guardian of an isolated young ward, he isn't doing enough to affirm her as her own person or to be emotionally honest and supportive of her. i have some thoughts as to why that might be; you may be able to guess what they are!

so shadowbringers sets up a parallel for the player: remember matoya in the cave, having spurned sharlayan politics, left to pursue her research and guard the antitower, a solitary hermit for fifteen years? well here's y'shtola as matoya, in a cave, having spurned the lies and half-truths of two specific sharlayan men. she initially comes off alternately distant and brusque, unable to recognize you and perhaps changed herself. the fact that y'shtola's not just the local cave witch to the night's blessed ends up being a sort of narrative reveal, and her characterization as a beloved and respected leader who feels a deep attachment to the community in turn shows how much she's grown and surpassed her mentor. (and note in turn urianger, over there in fairyland pretty much actually doing the matoya thing except, in accordance with his whole deal, in a way that is both slightly healthier and much weirder).

and there's narrative payoff for this: y'shtola, having been fairly closed-off and mission-focused up until now, flings herself into a fucking pit and casts "hope this doesn't kill me lmao" the very second she learns the night's blessed have been harmed and she has a chance to save them (and that's not a romance thing; she has no idea runar's been harmed. she only knows the villagers of slitherbough have been poisoned, and an antidote exists). and from her (annoyingly obviously fake) death you learn that she isn't just valued and respected by the community, but has formed close enough relationships for people to feel real and deep attachment to her.

y'shtola notes at several points that she and master matoya dedicated their lives to the pursuit of truth above all else. but in the end y'shtola was also a student of louisoix, a man who far valued compassion for the plight of others above all else (and, not for nothing, he's not exactly #1 parent/guardian/mentor of the astral era either). in rak'tika, all the finest qualities of y'shtola reach a kind of culmination. the relentless pursuit of what is true and what is right, but as part of a healthy, caring community, without the isolating and painful pride of her mentor. and she sacrifices nothing of herself to attain this. she is exactly who she was before rak'tika, if anything a little more brusque. she's even still a little withholding about herself, noting that she cultivated an "image of restraint" among the night's blessed. but none of this interferes with her ability to be a powerful and respected and admired leader of a close-knit community.

and again none of this is really a critique of matoya, who i have enormous affection for as effectively the game's only representation (until endwalker) of an older woman in STEM. but she is a product of what her circumstances allowed: where matoya, as a sincere believer in truth, had only rivals in a deeply conservative and isolationist society, y'shtola, carrying forward the same principles, has friends and comrades in an increasingly open and free world. she turns her mentor's unflinching honesty from an alienating political weakness into a pillar of both slitherbough and the scions. matoya's self-imposed exile from sharlayan is, by her own acknowledgement, petty and in some ways goes against her own values. and listen you've gotten far enough in this rambling, we can all be real for a second: matoya is definitely kind of an asshole and went into self-imposed exile and sealed up her research because of a disagreement with the Forum over weapons development. y'shtola's leveraging the integrity and searing honesty she learned from matoya to far more altruistic ends!

i think a lot of players have a vision of y'shtola somewhere on a continuum from badass avatar of destruction to powerful and solitary archmage. and i agree that's cool as hell but i also think ffxiv is a game that believes, at its core, that community is one of the most important things in the world, both in terms of what it can do for a flourishing society and as a critical element for people to find value and fulfillment in their own lives. y'shtola developing her own close attachment to a community in shadowbringers is meant to serve as shorthand for how she has come into her own as a person and found a fulfilling and meaningful life in line with her ideals, living up to matoya's ideal of all knowledge existing to advance mankind. it is no coincidence that this happens at the same time as she goes from "a pretty good mage" to being consistently portrayed as one of the more powerful mages in the setting and the scions' magical powerhouse. the genre trappings and the character arc work in harmony.

i think what this means becomes a little clearer set against characters like thancred (who spends 5.0 getting to "can have a mostly emotionally honest conversation with his surrogate daughter and make her feel loved and valued") and estinien (who, after twenty years living in and dying for one walled city, had one of the worst months anyone has ever had and ever since can't be in the same place for more than two seconds). their permanent states as vagabonds reflect their lack of close ties (what with all the tragic death) and still-healing emotional wounds. by contrast, y'shtola has achieved the wisdom and grace to live life as part of a connected whole, and has found a way to bring her values to bear in all parts of her life and in her leadership of this community, in so doing improving the lives of herself and everyone around her. y'shtola doesn't settle down with the night's blessed as a natural progression of her life or as a precondition to her maturation, but instead is capable of forming this kind of attachment to the night's blessed precisely because she has developed the integrity and emotional honesty to live in accordance with her values. and she can cast LB3 meteor in cutscenes now.

and also, conveniently, this is done in a way that lets them shorthand/off-screen a lot of this arc and do the rest of it with very minimal screentime for y'shtola and it has an associated romance subplot and also conveniently she's immediately severed from this important community so she can stay footlose and fancy-free in the protagonist group and Isn't It Funny How Scion Women Settle Down Or Die While We Keep Accumulating Permanent Bachelors, I Just Think It's Funny. obviously none of this is above critique. but i think the narrative takes pretty seriously the idea that y'shtola is actually the team's most emotionally developed and mature member in a lot of ways and slitherbough is where a lot of that starts, and you can't understand all that without matoya.

[brainrot-jikan]

im not the biggest alhaitham/kaveh shipper (because im a rare pair ho) but it seems to me that in alhaitham/kaveh getting-together fics tend to be... unequal.

the beautiful thing about alhaitham and kaveh is that they're both equally right and equally wrong and equally dicks about it. but the writers for alhaitham/kaveh much more frequently seem to give alhaitham the burden change (the burden of the character flaw) instead of kaveh.

in any good character arc, the main character has a fatal flaw or misconception, and by the end of that arc they have addressed that flaw in some definitive way. scrooge was a scrooge and learned that being that way was detrimental; merlin from finding nemo was overprotective to a fault and had to learn that he couldn't (and shouldn't) control everything and to let go; the wolf from little red riding hood learns that you should stop while you're ahead.

stories centering around romance tend to lean heavily on character arcs, which makes sense. and since romance generally requires two individuals to be vulnerable and open and emotional with each other, it makes double sense that alhaitham/kaveh authors zoom straight into alhaitham's lack of emotional vulnerability.

this bothers me.

in society, individuals are expected to experience and present emotions in a specific way. if someone dies, you cry. if someone smiles at you, you smile back. if you're at a party, you're supposed to be having fun. if you don't do these things, you're seen as impolite at best and a inhuman freak at worst. when these behaviors are frequent it's often viewed as emotional immaturity, or a lack of ability to feel at all. the inability or lack of willingness to conform to societies emotional expectations of you is seen as a flaw and a reason for exclusion.

alhaitham is canonically disliked and avoided for being the way he is. he prefers it this way, but that doesn't mean the people perpetuating this avoidance are in the right. they are the societal pressure to conform that alhaitham blows off. alhaitham could be the way he is for a lot of reasons: avoidant attachment style, trauma, following someone else's example (eg. his grandmother), or just his base personality. it doesn't MATTER. he is the way he is. kaveh having to accept that should be part of the story.

putting the burden of the fatal flaw on alhaitham, making the way alhaitham treats kaveh and the people around him the problem, feels invalidating. it implies heavily that alhaitham's way of interfacing with the world, alhaitham's very SELF, is incorrect. my suggestion is to flip a larger portion of that burden onto kaveh. kaveh 👏 character 👏 arcs 👏

some examples/recommendations:

- make kaveh project his insecurities onto other people but especially onto alhaitham; he's overly reliant on other people for his own self worth, and he perceives alhaitham's lack of positive feedback as a direct reflection of how alhaitham feels about him. but learns along the way that alhaitham doesn't hate him, kaveh's actual struggle is with hating himself and being unable to his own self as worthy of love. maybe throw in how you are responsible for your own recovery, other people can help but you can't rely on them to carry you through self actualization.

- or, kaveh tries to make alhaitham behave more like a "normal" person, to be more pleasant and emotive and forthcoming, and then realizes he's in the wrong for trying to make alhaitham into something he's not, possibly for all the wrong reasons (not because he likes alhaitham better like that, but bc society says that's healthier and a better/more conforming way to be)

- or you could go ahead make alhaitham's issues the main problem but they're too complicated to overcome in a short period of time, so kaveh has to accept alhaitham is doing his best in his own way and not push for unrealistic and unhealthy changes. he could alter his own behavior to give alhaitham space and time and a safe place to land.

that got sappy so it's past time for me to dip out. go forth and ship things; but maybe consider letting alhaitham be a rude stone-faced bastard if he wants to be.

[deepdarkdelights]

Perfection | Jin x Reader

Pairing: Vampire Jin x  Reader 

Word Count: 16k

Series: (6/7) Predator Universe

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Yandere, Obsession, Fear, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Dub-Con, Cunnilingus, Breaking and Entering, Symptoms of Panic/Anxiety, Stalking, Depictions of Gore, Blood, Anger Issues, Dismemberment, MC had a fear of death, MC has agoraphobia, but MC is in therapy (good for her), Jin is kind of an asshole but we love it, kind of pet-playish(?), Jin is basically a sugar daddy tbh 

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals. 

Preview: Your eyebrows furrowed as you peered over your shoulder. Sure enough, there were a few dark eyes staring back at you - but there was one pair in particular that really caught your attention. There was a man in a roped-off section of the club, a velvet curtain drawn to the side to reveal him seated on an ornate chair. He looked like a king watching over his people, and you meant that not only because of his position but because of his features as well. It was undeniable that he was the most attractive person in the room, hell, the most attractive person you had ever seen. Smooth pale skin, plush lips in a permanent pout, dark eyes, and the widest set of shoulders with a slender waist. He was a work of art. He had this look on his pretty features as if he had just tasted something bitter, and that look was directed behind you. 

A/N: I have been working on this fic since July and I am so happy that it is finally done and you guys will be able to read it! I really hope the time this took was worth it and that the fic was worth the hype lol. It’s almost one thirty in the morning and I have a quiz so I really should be sleeping. I think this is one of my favorite installments of the series! I hope you enjoy the fic and as always I can’t wait to see you in my inbox and my comments. Ily 💜💜💜

Kim Seokjin had not only a pretty face but a brilliant mind as well. 

At least, that’s what he told everyone. 

If there was a singular sin that he could fully encompass it would be vanity. And the sin that he shared with nearly everyone in his “family” was that of pride: a deadly and violent mix. That blend was what led to his damnation.

He knew that he deserved only the best and nothing less, that was exactly how he had been raised when he was still human. In the late 1800s, he had been granted the privilege of being born into high-class society as the eldest son, the heir to the Kim legacy. Everything he wanted was directly at his fingertips and at his disposal. From the moment he was born he was guaranteed power, and that was something he wished to never lose. 

As the heir to a luxury wine company, it was only expected that alcohol, parties, and lewd behavior were set to follow him, and he exceeded those expectations. But he was good at keeping business and pleasure as two distinctly separate functions. 

And with the life he lived, it was not often that individuals met his expectations. And by individuals, he meant potential wives. Naturally, it was expected of him to marry and continue the family's legacy. But the gold spoon that he was born with in his mouth tainted the pool. No one was good enough for him and that caused much strife within the family. 

He was well past the age of marrying at twenty-eight years old. He was beginning to feel the pressure his father and mother were putting on his shoulders. And, not to mention, he was well aware that he was aging. Of course, he would never admit that his looks were fading. There was not a crease in his skin or a gray hair to be plucked, but he could feel it. He could see the minute imperfections that no one else could. It made his skin crawl in disgust. 

And then Kim Namjoon entered the frame and everything began to come together. 

His mother had insisted on organizing yet another party to find him a wife under the guise that he was there to make several important business deals. But when the vast majority of partygoers were young women with stars in their eyes he knew what was really going on. And of course, he was not going to stick around and socialize with subpar candidates. If he were going to do that it would be restricted to his bedroom, of course. 

Namjoon had come to that party that night, Yoongi in tow despite his protests. Namjoon was a cultured man, he liked to mingle with the members of high society from time to time. It helped him learn what was appropriate for the decade as trends (in manners, clothing, and amusement) came and went rapidly. And those who belonged to the upper class were those who set those trends. It was strategic and it helped his kind blend in as seamlessly as possible. 

And Jin was the epitome of a high-class man. 

And so, Namjoon and Yoongi befriended him. It hadn’t been hard for them, they had been around for so long that they fit right in. And Jin had merely thought he found more of the few people that could meet his high expectations - his small inner circle growing with two new additions. But of course, that friendship had started out with the purpose of using Jin for what he had. 

So in turn, he used them. 

While Jin had a pretty face, he actually was quite smart and observant. He took note of his companions' odd behavior. He never saw them during the daytime, only in the veil of the night. They had the oddest colored eyes - not quite black but a deep shade of burgundy like the embers of a smoldering fire laid within their depths. And they were cold, absolutely frigid to the touch like a corpse. It didn’t take him very long to piece together what they were, and it was only proven true when he caught the both of them feasting on lifeless corpses in his guest room. He timed everything just perfectly to discover their true nature. 

Yoongi had seemed genuinely surprised, bloody lips parted in shock as he stood as still as a statue, the limp body still collapsed in his iron grasp. 

Namjoon, on the other hand, was smiling. He too was not able to conceal his nature any longer but he wasn’t trying either. He took his time and continued to finish his meal despite the obvious living human presence in the room. 

“You two have been holding out on me,” Jin said with a disappointed tone. 

“Holding out?” Namjoon echoed before relaxing his arms and allowing the corpse to slip down to the floor, the thinnest drizzle of blood pooling onto the parquet flooring. 

Yoongi could only stare at the both of them, his eyes darting back and forth between the two other men. 

“Yes, holding out! You are immortal are you not?”

“Yes, we are, and I’m sure you’ve figured out the rest by now haven’t you?” 

“You may have been able to fool all of those other halfwits but it was painfully obvious to me, of course.”

“Of course.” Namjoon nodded while trying to suppress an amused grin. 

“I want in, I wish to join you and your kind.” 

“No,” Yoongi immediately cut in, “You don’t know what you’re asking for, this is a curse it is not something to take lightly and flirt with the notion of.” 

His tone was harsh, his face stern but there was evident pain behind his eyes. Yoongi had been forced into this life if that was what you could even call it. He couldn’t fathom someone willingly agreeing to eternal damnation and he would try his hardest to convince them otherwise. 

“Are you denying me?” Jin asked, his face contorted in utter disbelief. He was never denied anything in his twenty-eight years of life and the feeling of rejection was infuriating. 

“Yoongi, it’s his decision,” Namjoon interjected, his hand wiping the blood from his mouth leaving a streaky crimson trail behind. 

“You’re not actually considering this, are you?” Yoongi hissed.

“What is there to consider? He’s already seen us and he knows what he wants.”

“He has no idea what he wants!” 

“And why are you speaking for me? Just because you’re miserable and dissatisfied does not mean the same will be said for me!” Jin spat. “I grow tired of this human body. Every second of every day I feel myself wasting away and there is not a thing I can do about it.”

“You would throw away your humanity, your life, all in the name of vanity?” Yoongi asked in disbelief. 

“And for greed as well,” Jin laughed, “Believe me, I am many things and one of them is self-aware. I am a selfish bastard and I am perfectly fine with that. I won’t allow my looks to fade and my fortune will grow as centuries pass. This is what I desire and I refuse to concede.”

He was a businessman in every aspect. 

“It sounds like he’s made his choice, Yoongi.” Namjoon finally spoke.

“It sounds like he’s made an ignorant choice and I refuse to have any part in this,” Yoongi said, storming past the two of them and slamming the door shut with enough force that the mahogany wood cracked by the handle. 

“So, are we going to fuck about or will you give me what I want?” Jin asked, his impatience growing. 

“I consider you a good friend, Jin. I won't lie, I am pleased that you are asking this of me.” Namjoon smiled before grabbing Jin’s shoulder, “We’re all lonely children looking for a place where we belong.” 

Lonely children, that was one way to put it. Namjoon was not entirely wrong. In a world where you deserved only the best, many fell short and in the end, you were painfully alone, whether you were willing to admit it or not. 

“Before we go through with this, there are some things you should know.”

“What things?”

“You can’t go in the sun, not just yet, you’ll be far too young and far too sensitive to light. Quiet, dark, scentless places are going to be the best place to stay - your senses are going to be heightened tenfold. You must feed often in the early years, you’re going to be very hungry, bloodthirsty really so you need to stay away from large crowds of people.” 

Jin was silent for a moment, his eyes shifting from left to right and back again as he processed everything he was told. He could manage, and he could figure out how to do all of those things while maintaining his position as an heir. 

“Lastly, do not try and do this alone. In our world, there is strength in numbers as well as safety. You’ll have to stay with me and Yoongi, we will all be bound to one another as creator and creation.”

“So when you two leave…”

“You will follow.” Namjoon nodded, “We try to stay in one place for as long as we can so if it’s your family you’re worried about you’ll have plenty of time to figure something out.” 

But they weren’t coming with him. As terrible as it was, that wasn’t a great enough reason to sway his decision. He still wanted what he desired and he was willing to let his family go. So he stuck out his hand, ready to shake on the agreement. 

“I accept the conditions.” 

~~~~~~~

Most people were afraid of spiders, some of heights, and many feared drowning. But you feared something a bit more abstract and with a bit more finality. You were afraid of aging and by association, you were incredibly afraid of death. 

And that fear often leads you to do a few things. One of them was to start skincare at an absurdly young age. The other was to hermit yourself inside of your house out of fear of some horrific accident befalling you. And the other was to seek out strange and obscure places to visit before you die. It was odd that the last two coincide but they do. 

There were days when you were so frightened that you couldn’t stand the thought of leaving the comfort of your bed. And then you had days where you felt daring, if you were going to die one day would you really want to have lived your only life trapped inside of your own house? There were your good days and your bad days and they came and went like the tides.

Today was a “good” day. And by good day that meant you were on your laptop scrolling through forums trying to find a new place to visit. Living in a small town was hard, you knew everyone and every place because they were so few in number. But sometimes there were locations in between towns, or hidden spots in your own. Briar Hills is an old town, a historical town even. It’s not uncommon for places to be abandoned, concrete skeletons collapsing and being devoured by the flora.

It was finding them, buried in hundreds of posts, that was difficult. The teenagers in the town had taken to reclaiming those places, turning them into party spots in the blink of an eye. But that has changed in the past few months. Ever since the first body turned up. 

That was the thing about small towns, murder was much rarer than the action that cities see. So, when dozens of corpses begin to show up in streams and lakes and people begin to go missing without a trace - panic ensues. As well as a town-wide curfew. 

Briar Hills turned into a ghost town after dark. The streets would be empty, lit by a few lampposts spread down the street that was easily consumed by a thick, hazy fog. Every now and then the fog would be broken by police lights, red and blue shocks of color dispersing the mist as the night patrol came around the block. It looked like something out of a horror movie. 

And, if it weren’t a good day, the sight alone would be enough to keep you corralled in your room. But it was a good day and you had become stir-crazy from staying in your house for the past few weeks.

After endless scrolling there was one post in particular that caught your attention. It looked like an extravagant invitation with a satin black background and deep red embellishments. It had very little interaction and it was written in a completely different language. For something as obscure as an abandoned place in a small town you weren’t surprised that it had gone unnoticed, especially considering few people checked this forum. 

Putting the text into google translate had not been insanely helpful. The translated text was jumbled and made little sense, it was one of those languages that did not thrive when it came to longer translations. But you were interested and fairly stubborn and after extended research and decoding fragmented sentences you were left with this:

“The best bite I’ve ever had,” And following that was a set of coordinates that had been written out instead of just using their numerical counterparts. 

You were interested. 

What could that mean? Maybe it was some hole-in-the-wall restaurant, but why all the decorum? Why the translations? Who even uses coordinates anymore? The best way to get the answers you desired was to discover them for yourself. 

That’s how you ended up sneaking out of your house, dressed head to toe in dark colors, like some teenager that’s about to disappoint their parents. Except, in this case, your parents were the cops, and being grounded would equate to being detained for violating the town-wide curfew. All the more reason to not get caught. 

You started to get cold feet when you realized where the set of coordinates was leading you, your body came to a fast stop when the toes of your boots met the edge of the forest. The forest, at night, with low visibility, and predators prowling was a bad move. That just screamed a sudden and violent death, not to mention the bulk of missing persons' corpses had been found within its depths. This was a stupid idea, a bad move, but it was a good day and you were too stubborn to follow reason. You would make up for it tomorrow by hiding in your bed all day. It was an unhealthy coping mechanism, but a coping mechanism nonetheless. 

You took a deep breath, squared your shoulders, and took a step forward. There was no going back now, you had made up your mind.

The further into the forest you trekked the quieter it became. It didn’t make sense. You were getting further from society so why was it so quiet? The wind was still, not a branch or leaf trembled, and not even a cricket dared to chirp. It was like every living creature had up and left, abandoning their home. The only sound that filled the static silence was the bubbling rush of water from the river. 

You began to walk faster, your nerves urging you to get where you were going and be done with it. On top of that, your eyes were starting to play tricks on you, your brain attempting to make sense of the dark and fill in what was missing resulting in ominous shadows shifting through the trees. You were regretting your decision immensely, so you picked up the pace and began humming to yourself to fill the silence. 

If you were being honest, you really had no idea what you were supposed to be looking for. The post hadn’t listed much of anything and you weren’t sure what would be at the end of the coordinates. But, the red light glowing in the distance was a sure sign of something. It grew more intense as you neared it, the light getting stronger the closer to the ground it was. When you finally pushed through the underbrush you were met with a set of concrete stairs leading down into the ground and at the very bottom was an old metal door with a faintly pulsing red light above it. Looking down at your phone you were able to verify that you had made it to where the coordinates were marked. 

It was a bomb shelter. It was most likely one for the community back in the forties, an evacuation and safe point for those who didn’t have their own. It must have been abandoned and forgotten about after the war, left to rot there for the past eighty years. But if that light was anything to go by, it must have been reclaimed by someone. 

You carefully stepped down the stairs, applying a little weight at a time to make sure that the concrete hadn’t eroded and wouldn’t crumble beneath you. When you reached the bottom you tried the door and to your surprise, it opened with a creak. There was a long tunnel just barely lit by candles lining the walls leaving deep shadows in between them. And now you could feel the walls thumping, steadily vibrating with a muffled bass. That meant there was another chamber somewhere. 

You hesitantly traveled down the tunnel, long stretches of the floor would eventually give way to more stairs leading you deeper and deeper underground. This was a claustrophobe's worst nightmare. The more you walked the harder the walls vibrated until you finally came upon another door where the sounds became the loudest. Above the door hung a purple neon sign that read: “Blood Sugar.” 

Upon testing the door handle, you were surprised to find that it was unlocked, and once it slowly swung open your nose was assaulted with the scent of alcohol, sweat, and a coppery odor. You swiftly entered and closed the door behind you, trying your best not to bring too much attention to yourself. But it appears you would have no trouble doing so. 

The room you had stepped into was massive, the walls were tall and rounded out at the ceiling and were made completely out of metal. But it was far from a barren, abandoned bunker. The room was packed with people, some dancing, some drinking, and others wrapped around one another on the various red velvet chaises spread around the space. The music was loud and the room was lit by antique chandeliers as well as deep purple lighting casting an ominous glow over everyone. 

The bunker had been converted into a club of some sort and despite the decrepit tunnels you had slunk through to get here, it was surprisingly luxurious. You were honestly surprised the entire town hadn’t known about this place. That much was certainly true because, despite the large crowd, you could only recognize about five people you had seen before. The massive gathering was largely that of people that were not from Briar Hills. 

A set of delicate hands slithered around your waist, tugging you sharply towards the stranger behind you. A shout of surprise parted your lips as you turned around, slapping the offending limbs off of you. 

There was a tall woman facing you with a grin on her face, her bright white teeth glinting from behind her deep red lips. Her skin was so pale it was glowing with a purple hue from the lights, her long black curls creating an even sharper contrast against her skin. And you couldn’t explain why you felt the way you did, but the sight of those bright white teeth had your stomach twisting in knots. Despite her delicate appearance, every red flag was being raised in your body. The urge to run was strong. 

“Hello, sweetheart,” She crooned, “You’re new, aren’t you?” 

Something in the back of your mind demanded you lie. 

“No, I’m not. If you’ll excuse me,” You said, your voice steady and cold despite the goosebumps on the back of your neck and the rapid thump of your pulse. 

As you went to walk past her she easily stopped you with a hand on your shoulder, her face suddenly incredibly close as she pressed her nose to your hairline and took a deep breath. “Oh, you can’t lie to me, I remember every sweet little snack that comes in here.” 

What. The. Fuck.

“Look, I’m not interested in…whatever that means,” You huffed, taking a few steps back and breaking free from her steel grasp, “I’m just here for a drink.”

“Oh?” She hummed, “So am I, I’m glad we can cut to the chase.” 

“Okay?” You slowly asked before shuffling around her imposing figure, “See ya.” 

You slipped into the crowd, forcing your way through the bodies in an attempt to shake her off of your trail. Anybody else in your position would have lingered for the ethereal woman, but you couldn’t ignore that feeling in the back of your mind or that tug deep in your gut. She was dangerous, and no pretty smile or sweet words could hide it. It was in times like these that your intense fear of death became present as paranoia, warning you of all potential threats.

When you started therapy you were encouraged to slowly step out of your comfort zone, to do things that would combat your anxieties. So, on good days, you try your best to succeed with these short-term goals hoping in the long run you could live normally like every other person your age. But you often found your anxiety creeping up on you and you knew after tonight you would need the rest of the week to recover and that meant avoidance which meant hiding out in your rented duplex. 

But for now, you had to cope. 

When you broke free from the crowd you stumbled forward, a stray limb jabbing you in the back and sending you reeling onto one of the velvet chaises. To your utter embarrassment, you landed right next to a couple that had left all of their inhibitions at the door like many other patrons of the underground club. The woman was straddling the man's thighs, her arms wrapped around his shoulders as he buried his head in the crook of her neck, her long locks obscuring his face. Although you couldn’t see what he was doing it didn’t take a genius to figure out what it was as the woman’s mouth opened to let out soft moans of pleasure. 

Heat rushed up to your face as you stumbled off of the chaise and backed up from the voyeuristic lovers. Of course, you weren't innocent, but seeing something like that in person was different from shamelessly reading smut at three AM. 

A few feet away from the couple was the bar. It was surprisingly empty for a club. The man you assumed to be the bartender behind the countertop was relaxing against it, his dark eyes scanning your awkward posture. 

You swiftly approached the bar and yelled over the music, “Hi, how much is water?”

He gave you an amused chuckle before grabbing a small leather menu and sliding it over to you, “We don’t serve that here, sweetheart.” 

You stared at him in confusion before flipping open the menu. The only thing listed there were various wines all costing an exorbitant amount of money, and by that, you meant at least three months' rent and that was just for a glass, not even the bottle. 

“These prices are insane, are you kidding me?!” 

“They’re from 1889, newbie.” He smiled, a grin identical to the woman from earlier. 

“Well, this was a bust.” You groaned, the initial buzz of excitement from finding a town secret had long since faded. 

“Can I offer you some advice?” 

“Be my guest.”

“You might want to pay more attention to your surroundings, you’ve had eyes on you since you stepped foot in this place.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you peered over your shoulder. Sure enough, there were a few dark eyes staring back at you - but there was one pair in particular that really caught your attention. There was a man in a roped-off section of the club, a velvet curtain drawn to the side to reveal him seated on an ornate chair. He looked like a king watching over his people, and you meant that not only because of his position but because of his features as well. It was undeniable that he was the most attractive person in the room, hell, the most attractive person you had ever seen. Smooth pale skin, plush lips in a permanent pout, dark eyes, and the widest set of shoulders with a slender waist. He was a work of art. He had this look on his pretty features as if he had just tasted something bitter, and that look was directed behind you. 

“If I were you, I would get out of here. Things get crazy with fresh blood, ya know? The people here are like sharks in the water.” The bartender said, regaining your attention. “Uh oh, looks like you got one on your trail.” 

You followed his and the pretty stranger’s gaze behind you. It was her again, the woman from earlier. She was slipping through the ocean of moving bodies with ease, her gait like that of a jaguar on the prowl as she approached. You watched as her polished fingers wiped away what looked like stray lipstick from beneath her lips. 

Without thinking you darted away from the bar and past the pretty man, rushing through the first door you found which turned out to be the bathroom. Once the door fell shut you felt like you could relax for a moment. The music was muffled allowing you to think coherently for the first time since you had entered the bunker. Everything had become far too stimulating and you could feel your anxiety rising. 

You leaned against the sink, turning the water on ice cold before splashing your face so that you could shock yourself back into clarity. You allowed yourself to brace the sink and relax your body, focusing on your breathing and grounding yourself before you lost control, just the way you were taught to. 

The feeling of ice-cold fingers on your shoulders threw all of your work away. 

You yelped and flinched, your eyes flying open to see her standing behind you in the reflection of the mirror. 

“I knew you were a shy little thing, you should have just told me you wanted to do this privately.” She sighed with a sickeningly sweet smile. 

In a moment of flight, fight, or freeze your body chose for you, your legs running without you telling them to do so. You didn’t make it far, not before she grabbed hold of you and threw you up against the wall. Your head hit the tile behind you so hard you saw stars. 

“I’ve been hunting you down all night, you’ve made me build up quite the appetite. Do you know how many others I’ve had to threaten to get to you? Everyone always wants to take someone’s first bite.” 

What the fuck was she talking about? 

“While it was cute at first, we've played this game for long enough, don’t you think?”

“Let go of me!” You yelled while grabbing her wrists and trying to pry her hands off of you. To your complete and utter shock, she didn’t move an inch, it was like her bones were made of iron - immovable and inflexible. 

“Now, now, don’t go throwing a tantrum that won’t get you anywhere.” She sighed, sliding her hand up your shoulder to wrap around your throat and squeeze. 

Your throat and lungs burned as her grip slowly increased its pressure, your eyes watering as broken gasps and chokes for air gurgled past your lips. 

“There there, much better.” She whispered into your ear as she released your throat, your body going limp as you gasped for air. 

She easily gathered you up into her arms and softly tilted your head to the side, her perfectly polished nails grazing over the stretch of skin as she hummed before pressing her cherry-red lips to your throat. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll feel a slight pinch.” She joked before her jaw widened and a demonic hiss left her throat as her teeth grazed the soft flesh of your vulnerable neck. 

But before she could sink her teeth in she was harshly ripped away from you, her perfect face slammed so hard into the bathroom wall that the tiles shattered upon impact. A loud cry of pain echoed throughout the room as she pulled herself from the wall, black blood was pouring from her crooked nose and her sliced lips. 

Behind her stood the stranger from before, a miffed and frankly disgusted expression marred his stunning features. 

“What the fuck, Jin?!” She screamed, cupping her injured face. 

“She’s not a fang banger, Junghee.”

Her once flawless features froze in shock as a look of horror crawled over her face. It was the look of someone who realized that they had made a horrible mistake. 

“You’ve really fucked up this time.” He growled in irritation, a genuine growl that had your skin crawling. 

“Well, how was I supposed to know?! What is she even doing here?!”

“That’s none of your concern anymore, get the fuck out!” He yelled, ripping the bathroom door open and throwing her out of the room. 

You stayed pressed up against the wall out of pure terror. Vampires, you had walked into a fucking nest of vampires and had the closest brush with death you’ve ever had in your entire life. Your gaze remained locked on the vampire, Jin, as he calmed down; the waves of his rage slowly dissipating. In this lighting, you could finally see what you hadn’t been able to before in the dim club. Under the fluorescent lights, his eyes gleamed a vibrant, intimidating red. 

You winced in fright as he took a step in your direction, your body attempting to meld into the wall behind you. Jin raised his eyebrow in questioning, taken aback by your apprehension. It wasn’t often he had humans cowering in fear, usually, they shook from…something else. 

“Enough of that, come along human.” He snapped, grabbing you by your sleeve and easily dragging you from the room despite your protests and your heels digging into the ground. He was pulling you as if you weighed nothing. 

“Let go!” You shrieked in terror, struggling against his hold with all of your might. 

He came to a sudden halt, gripping you by your shoulder and pulling your body so close that there was barely an inch of space left between his chest and your own. 

“Don’t you think you’ve drawn enough attention to yourself tonight?” 

You peered over your shoulder, and sure enough, there were several of his kind watching the two of you from the dance floor. Their stares were curious and hungry. Unconsciously you shifted closer to him, choosing the lesser of two evils, one vampire versus many. 

“Look at that you’re smart, for a human.” He snickered before guiding you back to the curtained area you had seen him sitting in before Junghee had cornered you in the bathroom. 

“Sit, stay.” He said with a smirk as he pressed you down by your shoulder onto one of the couches before gesturing for someone to close the thick curtains. 

“Look, I just want to go home. I won’t breathe a word about what happened here or what this place is, it was a mistake coming here.” 

“A mistake indeed, but a mistake that needs correcting nonetheless,” Jin said with a distressed roll of his (impressive) shoulders. “So, tell me human, how did you find this place?” 

You sat there in silence for a moment, your face the perfect image of confusion, “Are you being serious right now?”

“I don’t recall telling a joke.”

“You - there was a post online, on a forum? Anyone could have found it if they were looking close enough, it really wasn’t that hard to find. All I had to do was translate the text and it told me where to go.”

“A…forum?” He repeated, clearly confused. 

Dear God, he was an old-ass vampire who didn't know much about technology or even the internet. He didn’t even know he had advertised the place. He was just an old man in a young man’s body. 

“You know, a forum, it’s online, it's where people who want to discuss a certain topic go to. I was looking for obscure places, abandoned buildings, and lesser-known spots in town. I found the posting for this place and it just said ‘The best bite I’ve ever had’...I didn’t know it meant literally.” You said, your nerves leading you to ramble on and on. 

Jin’s eyes pressed shut, his face contorting in anger as a hiss parted his lips, “Jimin.”

Jimin and himself were the only two vampires in their coven that knew about the club Jin hosted. Jin had been careless one night and Jimin had followed him, discovering the secret he had kept well hidden. Jin bought Jimin’s silence initially with limited access to the place, but now he was regretting every interaction he had had with the short vampire.

One of the few times Jin had found himself getting on with said vampire had led him to express his annoyance with the lack of human stock for the club. In turn, Jimin had offered to help “advertise” in exchange for unrestricted access to the club. 

Now that he had figured out how the little human had snuck her way in, he had to decide what to do with her. He could always kill her, that would be the simple answer. He could drain her dry and snap her pretty neck in an instant. But that wasn’t really his style, he typically preferred to savor his meals unlike his gorger of a “brother”, Jungkook. 

Perhaps the human could serve a purpose for him. 

“Come, human.” He beckoned with his fingers.

You remained frozen in your seat, your body still in active survival mode keeping your joints locked. 

Jin sighed, clearly miffed by your disobedience. He rose from his own seat only to cross the room and sit next to you. His long fingers gripped your chin and jerked your head up, forcing you to look at him. His hold was ice cold, the chill from his touch steadily seeping into your jaw. You felt paralyzed by his intimidating crimson gaze. His eyes flicked quickly over your features as he turned your head from side to side, taking in your every pore. 

“Not bad, for a human. Don’t feel too offended, it’s difficult to look as flawless as myself.” He said with a casual tone as if he were merely stating a fact. 

“You look pretty average to me,” You blurted out the lie, your lips moving before your brain could stop you from verbalizing. 

It was so fast you almost couldn't see it but it was there, his left eye twitched and his grip tightened forcing a slight whine of pain from you. He roughly jerked your head to the side, choosing to ignore what you said despite how much it clearly bothered him. Instead, he trained his focus on your neck, pulling the collar of your shirt down past your collarbone.

“Smooth,” He observed, his icy touch skipping over the skin of your throat, “Junghee didn’t sink her dirty fangs in you after all, that’s good.” 

Without warning he leaned down, his nose skimming over your neck as he breathed in, flooding himself with your scent. His grip tightened as you yelped and tried to jerk away from him in fear that this time you would surely die at the hands of a mythical creature, a monster in the flesh. 

You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt his plump lips brush your throat, his cool breath fanning over the skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake. His actions were reminiscent of a wine connoisseur, the way they studied the body of the wine and the aroma. He was assessing you - attempting to decide if you would make a good meal, that you were certain of. 

You jerked as you felt him bury his face further into your neck. You could feel the slight flutter of his eyelashes against your skin as a groan parted his lips. 

“Well, don’t you smell delicious?” He crooned, his tongue swiping over his lips and just barely ghosting over your throat. “I think that we can come to an agreement, does that sound nice?” 

“What,” You paused to clear your throat, “what did you have in mind?” 

“I’m glad you asked,” He said with a wink after pulling back from you, “You see, I think we could mutually benefit from one another’s company. While breaking your pretty little neck would certainly be the easiest way out of this problem, I do find you quite amusing, pet.”

Your body grew stiff as your mind conjured up the image of his strong hands severing your vertebrate in one smooth pull, your body falling limp and lifeless on the club’s floor. Your greatest fear was death and Jin was death incarnate. He could very easily take your life if he so desired and he was making that very clear. He cared not whether you lived or died but only if your presence benefitted him in some manner. Your life was inconsequential. 

“Very few people meet my standards but you are very lucky, I have a rather refined palette and it just so happens you meet said standards. So, I would like to propose a business arrangement. You will be my sole donor and keep those pretty lips sealed about everything you have witnessed tonight and in turn, you get to keep your life.”

“And if I don’t agree?” You dared to ask. 

A sneer marred his perfect face, his fingers gripping your chin and forcing you to look at him in his blood-red eyes. 

“Then your pathetic human life ends right here, right now.” He said, his hand slipping down your jaw to loosely wrap around your throat. He could feel your pulse steadily thumping against his hand causing his mouth to involuntarily pool with saliva, hunger twisting in his gut. 

Your breath hitched, fear slicing down your spine like a violent chill. You knew you only had one choice, and that was to appease the monster that sat beside you because he was far less frightening than the unknown, than the certain embrace of death that waited at every corner. 

When fear rules your life, you have no choice. There is only ever one option. 

“I agree,” Your voice trembled as you swallowed uncomfortably under his grasp. “I’ll be your donor.” 

“Splendid.” He said with a grin, his canines glinting under the light. 

“Can I…can I please go home now?” You asked, clasping your trembling hands together to try and still their shaking. 

“No, there are a few more fine details we have to iron out,” He said, his index finger lightly tapping your chin, “Firstly, I expect you to maintain a healthy lifestyle and that means no alcohol within a twenty-four hour period before we meet and certainly no smoking it’s a dirty and disgusting habit.”

You nodded slowly, trying your best to avoid looking into his piercing red gaze. 

“Try your best to have a healthy diet as well, the junk you humans gorge yourselves on taints your flavor, it’s unbearably sweet.” He said with a wrinkle of his nose in disgust. “I will compensate you for your efforts and your donations, once I’ve deemed you satisfactory, of course,” 

“I think that about covers it. And when I call upon you I expect your presence. Do we understand one another?” He asked with a tilt of his head. 

Your throat was far too tight, your eyes burning with unshed tears as you weakly nodded in agreement. 

“Very good,” He hummed before leaning back into the couch and soundly tapping the top of his thigh, “come, pet.” 

You sat still, your body frozen in shock as you were unsure if you had heard him correctly. 

“Well?” He raised his eyebrow expectantly. 

“I…I don’t think that, um-”

“Are you going to keep babbling and test my patience, or are you going to be a good little pet and do as I say?” He interjected and immediately you remembered the phantom feeling of his hand on your throat, the light grip that screamed threat. 

You awkwardly shuffled on your knees across the couch and hesitantly settled your legs on either side of him, hovering so that your weight did not rest on his lap. In response, he firmly gripped your hips and harshly pulled you down onto him, pressing you directly against him in a way that sent heat rushing beneath your skin despite the evident chill that emanated from his body. 

You could see his fangs even clearer now. They had become longer than before, the sharpened points dragging along the flushed skin of his plump lower lip. You were terrified by the thought of them piercing your thin flesh. What if they punctured your jugular and you bled out to death? What if he had just been playing with his food this entire time, instilling a false hope of survival in you just to watch with murderous glee as you realized you were meant to die the entire time as he drained the life out of you? 

And then what? The void of inevitable nothingness? The abyss of the afterlife? You were spiraling now, you could feel it in the way your chest constricted and your breaths came out in panicked, short huffs. 

A soft, wet, stroke against your throat pulled you from your frightening thoughts. As your vision cleared you realized that he had settled back into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his tongue gently and steadily lapping at your skin. Despite your embarrassment, you could feel your body slowly relaxing and melting against him. It felt like you were being shot up with a tranquilizer, your muscles going weak from his ministrations as the skin of your neck went numb.  

And within seconds his fangs were sinking through your flesh, easy and smooth. You jolted in response, a cry of pain leaving you as your fingers curled into the silk of his shirt while your body subconsciously leaned away, trying to escape the sudden painful stimulus. 

In response, you could feel Jin’s arms tighten around your back and harshly pull you flat against his chest with an animalistic growl, one that immediately paralyzed you with fear. 

The vampire beneath you was enraptured, completely lost in the feeding frenzy as rivers of blood flowed freely past his plump lips and poured down his throat. Your scent had been seductive, but your taste? It was better than any wine, better than ambrosia and nectar, it was addictive. So addictive he was unsure if he would be able to stop but at the same time aware he could not kill you because the rest of his immortal existence would be utter hell if he were unable to get another hit. 

Kim Seokjin had a refined palette and high standards and few people met his expectations. But you? You were complete and utter perfection. And he deserved perfection. 

His grip was too hard, unrelenting, crushing you against him. You wouldn’t be surprised if he cracked your spine by accident. It was like he was afraid to release you, afraid that there was a chance you would be able to escape him, the apex predator. 

But these thoughts were all uselessly whimpered in the back of your mind because the rest of your brain was completely flooded with euphoria. You had never felt so warm and tingly despite his cool hands in your entire life. It was almost like an out-of-body experience, the only thing keeping you grounded in existence was his tight hold. And there were other feelings as well, feelings you would have been ashamed of had your inhibitions not completely disappeared. Feelings that had your thighs clenching on either side of his waist, your heart beating pathetically fast, your pupils dilating, and your limp body helplessly rocking against him with his hands guiding and encouraging you. 

This was completely out of character for you. You didn’t climb into random men's laps and writhe against them eagerly like you were in heat. That had never been who you were, but the position you were in now clearly said otherwise. 

You were growing lightheaded, not only from arousal and euphoria but from blood loss as well. You weakly pushed at his chest, your innate desire to survive prevailing over the pleasure that had relaxed your muscles. 

“Jin, please,” You whimpered, struggling to speak. 

The vampire didn’t respond or relent, his arms still wrapped around you like a vice. In desperation you wound your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling into his hair and tugging at the roots. The pull certainly took him off guard, his fangs sliding free from your throat and his perfect lips parting to release a startled moan. 

His eyes were half-lidded but his red irises still burned brightly under the dim lighting, a perfect match for the blood that stained his lips and chin. He said nothing at that moment and from what very little you knew about him you could conclude that it was not often that he was at a loss for words. 

Warmth trickled down your neck, rivulets of blood still flowing freely now without him there to catch them and that seemed to snap him back to attention. He slowly leaned forward, maintaining eye contact with you until he was level with your throat once more, his tongue darting out to lick up the trails of blood before tracing over the puncture wounds he had left behind. 

Your hold on his shoulders did nothing to dissuade him, in fact, he quite enjoyed your weak attempts to keep him at an arm's length. Humans were so fragile, so weak, and he enjoyed that.  

“Relax,” He breathed, “We have a deal, remember? It would be a waste to drain you dry in one night.”

“And how do I know you don’t just like to play with your food?” You asked. 

“You don’t. You’ll just have to take my word for it, pet.” He smirked, tapping your chin with his finger. 

“You’re not going to kill me?”

“Let’s just say your sample was more than satisfactory, I have no reason to take back my word just yet.”

Yet. And yet, he was actually letting you go. 

“I’ll see to it that you make it home safely,” He began. But before he could finish speaking you were eagerly sliding off of his lap. 

His hands caught your waist easily, one holding you steady and the other firmly grasping your chin between his thumb and forefinger forcing you to look him in his eyes. 

“Remember, I call, you answer. As long as you abide by my rules we won’t have a problem.”

You nodded quickly, his words barely registering in your brain as your body took control. You would agree to anything that would keep you alive.

“Don’t disappoint me.” 

~~~~~~

Days had passed since that night at Blood Sugar, days where Jin had not tried to contact you, days that you spent isolated in your house - a wave of agoraphobia so strong that the thought of passing a threshold frightened you to the bone which was beyond ironic considering your situation. But those days also led to you trying to convince yourself it had all been a bad dream. 

If the encounter at Blood Sugar had in fact been real, you had little to show for it. The skin of your throat was smooth and untouched despite the fangs that you were certain had torn through it like paper. The only parting gift you had was the urge to sleep for days, a splitting headache, and a touch of soreness around your ribs where you were sure his arms had once restrained you. 

Pretending it hadn’t happened was easier on your mind. Your whole world had been turned upside down and the monsters you once thought to be the stuff of stories had been pulled from the shadows and abruptly thrust into the light. It was easier to pretend it was a dream. But you couldn’t shake those blood-red eyes from your memories nor the show of pure strength that had been demonstrated against Junghee - her once perfect face that was so easily disfigured by the elder vampire. 

You were afraid of death and the realization that it actually lurked at every eerie corner and you had sat in its lap like a contented house cat was enough to fry the connections in your brain. 

And you could only pretend for so long. You could only ignore reality for so long. 

It had been three weeks since you had seen him when he finally confirmed his existence in the form of a simple text. 

“Hungry, you know where to find me.” 

And that made your blood run cold. It was time to finally face reality, you had actually made a deal with a vampire and now he was cashing in on your promise. It was donate or die. 

And in an absolute panic, you made a terrible decision. You placed your phone face down and retreated beneath your blankets like a small child hiding from the boogeyman. 

Your phone did not cease to remind you that you had made a bad decision. The messages started sporadically - spread out throughout the hour. But Jin’s impatience grew as did the texts and calls. The eerie silence of your bedroom filled with a continuous buzzing as your phone continued to vibrate until you couldn’t take it anymore and without looking at a single message you shut down your phone. But that only brought temporary relief. 

You were begrudgingly pulled from the safety of your bed that day for an inspection your landlord had scheduled two days prior. There was no getting out of it and in your mind, it was a welcome distraction from the spiraling anxiety you felt when you thought about your powered-down phone. 

You had no way of knowing that their presence would only worsen the problem that you had created. 

You were generally a quiet person that kept to yourself around strangers, especially strangers that had a say in whether you continued living in your home or not. You practically stuck yourself to the walls as she inspected your home, and while your landlord was not necessarily a mean woman she wasn’t very chatty. You two got along in those regards. 

You were able to breathe when she gave you an awkward, tight-lipped smile, waved, and closed the door behind her. 

As soon as she was gone you rushed back into your bedroom and just barely pulled your curtains aside to peer out your window and watch her retreat. But when you did look out that window you felt your blood run cold. She was still there, standing on the walkway, and directly in front of her was him. It was twilight out, the sun still desperately trying to cling to a purple and ochre colored sky. It was safe for him to be out. He was giving her a charming smile, one that anyone would fall over at the sight of. You could see him laugh and then say a few words but you were too far away to make out what they were. And then to your utmost horror, she walked away and he made his way up the front steps. 

You were frozen, your muscles tense, and refused to move. You held your breath as you listened. There was no way that he could get in, you hadn’t given him permission. But all of your hope washed out of you when you heard the front door’s knob turn and the soft click of it leaving the frame. There were a few light steps and then the door shut once more. 

He was inside the house. 

You felt absolutely helpless as all you could do was wait for him to find you. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, you were cornered. 

It was only a matter of seconds before he did find you, a stern and angry expression clear on his face as he rounded the banister and the stairs and stood right outside the door frame of your room. His eyes were different now, they weren’t the vibrant red that you remembered. They were a deep burgundy now, almost black as they stared back at you with intensity. You couldn’t even make out the difference between his pupils and his irises. It was a bottomless, dark gaze. 

“How did you get in?” You asked, the words rushing out of you to your own surprise. 

One of his dark brows quirked, whether it was in surprise or irritation you did not know. 

“Elaine let me in,” He said with a stomach-turning grin. 

Your landlord. She technically owned the house, she could let him in even if you didn’t invite him. 

“I thought I made myself clear when we spoke, did I not?” He asked rhetorically, “I call, you answer, I feed, you keep your life. What part of that did your little human brain not comprehend?” 

“You called me?”

“Don’t play dumb with me.”

“My phone died-”

“Don’t make me repeat myself!” He snapped, his voice shockingly loud and incomposed. 

You flinched back against the wall as he finally entered your room only to stop dead in his tracks not more than five feet away. His eyes widened, his nostrils flared, and his fangs descended on instinct. 

The two of you stood there, both staring at each other and refusing to move, waiting for the other to act first. 

Jin was the one to break the stalemate. 

“You’re on your period.” 

Your eyes widened in embarrassment, warmth radiating beneath your skin in response. He could smell it, that was the only explanation and that was a mortifying thought that had you pressing your thighs together, tight and closed. 

He looked shaken, frazzled, and incredibly unlike himself. His rage was forgotten, his hunger controlling him. He was gripping the footboard of your bed, the skin of his knuckles stretched taut as he held onto it like he was keeping himself grounded. 

“I want a taste,” He said, staring you down without a single blink. 

It took you a moment to comprehend what he had just said, and as soon as you connected the dots you were anchoring yourself to the wall and vehemently shaking your head. 

“No, no way!” 

“Yes,”

“No! That’s messy and gross and I never agreed to do anything like that with you!

“I’m hungry,” He hissed, “And you expect me to just leave when you smell like fucking heaven?”

“Yes, because everything about this is crazy! I don’t know you, I never wanted to find you and now I’m stuck with you until you ultimately decide to kill me so I’m sorry that you’re hungry but it’s not even my problem in the first place!” 

That was the one upside to being on your period, the influx of hormones allowed you to become confrontational. 

“I’ll pay you double for a feed directly from the source,” He said with gritted teeth. 

Jin was never one to bargain, usually he would leave a deal with far more than the other party. But this was something he refused to pass up. Vampires, very often, had little to no inhibitions especially when it came to sex. Sex was often a co-occurrence with feeding, and menstruation was the epitome of that. He didn’t expect a pathetic little human like you to understand. You were fettered by mortal concepts that had forced you to believe you were to be a social pariah during that time, that it was “gross,” as you had said. Little did you know you were considered a delicacy in his world, ripe for the taking. And he knew how delicious you were when he fed from the vein, his mouth watered at the thought of what it would be like now. 

Your silence to his proposition only frustrated him even more. 

“Do you know how many people would die to be in your position right now? I’ve had women beg to be on their knees for me and I’m offering to pay you to do the opposite.”

You were sure that he was telling the truth because he certainly was the most breathtaking man you had ever seen in your entire life. But what confused you was why he didn’t just throw you down and do as he pleased. He was bigger than you, stronger than you, and far faster than you. If he wanted it as badly as he claimed, why was he bargaining with you? You could only assume it was the lingering effects of the era he had lived in. While he was an asshole, perhaps he took no joy in forcing himself on a woman in that manner.

And then there was the money. Rent wasn’t cheap, that was for sure. And not many people could say that they were paid to be pleasured. It wasn’t a terrible offer, and the last thing you wanted to do was displease a vampire that could kill you and had threatened to do so before.

Shit. 

“You wont hurt me?” You asked, your voice wavered. 

“Quite the opposite,” He smirked. He knew that he had won. 

A gasp of surprise parted your lips as he closed the distance between you, moving so fast that a gust of wind whipped up ruffling your hair and sending loose pages of paper tumbling from your desk. Your heart stuttered in fright, every minute you spent with him only served as a reminder of how dangerous he was. This arrangement you had with him was dangerous, you were toeing the line between life and death and that thought made your stomach turn in unease. He was a vampire, an apex predator, a creature that you had stopped believing in long ago, but also the undead embodiment of death. The very thing you feared the most. All it would take is one moment of frenzy, a lack of control and you would be left to bleed out in your sheets with no one to come and find your remains for weeks to pass. 

You didn’t want to die, but you knew he wouldn’t let you live. 

The touch of his cold fingers to your waist brought you back to him as he tugged you toward your bed, pressing you down onto the sheets before moving over you like an animal on the hunt. His eyes were pitch black, the veins beneath them prominent, and his fangs dangerously grazed his plump lips. He looked like a fallen angel, like Lucifer himself, the most beautiful outcast of them all. 

An involuntary cry of fright left you as he moved impossibly fast once more, his face now level with the side of your head, the tip of his nose just barely brushing over your cheek as he chuckled. Even his breath was frigid. 

“You’re nervous,” He hummed in delight, “Careful now, we wouldn’t want your heart to stop, would we?” 

He could feel the violent, rapid thumps of your heart where his chest was pressed against yours. It had been a long time since he had had a human like this, oftentimes he found it too annoying. They were fragile creatures and having to restrain himself was rather inconvenient, but he preferred his partners to be responsive when he had his way with them, unlike some of his kind who couldn’t care either way. Was it still necrophilia if both parties were technically dead? 

And while your heart was making itself known, you could feel nothing in response. His heart didn’t beat like yours, it had gone silent long ago and that thought only reminded you of just how wrong this entire thing was. He was dead, but you couldn’t wrap your mind around how he also seemed so very alive and while that scared you deeply, it also ignited a disturbing thought within you. But that thought was quickly halted when he noticed your lack of attention on him. 

He hated that your attention wasn’t on him. 

An annoyed growl rumbled in his throat as he moved back, quickly going down the length of your body and ripping your shorts down your legs, exposing you to the cold air. 

“Jin wait-” It felt as if all the air was sucked out of your lungs as he ignored you, plunging his face directly in between your thighs. 

He was unlike any of the partners you had had before. He did not take his time even though he evidently had plenty of it. He didn’t warm you up with gentle words, pleasing touches, or lingering kisses. Instead, he was absolutely ravenous. It was just like he said, he was hungry. But you, on the other hand, had not been prepared in the slightest for how sensitive you would be. 

You could only whine in discomfort as you tried to clench your thighs closed, one hand coming down to push at his shoulder. Your actions were completely useless, no matter how much force you could use it was like pushing against a concrete wall - he was immovable. 

You could feel him growl in annoyance which only sent a shock throughout your body, your hips twitching and your shoulder blades digging into the mattress. His fingers were harshly pressing against your thighs, forcing them open wider and hooking your legs over his shoulders so that he could get impossibly closer to you. 

“Too - too much!” You barely managed to get the words out, your body jolting from sharp bursts of pleasure. 

“Be a good pet and take it for me,” He crooned, parting from you for a mere moment to look up at you - his bright crimson eyes cutting through the darkness that had steadily filled the room. “I thought you said you would do anything to keep your life?”

You couldn’t explain the feeling that his words gave you, but the shame that lingered was recognizable. Shame that enduring pleasure to ensure your survival was an addictive cocktail of emotions. 

You couldn’t even form a response in time before he returned back to his feeding, his soft lips and firm tongue caressing you in a way that made you realize he was actively trying to make you feel good instead of solely focusing on gorging himself on your blood. You had no way of knowing that that just made the feed all the more enjoyable, the rush of hormones in your body only adding to the flavor. It was a flavor he already knew he was addicted to and while he was reluctant to admit it to himself, it was a flavor he could not live without. 

And with each feed there were more problems to come. While he knew his blood, saliva, and venom were incredibly intoxicating to your weakened human state - he underestimated the effect you would have on him. With all of the hormones his bite coaxed out of you there was one pesky one that affected him: oxytocin. It was a bonding hormone, one that fostered a relationship between feeder and donator which was why so many vampires rarely fed from the same human more than once typically preferring to drain the body dry and dump it anywhere to rot. 

He was willingly making himself vulnerable to you all in order to get another fix, another hit of your blood. And the worst part was, he didn’t mind. 

“Jin!” You cried. 

He was disgusted with himself, disgusted by the way his body shuddered and was aflame with tingles at the mere moan of his name rolling off of your lips. It was nothing special, countless others had done it before you, but he couldn’t understand why it was you. Why were you special? 

He could blame it on the damn hormone bond all he wanted, but this was only the second feed which meant, to his utmost horror, it was him. His interest in you, a human, was more than just superficial desire. 

Oh, how far he had fallen. 

He smelled your salty tears and he could even see the gleam of them as they rolled down the curves of your cheeks as your hips pitched forward, broken whimpers wracking your body that only served to drive him crazier. He could drown in you and it still wouldn’t be enough. 

And as soon as all of the tension within you snapped he was digging his fangs into the meat of your thigh, fresh, hot blood rushing over his tongue and down his throat. The blend was intoxicating for not only him but for you as well - the bite secreting venom that doubled the effects of all of his efforts that lit your brain and body on fire. You could become addicted to him just as easily as he was to you because that feeling, that feeling was indescribable and would never be able to be replicated by anyone but him. Just as he was chasing you for his fix, you could easily see yourself doing the same. 

When you came too, you were startled by the gentle touch of his tongue to the puncture wounds on your thigh. It soothed over the cuts rhythmically, urging the skin to sew itself back together again. And while he worked, he stared. Bright, crimson red eyes were trained on you. His gaze dark and dangerous. Your body that had once been limp and relaxed immediately tensed once more. The knowledge that a predator was nestled into your lap was enough to reignite fear in your chest. You feared that the slightest twitch or breath would signal for him to lunge again, but this time the outcome would not be so pleasurable for you. 

But Jin was a man of his word. You didn’t die that night and your bank account was fed in due course. 

This continued for the next six days. Whereas before it seemed like the vampire was able to abstain from feeding for as long as he wished, he had now become ensnared by a ravenous, bottomless hunger. And that was all the more frightening. But what was even more frightening was the way he began to change. 

He was still rude, cold, and dominating. But he had become ever present. His closeness could be described as suffocating. The only solitude you could find was in the daylight, but the minute the sun began to set he was back and hungrier than before. And after the…feeding, he would linger. He would touch you more often, his words still snarky but lacking their usual bite. It was like he was becoming comfortable around you. He was still insufferable, but undeniably comfortable. 

It was that comfortability that encouraged you to entertain that dark thought you had tried to smother before. Your ever present fear of death could easily be solved, the answer to your problem mere inches away from you. You understood the gravity of the situation, what it would mean to become something like him. But you couldn’t deny the truth that you could live with ending the lives of others if it meant you could sustain your own. You didn’t want to die, you couldn’t fathom dying, and you had an undead man at your disposal. If he was willing. 

It was after your seventh session together that you decided to finally ask him. His cherry red lips were pressed against your throat, swallowing every last drop of blood that slid down your skin. Your neck stung and your body thrummed with ecstasy, your fingers cupping the back of his head on reflex - moving without your permission. 

“Jin?” You asked. 

He hummed in response, visibly enthralled by the feed but letting you know he was listening anyway. 

“I want to be like you,” You whispered. 

A slick pop echoed in the room, his fangs pulled from your neck and retracted into his mouth, disappearing from sight. His eyes narrowed, his dark brows drawing together in confusion and distaste. 

“No,” He simply said, retreating to the foot of your bed. 

“Why not?” 

“Because you would be useless to me, that’s why. What good is a donor that’s dead?” He scoffed. 

You couldn’t deny the ache you felt in your chest, the sting that “useless” struck against your heart. 

“You’re…you’re going to grow tired of me eventually. I’ll get old, I won’t taste as good anymore. Then, I’ll be useless.”

“Oh, I plan to savor every last drop that you can offer. I won’t let you go to waste like that, you are mine after all.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean? You’ll just kill me before I go bad? Put me out of my misery before I can rot? I’m a fucking human being not a piece of meat!” You yelled, angrily standing up from your bed. 

You expected him to become enraged, to become violent. But if anything he was deathly calm, still, and silent. 

“Wouldn’t that be a kindness,” he stood from the bed, now towering over you, “To not have to grow older, to be in pain? To just stop here where you’re perfect, when you’re young and beautiful?” He said with a soft caress down your cheek. 

“But you could give me what I want,” You pleaded, “You would never have to see me again, I could go far away and I wouldn’t be your problem anymore.”

A frown pulled at his lips, frustration falling over his features, “It’s not as simple as that. You would be bound to me, there are rules about these things.” 

“Rules? Like laws, is there someone in charge of you?”

“Don’t bring that Twilight bullshit into this,” He hissed, running his hands through his hair in what appeared to be distress. 

“Then I don’t understand, why can’t you do this for me? I’ve done everything you’ve asked! I’ve given you everything you wanted so that I could stay alive! Why can’t you understand that I don’t want to die!”

“Because you don’t understand what you’re asking for!” He snapped. 

In that moment, he was brought back to that fateful day all those years ago. Yoongi had warned him, he had tried to stop him and he hadn’t listened. And now, he was being faced with a painful reminder of his naivety and arrogance when he stared back at you. Jin never regretted becoming a vampire. He never regretted his inability to grow old or the only way he was able to satiate his hunger. He enjoyed it. But if there was anything he didn’t enjoy, it was being under the control of someone else. 

“We would be connected for the rest of eternity. Anything I ask of you, you have to do. You can’t deny me even if you tried. And even if you ran, you would eventually come back whether you wanted to or not. I would be your sire, your creator, you couldn’t hurt me no matter how badly you want to. We would be stuck together, do you understand?” 

If there was anything he was afraid of, which he would never admit to, it would be having to rely on someone like that. It would be loving you, obsessively loving you like he felt the desire to creep over him. While he refused to admit it, all of those feeds had done their toll. He could feel the tugs of a weak bond forming between you - begging to be strengthened by a little of his own blood and a swift death. If you stayed human, he could save you from the fate he suffered through. And if he killed you, then no one else could have you. It was insane, but to him it was incredibly logical. 

You had been quiet for quite some time, your face pensive before you finally spoke. 

“That doesn’t sound all that different from our current arrangement.” 

“Ugh, you’re insufferable!” He yelled, grabbing the closest thing to him and flinging it across the room in a show of strength and anger. So this was what Yoongi felt like. 

“You’ve exhausted your usefulness to me,” He spat in rage, “Good luck defending yourself on your own.” 

And just like that, he was gone. The only remainder of his presence was the broken chair that lay in pieces on the ground and the huge dent in the plaster from where it had hit. 

You couldn’t stop the sudden wave of tears that poured down your face. That had been your only way to cheat death, and he wouldn’t give it to you after you had given him every piece of yourself that he had asked for. 

The silence was loud, your sniffles and your pounding heart painfully apparent. But what was even more apparent, was the sense of paranoia steadily creeping over you. 

What did you have to defend yourself from now that he was gone? 

~~~~~~~

Jin was starving. 

Even he was not so thick-headed that he couldn’t see what he was doing. He was throwing a temper tantrum. 

He had left you for a month now in what was supposed to be a break that would teach you a lesson. You weren’t allowed to make demands from him, you weren’t the one in control. But if there was anything he had learned from his pathetic plan, it was that you were very much in control. 

You had managed to burrow your way into his unwilling, stone cold heart. A feat that no one in his human and vampiric life had managed to do. The very thought itself made his stomach turn. He had never had to depend on anyone else, he never wanted commitment in that sense. Yet here he was yearning for you, a pathetic little hermit. His pathetic little hermit. 

He let out an audible groan, collapsing back against one of the velvet couches in the club. The blue and red lights flashed over his face, his stomach rumbled in pain. He had thought it would only take a week for you to break, just a few days before you apologized and begged for him to come back. But he had greatly underestimated you. 

It had been a month and he hadn’t fed. Everyone else paled in comparison, their blood sitting on his tongue like spoiled milk; he couldn’t even manage to swallow a drop. And that was completely his fault. This was why he was warned not to keep feeding from the same source. You were bonded now and he was suffering because of it. 

He had never felt so backed into a corner before. And the fact that it was all because of a human was just salt in the wound. He thought that time would sever the bond but in reality, distance had just made it grow stronger. 

Even now he was certain that he could smell your scent sifting through the hazy air, it’s tendrils beckoning him to come find you. 

It was the prick of his fangs against his lip and the sudden pool of saliva flooding his mouth that made him realize it was anything but a fantasy. You were there. A wave of satisfaction rolled over him, you had broken first in a stalemate that you were unaware of. He had won. But any excitement he felt about his win was quickly thwarted when he was reminded of the present danger. You, who smelled so heavenly, had once more crawled into a nest of vampires. 

He quickly lurched to his feet, cutting through the crowds of vampires and humans alike in order to find you. You were in the most dangerous spot in Briar Hills and he could not protect you. His abstinence had greatly weakened him, he could only hope that no one else would be aware of that. He was the eldest there and he was in charge, that should be enough to keep everyone else away from you. 

Well, all except one. 

You hadn’t even seen her coming, her or her “friends.” You had just barely managed to step foot inside the bunker before she was ripping you back outside, moving so quickly that your head was spinning and your neck burned with whiplash. 

You moaned in pain, one hand cradling the back of your neck while the other dug into the damp earth in an attempt to ground yourself from the violent pounding that vibrated all throughout your head. At first you were utterly dumbstruck, confused as to what exactly happened. But the swift kick of a pointy shoe to your ribs rolled you onto your back and allowed you to be faced with four pairs of glowing red eyes. 

The pain in your head was quickly overshadowed by the hot shooting pain in your ribs. Your spinning head could just barely register the loud crack that had sounded when you were kicked. What looked to be an effortless, swift strike from her was enough to break your ribs. 

“Hello sweetheart,” A familiar, sickeningly sweet voice crooned. 

It was her, that vampire from a month ago. The one that Jin had saved you from. 

Cold shocks ran through your body as you panted, grabbing your side as you tried to scoot away. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” She teased, grabbing you by your ankle and roughly pulling you back. Another sickening pop echoed through the night as a violent scream tore its way free from your throat. 

“Now, I’m not letting you get away from me so easily this time. You really pissed me off, and now you’re going to give me what I want.” 

You had no time to react and nowhere to run to. She and her friends descended on you like a pack of hungry vultures. They ripped at clothing and jostled you around like a toy they didn’t want to share. And all four of them dug into you. With Jin, there had been little to no pain. But this was the worst pain of your life. You could feel teeth digging into you, ruthlessly cutting through your flesh and ripping it apart. Hot, thick blood was pouring out of your wounds, drenching your skin and your clothes in an instant. 

There was nothing you could do but scream, cry, and shake. 

You were helpless and soon you were going to die. You had no doubt that they had every intention to bleed you dry. You felt like you were on the verge of passing out. Your greatest fear was suddenly becoming a reality and there was absolutely nothing that you could do about it. Death spared no one, especially you. 

And for a moment you thought that death really had come for you because the pain was suddenly wrenched away. 

You laid there, groaning in pain as you listened to what was happening. You could hear her low, sultry voice, the sounds of hits landing, and a deep, rumbling growl that shook you to your very core. It wasn’t death, but it was a close second. Jin had found you. 

You forced yourself to open your eyes and look, you struggled to turn your head but when you did your heart dropped. Half of her group collapsed, in various states of injury. But Jin was the worst. He was barely managing to stand and he looked so weak. His cheeks were gaunt compared to the last time you had seen him, the veins beneath his eyes prominent and exposed. But worse of all, he was coated in his own blood. It stuck to him like an oil spill, pouring from wounds that were trying to heal themselves albeit very slowly. He wasn’t going to make it out of this; he was too hurt, too weak, too hungry, and outnumbered. 

“I knew it,” Junghee giggled, her voice pitchy with murderous glee. “I could smell you all over her, you bonded with her!” 

Jin said nothing. He wobbled, his chest rose and fell rapidly with angered breaths. 

“Oh, how far you’ve fallen, Jin,” She sneered, “So high and mighty and look at you now. You’re no better than the rest of us - in fact you’re weaker than us! I’m so sick and tired of living under you and your rules, I think it’s time someone replaces that coven of yours. It’s time for a new jurisdiction.” 

“I’ll give you one chance to get on your knees and beg for forgiveness,” He said with a deathly calm voice. 

“I’m going to rip you apart and burn the pieces. And when I’m finished with you, I’m going to drain your little pet dry.” She said with a cocky grin. 

Jin hummed in response, his head slightly tilting back as he thought. His eyes seemed to glow even more intensely in the dark, a ring of light shining around his irises as he spoke. 

“That’s an interesting idea. Tear each other apart.” 

You stared in shock as they immediately obeyed his command. It was mind-control, he could compel individuals to do his bidding. How many times had he used it on you and you had gone on unaware of it? 

All four of them turned on one another, rushing at each other with abandon. It looked like they were marionettes, like someone else was controlling their limbs and forcing them to do as he commanded. You watched as the four of them attacked each other, clawing at their friends and prying their limbs from their bodies. The sounds were horrific. You could hear them screaming, crying, gurgling, and begging for it to end as they tortured one another. Black blood sprayed and stained their hands and faces as they ripped each other apart limb by limb. 

Your stomach rolled at the sight, your wounds flashed hot with pain, and your ribs and ankle throbbed in sympathy as they violently mutilated each other until they couldn’t reach one another anymore - their limbs dismembered and useless. 

You choked down the bile that threatened to escape your throat. They had tried to kill you, they were getting what they deserved. They were going to do the same to you and Jin.

Jin. 

You caught sight of the vampire a few feet away from you. He had fallen to the ground after he had issued the command. His body was unnervingly still, his skin ashen and the sickliest pallor you had ever seen. He was dying, you were sure of it. That was something you had thought to be impossible for his kind but here he was proving you wrong. It was possible, but hard to do. 

You felt a surge of adrenaline wash over you. You couldn’t let him die, he was your one chance to avoid that very same fate. You needed him just as much as he needed you. If you could help him then he would owe you. You could get the immortality that you were desperate for. 

You cried out in pain as you rolled onto your side and crawled to him. Each inch you moved felt like you were being stabbed along the way. Your body was crying in protest but you were on a mission. 

When you finally closed the distance between you, you could breathe a sigh of relief. He was hurt badly, but he was still “alive,” if not barely. 

You grabbed him by his shoulders and slowly, painfully, dragged him into your lap. Your body threatened to crumble beneath his weight as you guided his head to the open wound on your neck. This was a risk, a really big risk. You were hurt badly and you had already lost so much blood, but you were sure that he would be able to stop. 

“Come on, Jin,” You encouraged him, cupping the back of his head with your hand, “Come on drink, you need to drink.” 

You felt a cool puff of breath on your neck, his nose slightly skimming over your pulse as the scent of blood pulled him out of unconsciousness. And as soon as he was awake, his predatory instincts took control. He lunged forward, wrapping you up in a vice like grip as he dug his fangs into the already open wound. 

You hissed but held still, allowing him to get his fill. He was scarily inhuman at that moment. Jin had fed from you many times, but he had never been like this before. Silent, overbearing, and territorial. 

Your eyes began to flutter, they were feeling incredibly heavy and it was becoming hard to keep them open. You had lost too much blood, you were still losing too much blood. 

“Jin,” You croaked, “You need to stop.” 

He ignored you and continued drinking, only digging his fangs in harder to force more blood from your throat. 

“Jin please stop, please,” You cried, “You’re going to kill me!”

When you realized he wasn’t responding, that he was too enthralled by the feeding frenzy, you began to fight. You tugged at his hair, pushed at his shoulders, kicked at him with your good leg but it all was for nothing. 

He let out an animalistic growl, squeezing you tighter before roughly shoving you to the ground and pinning your wrists above your head. He groaned in delight as your fighting ceased, as your blood flowed more easily into his waiting mouth. 

You were fading fast, your visions steadily beginning to black out around the edges. He was going to kill you, and just like before there was nothing you could do about it. You were utterly helpless. 

Your own desires would be your downfall. Just like Icarus, you had flown too close to the sun. 

~~~~~~~

When Jin came to, he was confused. 

He couldn’t remember anything after he had ordered Junghee and her coven to dismember one another. But when he became aware, he quickly figured out what had happened. Their corpses were sprawled about, their limbs still occasionally twitching. 

And you were there, scarily still in his arms with the remnants of your blood on his lips. 

He didn’t expect a wave of grief to wash over him. He hadn’t felt that even when his own family died or when he watched them mourn the loss of a son that never truly perished. But the sight of you, your broken body limp in his arms was enough to force a choked sob out of him. It was painful, it was complete and utter despair. 

It was in that moment that he realized he did love you. In some horrific twist of fate, he loved you. He once thought that he would be able to kill you, then no one else could have you. But he didn’t anticipate the pain that it would cause him. 

A soft, weak flutter halted all grief he felt. It was your heart. Your little human heart was still trying to beat. You could still be saved. 

That was how he ended up here, with the only person he knew that could fix you. 

“So, this is what you’ve been doing with all your free time.” Namjoon hummed, checking over your vitals. 

Jin stayed quiet, nervously clenching and unclenching his fingers. At that moment, he understood what Yoongi went through. If he believed in karma, which he didn’t, he would have been able to appreciate it. This was what he deserved after what he put Yoongi and the fledgling through. But Jin was far more determined to keep you human than his “brother” ever was. 

But it was undeniable that he could finally understand him. He finally knew what Yoongi was trying to protect him from all those years ago. 

“Junghee really did a number on her. I’ve given her an awful lot of my blood to heal her wounds. It would just take one quick break, Jin. You said it yourself, this is what she wanted.” He mused. 

“She’s my pet, nothing more. She’s useless to me as one of us, I want to make her last as long as I can.” He said with a warning glare.

“It’s useless, you know, lying to me. I could smell it on you the second you came through the door. You bonded with her, she’s yours now. Do with her what you will, but she will join us soon. Whether it’s you or me, well that’s entirely up to her. But I have a feeling she would let any of us do it at this point.” 

“You wouldn’t-”

“Oh, but I would. Remember this, everything I do is for our family. You helped me with Yoongi, you understood then what I was trying to do. You can keep playing with her for a little longer, but she will join us. Don’t make me command you, Jin.” 

Jin’s back stiffened, that familiar tug in his brain was there. That feeling that he needed to fulfill his creator’s wishes. And so, he bought himself some time. 

“I don’t think it’s her you need to be worried about,” Jin said, that cocky edge to his voice back once more. 

“Oh really?” Namjoon asked, leaning forward in interest. 

“When was the last time you checked in on Hoseok?”

Namjoon’s brows furrowed in thought. Jin had got him, this was what he was good at - misdirection. 

“Hoseok too?” He mumbled to himself. “Don’t you find it odd that this is all happening now? Yoongi and the fledgling, you and your pet, Taehyung and the little human he keeps in his studio, and now Hoseok? How interesting.”

He knew about Taehyung? But he hadn’t said anything about Jimin or Jungkook. He didn’t know everything. He had two more bargaining chips to buy himself more time. 

“Watch over her, make sure she doesn’t hemorrhage. You’ve done a good thing, Jin. Thank you.” Namjoon said before briskly leaving the room - his office that now served as a hospital for you. 

He wasn’t so sure that he had done a good thing. He was paying for what he had done to Yoongi now, what would come to him next now that he sold out Hoseok. And what about Jungkook and Jimin, what would happen when he revealed their secrets as well. 

That was all he could think about as he waited for you to wake up. Namjoon’s blood was doing a thorough job. He was old and strong and because of that your body was mending itself incredibly quickly. 

The only thing he hated was that you smelled like him. It was Namjoon’s blood in your body and because of that you were practically emanating his scent. Your normal heavenly essence was murky in the haze of his creator’s and it would take some time for it to dissipate. He was going to have to live with it for the time being. For now, he needed to figure out how he was going to protect you from the fledgling and from Hoseok. One was hungry and the other was certainly going to be pissed with him. 

But if he could keep you like this for a little while longer it was worth it. 

Your heart monitor was starting to accelerate, the beeping became loud and frequent. You were awake. 

He slowly raised his head to look at you and he felt his stomach drop. You were giving him the thousand yard stare, your frail body tense on the mattress. You were utterly and completely frightened of him. 

Your name left his lips in a hushed whisper as he stood, moving closer to your bedside. You shrieked and huddled into the furthest corner that you could. 

“Stay away from me!” You yelled, crossing your arms over your chest in an attempt to block yourself off from him. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, his tone the softest it had ever been, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Let me go, I want to leave. I don’t want to see you ever again, I want to go home!” You were rambling now, every frightened word running out of you with a gasp. 

“You can’t leave, it’s too late now.” He said apologetically. He had never apologized before. 

“I want to leave!” You screamed again, “You tried to kill me! You said you wouldn’t but you did! You lied, you’re a fucking liar!” 

“I’m in control now, that’s never going to happen again I swear.”

“You’re a fucking liar!” You screamed again, your words trailing off with a broken sob. 

He had felt grief when he thought he had killed you, but now he was experiencing heartbreak. His first, genuine heartbreak. He thought seeing your lifeless body was bad, but this, this was somehow worse. 

He was suddenly overcome with the urge to comfort you, to hold you. And so he tried. The second he picked you up you began to writhe, screaming obscenities at him and clawing at his skin. You were trying to do anything you could to get away from him.

The last time he had held you like this, held you this close, he had tried to kill you. Your body and mind were completely in survival mode now and you needed to get away from him. 

But he wouldn’t let you budge. He pulled you into his chest and wrapped you in a tight embrace, pinning your arms in between the two of you so that you couldn’t hurt yourself while trying to hurt him. All you could do was scream and cry and writhe but eventually your body went lax when you realized it was pointless. There was no escape. 

Your brush with death had only made you more frightened of it. You had met that dark, empty void and the void had stared back at you. What some might have found to be peaceful, you had found to be terrifying. And, as a result, you were terrified of Jin. He had brought you to that void and your body was certain he would escort you back. 

“I’m sorry,” He finally said, the words not burning him like he once thought they would for the longest time. “I’m sorry.” 

You sniffled as you limply laid in his hold. You could feel the soft touch of his lips against your cheeks, collecting your tears as they brushed by in the lightest of kisses. 

“Never again,” He mumbled, “I promise.” 

You whimpered once more, the word liar echoing in your mind. 

“I’ll give you what you want, I swear. You’ll never be that close to death again, I’ll keep you safe. Just give me time.” 

You slightly perked in interest. What you want…what you want. He’ll give you what you want. You tilted your head up at the same time he went to kiss your forehead, only for him to gently kiss you instead. He froze for a moment, still as a statue as he processed what he had done before he did it again, and again, and again. It was like he had discovered a new insatiable hunger that he couldn’t settle no matter how many times he tried. 

“I love you,” He admitted so softly against your lips that you thought you had imagined it. 

He loved you. He was going to give you what you wanted. You had almost died. He was a liar. Your mind was reeling. 

“No one else can have you, not even death can take you away from me; because you’re mine, remember?”