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reidsaurora · 5 months ago

Note

Your event is so cute!!! Could I get a sun kissed Malibu dream house with Aaron?? 🥹 in need of some fluff with him hehe

i am so so sorry this took me so long to write! writer's block these past few months has been kicking my butt. but, thanks to my awesome betas, i think i wrote something you'll like! hope you enjoy!

"Summer Lovin" ~ A. Hotchner

Summary: As the start of summer arrives, you and your friends at the BAU find yourselves feeling a bit reminiscent of the summers before. Along with that reminiscence, you start to miss the days when you and Aaron had little babies instead of big kids…

Pairing: Dad!Aaron Hotchner x Mom!Reader

Word Count: 2,019

Content Warning: lots of talk of babies/pregnancy, sexual humor, kind of fade to black smut if you read between the lines lol, small mention of food, lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: i'm so sorry this took so long, i had a very hard time writing this and def meant to post it sooner. however, in the spirit of my city being under a heat advisory today, this feels appropriate to post 😂

Originally Written: 06/04/2024 through 06/25/2024

Beta Read By: @dungeons-are-too-cold and @virtual-vivi 🫶🏻🩷

Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!

Summer Celebration info can be found here!

Sun Kissed - fluff requests

Malibu Dream House - domestic!au

Aaron tossed off the blanket, letting out a small sigh of relief. “When did it get so hot?” he grumbled, his morning voice prominent. As he rolled over to his back, you spotted a big wet spot on the front of his tee shirt from just how much he was sweating.

Still, you scooted closer to him anyway and tossed an arm over his abdomen, his familiar scent filling your senses. “News said there’d be an excessive heat wave today.”

“It's probably ninety degrees already,” he complained, “and it's not even 9:00 yet.”

Rolling onto your side to face him, you left a trail of kisses along his jawline. “Hey, Mr. Grumpy Gills,” you giggled, referencing one of your kids’ favorite movies. “When life gets you down, you know what you gotta do?”

“It's sweltering! How in the world could you possibly want to cuddle right now?” Aaron ignored your attempt to brighten the mood, instead opting to toss a pillow over his head and groan into it.

You just pulled the pillow away and left another peck on his jaw. “Because I love you. And because our children are gonna come in here any minute to take you away from me.”

He noticed the small pout that followed your statement, the expression enough to soften even Aaron Hotchner, king of stoicism, up. “Alright, fine. I'll allow it. But only because you drive a hard bargain.”

Your pout was replaced with a smirk as you snuggled closer into his side. “Mmm, that means a lot, coming from an ex-prosecutor. Maybe I should've gone to law school with you.”

“You're too sensitive for the big house, or whatever they say,” Aaron snickered. After noticing your look of offense, he quickly covered with, “I didn't mean it in a bad way. You have feelings. It's a very nice thing to come home to after dealing with emotionless psychopaths all day.”

“I think you're trying to compliment me. I'll take it.”

His lips met yours for a quick peck before saying, “I have nothing but compliments for you, my love,” Then, he met you with a second, much longer kiss, and while he tasted like morning breath, moments like this were so rare that you were willing to look past it.

One of his large hands met your leg, his calloused fingertips trailing along your bare skin. It felt like a lifetime since you'd been like this, with two children always needing your attention and the FBI always needing Aaron's. Just a simple touch of his fingers had you forgetting about the outside world, if even for just a moment.

Your lips met his neck, his stubble scratchy against your skin. He'd been away on a case in Seattle for about a week, and you were certain he hadn't shaved the whole trip. You liked it that way anyway.

His hand traveled further up under your nightgown, settling on your thigh. He squeezed the supple skin, a gesture of both affection and want.

“Are you trying to go for number three?” you joked before kissing his neck once more.

“Believe me,” Aaron chuckled, “if I knew I had enough time, I'd certainly try.”

As if on cue, four scurrying feet came stamping across the hardwood floor into your bedroom. “Good morning, Daddy!” both of your children yelled in sync, climbing onto the edge of the bed.

“That's why you're not allowed a third,” you mumbled into his ear. “The ones you have don't even appreciate me.”

“They love you, I promise,” he whispered, kissing your cheek. To the kids, he said, “Good morning. Don't you have anything else you want to say?”

They both turned to you, sheepish looks coming across their tiny, adorable faces. “Good morning, Mommy.”

“That's better,” Aaron said, gaining him a snicker from you. “Now, may I ask why the two of you are up so early and you're already in your swimsuits?”

It was then that you realized he was right. Jack, the older of your children, was sporting his favorite Spiderman swim trunks, while his little sister, Libby, had managed to dress herself in a cherry-print swimsuit she hadn't quite grown into yet. They made your heart melt.

“Daddy,” Libby sighed, clearly exasperated with her father, “don't you know what day it is?”

It happened to be the day your kids hadn't stopped talking about for weeks: the beginning-of-summer pool party you and Aaron threw every year for your friends and his coworkers at the BAU.

Aaron tapped a finger against his chin, his brows furrowing as he thought. “Let's see… it's not Libby’s birthday, and it's not Jack’s birthday, it's not my birthday, and I don't think it's your mom’s birthday,” his last comment earned him a sarcastic look from you. “Hmm, what day could it be?”

You joined in on his little game, tapping against your chin as you pretended to think. “Perhaps it's Christmas?”

Jack narrowed his eyes at you. “It's too early in the year for Christmas,” he said matter-of-factly.

“You're right.” As you continued tapping your finger, you shot Aaron a knowing look, which he gladly returned. He could tell by the gleam in your eye exactly what you meant with that look. “Is it…”

Each of you grabbed a kid, tickling and eliciting little squeals and giggles. “Pool party day?!” the two of you shouted in sync.

Libby thrashed around in your arms, laughing and squirming, while Jack attempted to escape his father's arms. Moments like these were almost as rare as the ones with just you and Aaron, so you had to take advantage of them while you could.

“It's pool party day!” Libby squeaked, while Jack was laughing so hard, he could barely breathe.

Their smiles and laughs pulled at your heartstrings. You wondered when the universe decided to make your babies grow up, since it seemed like only yesterday when you had a newborn and a two-year-old.

Bringing yourself out of your nostalgic trance, you pulled yourself out of the bed, grabbing each kid by the hand. “Who wants to make pancakes while Daddy’s in the shower?”

—

Soon enough, all your friends had arrived and it felt like summer had too. Penelope and Spencer were currently entertaining all the kids, while the other men were crowded around the grill and the rest of the ladies were sitting poolside and working on their tans.

“You ever wonder if either of them will have kids?” JJ asked, nodding toward Penelope and Spencer.

“Spencer, a hundred percent,” Emily answered, like her statement was a fact. “Penelope, I'm not so sure.”

You were next to jump into the conversation, not even bothering to look up from your magazine. “Why do you ask, Jen?”

JJ let out a longing sigh. “It's been so long since we've had a baby around here.”

Putting the magazine down, you looked over to her, eyebrows creased. “Henry's only three. It hasn't been that long.”

“You don't miss having a baby at our get-togethers? Emily, where do you stand?”

“Don’t look at me,” Emily said with wide eyes. “If I didn't have to change another diaper for a lifetime, it still wouldn't be long enough.” She was the one person in the group that was rather indifferent to children, but babies, she'd rather not talk about or be around.

“Yeah, babies are nice,” you said, “but the pregnancy part? That's what I'd rather go a lifetime without.”

“Well, I'm sure there's one thing we can all agree on,” JJ snickered. “At least making the baby is fun.”

Emily tossed the pillow behind her back in the direction of her coworker, giggling all the while. “Jennifer!”

“What?” she laughed as she swatted the pillow away. “Am I wrong?”

You let out a small snicker yourself, shooting a glance in the direction of your husband, who was currently taking his turn in manning the grill.

Neither of your friends missed that look, both their mouths falling agape at the expression. “Spill!” they squealed in sync.

Penelope made her way over from the edge of the pool, her face overtaken by the brightest smile known to mankind. “I heard the ‘Someone has beans to spill’ variety of squeals and giggles. What am I missing?”

“Nothing,” you insisted with an eye roll.

Emily patted the edge of her chaise, welcoming Penelope over. “Come sit, we're gonna get it out of her. After all, two out of three of us are profilers.”

Your eyes narrowed at the brunette. “Do you forget that I also used to be a profiler before my kids came along?”

“Stop changing the subject,” Penelope said with a swat of her hand. “Spill your guts. What did I miss?”

“Well, we were talking about how it's been so long since anyone on the team, past or present, has had a kid,” Jennifer explained.

“And someone looked at her husband with that look,” Emily further explained.

You scoffed. “It was not that look.”

“It totally was,” your friends spoke in sync.

Penelope's face lit up like a child in a candy store, her mind clearly running rampant with ideas of what the look meant. “Oh my God, are you-”

“No!” you quickly interrupted, knowing exactly where that question was headed. “Not yet anyway,” you mumbled under your breath.

The three of them practically jumped out of their seats and gathered around you, all screams and smiles.

“We haven't even had the conversation yet!”

“But you're going to!” Penelope insisted.

You rolled your eyes, but internally, you couldn't be happier for the gift of friendship from these three women. Jennifer, the mom friend in more ways than one. Emily, the voice of reason who not-so-secretly had a funny side and always knew how to make you laugh. And Penelope, the perfect shoulder to cry on and perfect soul to confide in. Lucky didn't even begin to describe how you felt about knowing these women.

Suddenly, you found yourself— as Penelope had said— spilling your guts. “I don't know. This morning just felt… different. Like, maybe it wouldn't be so bad to have another baby around.”

The three of them flooded you with comments of love and support, hugs wrapping around you from each direction. Having another baby would be different, of course, but your friends were making sure that you knew it would be a good kind of different.

“I still have to get Aaron on board, so no one get too excited,” you reminded them.

JJ was already way ahead of you. “We've got the kids, Rossi and Derek have the grill. Don't worry about anything out here. You and your man deserve a moment of free time.”

“Just so we're clear,” you said, pointing a finger as if to further prove your point, “we are just going to talk. No funny business.”

Emily snickered. “Yeah, the same way you guys used to ‘talk’ on the jet?” Your cheeks heated to a bright red shade at her comment.

“Ew, Hotch is in the mile high club?!” Penelope practically screamed. Luckily, everyone else seemed too engrossed in conversation to hear her, but you were still mortified nonetheless.

“Okay, scratch what I said. I'm actually going inside to give myself a lobotomy.”

And with that, your friends were shouting in sync different variations of “Have fun!”

Then, with a smile on your face from both the joy of friendship and the love you had for your husband, you found yourself heading over to the grill and pulling Aaron away. His reaction was nothing short of laughter as you practically dragged him toward the house, his shirt nearly coming off with how hard you were tugging it.

Lips met skin as you closed the back door behind you. Aaron let out another chuckle, though he surely wasn't protesting your affection. “Woah, that look in your eyes tells me you're the one thinking about number three,” he commented, referencing your words from that morning.

“Well,” you said as your fingers started to trail under the hem of his dark gray tee shirt. With another kiss to his neck, you continued, “About that…”

taglist: @1234-angelika @lowsodiumfreaks67 @drayshadow @alexxavicry @cordyandbilliehavemyheart @the-lucky-ones311 @mercuryvapours @darkloverfox @sammyrenae68 @cherrycandle @asgardprincess97 @gh0stgurl @esposadomd @randomwriter1021 @eddieharrington @paintlavillered @lavhoes @rhyanishere @danielle143 @handsupforamiracle @ah-blossom @reidselle @dungeons-are-too-cold @louderfortheback @reidsbookclub @cwritesforfun @lover-of-books-and-tea

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wildemaven · 6 months ago

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Came across this on Pinterest and right away thought of your Night School Teacher Javier - even has the opened shirt collar (yes please)

my place or yours | javier peña

pairing - night school teacher!javier peña x night school teacher f!reader word count - 1276 content warning - 18+ blog; just a lot of fluff, reader is mentioned wearing a dress and a necklace- but zero description features, no y/n, established relationship with in this piece notes - K, as soon as I saw this photo, my mind started buzzing! I’ve been on the fence still about writing these two but I wanted to get this out since it came to me so quickly. Thank you for sharing this!!! masterlist

A heat advisory had been issued in Laredo and the surrounding areas for the last week. Your classroom provided little relief for you and your students earlier in the evening as the central air conditioning for the school had gone out days into the heatwave.

It was a combined effort to alleviate some of the warm stagnant air within the old building. You and Javier propped your classroom doors open, while a few open windows supplied a draft across the hall as the evening sun set and the temperature began to drop to a more bearable degree.

Day 3 of trying to keep your room cool while teaching had you throwing in the white flag. Your students were all too excited at your suggestion to push their test back to next week and dismiss them, welcoming the weekend a whole hour earlier than usual. You wished them a good evening as they eagerly packed away their belongings, bidding their goodbyes as they left your classroom.

As you were finishing gathering your books and organized stacks of ungraded papers, movement in your peripheral caught your attention.

Javier moved about the front of his own classroom, his hands alternating between shuffling through the papers he was holding and pointing out key points he had written out on the blackboard. It was a normal sight for you at this point since he moved into the classroom across the hall. These past few days have opened up ample opportunities for you to catch a glimpse of him lost in teaching without a barrier of doors in the way.

In this moment, Javier was enough of a distraction to halt any progress you had made in cleaning up for the weekend. His sports coat had been discarded and draped over the back of the wooden chair that was left in an off-kilter manner behind his desk. The dark slacks he wore were a snug fit, accentuating his narrow waist. The appearance of his dress shirt had at some point turned from studious refinement to a very relaxed look— the latter being your favorite if you were being honest. The sleeves rolled and secured higher than their normal appearance, his forearms flexed freely without the restraint of the shirt fabric. His deco scallop patterned necktie had been removed and was laying over his sports coat, allowing for the top unbuttoned portion of his shirt to fall open freely.

You had fallen into a trance, with your eyes glued to the way his neck tensed and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he spoke, you hadn’t realized that you were now standing in the doorway of your classroom.

Javier’s intuition must have sensed something, his steps faltering a bit as his eyes found yours staring at him from across the hall. The way the corner of his eyes crinkled up slightly and his perfect lopsided grin grew just enough to make his dimple a prominent part of his surprised expression.

There was a beat of silence as Javier stood there taking you in, almost forgetting his students that sat patiently, filling the rows of rigid desks. His brows narrowed as his brain slowly came to the realization that your class was empty and you were no longer teaching.

He shot you a wink that caused a sudden fluttering sensation to travel from your lower belly and settle in your chest, before giving his attention back to his class and his form disappearing as he stepped further into the room.

You shoulder into the doorway, your fingers absentmindedly sliding along the dainty gold chain that hangs from your neck as commotion spills from Javier’s room.

Student after student exit with books wearing a mixture of gleeful laughter and impassive expressions as they fill the hallway walking in the direction of the nearest parking lot.

Your attention is directed back to the classroom across from you as the flurry of activity dies down.

“Hi.” Javier says standing with one hand tucked in his front pocket while the other holds a rather large book containing pages and pages of material he has to cover before the end of the semester.

“Hi.” You smile at him, as your thumb runs back and forth along the seam of your lips.

“Not like you to let them out—“ Javier begins to say as he removes his hand from his pocket to inspect the time on his watch, eyebrows raised in surprise. “A whole hour early.” His eyes locked back with yours.

“Oh stop— It’s too hot to think. They were groaning and getting restless. Besides, you would have done the same thing if you thought of it first.”

You watch as he makes his way to you, causing you to turn so your back is now leaning against the door frame when he joins you.

“I let them go, didn’t I?” He smirks.

“You did. Any longer and they would have been too distracted to hear anything else you were saying.” Your teeth catch your bottom lip in hopes to contain the smirk that’s slowly forming.

“How so?” His head ticks to the side, hoping you plan to offer him some sort of explanation.

Before you say anything, your pointer finger finds its way to the opening of his shirt. Gliding up and down the v-shape then settling at the bottom where the first fastened button rests in the middle of his sternum.

“You’re very distracting like this. Makes sense why there’s always a mad dash of students fighting over those front row seats every night.”

“Sounds like you know from experience?” His voice is hushed as he steps closer to you, his free hand resting on your hip, the fabric of your dress bunching under his grip.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Your finger hooks into his shirt and you pull him even closer to close the gap between your bodies. “We’re alone.” You whisper against his lips, your hand slipping under his shirt, feeling his dewy skin under your fingertips as you wait for him to make the final move.

With both classrooms now empty, you’re the only two in this wing of the building.

It had been a few months since things had become more serious for you and Javier. Still wanting to take things slow, you both kept things under wraps for the time being while on school grounds. But that didn’t mean you didn’t take advantage of moments like this when it was just the two of you.

Javier’s lips meld with yours, atoning for lost time while silently promising to make up for it the rest of the weekend. There’s a loud clatter as his book falls on the ground. His hands find their way to your face, gently tracing the contours as if trying to reacquaint himself with every feature he loves about you.

“My place or yours?” You break the kiss before it advances into something more, your breath mingling with his.

“My place has air conditioning.”

“But my bed is comfier.” You hinted as you traced lightly over his collarbone. “Cold showers never killed anyone.”

“Not yet at least.” He bends down to pick up his book, then stands to his full height and kisses you briefly one more time. “Your place tonight, then my place tomorrow after breakfast— before it gets too hot.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Lock up and get your stuff, I’ll meet you back here in 5.” He pats your ass playfully as he begins the short walk back to his classroom.

“You’re trouble, Peña.” You quip over your shoulder to him.

“Last I checked, you loved it.” He says with a wink and smiles at you.

“I really do.”

#javier peña #javier peña x you #javier peña x reader #javier peña x f!reader #night school teacher!javier peña #retired!javier peña #pedro pascal #wildemaven writes

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covid-safer-hotties · 4 months ago

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Alarm bells ring in Japan as experts warn of fast-spreading new Covid variant KP. 3 - Published July 19, 2024

Paywalled at the South China Morning Post: Unpaywalled by Covidsafehotties.

The country reported a 39 per cent week-on-week surge in infections from July 1 to 7, with Okinawa the hardest hit

Japan is grappling with a new and highly contagious coronavirus variant that is fuelling the country’s 11th wave of Covid-19 infections, health experts warn. The KP. 3 variant is spreading rapidly, even among those who are vaccinated or have recovered from previous infections, according to Kazuhiro Tateda, president of the Japan Association of Infectious Diseases.

“It is, unfortunately, the nature of the virus to become more resilient and resistant each time it changes into a different form,” Tateda told This Week in Asia. “People lose their immunity quite quickly after being vaccinated, so they have little or no resistance.”

Tateda, who sits on Japan’s advisory panel formed at the start of the pandemic, said the coming weeks will be critical as authorities monitor the variant’s spread and impact.

While hospitals have reported a sharp uptick in Covid-19 admissions, Tateda said he is “relieved that not many of these cases are severe”. Typical symptoms of the KP. 3 variant include high fever, sore throat, loss of smell and taste, headaches, and fatigue.

According to the health ministry, medical facilities across Japan logged a 1.39-fold – or 39 per cent – increase in infections from July 1 to 7, compared to the previous week.

Okinawa prefecture has been the hardest hit by the new strain of the virus, with hospitals reporting an average of nearly 30 infections per days. The KP. 3 variant has accounted for more than 90 per cent of Covid-19 cases nationwide, the Fuji News Network reported, leading to renewed concerns about bed shortages at medical facilities.

Since Japan’s first detected Covid-19 case in early 2020 involving a man who returned from the Chinese city of Wuhan, East Asian nation has recorded a total of 34 million infections and around 75,000 related deaths. The country’s Covid-19 caseload peaked on August 5, 2022, when more than 253,000 people were receiving treatment.

Japan’s uptick in cases coincides with similar increases being observed globally. In the US, the Centres for Disease Control and Prevention reported a 23.5 per cent week-over-week rise in the number of people visiting hospitals with Covid-19 symptoms during the week ending July 6.

High-profile US.figures such as President Joe Biden and Doug Emhoff, husband of Vice-President Kamala Harris, have recently tested positive and gone into isolation. Meanwhile, several riders in the ongoing Tour de France cycling race have also returned positive test results.

Experts say it is too early to determine the full impact of the new variant on Japanese businesses or cross-border activities like travel. Precautionary measures are already in place at the country’s air and seaports to monitor the health of incoming arrivals. However, the global spike in cases may deter some Japanese from venturing abroad this summer.

A recent survey by Nippon Life insurance found that just 3.2 per cent of Japanese plan to travel abroad in the coming months, which is likely to depress annual travel figures once again. In 2023, Japan saw 9.62 million outbound travellers, a recovery after three years of extremely low pandemic-era numbers, but still far below the 20.01 million outbound travellers recorded in 2019.

Despite the latest surge, infectious disease expert Tateda insists there is no need for panic in Japan. However, he emphasised the importance of following precautions implemented during the pandemic’s peak, such as mask-wearing in public, handwashing, and social distancing.

Tateda also stressed that anyone testing positive should immediately isolate themselves.

#covid #mask up #pandemic #covid 19 #coronavirus #wear a mask #sars cov 2 #still coviding #public health #wear a respirator

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dabisbratz · 2 years ago

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PENANCE — leon s. kennedy x male reader

w.c: 5.1k

౨ৎ . . . warning: light bondage/restraints, fucking on a cross, argument, bottom reader, mixed praise/degradation, leons corny one-liners, impulsive reader, fingering, spit, finger sucking, oral sex, improper use of guns, “make-up” sex (kinda), standing mating press, dirty talk, sir kink, leon’s weak pull-out game, readers genitalia undisclosed, clothed sex, d/s understones, two (2) spanks, phone sex (kinda?)

The last lingering days of winter sit at the very edge of the night, the top of the inveterate day, like the ever-ticking clock resting upon the wall that inches deeper into the midnight sky with its turning. The taste of regret lingers in the air, bitter and sour and pungent, assaulting the senses of any passerby and residents.

So overpowering, in fact, it’s plagued the plagued, drew them straight to you as you ran through the dingy village. Your combat boots slipped through the mud, clingy and riddled with a thick, musty smell that clasped itself to your clothes. The air was thick with fog, an impenetrable layer of milky grays that made it almost impossible to see through, and the gun glued to your hand felt like a cold, heavy brick.

Your mission was simple enough— accompany your superior while he secured ‘Baby Eagle’, make yourself unknown.

Tread carefully.

Your knife— secured by a leather scabbard wrapped around the swell of your thigh— remained cold and sharp. You thought there’d be no use for it— no close encounters.

Tread carefully.

You’d managed to run through the heart of the village, conjuring up quite the mob, full of pitchforks and flames, full of ashes and debris that danced in the air. It burned your lungs more than the running, lit the charcoal fire in the pit of your stomach as you ran until you couldn’t anymore— and your partner was out of sight.

Tread carefully.

Leon told you to stick beside him. Follow closely behind and he’d cover you, as long as you covered him. But you just couldn’t help yourself— the blood rushing through your veins and your heart pumping in your ears— you panicked. You ran. Stupidly, selfishly, you ran. You’d broken the dam and left Leon to pick up the pieces.

The last thing you’d heard before slamming the mass of your body into a wooden door was the gruff scream of your name, Leon, who you knew was more than capable of making it out just fine. That wasn’t the issue, no— it was your recklessness, your brief disregard for his advisory or guiding hand— it was your impulsiveness to run straight into danger.

He’d specifically told you not to on the way there. Stick by his side and you’d be okay— not that you’re incapable—just inexperienced. No strays— none of the sort. No catching any, no following any, no becoming any.

So now you have to pay for your mistakes.

You’re sprawled on the cross like a two-page spread, skin sheen and wet with what you assume is sweat— and dirt sticks to the slickness of your forehead. The pitter patter of rain against the poorly ventilated windowsill lingers, and the dirty glass trembles with loneliness. You can certainly attest to that, with your arms bound above your head and tied up in rusty chains. There’s no one here but you and your thoughts, your increasingly darkening veins and swimming mind.

You don’t remember who chained you up— perhaps the crafty residents of the village with much more intelligence than you’d like to admit, especially considering their predicament. But you do remember the injection of something cold and foreign. Something that absolutely should not be in your body. It doesn’t hurt, though, it’s not uncomfortable. And the wetness of the air bothers your head much more than the injection, if it’s bothering you at all.

It’s more a minor inconvenience than anything, aesthetically.

Perhaps it’s immunity, or maybe just inattentiveness. You’d have to tell Leon about it later, if you ever get to see him again.

You can’t help but think of him, his opalescent skin that travels for miles, the small quirk to his pink lips when he’s reveling in pride, the bleached-blond bundles of hair that sit perfectly atop his head. Like a crown— like a halo. The piercing blue of his eyes, cold as the arctic as he stares right through you. The deep pool of his pupils that dilate and constrict when sunlight hits them just right. . . The swell of his biceps when he crosses his arms, bulging and spilling over his closed fists. His hands, rough and scarred. Gloved and airbrushed with leather gloves that stop just before his knuckles, hiding the veins and muscles of his hands that stream down his wrists like a steady river.

It’s almost like you can hear him, the assertiveness of his voice that reverberates in your ears. Like he’s next to you again, wrapping his large hand around your wrist and maneuvering it into the right position for combat— the thickness of his voice as he notes aloud, “Keep it like this or you’ll hurt yourself.”

This whole time he’s been your keeper, steering you through the village with one hand secured around the handle of his gun and the other cradling the nape of your neck.

(“I got it.” You’d muttered, shaking off the heat of his large palm. There was something calculating in his eyes, and his long, dark eyelashes batted against the prominent curve of his cheekbone.

Your pistol rested in your hand, barely a scratch across its metal surface. You were still a bit slow at reloading, but you got the job done.

“As long as I’m here, I’m sure you do.)

You want to laugh about it now, pitifully, because the chains around your wrists are nowhere near as warm. Just as domineering, maybe, but not comforting in the slightest. It’s embarrassing to admit how often you’d thought about it— his comfort, late hours in the night filled with his voice, his hands, his touch.

Heat pools in your abdomen, swimming down your navel and spreading between your thighs. Now isn’t the time— not that you could take care of anything if you wanted to— You’ve been stripped of everything— just not in the way you want.

There’s a quiet rustle of the leaves, barely audible with the echoing pews of the church, but you hear it. That walking pattern. . . stepstep… step… stepstep’ only belongs to one person, and you feel relief pushing down your shoulders.

“Jesus...”

“Leon,” Breathy like a prayer, your hands clench into fists as you strain against the rusty chains. His figure grows, stalking forward with swaying shoulders that look broader than ever, and his nude lips are pulled tight into a snarl. His eyebrows— full and straight, pinch together with what you assume is anger, and a familiar crease forms between them. “I can explain.”

His shoulders bounce, as if he’s let out a sour chuckle, and there’s a slight shake to his head as he carries himself up the steps to free you. Quite the hero, you can’t bring yourself to stare into his eyes for too long as he scours your body for injuries. Nothing major— nothing he can’t help with, and his blue eyes settle on your face for much longer than he’d like to admit. There’s a soft haze to his furious eyes, the fire behind them dampening as his mind slowly realizes you’re alright for now.

You’re alive.

“Oh, I'm sure you can,” He quips, circling around the contraption you’re chained to. It almost feels primal, his intense gaze taking you in from every angle as he walks forward to trace his fingertips along your wrists. He’s gentle, though, feathery light as he gives an experimental tug to the metal. “And you will. So you better start talking.”

A small breath of relief escapes your freshly parted lips as it’s pulled away, and Leon doesn’t miss the indents freshly engraved into your skin. His frown deepens, but the cool leather of his fingerless gloves feel much more soothing than the chains.

You don’t mind it as much as he does.

A dagger of shame shoots through your chest, beating and writhing against the confines of your rib cage. Your tongue is tied, excuses dying in your throat as you stare at Leon’s five-fingered grip on your wrist. It’s tightening, his nails digging into your wrist ever so slightly, though you already have no chance at escape. You figure it’s meant to ground you, not hurt you.

“It’d be a lot easier if I were free,” You’re stalling, not all that uncomfortable as Leon turns his head in the direction of your face, his head tilted downward and his breath lightly fanning your neck. Warm. “…Leon? Wanna help a guy out, or…”

A characteristic clench to his jaw has the words dying on your tongue, and for some reason unbeknownst to you, he’s seething.

“Pull something like this again and those things won’t be the only ones after your head.” The warmth of his large chest against yours leaves just as it arrives, and he’s tilting his neck to really get a good look at you. Trying to get his point across, you suppose, with steely, gunmetal blue eyes. You can’t help but waver, irises stinging as you turn your attention to your bound wrists. Part of you wants to roll your eyes.

That just won’t do.

Leon sucks his teeth, gripping your jaw with restrained strength so you’re actually looking at him now, and whatever excuse you’ve created dissipates immediately. The look in his eyes—territorial, maybe?—has you at a loss for words, and all you can do is watch his pink tongue dart over his bottom lip.

Whatever he’s thinking about, you don’t like it, because he’s shifting his weight from one foot to the other with his hands on his hips. His face is pensive, but you can still feel the heat of his anger radiating off his skin. Even from a distance. “Shoot the chains or something.”

“Sure, let me accidentally graze you with a shotgun shell while I’m at it.” More bite than he’d intended, Leon loosens the straps to his body armor and lets it hit the ground with a small thud. You blink, eyelashes beating against your cheeks as you blink away surprise.

“Leon—”

“Shh, I don’t give a damn. You could’ve died. Seriously, what were you thinking?” His hair sways, violent and angry and overprotective. “Don’t go running off like that again, you understand?”

“I’m not a kid. I’m a grown man—” Irritation bubbles in your throat— did he just shush you?

“Damn right you’re not. And I’m not your father. Didn’t I tell you not to do anything stupid?”

“I had it under control.” You both know you’re lying through your teeth, but Leon wants to really drive his point home. He nods, noncommittal, snaking his arm around your waist and down the small of your back to unzip the pocket attached to your utility belt. He pulls out your gun, which remains heavy and shiny with disuse.

“Yeah? Under control with no bullets?” He aims the gun at a large mosaic of a stained window, and pulls the trigger with no hesitation. There’s nothing but a click, then resounding silence as he slowly releases the trigger, one hand secured over his knuckles while the other grips the pistol's handle.

“Lee, c’mon, we have stuff to do,” You sound whiny and borderline pathetic. You almost expect him to tell you to ‘use the magic word’, but he’s too busy pressing the pad of his thumb against your lips. His finger tastes vaguely of salt and leather, and you fight the urge to open your mouth and suck on it. “…Please.”

You’re not entirely sure what you’re begging for. The ache in your wrists feels dull and distant, and you can’t help but press the tip of your tongue against the flat underside of his thumb. You watch his pupils blow wide, pink creeping up his neck and pooling around the shells of his ears.

“Okay.” He breathes, broad shoulders melting ever so slightly as he pushes his thumb further into your mouth, taking in every curve and contour of lips as you wrap them around his thumb. It fills your mouth with ease, caressing the flat surface of your tongue with slow, circular strokes. You want more. “Yeah— okay. Tell me you understand.”

“I understand, Sir.” You try to sound more snarky and annoyed than anything, but it’s hard when you’re deepthroating another man’s finger. You sputter around his thumb, can barely form a coherent sentence with it pressing into your mouth like this— but Leon seems to catch on anyway, chuckling humorlessly to himself. Stubborn boy.

There’s a warning pat to your cheek, and suddenly you’re back in that training facility. Dimly lit and nearly empty, save for some equipment and workout machines— save for you and Leon, who kept his hands relaxed as you punched him square in the palm.

It was Leon who was told to take you in, show you the ropes, and he’d done so with a sly remark and a curt nod. It flew over your head at first, whatever he was implying, but you were slowly starting to get it now.

(“Well, looks like you’re stuck with me. Time to break in the fresh meat, then.”)

Only a few months ago, you’d been recruited into special forces, and there was something special about you. Something untapped and not yet tainted— there was still a genuine curve to your lips when you smiled, a sparkle in your eyes as you spoke. Charm was written all over your face, boyish and giddy and eager. You’d reminded Leon a bit of himself back in 1998, full of potential but laced with undeniable naivety.

And, truthfully, he liked you. Likes you, even, because of it. You remind him of who he used to be— why he’s here— to serve and protect. And if he’s being honest, he wants to protect you.

Even if it means putting you back in your place.

Breaking you in.

“Say it like you mean it.”

“I understand, Sir.” You’ve lost some bass in your voice, and it comes out shaky and cracked. You don’t have time to dwell on it now, how pathetic you sound, because Leon’s expression is nothing short of prideful. Your breath hitches in your throat, stuck in your larynx as you want the blond take in a sharp breath. He likes the title.

“Atta boy.” His eyelids are blanketed, heavy as he stares down at your lips with the remnants of a lazy smile. His— your — gun is still in his hand, but with him closing the distance between the two of you, it’s pressed against your collarbone.

You can’t help it; the opportunity is right there, and you find yourself leaning forward to press your tongue flat against the slide of the pistol.

“Playing a dangerous game, pretty.” Leon rasps, but taps the barrel of the gun against your tongue anyway. It’s slick with your spit, shiny and wet and he has to resist the urge to suck on it too. To taste you. “Yeeaah, just like that. There you go.”

It’s like you’ve learned nothing.

With a low grunt, Leon pushes the gun deeper into your mouth, using his left hand to hold onto the nape of your neck and keep you still. Asshole.

Ever the brat, you furrow your brows and thrash against your restraints.

“You can take it,” He hushes you, using that voice he has reserved for hostages or targets, all gentle and sweet. It’s hushed, barely a whisper, but it makes your brain foggy anyway. You can take it. “Give me your mouth. You can do that for me, can’t you? Say ‘yes sir’.”

You try, hard as you can, whining around the barrel of the gun with tears springing in your eyes. It’s hot and heavy now, like some sort of makeshift dildo, but you know the real thing would feel better. Warmer, stickier, curved and veiny. Thick on your tongue and pulsing, salty and sweet and long.

“Jesus-fucking-Christ. Holy shit,” He’s fucking your throat, sliding the metal into your mouth as far as it can go. It’d be much better if it were his cock instead, so big and so deep, leaving a bulge as he grinds it into your mouth. You’d take it like a champ too, eager and greedy. “Breathe.”

“Sir,” You gurgle, drool running down your chin and coating your skin until Leon pulls the pistol away and inspects it.

You watch him part his lips, previously pulled into a frown, to suck along the barrel of the gun and lap up your spit. There’s remnants of mint and saliva, fresh and sour when combined with the metal of the pistol. “Shit—Leo.”

“Tastes good. Did you take my gum?” He hums, witty as ever. It’s a passing comment, one you can’t help but laugh at, and the man seems to appreciate it. Even if he doesn’t exactly say that. He doesn’t give you much time to laugh, instead opts to connect his lips with yours. Finally, you moan into his mouth, much sweeter and pliant than before. You can’t stay mad at him.

“That’s all you needed, huh. Just a few sweet words, a couple kisses… If I’d known that I would’ve done that months ago.”

Only because you’re so needy, though. Your hips buck into the air, grinding against the space between your hips as your heart slams against your chest. You want more— need more, and the ache between your thighs is enough to prove it. You whimper, high in your throat and full of frustration.

“You really like hearing yourself talk.” You can’t take yourself seriously, not like this, but you say it anyway with nothing but the intent to get fucked stupid. You don’t doubt his capabilities, not with the way Leon’s staring at you. Predatory and ready, like he expected you to say that, his large hand gripping his cock through his tightening pants. You swallow hard, sensing some kind of mistake, and manage to gulp down your pride in the process. If you were someone else you’d be scared, running away from his anger with your tail between your legs. But you’re not.

“You just can’t wait, that it? Over here humping my leg like a damn dog, and now you have something to say? What, because your little hole gets frustrated when it’s been empty for too long?”

You’re squirming within seconds, struggling to wrap your legs around the dip of his waist. Even after dropping his armor he’s wearing too many clothes, too many layers that separate your skin from his. You can’t exactly take your shirt off, not without ripping it straight down the middle, but your lower half is free rein.

“Spoiled brat,” It’s something the blond registers too, because his big hands are hastily unbuttoning your pants and tugging them down your thighs, trailing behind with the gentle scrape of his fingernails. “Remind me the only way to keep you quiet is stuffing your holes.”

He’ll be able to see you much better like this, kneeling in front of your position on the cross to really see you. The clenching of your hole, empty and needy, the trail of lube gushing from it just as he hopes to, the shiny slickness covering your inner thighs. He wants to bury his face in it, fuck you on his tongue till you’re downright ruined, fucked-out and plaint. Maybe it’s in your nature to drift off, have your brain cut off from an orgasm (or two..or three) until you’re malleable enough to listen.

Your words are stuck in your throat, choked up and wobbly as his fingers relentlessly press into that special bundle of nerves. You feel like a slut, with Leon’s fingers twisting and pounding away, his newfound grip on your thighs so tight you’re gasping, crying out and squealing. He’s still careful, applying just the right amount of strength to keep you still.

“We don’t have much time,” His breath is hot against your entrance, and it can’t help but flutter with his mouth so close. Leon’s face contorts, softening as he licks a fat, wet stripe alongside it. “Wish I could keep you on my tongue. But you won’t mind something bigger, yeah?”

There’s nothing for you to hold onto as his fingers poke and prod at your hole, rubbing smooth, slow circles around the entrance. You want to wrap your arms around him, grip his shirt like iron and stifle your moans with it— but you’re chained. Leon pauses to stick his thumb in his mouth— the same one previously pressed against your own—and brings it down to you, pushing into your hole with ease. The thought of an indirect kiss has you spreading your thighs, lifting a leg just barely above Leon’s shoulder. Maybe you’re easy— maybe a kiss is all you need. Maybe it’s just because it’s Leon.

“Damn. Feel so fucking good on my fingers, baby,” He purrs, his voice melting in your ears. “Keep it up and I’ll see if I can promote you to Special Forces’ personal fuckhole.”

His fingers are wet and thick, you’re not sure how he’d managed to lubricate them so well, maybe he kept some in those extra storage pockets of his, but whatever it is…feels good. Slick and warm, almost feels like he’s fucking a fresh load of cum into you. The thought has you mewling, hands furled into tight fists as you struggle to stay upright.

With an unending stream of pitiful noises, your mouth pools with saliva that starts to dribble from the part of your pouty lips, and you instinctively spread your legs wide. It’s far from gross, the messiness of your drool catching on your chin and trailing down your clothed chest. It’s hot— you’ve gone braindead from his fingers alone, and he’s barely even started. You’re wailing, more wet and hiccupy sobs than moans, and tears stream down your handsome face in response. It’s just too much: too big, too deep, too warm, too wet.

You can’t do anything but take in the digits, slick and warming up by the minute until they curl, deep and thick. Your eyes roll back in your head as Leon keeps an iron hold between your thighs, rubbing and rubbing at your front and—and oh, you’re so close. You’re so close it hurts, the pit of your stomach filling with light and your toes curling deliciously. You have nothing to grab at, nowhere to hold, nothing to keep you stable as you lul your head to and fro. You sound delirious, and you must look just as bad.

“Ohh, m’gonna—”

“Brace yourself,” He mumbles, gloved hands running up the back of your thighs until he’s lifting your lower body off the cross and placing your knees on his shoulders. It’s intimate, personal and close as he lets out a breathy moan in response to the perfect fit of your hips against his own. “I’ll be gentle, sweetheart. For the most part.”

The blond is still clothed, and it’s hard to gauge his reaction of your naked lower-half grinding against his pulsating erection, with his hair partly shielding his pretty face. But you can imagine it, his pink licorice-twist lips divorced and blush high on his cheeks as his precum mixes with yours, sloppy and soaking the front of his inky combat pants.

You whine, wiggling your hips and kicking out your feet like some sort of brat, a completely wordless attempt at telling him to strip. You know there’s tears streaming down your face, just when you think you’ve taken a step forward you discover you’d taken two steps back.

“You’ll take what I give you,” Like molten lava, Leon’s voice grows deeper by the second. He’s pushing your legs further forward, bending you in half until your legs burn and he’s sandwiched indubitably close. You’re glad you stretched before this, because he’s got you bent like a pretzel— like some sort of cheap whore, and there’s no escape. “Your new mission is to take it and look pretty, don’t complain now. You hear me?”

“Yeah,” You feel yourself nodding from a distance, frantic and erratic despite the strong grip he’s got on your chin. You can feel him twitching beneath you, his cock jumping in his pants as he traps you with his weight alone and unbuckles his utility belt. It drops to the floor, loud and heavy, but it’s nothing compared to the obscene sound of his cock slapping against your skin. He’s unzipped his fly— still clothed, almost like he’s emphasizing his power over you. “Yeah, I— yes, Sir.”

“Open,” It’s not a suggestion, as he’s already rutting his hips against the warmth of your skin and snaking one arm around your waist. The other goes to your mouth, wet and ready, pries it further open so your pink tongue is on display. Leon gathers a glob of spit, but rather than your mouth it reaches your cheek, wet and sticky. Leon’s aim is better than anyone you’ve ever known— so it’s deliberate. “Good boy. Use your manners.”

You swallow anyway, desperate pants obstructed as you stick your tongue out further for more. “Thank you, Sir. For— for your spit.”

Leon sinks in with a loud whine as you clench around the fat head of his dick, whining and gasping, fighting your orgasm off with everything you’ve got. There’s a slight burn— the stretch of his fat, lubed up cock nestling into your hole— but it feels good, indescribable and finally plugging you full. It’s hard to hear anything he’s saying behind the loud squelching of his cock slipping inside, that and your own sounds, but you try anyway. He’s filling you till you’re ready to burst at the seams, pressing his weight against your body so you can clamp down and take him completely, no questions asked.

“F-huck, I can’t… Please, please, you’re so,” You’re on fire, his cock curving up just right as your pillowy walls flutter around his intrusion. Right there, electricity sparks inside you and your eyes roll back with the pinch of your eyebrows. “So deep.”

“Yeah?” The blond laughs, breathless and high off the feeling of your velvety walls constricting around him— clenching so perfectly, so hot and slick with rhythmic pulses along his veiny shaft. His hand travels to press on your navel, and he can feel himself sliding in and out, in and out. “Feel it right here?”

You do. And his hand pressing against it isn’t much help, you can’t focus on anything other than his cock. Your wrists are achy, almost as much as your hole, straining against the chains that you still have yet to break from. But it makes it better, you’re open and free for Leon’s use. Just a hole—to be filled, used, fucked. And, yeah, maybe you are. Maybe you want that, being used by Leon and his strong arms, manhandled into any position he wants.

“Yeah, in my— in my stomach.” You sound so cute, sniffling on his dick with every bounce and thrust forward, occasionally thrashing against your restraints. Leon coos, right in your ear and echoing in the pews. Much like the sound of your skin slapping against his, deep and fast thrusts like he’s pounding the brat out of you.

"God, should’ve had you like this all the time, drunk on cock,” You’re twitching, pulsing and convulsing around Leon’s cock, the fabric of his combat pants rubbing against your front. “Just like that, there you go, honey. Don’t run, let me watch my pretty hole swallow this cock.”

His— oh. Yeah, you suppose, it’s his hole to fuck, to kiss, to use. Since day one, really, when you’d spent your first night after meeting him knuckles deep. It’s incomparable to his own, longer and thicker, faster and better. So, yes, your hole is his, and his alone. You nod. babbling in his ears and wriggling in his arms. You’re his. The implication behind it has your heart stuttering, hammering in your chest as butterflies beat against your tummy.

Oh— You’re cumming.

“Shit, sweetheart. Knew you were a slut.”

“I don’ wanna— I can’t—” You let out an array of desperate, hysterical cries around Leon’s long, airbrushed pink cock, thighs and chest heaving and trembling, and arching off the wooden cross. It takes you a moment to form a complete sentence. “Don’t wanna.. st—op.”

“Yeah, yeah..” Leon nods against your neck, burying his face into the warm skin. His hair tickles your throat, soft and silky. “I won't. We won’t. I got you.”

His big palm cracks against the swell of your ass, loud and echoing in the church. Your core tightens, knees tightening on his shoulders as you cum. Hard and fast, you can barely register the squeals being ripped from your throat. Not over the slapping, the spanking, the—

The crackle of Leon’s radio, loud and blaring in his earpiece.

“Hold on.” Tears spill over your glassy eyes.

“Wh— No! Sir, you—“

“Hey. Don’t ‘no’ me. I’m right here, just sit pretty for me and take it,” He moans, emphasizing his words with a sharp snap to his hips. Your toes curl, searing white pleasure sparking in your stomach as Leon responds to the radio comms. You’re overstimulated, sparks of sensitivity striking through you with every quick thrust. “There you go, such a good boy. . .”

“Condor one to Roost,” He replies, sparing you a gentle glance while your legs lock behind his neck. The blond doesn’t let up once, honey locks bouncing as you cry on his dick. “What?”

“…Very funny. . .” Whatever Hunnigan said must’ve been spot on, because a low growl rumbles in his chest and his balls are tightening against your skin. Blotches of pink bloom in his neck, probably following down his wide shoulders— if only he weren’t clothed.

“Goddamn, you’re gonna make me cum, yeah, wish I could fuck it into you. Next time,” It’s deliciously obscene, the sounds of Leon’s cock reaming your hole like his life depends on it. His voice is barely above a whisper, so quiet but full in your ears. “Next time, we’ll make your pretty hole all messy with my cum. Yeah?”

Leon’s hips stutter, his deep thrusts growing shallow and messy as lube and precum froths between your warm skin. You can feel it all, the way his cock jumps and as he cums, missing a beat before pulling out to spurt the rest on your tummy. Thick and hot, it’s starting to cool on your shirt before he can move to wipe it away. Before he can end the call.

“He’s fine. We’ll have Baby Eagle home in time for dinner. Right, rookie?”

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earthstellar · 1 year ago

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Jack Lawrence (MTMTE/Lost Light Artist) is compiling a list of people providing safe spaces at the upcoming TFCon in Orlando, Florida, due to the current political and social climate against LGBTQIA+ people in the state.

A lot of people invest in conventions and not everyone can afford to cancel, so this is a hugely important thing and it's awesome that he's doing it, which is why I'm sharing it here.

If anyone might be attending TFCon in Orlando, please be extremely cautious and use Jack's list to know who you can go to and where you can go at the event if you feel like you might need a safe place.

I'm hoping TFCon won't be holding any events in Florida next year (or ideally ever again), but this year things were arranged well in advance before things dropped off a cliff legislatively in FL, so everyone involved got screwed this time around.

I'm from Florida myself, unfortunately, and I don't advise ANYONE to travel there for any reasons whatsoever. It is extremely dangerous, and it was never a good place to begin with. It is a hellhole.

For those who don't have a choice, for example those who financially need to attend to make back merch/print costs etc., I truly do feel for you. Please, please be safe. <3

TFCon Orlando is also offering refunds to any LGBTQIA+ ticket holders who do not feel safe attending due to the location.

This is extremely cool of them to do, and if anyone planned to attend but no longer feels safe doing so, please contact them (details at the link above) and get a refund sorted out.

I want everyone to be safe, and don't feel bad if you either have to get a refund or if you feel like you have to attend. Either way, just be safe, and make the safest decision for you. <3

EDIT: Here is the Equality Florida Advisory Warning for Travel.

It is not advised to travel to Florida. It is not safe.

Please, if you must attend, be extremely cautious.

#tfcon #maccadams #maccadam #events #transformers #tf convention #tfcon orlando

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curiouslilbird · 2 months ago

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Western NC Is Not Okay

Cell service, phone lines, roads, and other infrastructure have all been damaged or destroyed, especially way up in the highest elevations.

Loved ones who live here may or may not be able to send or receive messages.

Many places out here are unrecognizable from what they looked like just a few days ago.

Most families are without power, and panic buying of food and fuel have already started.

Many restaurants and grocery stores are either running out of food, are without power themselves, or have been damaged too much to function.

Many are fleeing east to Gastonia, Charlotte, and further toward the coast, where power is more stable and food is at least a bit more reachable.

Out where I am, about an hour west of Gastonia, I was lucky to find a friend with power so I can use my CPAP and charge my phone. Lots of people like me are relying on cell phones as their sole source of communication, but with cell towers messed up and hilly terrain, even that is spotty at best.

I am doing better than most. My house is undamaged as of now, our cars work, and I am in a safe shelter with power, but even so, I am still worried about being able to access food and gas once our small supplies are gone. We're currently limiting driving to emergency measures only, but here in the south, public transit is simply not a thing...the closest train station, for instance, is an hour away in Gastonia. Biking is also not safe with all the downed trees and power lines, plus just the sheer distance between places and the lack of bike lanes and sidewalks in general.

As car and gas dependent as we all are, not being able to buy gas anywhere reasonably close is a huge problem. I sure hope deliveries of gas can be made to this area soon, because that makes finding food much easier. I don't have any problem driving the 50-60 miles to Charlotte to find food, but it will become an issue if I sit in heavy traffic and lose my little supply of fuel that way.

Honestly I know I personally underprepared for this storm, but I also had no idea how bad our infrastructure is without power and gas. Everything's electronic and now stores have had to go back to cash only...which meant we drove 2 hours around yesterday trying to find a working ATM and/or a store that took cards. At least people are being fairly gracious in stores so far, but desperation can quickly change that.

So, yeah...WNC is not okay, and because of the conditions, a lot of people can't even get the word out. I'm one of the lucky ones with a working cell signal and relative peace to be able to communicate, and I have the hope of being able to go home to an undamaged home within days. (I don't know yet how vain that hope is....both weather flood warnings and power outage advisories keep being pushed back.)

In any case, travel to or through WNC in the next few days/weeks/months is basically a no-go, especially for places like Asheville and Boone. Down the mountain where we are, things are a bit better here, but it's still a developing situation. Hoping for the best. 💞💔💞

#wnc #western north carolina #hurricane helene #fyi

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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 7 months ago

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Norsemen & Anglo-Saxons Chapter 1

Here's the new story! I hope y'all like it.

Summary: Princess Y/N has a secret that her parents are ashamed of. A conquering Viking chief recognizes the gift she has. Will they be able to bring peace between warring people, and maybe find love along the way? Viking!Bucky Warnings: eventual smut, abuse, violence, animal attack, blood

Next chapter

The New Year was upon them. The castle was bustling with maids and squires decorating and scrambling to get everything ready in time. The halls were filled up with garlands, pinecones, dried oranges, berries, and candles lit every ten feet. A large tree had been hauled into the great hall during Christmas Time and decorated with the same oranges, berries and pinecones, as well as ornamental pieces that shone through the branches in the candlelight. The last seasonal ball was to be held in a few days time, and the noble families from all over the Isles had traveled in to be part of the festivities.

Princess Y/N watched the chaos in boredom as her little brother Prince Alfred, or Alfie, ran around the room with a stream of ribbon in hand, singing holiday songs at the top of his lungs. As much as she loved and adored him their age difference was definitely apparent during these moments. “I watched three ships come sailing in on Christmas day on Christmas day…”

“Alfie if you sing that wretched song one more time I will–”

“You will do nothing,” her mother, Queen Eugenia interrupted as she walked into the great hall to inspect the decorations. “After all these years of training, you still resort to violence, you ridiculous child.”

“And you still call me a child when I near my thirtieth year, Mother,” Y/N spat back. “Perhaps my penchant for violence comes from my frustration with said training and the constant degradation of my age and ability.”

“Your petulance and independence has made you unmarriable and therefore a thorn in my side,” Eugenia sighed.

“There have been no, as you and Father called them, “suitable” suitors to marry me off to, Mother. And this,” she held out her hand, opening her palm, wherein a green orb of light appeared, “scares you both to death.”

“Put your hand away!” Eugenia ran over and slapped Y/N’s hand down before anyone could see. “Stop being so careless!”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mother.”

Eugenia sat next to her. “You will attend tonight’s ball, dressed appropriately, with a smile on your ungrateful face and nothing but patient, polite mannerisms escaping that mouth of yours. And you will not play tricks,” she looked pointedly at Y/N’s hands.

Y/N glared at her. “Yes, Mother.”

Eugenia sighed again. “Go get ready.”

Y/N left the great hall as Alfie continued singing away. Her lady’s maid followed her as she roamed the halls towards her room. The only ones who knew about her ability were her family, the royal advisory court and her lady’s maid. No one had been able to figure out what to do with it. She didn’t have a handle on it, either. She could manipulate objects and people’s bodies to move how she wanted, heal minor injuries, and when touching someone she was able to see their thoughts and feel their feelings. She could feel that there was something more to it, that her power had the potential to grow, and yet she and her ability had been tamped down so heavily from the moment she first started exhibiting it that she was unable to truly hone it and see what she was capable of. The advisors had researched their history and fairy tale books extensively and could not find a rhyme or reason as to why she had this power. The only reason she had not been burned at the stake as a witch was because her father thought it could be useful to him and his never ending battle against the Norsemen.

Y/N had only seen one Norseman in her entire life. Her father had captured one after a horrible battle and brought him back from the battlefield. He was what they called a Berserker, a Norseman warrior that would lose all sense of self-preservation and run into battle like a feral animal, like they were out of their minds and drunk with bloodlust. Her father had put them in a room together, separated by a line of thin prison bars. The Norseman didn’t try to attack her, just watched her intently. Her father told her to try her powers on him, see what she could make him do. Y/N had refused, so her father flogged her to try and make her submit. The Norseman had become so incensed by her father’s mistreatment that he had broken through the bars, bending them like they were butter, and just as he was about to lay his hands on her father she threw her hands up. The Norseman was encircled in the green light, stopping him midair. Her father gave the first genuine smile towards her she had seen in years.

The guards had shackled him and took him away shortly after that. The look in his eyes as they dragged him away was one of shock and betrayal. Y/N couldn’t stand it, and that night snuck through the castle to the dungeon. She had found secret passages as a child that she used regularly, and slipped through undetected. She stole the keys and found his cell. He was awake, and when he heard the jingle of the keys he looked up at her. His eyes widened and he scurried towards the farthest wall from her.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” Y/N had whispered, holding her hands up. He watched her carefully as she unlocked the door and swung it open. She had stepped away, giving him room to leave. He had slowly walked out of the cell, watching her constantly. He stepped away towards the nearest exiting door. “Run,” she whispered as she backed away from him, keeping her hands up.

He stopped for a moment. He cleared his throat and asked in perfect English, “Are you a witch?”

Y/N had blinked at him in surprise. “I…I don’t know,” she answered honestly. This man could kill her in a second without making a sound, and yet he merely nodded. “Thank you, Drottning,” he bowed his head to her then ran off towards the door.

Y/N had never seen or heard from him again. The castle had been abuzz with confusion and fear upon finding him missing the next morning, but they ultimately decided that the barbarian had his ways and wasn’t worth pursuing.

Y/N had never trusted her father again after that day, and had steered clear of him whenever and however she could. He only wanted her for her power and what it could do for him. He didn’t love her, he didn’t love Alfie. He was a true English King, hoarding power and wealth wherever he could.

Y/N dressed in her holiday best for the ball and begrudgingly entered the great hall later that night. The party was in full swing, nobles dancing together as the music played, the King and Queen laughing madly at the jester performing in front of them. The wine was flowing, making the crowd more rowdy by the second. As Y/N ascended the stage where the King and Queen sat she saw two short legs poking out and found Alfie hiding behind the Queen’s wide throne chair. She quickly walked over and pulled him into her arms. “What are you doing here, Alfie? It’s late, and this is no place for a young boy,” she scolded him.

“Papa said I had to be here, because I’m to be king, and this is what kings do,” he mumbled. Y/N glared over at her father, who was drinking himself into a stupor. Alfie was a mere 11 years old, and already her father was trying to sink his dirty claws into the little boy’s mind and heart.

“No, Alfie, this is not how kings should act,” Y/N reassured him as she ran her fingers through his hair. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Suddenly there was a loud bang and a whistling as wind whipped through the hall from where the front doors burst open. A thunderous roar from what seemed like hundreds of men swarming the hall filled the room, echoing through the high ceilings and making Alfie cover his ears. Y/N held him close as she huddled behind the throne, concealing him and herself as best as possible. There were shouts and screams from the nobles as the men started to cut many of them down, pushing and beating others as they made their way to the stage.

The King and Queen sat in shocked silence as they watched their guards and nobles die or be captured around them. Y/N glanced around looking for an escape and saw men standing in the higher windows, pointing arrows at the royals. She knew they were seen and so any attempt to run would be met with death.

Heavy footsteps walked up the stage steps, and before she could even move large hands were hefting her and Alfie from behind the chair. They ripped Alfie from her arms and she screamed, trying to get ahold of him again as he cried and tried to grab for her. Y/N’s body was wrenched around and she came face to face with a familiar looking man.

“Hello, Drottning, remember me?” the Norseman from years earlier smiled at her.

“You!” Y/N breathed as her eyes widened.

The Norseman chuckled as he led her to the front of the stage to stand next to her Mother and Father who sat dumbfounded on their thrones, Alfie on the other side of them being held back by another man. Y/N looked around and even through her fear was struck by the attractive nature of these men. Most of them were spattered in blood and sweat from fighting, and yet she had never seen so many handsome men. The yelling started to die down as one Norseman walked forward, assumedly the leader, the rest of them parting to let him through. The one approaching her and her family was easily one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen in her life. His long, dark brown hair was half tied back with braids that had ornaments of beads and metal cuffs attached to them. His full beard was cut neatly and framed his pink lips, which were stretched into a menacing smirk. His blue eyes shone bright like the ocean just after a storm, and she could see the mischievous glint in them as he scanned the family. He was covered in Norse battle gear from just under his jaw to his feet, a large sheathed sword on his right side and a war hammer at his left. His left arm was bare, and upon further inspection Y/N realized it wasn’t flesh, but some kind of metal, yet it looked and functioned like a normal arm. He was huge, like all the other men, tall and broad. His eyes settled on her and he appraised her, giving her a long look up and down. Y/N straightened herself under his stare, refusing to bow or show weakness to him. His smirk deepened at her as he looked back at her parents.

“King Henry, Queen Eugenia,” he greeted them in a deep, booming voice. “I am James Barnes, Jarl of the Danes, or Norsemen as you like to call us.” He nonchalantly took a half eaten pastry off the table closest to him and popped it in his mouth, chewing it slowly. “What a lovely party. We missed our invitation,” he said with a sly smile, making his men laugh heartily around him.

Henry just couldn’t help himself as he stood up. “You aren’t wanted, heathens! Leave immediately!”

“Now now, Henry, is that any way to speak to the ones who have conquered you?” James admonished him. “I’ve come to make peace, and you want to scream insults?”

Y/N silently gasped. Peace? With the Norsemen?

“Make peace? While you murder my nobles and threaten my family? That’s preposterous,” Henry scoffed. Y/N glared at her father, silently wishing for him to shut up.

“Well you could either choose peace, or watch the rest of your nobles and your family die, starting with your heir,” James threatened, glancing at Alfie. Y/N squirmed against the Norseman behind her at the threat. “And we’ll make some stops along the way to some of your most prosperous cities and take what we need. The choice is yours.”

“That’s no choice!” Henry yelled and then started to move towards James. “You wretched, barbaric–”

A whistle sounded through the hall as an arrow was loosed. It flew straight towards Alfie’s chest. Y/N’s hand yanked out of the Norseman’s hand that was holding her and stretched toward her brother as she screamed, “NO!”

The arrow stopped, hovering right in front of Alfie’s heart, surrounded by the green light. The men gasped, James staring at Y/N with an awestruck smile on his face. “So it’s true,” he whispered. Y/N flicked her wrist and the arrow went flying towards the wall and shattered. Before she could even drop her hand James was in front of her. He looked at the Norseman holding her back and nodded to him. “Thor, is this the English witch of royal blood who freed you?”

The man behind her nodded and lightly shoved her into his arms. James held her by her arms and looked down at her. “What’s your name, Princess?”

Y/N could only stare at his bright blue eyes, her heart hammering in her chest at exposing herself and her ability. “Y/N,” she whispered.

“Y/N,” he repeated it like it was a prayer. “I’ve been talking to the wrong person.” He pulled her forward to face her family. “Henry, you’ve been hiding something,” he chuckled as he plopped his chin on her shoulder so they were cheek to cheek and ran his fingers up and down her arms, the metal ones sending chills up her spine. “She’s the one with power, not you.” Henry glared at her, a hateful look on his face. “Oh, I see,” James’ voice became sharper. “You feel threatened by her, so you’ve hid her away, stomped on her potential to grow,” Y/N was nearly shaking as she felt the adrenaline rush through her. “She’s a goddess among you pathetic royals,” he kissed the side of her head, “and you wanted to reduce her to a torture device. You let the magic go to waste.” He turned her towards him again and dipped his face to be at eye level with her. “We have magic at home. We can help you learn and grow,” Y/N’s eyes widened at him. “So I ask you, Princess Y/N. What do you choose, death or peace?”

Y/N exhaled a shaky breath as she stared at him. As he touched her she let her ability slip into his mind. She could find no lie in his words. He and his people were tired, the constant war depleting their resources and wiping out families. They won the battles more often than lost, but it had put a strain on their lives. His mention of magic seemed real, too, with glimpses and flashes of things that were unexplainable popping up in his mind. Y/N thought about her people and how the English had been begging for peace for years as well, all of it falling on her father’s greedy, prideful ears. She could tell James was good, and only wanted good for his men and his people.

“I propose an allyship,” she said. James blinked and his eyebrows furrowed at her. “A peace treaty with a tradition as old as time,” she clarified, gulping quickly. “We join our families in marriage.” His eyes flicked between hers, like he was studying her. His men around him mumbled as they considered the idea. “If you are unmarried,” she amended, since she wasn’t sure, “or if someone in your nobility is unmarried, I will come with you as a peace offering, a marriage tribute. You will have me, and my power, and leave my family and my people be,” she said, trying to look and sound every bit the princess her mother had always wanted her to be. “And we will end this war and finally bring peace to our people.”

James stood straight, towering over her. He watched her for another moment, then stepped back and looked to his men behind him. Two of them walked up and spoke to him quietly. Y/N waited on baited breath as they consulted with each other. They stood back and he turned toward her again. “Done,” he said simply, the smirk returning to his lips. Y/N nodded and quietly sighed. “My Drottning,” he spoke lowly, holding out his metal hand. She put her right hand into his metal hand, admiring it.

“What does that mean?” she asked him.

“My Queen,” he winked at her. Y/N blushed deeply. He turned to his men and held her hand up high in his. “We have peace!” he yelled triumphantly. The thunderous roar returned as they cheered, their hands and swords and axes held high as they hugged each other and drank some of the wine left on the tables around them. James dropped their joined hands and kissed the hand he held, making her blush again. “Say goodbye to your family, Drottning, we leave immediately.”

He let her go and she ran up the stairs towards her family. She ignored her parents altogether, grabbing Alfie and holding him tight against her.

“Don’t go,” Alfie cried as his fingers clutched her dress.

“I have to,” Y/N cried as she carded her fingers through his hair. “You listen to me,” she knelt in front of him and held his face in her hands, “you remember what I’ve taught you.” He nodded frantically. “Do not listen to Father,” he nodded again, making her father sneer at them next to her. “I’ve seen it in you,” she whispered, laying a hand against his heart then tapping her finger to her head. “You will become one of the greatest kings England has ever known, as long as you don’t do as Father has done. You will bring continued peace and prosperity, you hear me?” She wiped his tears away. “Because you are a good boy, and will become a great man. My little king,” she kissed his forehead firmly before pulling away.

Alfie cried harder as she stepped away from him. She turned to her father. “Stay away from him,” she warned him, glancing at Alfie. “I have procured a peace that you, and your father, and your father’s father could never have dreamed of,” she sneered back at him. “Do good by our people, for once in your miserable life.” She glared at him before turning back towards James who stood patiently waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs.

His men were slowly retreating out of the great hall as he held his hand out for her again. She took it as he flashed one last glance and triumphant smile at her father before leading her out the front doors. As they walked through the courtyard and towards the horses waiting for them he glanced at her attire.

“Hm, this won’t do while riding,” he said as he twirled her around. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows at him. “Where’s your lady’s maid?”

Y/N looked around and saw the telltale eyes peeking from behind the stables. “May,” she pointed.

James summoned her forward out of hiding. She quickly ran across the courtyard and into Y/N’s arms, sobbing as Y/N pet her hair. “Miss May, go fetch your princess’ riding clothes and some simple dresses for travel,” James instructed her. May stared at him with wide eyes, looking at Y/N who nodded to her. She was escorted back inside with Thor to get Y/N’s things packed.

As they stood there waiting, the snow started to fall. Y/N looked up and sighed as the cold kissed her face, a welcome reprieve to her inflamed cheeks from the night’s tension. She looked towards James who was already looking at her.

“What do I call you?” she asked him.

“You can call me Bucky,” he said.

“Bucky?” she asked, a small smirk pulling her lips.

“A nickname,” he laughed at her perplexed look. “Saved for those closest to me. And since you’ll be my queen–”

“So it is you I’ll be marrying then?” Y/N asked.

“Yes,” Bucky laughed harder. “I guess I didn’t make that very clear.”

“Hm,” Y/N hummed. “You have a very English name...James.”

“Yes,” he agreed, sighing as he looked at the falling snowflakes. “We Norsemen and you Anglo-Saxons are not that different from each other,” he said with a twinkle in his eye as he winked at her again.

Y/N pondered that as May came out holding Y/N’s riding clothes and boots with Thor holding a small trunk that he loaded onto one of the wagons they had waiting. May ran back to Y/N.

“Go change, and then we’ll be off,” Bucky excused Y/N, who led May over to the stables. They went into an empty bay and May quickly stripped Y/N out of her gown and into her riding clothes.

“My lady,” May said as she held Y/N’s crown in her hands. Y/N looked at it and gingerly took it from her. She stared at it for a moment before giving it back to her. She gave May another hug.

“Take it, my love,” she said as May sobbed in her arms again. “Run away and marry that stable boy, Ben, and use it to live long happy lives together,” she said as she pulled away.

May nodded as she cried, gathering up the gown as she said goodbye.

Y/N came back out in her riding clothes. She approached Bucky who was preparing his horse. He mounted it and held his hand out to her. She took it and he helped hoist her behind him on the saddle. He wrapped her hands around his waist then she felt him tying her wrists together.

“What–” she started, trying to look over his shoulder.

“So you don’t run off,” Bucky cocked an eyebrow at her in warning as he looked back at her.

“I won’t,” Y/N promised.

“That’s what they all say,” Bucky chuckled before he turned to his men who were all waiting. “To Danmark!!”

“To Danmark!” they all yelled, and the pounding of hooves rang through the night as they all rode out of the courtyard and into the English countryside.

Y/N’s arms tightened around Bucky, her head tucking in between his shoulder blades as the winter wind stung her face. She was not going to run and wanted to prove it to him. She wanted peace, even if it meant giving up herself to get it. After about an hour they all started to slow as they reached the water’s edge where multiple ships were docked, secured by other Norsemen who waited anxiously for them.

Bucky untied the rope around her wrists then dismounted. He held his hands up to her hips and helped her down as well. He inspected her wrists, giving them a short rub. “I’m sorry,” he whispered as he pressed a kiss to each wrist. Y/N was surprised at his affection, but welcomed it in the moment. He pulled her towards one of the boats. He helped her step onto it and settled her into a corner of the stern that was covered in furs and quilts. He pulled one of the furs up and covered her with it, securing it around her shoulders. There was plenty of room around her as she got herself comfortable.

“It’s going to be a four day journey, Drottning,” Bucky kneeled in front of her. “This area is for all of us to sleep, so you’ll have at least a few men next to you, but don’t fear,” he reassured her at the look on her face, “they’re harmless. Just tired.”

Y/N looked around at the men loading themselves into the boat, many of them taking seats at the benches where the oars were sitting. She felt worried but nodded at him. He gave her a smile and stepped away to help load more things into the boats. They all worked methodically together until in just a few minutes they were ready to pull off. Bucky was stationed at one of the oars as well, giving the signal and they shoved off the shore.

Y/N watched the men in her boat and the others row in perfect unison. She admired their strength and the way they all seemed to be of one mind as they worked together to get into a good rhythm, making the boat fly through the water. The rhythmic rowing lulled her to sleep as she snuggled down into the furs below her.

She woke a few hours later. It was still dark out, the rowing still going strong. As she shifted to get more comfortable she felt a heavy weight around her waist. She panicked until she turned and saw Bucky’s peaceful face sleeping next to her, his metal arm resting on her side. Y/N looked down at the arm. She admired its craftsmanship, unsure of how he was able to find or create such a thing. Her fingers traced along the metal, the plates and divots carved like the muscles of a real arm would be. When she reached his hand she lightly traced each finger with the tip of her pointer finger. His hand suddenly moved to grasp her wrist. She gasped as he gently maneuvered her to face him. His eyes were still closed as he let go of her wrist then wound his metal arm around her back this time, holding her to his chest. “Sleep, wife,” he mumbled, his voice coming out hoarsely as he kissed her forehead and rested his chin on top of her head.

Y/N was stiff for a moment until the warmth enveloped her and she melted into his embrace. She pressed her nose into his sternum and breathed deeply as her hands gripped the fur coat he was wearing. He hummed as his breathing evened out and a soft snore rumbled in his chest. It lulled her to sleep again, a small smile on her face.

**picture is A.I. from Pinterest, unknown original "artist" or "creator"**

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #smut #viking!bucky barnes #viking!bucky barnes x reader #medieval #viking #chapter 1 #princess!reader #powers!reader #magic

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warmeclair · 8 months ago

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Prey advisories

Imagine if there were travel advisories for prey based on that country/land’s concentration of hostile or at least fatal eating preds.

Then in some countries it’s just specific areas or towns that are unsafe for prey.

So despite all of the clear warnings that say do not travel there. A prey does go because they just have to (could be a legitimate, or completely ridiculous reason of why they must go)

Then, for the unlucky prey, a hungry pred shows the prey exactly why the area is deemed unsafe.

#v.ore #vore blog #soft vore #v0re #vore talk #vore thoughts #implied fatal #implied digestion #tw fatal vore

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mapsontheweb · 1 year ago

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Do not travel countries

Red countries on the map are those who have a level 4 travel warning on the US travel advisory board. a level 4 advisory " indicates: a “do not travel” recommendation for American travelers. Armed conflict, internal instability, and increases in anti-american sentiment typically make a country a “level 4”.

by u/ExeterWorld

#maps #travel advice

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ausetkmt · 1 year ago

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The NAACP's national board of directors has issued a formal travel advisory for Florida, warning black and LGBTQ people against visiting the state due to Governor Ron DeSantis' policies.

'Florida is openly hostile toward African Americans, people of color and LGBTQ+ individuals,' states the advisory issued on Saturday night by the civil rights group.

'Before traveling to Florida, please understand that the state of Florida devalues and marginalizes the contributions of, and the challenges faced by African Americans and other communities of color,' it adds.

The NAACP said the advisory was 'in direct response' to the Florida governor's 'aggressive attempts to erase black history and to restrict diversity, equity, and inclusion programs in Florida schools.'

DeSantis, who is expected to announce his presidential campaign later this week, previously responded to the proposal of an NAACP travel advisory against Florida by calling the idea 'a joke'.

NAACP President and CEO Derrick Johnson (above) slammed DeSantis over his laws on education as the civil rights group issued a travel advisory against visiting Florida

The travel advisory appears to be a reaction to several related measures that DeSantis recently signed into law.

Last Monday, DeSantis signed a bill into law which bans the state's public colleges and universities from spending money on diversity, equity and inclusion programs.

'DEI is better viewed as standing for discrimination, exclusion and indoctrination,' DeSantis said at the bill signing on the campus of New College of Florida

The Republican governor also backed a measure to block the Advanced Placement African American studies course in public schools, saying the course 'lacks educational value.'

DeSantis has championed a number of other measures that restrict how schools deal with subjects such as race and gender, with the governor arguing that he is challenging inappropriate liberal ideology in the classroom.

His critics argue the measures are heavy-handed violations of free speech, and an attempt to restrict educators from teaching important topics.

NAACP President and CEO Derrick Johnson said in a statement: 'Let me be clear - failing to teach an accurate representation of the horrors and inequalities that Black Americans have faced and continue to face is a disservice to students and a dereliction of duty to all.'

'Under the leadership of Governor DeSantis, the state of Florida has become hostile to Black Americans and in direct conflict with the democratic ideals that our union was founded upon,' he added.

'He should know that democracy will prevail because its defenders are prepared to stand up and fight. We're not backing down, and we encourage our allies to join us in the battle for the soul of our nation,' said Johnson.

DeSantis says that he is challenging inappropriate liberal ideology in the classroom. His critics argue the measures are heavy-handed violations of free speech

DeSantis has not yet publicly responded to the travel advisory, but slammed the idea when it was first floated in March, when the Florida chapter of the NAACP first asked national leaders to consider the measure.

'What a joke,' he said at the time, according to Florida Politics. 'Yeah, we'll see, we'll see how effective that is.'

The Governor likened the proposal to people who traveled to Florida when pandemic restrictions predominated elsewhere, where 'they would end up being spotted on the beach somewhere vacationing.'

'This is a stunt to try to do that. It's a pure stunt and fine, if you want to waste your time on a stunt, that's fine. But I'm not wasting my time on your stunts,' DeSantis added.

Tourism is a major industry in Florida, and last year the state welcomed 137.6 million visitors, the highest number of visitors in the state's history, according to data from Florida's official tourism marketing corporation.

In 2021, Florida visitors contributed $101.9 billion to Florida's economy and supported over 1.7 million Florida jobs, the group said.

Siesta Key Beach in Sarasota is seen in a file photo. Tourism is a major industry in Florida, and last year the state welcomed 137.6 million visitors

NCAA Board Chair Leon Russell said in a statement that the travel advisory is part of a 'fight to protect ourselves and our democracy'.

'Once again, hate-inspired state leaders have chosen to put politics over people,' said Russell.

'Governor Ron DeSantis and the state of Florida have engaged in a blatant war against principles of diversity and inclusion and rejected our shared identities to appeal to a dangerous, extremist minority,' he added.

'We will not not allow our rights and history to be held hostage for political grandstanding'

The travel advisory was initially proposed to the NAACP national board of directors by NAACP's Florida State Conference in March.

'What a travel advisory is that it allows us the NAACP to warn other blacks across the country to not come to Florida, not send their children to Florida, not vacation in Florida if you're black,' James Muwakkil, the Lee County NAACP branch president told WINK-TV at the time.

'The bullseye has been put on black people's back by this governor,' he added.

'And so through this, if getting permission, we're going to tell the rest of the world that we will not tolerate second-class citizenship,' Muwakkil said.

#florida #NAACP #Racist Warning #Black People #Travel Warning for Racism in Florida #desatinist #NAACP issues a travel advisory against visiting Florida because of DeSantis

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violetsiren90 · 1 year ago

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All I Haven't Said | Namjoon/Reader

💜 Chapter 2 💜

Table of Contents: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 (part 1), Chapter 3 (part 2)

Pairing: idol!Namjoon x f!Reader

Genre: Soulmate AU; idol AU; chapter fic; strangers to lovers; a bit of idiots to lovers, tbh; slow burn; eventual romance; eventual smut; angst (life is messy & hearts are complex); OT7 featured

Summary: You found your soulmate - or rather, he found you. Turns out he's an idol of much acclaim who needs you for very real and unglamorous reasons. What could become of two hearts so used to giving of themselves when they are confronted with needing each other?

Chapter Warnings: This fic is 18+, as is all my work and my page as a whole; Talk and depictions of cancer, its treatment, and the symptoms of both; implication of some disregard for personal agency by entertainment and medical industries; MC is diagnosed with asthma and experiences symptoms; flashbacks of a distressing situation; soulmate first touch & subsequent skinship; partial disrobing for medical purposes; medical setting and minor treatments; some social awkwardness; talk of food, eating, and alcohol consumption in the context of a soulmate AU

Author's Note: Chapter 2 is here! I tried my best to write Namjoon's response under the circumstances, but honestly I don't know how well it was executed. Let me know what you think in the comments/asks! I'm super open to constructive criticism and feedback. Also, I did my best with the Korean phrases and medical jargon. If anyone has more extensive knowledge on those subjects and wants to fact-check, please let me know!

P.S. If you want to join the tag list, drop me a comment or ask!

P.P.S. If no one has told you yet today, you're loved and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

"At night I dream that you and I are two plants that grew together, roots entwined, and that you know the earth and the rain like my mouth, since we are made of earth and rain.”

~ Pablo Neruda

Chapter 2: Touching Me, Touching You

When you touched down at Incheon International Airport, you and Matt were greeted by a rather unnecessarily large party of Hybe personnel in black plainclothes wearing masks who snatched up your baggage and ushered you into the first of a small fleet of black SUV's. The member of the legal advisory team who had visited you in the states, Choi Kang Dae, was riding shotgun and speaking into a cell phone that had not left his ear since departing the baggage claim. In the row behind you was another man you assumed to be a translator, given his fluency in English, but who was currently chopping it up with Matt in Korean, and beside him a large, serious, silent man whose eyes kept traveling to you every now and again. You assumed that meant that the rest of the ensemble filling the vehicles behind you were security, which somehow made you feel less rather than more at ease.

The further you advanced in traffic through the busy streets of Seoul, the more anxious you became. A thousand questions began to flood your brain as your heart began to hammer in your chest. If all these people had come to meet you, were you headed to the hospital now? Weren't you supposed stop at your accommodations first? If you didn't, would you even have a chance to shower a day's worth of airport off before meeting your soulmate? Were you about to bond right now? Would people be watching? Would it hurt? Why hadn't you ever thought of these things before? You felt a familiar tightness in your chest and pulled out your inhaler. An asthma attack right now? They always seemed to strike at the most inopportune times.

Matt was suddenly turning to you.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked, looking at the inhaler you were shaking for a second puff.

You slowly exhaled and nodded.

"I'm fine. But where are we going right now, can you ask them?"

The translator asked the Kang Dae something in Korean, and after he responded, the other man turned to you.

"We're going to the hospital. Namjoon-ssi had a seizure last night due to a prolonged high-grade fever, so we are trying to act as quickly as possible to avoid further complications."

Matt turned to the translator.

"This should have been the first thing we heard when we stepped off that plane. I'm not trying to play hardball here, but we're going to have to be communicated with about every step of this process so we can decide how we're going to respond. This was in the contract, communication and a chance to speak with me before she makes any step in this process..."

Matt slipped in and out of English as the attorney apologetically reassured him through the translator of their full intent to follow the contractual specifications. You felt sick, and your heart continued to hammer - though now for different reasons. You had been worried about a shower while he was fighting for his life. This was no time for nerves. You had to fight for his life too.

When the vehicle pulled into the ambulance bay, you and Matt were handed surgical masks and ushered, with security and other Hybe personnel in tow, through the ICU and into a massive steel elevator. You watched the round button number "5" light up red as Kang Dae pushed it with a gloved hand. After the brief assent, the doors opened into a space that looked like it was straight out of a Star Trek episode - floor to ceiling white, blinding fluorescent lights, and hospital workers covered from head to toe in sterile garments ebbing and flowing in urgent silence to and fro to the rhythmic serenading hums and beeps of medical equipment. You blinked in the offending brightness.

Your party was immediately approached by a small woman with a tablet and stylus who addressed Kang Dae. You heard your name mentioned. You heard Matt's. After a brief exchange with the Hybe attorney, Matt relayed that you were going to meet with Namjoon's oncologist. Kang Dae turned to address the security staff, and his words were met with nods and murmurs of acknowledgment except by the tall, serious man from the SUV, who responded to the attorney in a low but firm tone, his eyes flashing over to you as he spoke. You looked over to Matt, your brow creased in question. He watched as Kang Dae concluded the exchange and lead your now small group of four to follow the petite woman down a long, wide hall. As you walked, Matt leaned down to whisper in your ear.

"It appears the indignant gentleman is your personal bodyguard. Seems he's reluctant to stay behind with the rest of security."

You glanced in surprised curiosity over your shoulder and caught a glimpse of the guard seated beside the rest of the team, elbows propped on his knees and hands clasped under his chin, a pensive expression on his rugged features, before he disappeared from view as you rounded a bend.

The hall connected to a labyrinth of others, snaking off left and right, and punctuated with massive, heavy doors. Your guide abruptly swung left to face one of the entrees, flashing a badge card across a sensor which beeped, allowing her to push it inward. It opened into a suite of rooms much homier than the atmosphere behind you, though every bit as sterile.

In the vestibule was a small acrylic table surrounded by matching chairs. As you passed through you noted to the right, a small kitchenette, and to the left a rather large bathroom. At the end of the suite, you shuffled into a large room, separated on the far left end by a curtain. The space in which you stood was fitted with grey leather furniture, a tall bamboo plant in the corner, and a low acrylic coffee-table. An older, distinguished looking man in a white jacket stood from where he had been seated in one of the arm chairs and bowed. Your group bowed in return, and the translator asked that you be seated.

Dr. Na, as the man in the coat was introduced, would run through some last matters with you before you were to meet your soulmate. He relayed through the translator that this hospital was state of the art, Korea's finest, and a frontrunner in successful experimental treatments for cancer and other genetic diseases. The room you were occupying, he said, was a suite meant for long-term inpatient care, and would be nearly identical to the space you would share with Namjoon for the remainder of his inpatient treatment. He explained that Namjoon's condition has been detected far later than was desirable, and that treatments had included invasive surgery and aggressive rounds of chemotherapy, which had slowed, but not stopped the spread of tumors throughout his body. He said that Namjoon had displayed extreme physical and emotional resilience, but that his will to fight the disease overtaking his body had begun to wane with his strength and increasingly burdensome symptoms from both the cancer and its treatment.

At this point, Dr. Na turned to face Matt full on, and earnestly imparted to him while gesticulating at you. Matt's brow furrowed, and he nodded as he listened to the oncologist before turning serious eyes toward you. Kang Dae began to say something, but the doctor held up his hand while also turning his eyes toward you with an expectant gaze.

"Y/n," Matt began, interlacing his fingers as he often did when trying to choose his words carefully, "Dr. Na says that there is not a lot of research around treating cancer, especially at such an advanced stage, with the soulmate bond. There are accounts of it having seemingly miraculous effects on injury and illness, but none that have been objectively measured. It has been scientifically proven to a degree that soulmates bring about peak physical conditions in one another through the bond...over time. The thing the good doctor here really wants you to understand is that there is no guarantee that there is enough time in our situation. He says that bonding with him is going to be a major risk. If the treatment isn't successful and Namjoon should pass, that would mean your ultimate death soon after."

Matt's face had lost most of its stoicism. He looked deeply worried. He looked like he wanted you to get on a plane with him back to the States. He looked like he knew what you were going to do instead. You see, you had already thought about it - the possibility of death. You nodded.

"Tell him I understand, Matt," you said calmly, "Tell him I'd like to meet Namjoon-ssi."

Matt stared at you for a beat, as if debating with himself before turning back to relay your message to Dr. Na. The oncologist nodded, and then turned to you and asked another question in Korean. The translator explained that the doctor wanted to know if you understood the basic implications of the soul-bond. You sighed. You did. You knew that once bonded you would be reliant on each other for nourishment and survival until the end of your natural lives, and that the bond once established was irreversible. You knew the bond was initiated and maintained through skin-to-skin contact. You knew that the bond changed your body chemistry to no longer need food or water, and that food would eventually be rejected by the body like poison. You knew these things because you had done extensive research, not because anyone in the company asking for you to give over your body and soul had tried to make you aware. They had been interested in matters of signatures and compensation. How considerate of someone to ask you now, you thought with some contempt. You wondered what Namjoon knew, what he had been told, what he had been asked.

"I would like to meet my soulmate now," you said suddenly, cutting through the exchange between Dr. Na and Kang Dae.

All eyes turned on you, leaving in half-finished sentences a wake of mild surprise. "I know what I'm getting into on my end of things. You had expressed before that time was of the essence and I would like to be brought to him now."

Matt relayed your response to the group, and the doctor nodded. Soon you were being handed a hospital gown, and a sports bra, underwear, and socks from your suitcase - that you realized with a bit of alarm and indignation, you had not given anyone permission to retrieve - and were instructed to shower and change into these items.

You slipped into the bathroom and sank down on the closed toilet, dropping your head onto the little bundle of clothes in your arms. In your first few moments alone in over twenty-four hours, everything was beginning to hit like a volley of arrows. Agendas, agendas. Hybe wanted your soulmate. The hospital wanted to beat his cancer. You wanted to help him live. But what did he want? Had anyone asked? Would he be honest, if they did? Not for the first time, something squeezed in your chest at the thought of him. But this time, it was stronger. Your head shot up from your lap. You had somewhere to be.

After a quick and thorough wash-up, you padded into the hall where the little group awaited you. You were self-conscious in your limited attire, and you stood awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the next as people murmured in Korean. A nurse, who had joined the small throng, approached you, slipping a hospital bracelet with your name and Hangul characters and little numbers around your wrist and handing you a pair of grey slippers. Matt turned to you.

"This is it, kiddo. You're going to go with Dr. Na and have your vitals taken, have some blood drawn, and then you'll go meet him."

Matt sighed deeply, his eyes searching yours. He took a backward glance and stepped just a bit closer, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"You sure about this?"

You nodded.

"Yes, Matt, I'm sure."

He pulled his mouth in into a tense line, his brows drawing together.

"That face you're making, that defiance in your eyes," his hand fell from your shoulder, "You could be his twin. I know I can't change your mind now. Nothing could."

You gave a knowing smile. He wasn't wrong.

"I'm gonna be okay, Matt. I'll see you tomorrow. Call my mom and tell her things went fine. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Matt scratched the back of his head, regarding you thoughtfully for a moment before nodding. He bent to press a kiss to your forehead, and turned to make his polite goodbyes.

The nurse ushered you down the hall and into a room that looked a little more like a typical hospital room with a gauze-covered table, a scale, and other vaguely familiar machines and equipment. After she had collected the desired data and taken a vial of your blood, she made a page in Korean, and then motioned for you to follow her. She took you down another series of passages and finally, when you were sure Theseus himself couldn't have found his way back, she stopped in front of a large steel door and scanned her badge.

Room number 594.

The door opened on its heavy hinges, swinging slowly inward. Your heart was hammering in your chest. You realized the moment you crossed the threshold that you didn't have your things. You didn't have your phone, or your bag, or the book that was inside it, or what was between the pages of the book.

You thought about pear-shaped Italian cheese as you crossed through the kitchen area.

You thought about little Diana trying to stop your mother from crying as she lay on the floor of the kitchen, body shaking with sobs, as you moved into large open room at the end of the suite.

And then, there he was. It was all you could do not to gasp.

You would never have recognized him for the man in the photo Diana had shoved into your face last week. Sitting propped up in a large hospital bed, he was covered up to the waist in blankets. His frame, though unmistakably large, was gaunt, and his white tee draped around him like something that used to fit - patches and wires visible across his chest through the cotton fabric. His long arms were thinner than they should have been, ashy, and littered with bruises. His head leaned back against the pillows, he wore a black beanie low on his brow, but not low enough to hide the naked skin where his eyebrows had been. His full lips were chapped and parted as he labored somewhat to breathe. The doctor was speaking to a tall man in a black tee and jeans beside the bed. Namjoon was watching them, until, suddenly, his gaze flicked to you. Your breath caught in your chest. His eyes were unchanged. Something flooded your veins.

"I need to speak with Namjoon-ssi, please," you said abruptly, turning to the doctor and the man beside him.

They looked at you, quizzically. You cleared your throat to speak again, slower and more firmly.

"Could I be alone with him, for a moment? I need to speak with him before we begin."

The doctor turned to say something to the tall man, but a voice from the hospital bed addressed them in a soft, deep timbre. The tall man glanced at you and then at Namjoon and replied. They held a short exchange before both he and the doctor filed reluctantly out of the room, taking the nurse with them.

Namjoon sat further up in the bed, his face contorting in pain as you approached him. You stood a few feet from where he sat, your hands inexplicably itching to reach out for him. You clasped them behind your back.

"Hello," he, rasped.

Even the hoarseness couldn't hide the warmth of his voice. You thought his eyes and his voice must be made of the very same stuff. You were suddenly a different kind of nervous. You didn't even register your own initiative to speak as the question came tumbling out.

"Do you want to live?"

Your soulmate blinked in surprise.

"What?"

You took a breath and repeated yourself, this time with intention.

"Do you want to live?" You asked again. "I know there are plenty of people who want you too, but I want to know what you want."

He regarded you in intent silence for a long moment.

"Yes," he said finally, his cadence thoughtful and deliberate, "Yes, I want to live. I wasn't sure I did, but I do. I do now."

You exhaled a little breath you didn't realize you'd been holding.

"Okay, good," you nodded, looking away from his intent gaze as you fought, again, the surging urge to reach for him.

His lips quirked into a little smirk at your reaction.

"I was going to ask you a question too, but after introductions," those eyes caught yours again, teasingly, and the little smile deepened just a bit, pressing a dimple into his sunken cheek.

The misery he was living in and he was teasing you? You felt something flutter a little in your chest which you willed yourself to ignore.

"I'm sorry," you bit back a smile, glancing away a bit bashfully, "I just needed to know that you had agency over what was happening here, that it was what you wanted. If no one else was going to give you that choice...well, I was."

He regarded you silently again before addressing you.

"It's good to meet you, Y/n-ssi. I'm Kim Namjoon."

You couldn't suppress a smirk at his stubbornness, and at the fact that he already knew your name, like you knew his.

"It's good to meet you, too, Namjoon-ssi," you replied softly.

He suddenly leaned back in the bed, wincing, his chest heaving a bit. You looked over at the heart monitor that beeped beside him to see that his pulse was rising.

"Should I call in the doctor?" You asked in concern.

He shook his head weakly.

"Not yet," he pressed out, with effort. "I...need...to know..."

You stepped closer to hear him.

"Know what?" He closed his eyes , bringing a hand over his chest as the beeping slowed.

"You...could...die...trying to..." he broke into a bought of coughs that was obviously painful. Once he had caught his breath, he rasped, "Are you sure, Y/n-ssi?"

"Yes," you answered without hesitation. "Yes, I'm sure. This is my choice. I'm sure."

He opened his eyes. You held each other in a silent gaze. He looked like he wanted to say something. He didn't. He merely nodded and asked,

"You ready, then?"

You met his questioning gaze with a wry smile and what you hoped were steady eyes as you answered.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

After the staff had returned to the room, the tall man in plainclothes introduced himself as Sejin, Namjoon's manager. He gave you a deep bow, which you returned, thanking you in practiced English for agreeing to bond with the idol - something that made you uncomfortable all the way down to your bones, and which you tried to dismiss without being impolite. The doctor spoke to Namjoon at some length, gesticulating to you several times. Sejin nodded along as the nurse typed notes onto her tablet.

You felt a bit frustrated, being on the outside of what so immediately concerned you. You were on the verge of asking for Matt to be brought in when Namjoon turned to you.

"The doctor says that while he understands first touch is an intimate experience, that he and two nurses will need to be present to monitor my vitals. My heart is on the weaker side these days."

He looked almost contrite as he said it and your chest squeezed. You nodded understandingly. He might be your soulmate, but you knew this wasn't a meet-cute. This was clinical. What was about to happen between you was a treatment. The doctor continued, and a nurse came around the bed to where you stood and waited expectantly as Namjoon turned to you, this time with an unmistakably apologetic look on his drawn features.

"Dr. Na says that if first contact goes smoothly, we'll need to begin treatments aggressively, which means as much skin-to-skin contact as possible. I guess they want us both in just undergarments."

Ah, hence the hospital gown.

You felt heat creep up your neck. Under any other circumstances you would have been upset at the lack of privacy of it all, but these weren't like any circumstances you had ever been prepared to anticipate. You were going to have to figure the boundaries out as you went.

The nurse beside you rolled up a chair for you to sit in beside the bed, facing Namjoon. She untied and tugged the top of your hospital gown down to place a heart monitor on your chest, your soulmate respectfully averting his gaze.

When all the necessary preparations had been made, you found yourself sitting in a swivel chair cranked up to reach the height of the hospital bed, socked feet not touching the ground. You were facing Namjoon, who kept sitting forward, much to the chagrin of the nurses who kept gently but impatiently guiding him back against the pillows. You felt a sick feeling creep into the pit of your stomach as you glanced at the second nurse wheel in a defibrillator. How bad could this possibly be? Would it hurt? You steeled yourself as Namjoon sat forward again, turning up the palm of his large right hand which rested on the covers beside you.

"It's time," he murmured softly, eyes on you as you gave one more glance to the doctor, who nodded, and giving in to an urge you had kept at bay since you entered the room you slipped your hand into his.

A jolt shot through your body like an intense electric pulse. It hurt, like relentless aftershocks of overstimulation to sensitive flesh...and yet if felt good. So good. You had instinctively pulled to yank your hand away from the pure surprise of it, but you had tugged yourself back to no avail. You opened your eyes (you hadn't remembered closing them) to see Namjoon, head thrown back against the pillows, lips parted and eyes screwed shut as he clutched your hand in a vice grip. You glanced at the heart monitor spitting out beeps consistent with well over a hundred beats per minute. Was that yours or his? But you couldn't very well hold a coherent thought in your mind as warmth began to flood your body, followed by a tingling sensation that seemed to fizzle up from the base of your spine and trickle down your limbs.

Raising suddenly heavy eyes, you realized that you were swaying a bit on your feet. When did you stand? And you were much, much closer to Namjoon - your hand was curling around the base of his bicep, your elbow in his palm, as you pressed every possible square centimeter of your bare arm to his. His eyes were open now and he was looking at you as his chest rose and fell. You returned his gaze, unfocused, drunk on the sensations spreading through your being.

You blinked as you heard the doctor speak, but neither of you tore your eyes away, and as if in a trace, as the nurses helped you out of your clothes, and you crawled into the bed and slotted yourself against his side, stretching out your right arm to wrap around his torso. Every aspect of the feeling grew impossibly stronger, the pleasure factor so high that it felt somehow wrong to be experiencing this with a total stranger in a hospital room surrounded by others. You felt Namjoon let out a shuddering breath. His arms had snaked around you.

The last thing you remembered before falling into a delirium was the nurse pulling the covers over your bodies.

When you awoke, or rather, came to, you felt wrong. You rubbed hazy eyes to find yourself on a little cot. Before you could even wonder where you were or how you got there, the events of the previous day came flooding back.

Holy shit, you thought, you were in Korea. You had met your soulmate - and bonded with him.

When had you even fallen asleep? The last thing you remembered was climbing into Namjoon's bed. Your heartbeat quickened. First touch had been...something else. An image of your soulmate gripping your hand with his head thrown back flashed through your mind.

No, don't, you thought, and pushed yourself to sit up.

In your attempt to move, you quickly realized that the wrongness you felt was that you were incredibly weak. It was a strange sort of weakness, however, one that left you feeling exhausted with every tiny move but wasn't accompanied by any sort of discomfort. In fact, you felt like you were floating on a cloud, if only one you couldn't find the strength to roll off.

You were back in your hospital gown. There was a small table to your left with a lamp, a little vase of flowers, and white telephone. To your left was a machine much like the one you had seen beside Namjoon's bed beeping away, a little green line spiking and dropping across the monitor. A long curtain stretched across the space in front of you. You needed to pee.

As you moved to get off the cot, a sting of pain shot through your right arm at the inner joint and you realized that you had missed the IV drip beside the heart monitor. Clamping the IV stand you rose precariously on wobbly legs. You shuffled wearily forward, pulling the curtain back to reveal the other half of the room...and your soulmate.

He was sitting in bed, over the covers, in a heather grey tee and navy blue sweats, bare feet crossed at the ankles. He was still wearing the beanie, and his head was dipped down, immersed in the book he was holding open in his lap. The mid-morning sun spilled through the open window, bathing the suite in a pale yellow that blanketed generic seating furniture and a small bookshelf topped with a bonsai tree and painted clay figurine beside the bed, but left the abstract art piece on the opposite wall in relative shadow.

You were about to retreat back behind the curtain when a wheel of your portable IV stand betrayed you with a squeak. You pulled the curtain hurriedly shut, but too late.

"Hello?" You heard him call softly.

His voice sounded better, you thought. Not nearly as raspy. You must look like shit, you also thought. Oh well, you needed to get past him to look decent anyway. And to pee. And he was going to see you probably every day for the rest of your life, so, bashfulness regarding your morning mug was definitely a waste of emotional energy. You heaved a sigh, and slowly pulled back the curtain, peeking through as you advanced a step.

"I didn't want to disturb you," you fibbed, clutching the IV stand.

"You're not disturbing me," he responded, shutting his book.

He was looking at you with a soft expression, reserved, but still warm. He looked a lot better than yesterday, too; it was unmistakable. His skin had lost a great deal of its previously ashy quality and the bruises on his arms had nearly vanished. His lips were no longer chapped, and, you noted, were full and naturally deep in color. His face looked less wane, though still thin, his shirt still hanging loosely over his chest and broad, sloping shoulders.

"You look a little better," you urged, hoping to justify your prolonged stare.

He smiled. You were quickly reminded like a sock to the gut how pretty his smile was.

"I feel better," he concurred, "Thanks to you."

You looked down at your feet awkwardly. You had never been good at receiving praise or gratitude.

"Oh...I'm glad," you mumbled.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

You raised your gaze back up to meet his, a wry smile tugging at your lips.

"Probably about as good as I look," you rejoined.

He pulled his smile into a tight line, eyes creasing. You thought maybe that was what he looked like when he was trying not to laugh. Suddenly you felt your bladder demand priority of attention.

"Well, I'm gonna...get ready. For the day," you motioned, quickly realizing you had nothing to change into, and slipped back into the little room behind the curtain.

Scanning the space, you noted your suitcase and bag against the wall. You filled your bag with the essentials and a change before popping back out into the other half of the room on your way to the bathroom. You noticed out of the corner of your eye that Namjoon glanced at you before looking down at his book again, and you ignored the tight feeling in your chest one more time.

Your mom had always said that a hot shower could make a person reborn, and by golly you figured she was right. You felt life seeping back into your limbs slowly but surely as the warm water poured over your body. As always, hot water and steam against white tile oiled cogs of your mind.

Clearly, the bond had served Namjoon well. You were anxious to know what a medical assessment would report. Your own exhaustion confused you, however. Wasn't the bond supposed to nourish you, rejuvenate you? When would you stop needing food? How often would you need to practice skinship now that you were bonded? And what would that look like? A thousand questions filled your mind as you massaged your scalp. You made a mental note to write a list of questions for the doctor.

Once you had finished your morning routine, you felt infinitely more prepared to face the day. You changed into a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt. As you shuffled back toward your room, you noticed Namjoon bent over the bonsai, tiny scissors in hand. A nurse was typing on a tablet on the other side of the bed.

"Um, Namjoon," you asked, as you paused.

He startled a bit as he looked up at you, dropping the little scissors and cursing under his breath. The nurse peeked over and when she had seemingly assessed that no damage had been done, she smirked.

"At least no bonsai limbs were lost this time," she murmured.

Namjoon slipped the scissors into a little leather pouch.

"Hilarious," he deadpanned, then turned his attention back to you, "Sorry, did you ask me something?"

"Actually," you blinked in surprise, "I was going to ask you to ask the nurse, but I guess I can ask her myself this time."

The nurse smiled at you.

"Ganhosanim, this is Y/n-ssi," Namjoon said, addressing the woman. She gave you a bow which you returned.

"Annyeonghaseyo," she greeted you, "I'm Nurse Cha and I'll be your attending on most days. Please feel free to speak to me in English," she smiled.

You felt a weight lift off your shoulders. While you had been studying Korean furiously ever since your decision had been made, having medical personnel you could communicate with at this stage without having to rely on Namjoon to translate for you was a welcome relief.

"If you have a minute, I have some questions? Or, I will, once I write them down. Could I just put my stuff away and come right back?" You asked eagerly. She nodded, still typing away on the tablet. You dropped your bag beside your suitcase, which you tossed on the bed and unzipped to extract a pen and a notebook with three little bees embossed into the cover. You donned your slippers and crossed back over to Namjoon's side. He was sitting on the bed again, and nurse Yun was examining one of his arms. You plopped down in an armchair beside the bookshelf.

"Nice bonsai," you remarked, trailing your eyes over the intricate geometric patterns of its shallow stone pot.

"Nice journal," he replied. "Moleskin?"

You nodded, holding it up to show him the front.

"It has bees," you said with solemnity, as if the whimsy of the endearing was something to be taken quite seriously, and Namjoon hummed in grave assent. Nurse Cha glanced between you, a smirk at the corner of her mouth.

"You said you had some questions, Y/n-ssi?" She offered.

"Yes," you began, scribbling a few down in the pages in your lap before beginning. "Firstly wha- Oh! What happened to me yesterday? Did I pass out?" You interrupted yourself to ask.

"Yes," she replied. "While the bonding was successful, and the skinship was highly rejuvenating for Namjoon, it appears that you were giving more than you were getting from a physiological standpoint, and while the effect was still probably similar to you on a cellular level, you were disproportionate in your transfer of energy. We've put you on an IV drip for now to ensure you're getting the replenishment your body needs regardless of food intake."

You jotted down a few lines of notes.

"Okay, makes sense. Now, moving on to the food thing - we're still eating, right?"

Nurse Cha began typing on her tablet as she responded.

"Yes. However, there is great boidiversity as to when and what people start rejecting as far as food goes. The average point of solid food rejection begins around two weeks after bonding. Generally, bonded individuals are still able to consume water and distilled alcohols, though they become unable to experience taste."

"Does alcohol have the same...effect?" Namjoon spoke up from the bed.

"An intensified one, actually," she responded, "Being a bonded mate means rediscovering your tolerance, and caution is of course advised. We've actually taken blood panels to alert us of any food sensitivities you may have. These should be immediately eliminated from your diet, as the rejection symptoms can be more severe in cases of late-stage ingestion with these items. The doctor will be in later to review those results with you."

"Okay. And how often will we need to practice skinship, and are we going to need to initiate it ourselves or are we going to be on a schedule?"

"I was wondering about that too," Namjoon said, adjusting his beanie.

"The doctor will go over that with you as soon as he arrives in a little while as well. I know I'm scheduled to update your charts every six hours, so I'm sure there will be some guidance involved at first."

You quickly glanced up at Namjoon and then down at your lap. A warmth spread through your chest as you tried to keep your eyes on your notes and off of his bare arms. You were having those stupid urges to latch onto him again. Your hand twitched around your pen. You wondered what his thoughts were on your next session.

Just then, Dr. Na entered the room. He greeted both of you warmly and Nurse Cha took over relaying the consultation in English.

The oncologist was very optimistic about the effect of the soulmate bond on Namjoon, saying that his vitals had stabilized, his pain levels were lower than they'd been in weeks and the inflammation in his body had decreased significantly. He stressed that, while these were good signs, they were not a guarantee that the skinship was treating the cancer, and that they would have to take scans after a time to see if the tumors had were in fact shrinking.

He reviewed your blood panel results, letting you know that from that point forward you were to avoid consuming nightshades while communicating to Namjoon that he hadn't tested positive for any food sensitivities. He showed you a chart dictating when and how long you should practice skinship each day, beginning with a session immediately following the consultation. He cautioned you to alert medical staff if during a session you began to feel overly-drain, as they did not want you coming to the point of fainting again. You were removed from your IV drip.

After the doctor had taken his leave, Nurse Cha fixed you with additional monitors, instructed you both to strip down to your maximum level of comfortability for the session, and departed. Once you were down to bra and panties, you climbed up into the huge hospital bed to join Namjoon, who once again kept his gaze trained anywhere but your side of the bed as you slipped under the covers and pressed yourself into his side.

Suddenly it was as if you had slipped into a warm bath under the influence of champagne. You closed your eyes and sank into the incredible sensation of his touch. His skin was like a warm cup of tea on the coldest day of the year. Like the first refreshing moments of a plunge into cool water at the height of summer. It was everything wonderful all at once, and you were so caught up in the sensation that you were barely cognizant of a tiny moan escaping your lips.

Horrified, you bit down on your bottom lip and prayed to all that was sacred that Namjoon hadn't noticed. His immediate soft laughter, however, betrayed him, and you felt your face burning with embarrassment - beads of sweat pricking on your forehead as you covered your face with a different kind of groan.

"Sorry," you murmured, ruefully.

"Nah, I get it," Namjoon chuckled, his chest rumbling under your cheek. "If it feels as good for you as it does for me, then that's the correct response."

You allowed yourself to giggle a bit in turn.

"I'm glad it's already helping," you remarked, and you felt him turn his head as if he was looking down at you.

He was silent for a beat before addressing you again.

"Everything happened so quickly yesterday, I didn't even get a chance to thank you."

"For what?" you countered, even though you knew exactly where he was headed with this.

"For leaving your life behind and coming to Korea to give a stranger a chance at his. I'm going to spend the rest of my time making it up to you."

You felt your chest tighten. You pushed yourself up on one arm and turned to face him. The sheet fell down your upper body as you moved, but you were too intent on looking him in the face to notice.

"Namjoon, you're not a charity case. I didn't do this so that you would owe me something. This is a choice I made. All mine. So relieve yourself of any debt you may feel you owe me. We're bound by circumstance, but you're a free man in every sense of the word. I won't be a burden you bear any more than you wish to be one to me."

If you had been looking through his eyes, you would have seen yourself, pressed up out of the sheets with all the modesty of a sea nymph, your features glowing with the effects of the bond and fixed with a splendid kind of resoluteness and soft defiance. But, you saw it from your own, taking in the quiet shock on Namjoon's features that slowly morphed into something you couldn't place. Not yet. You didn't know him well enough.

After regarding you blinkingly, he looked at you with earnest eyes and gave a nod.

"I accept those terms," he assented, and you believed him.

You thought maybe you'd believe anything he said, and, suddenly aware of the bareness of your torso under the intentness of his gaze, you slipped back down against his side.

"I noticed you dropped the honorifics," he murmured teasingly.

You glanced back up at him.

"Oh...sorry, I'm not used to it. I can -"

"It's alright," he interjected, "I think we should be familiar. It will make things easier, right? Only if you want, though," he quickly added.

"Yeah, no, I agree," you answered, shifting to press your leg more fully against his, and smiling to yourself as you keyed up your next remark.

"And I'm only your noona by a little bit anyway, so no need to call me that..."

This time a loud laugh burst out of him that shook your head enough for you to roll away and shoot him a look as he brushed a hand over his eyes in amusement. You smiled as you took in his dimpled cheeks and crescent eyes, and nearly didn't notice the voice speaking in bemused and startled Korean at the mouth of the hall. It was Namjoon who looked up first.

"Yah!" He called in indignation and warning as you followed his gaze to catch but a glimpse of two young men, badly repressing snickers as they bolted back down the hall to the entry of the suite.

Namjoon sighed sharply and turned to you with and apologetic expression.

"I'm so sorry, those idiots are my friends. They're used to coming and going as they please to visit me - which, obviously now they can't just barge in unannounced."

He slipped out of bed, and you glanced away as he pulled on sweats and a shirt.

"I'll tell them to come back at a better time."

"No, no!" you protested, "Just let me get decent. I want to meet them."

Namjoon paused as he kicked on his slippers.

"You sure?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, yeah. I know we're still on skinship time, but, maybe we can just...hold hands? I mean, as long as you're okay with it..."

Namjoon's mouth slipped into a wry grin as he glanced down to the other end of the suite.

"Yeah, I'm fine with it. I apologize in advance if they can't be."

You gave a confused shrug as Namjoon picked up his phone and crossed into the vestibule area to give you the privacy to change. You pulled your leggings and sweatshirt back on and perched yourself cross-legged on the hospital bed, listening with amused anticipation as Namjoon spoke in exasperated Korean on the other side of the wall. You heard the door and three sets of footsteps accompanied by giggles and shushing, and then your soulmate emerged, all but herding the two young men preceding him into the room.

You immediately recognized the strapping, dark-haired one with the leporine smile as Jungkook, the young man who had accompanied Hybe's representation to visit you on Namjoon's behalf. The other young man you also recognized from internet images as one of the members, though you couldn't recall his name. He was shorter than Jungkook, though not by as much as he should have been due to the significance of his heeled boots. What he lacked in height he made up for in athletic build and voluptuously beautiful facial features. He shook his honey blonde hair out of his eyes, earrings tinkling as he regarded you with a coy smile.

"Ijjogeun Y/n-ieo. Y/n, this is Jungkook and Jimin," Namjoon said, gesturing to each of the members as they made polite bows.

"Annyeonghaseyo," you said, returning their bows deeply, "Mannaseo bangapseumnida - dasi mannaseo bangabseubnida, Jungkook-ssi."

Jungkook flashed a blinding smile, round eyes wide and sparkling.

"It's good to see you again too, noona," he answered in English. Namjoon's brow creased as he glanced between you and the young man you had been originally introduced to as the maknae of BTS.

"You've met?" he asked. You nodded.

"Jungkook was one of the people who came to meet me in the US when your company made the proposition," you explained. "He spoke very, very highly of you. His reference of your character was one of the major contributing factors toward my decision to come."

You smiled softly at Jungkook. Namjoon nodded, brow still drawn, as he pressed his tongue into the side of his cheek, jaw clenched and jutting forward, as he clapped the youngest on the shoulder. You thought Jungkook's eyes were just a bit glassy as the two shared a look that seemed to hold a lifetime of history. Jimin regarded the two with sentimentality before returning his gaze to you, again full of enigmatic mischief. The blonde took a step toward you, then turned on his booted heal, saying something to Namjoon in Korean.

You cocked your head to the side, glancing at your soulmate.

"He said I look a lot better already," Namjoon said, eyeing Jimin warily as the younger man continued speaking, flashing you a devilish grin. Jungkook pulled his pierced lower lip between his teeth as he glanced between Namjoon and Jimin. You looked again to Namjoon expectantly.

Awkwardness radiated from him as he deflected saying Jimin was just making fun, and he shot the younger man a look that unmistakably communicated his lack of amusement. Namjoon made another remark in Korean, and joined you back on the bed, hesitating only a moment before he took your hand in his.

You saw his shoulders sag in relief as he breathed a sigh through his nose at the contact. You had to restrain your own reaction, glancing down shyly as to avoid the two pairs of eyes trained in rapt curiosity on you from the end of the bed. Namjoon continued to speak with them, translating between you when your limited Korean wasn't sufficient, and gradually your awkwardness eased in the comfortable presence that emanated between your soulmate and his members.

As the visitors were about to take their leave, Jimin trained you with a newly serious look, leaning against the edge of the bed, and glancing at Namjoon as he spoke in what you could decipher was gratitude.

"He says they're all so grateful to you and glad to have you with us," Namjoon translated. You noticed his thumb slide over the back of your hand as he said it. So did Jimin, his tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth as he eyed where your digits were intertwined.

"Ah," you said awkwardly, "No thanks necessary, we're in this together, right?"

You pulled your hand from Namjoon's and in an attempt to raise your arm and give him a nonchalant pat on the back, you backhanded him directly in the face.

Namjoon's hand flew up to his cheek and the two younger members erupted in laughter. You apologized profusely, trying to make sure Namjoon could hear you over Jungkook's wheezing and Jimin's shrieks of what you were pretty sure was "oh shit, there are two of them". When Namjoon had assured you that he was perfectly fine and the other two had composed themselves, you said your goodbyes. As soon as they were out the door, Namjoon was apologizing.

"It's fine," you smirked with a shrug, "That's friends for you. I would have been concerned if they hadn't poked a little fun. I like them. I want to meet the rest of them."

Namjoon slipped back up onto the bed and intertwined his hand with yours as he glanced down, a pensive look on his face.

"There's a lot of people you need to meet," he said quietly, thoughtfully.

You studied him as he continued to look down at your joined hands.

"In fact," he continued, "There was someone I was hoping you could meet tomorrow. Someone we should sit down...and talk with."

You nodded, regarding him intently.

"Her name is Kim Hyung-seo," he continued, "She's my fiancée."

AN: Yeah, sorry to drop that at the end and peace out. 😁✌

Tag list: @butterymin @little-dark-empress @aretha170 @kamilamb @jlee97 @thephotoend @callmenoona25

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celticcrossanon · 3 months ago

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LOL. Even British news anchors can't stop laughing while trying to report with a straight face that Harry and Meghan are traveling to Columbia. No one is taking these two jokers' claims seriously that the UK is more dangerous than Columbia or Nigeria or Jamaica or any other country Harry and Meghan plan to go to where there are travel advisory warnings about kidnappings and civil unrest and whatnot. I feel sorry for KC3 that he has a son who is an international embarrassment and laughingstock.

Hi Nonny,

Harry and Meghan have made themselves into jokes and laughingstocks and that is on them. I feel sorry for anyone who had to interact with Harry (and Meghan) when they were working royals, both family and employees. Can you imagine what they would have been like behind closed doors if this is how they act in public?

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 7 months ago

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How do you predict the Nigeria "tour" will go?

I think it's going to go the way all of their IG "tours" go.

There will be a lot of merching. There will be a lot of stage-managed appearances and choreography by PR handlers Meghan. There will be an interview with rehearsed questions so the Sussexes get a couple of soundbites to use in a new round of BRF PR. Harry will make comments about when he was a soldier or give us an update on Charles's health. Meghan will make a comment or two about the kids that won't make a whole lot of sense.

The claw will come out. The flashy jewelry (and probably the engagement ring) will probably be left at home. Meghan will have Kardashian-level extensions. We'll need sunglasses to deal with Harry's bald spot. There will be a military or government meet-and-greet and it will go awkwardly with Meghan not knowing what to say or Meghan getting annoyed by Harry speaking.

Meghan will probably make a comment or two about her 43% Nigerian ancestry or "I come here as your sister" (as she did in South Africa). They'll probably offend someone. Netflix cameras may be there. African Parks will probably come up but they'll ignore it.

I'm also expecting some kind of security scare to help with the lawsuits. Nigeria, as a country, is under a "Level 3 - Reconsider Travel" advisory from the US Department of State with several cities/areas under a "Level 4 - Do Not Travel" advisory:

The Foreign Office in the UK is also warning against travel to Nigeria as well:

It hasn't been announced where in Nigeria they're going (probably those green areas around the capital territory of Abuja, but it has been announced that Meghan may go to Nigeria early while Harry is in London for the IG anniversary service because she wants to partake in the festivals and community events.

In other words, my shenanigans detector is going off.

#ask #brf #sussexes

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marengogo · 8 months ago

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Silver Lining - What If #8 : Min & Kook or Busan Brothers?

Neuron by J-Hope (with Gaeko & YOON MIRAE) focused playlist.

[Music is a very big part of my life and I’m MOSTLY INCAPABLE of writing without music, so I just thought I'd share what I am listening to while writing this]

🐺 — 🐺 — 🐺—

Ladies, Gentlemen and Distinguished Enbies: HELLO!

How is everyone? Hope you are all enjoying this little break, if you celebrate Easter, and if for any reason you didn’t get a break either you don’t celebrate Easter, or you are part of the “holiday working class” I hope you are at least safe and serene 💜. All that said, let me tell you;

It’s incredible what a few days off can do, aye?!

For one I've been very vivid dreams and, for two, I’m actually in the mood of writing posts, would you look at that! AND BY THE WAY I keep forgetting to do this, but I will at some point later today I need to write an advisory note for the Sonyeondan Colosseum as I haven’t been there in a while but I still get aspiring gladiators, who are dying to participate, and albeit fun, at the moment, I really don't have that much time, to provide these fighters with the appropriate match they deserve 😫. So it is only right that I rely the appropriate information, as I do believe I run a fine institution and as such I am sorry for allowing my administration to slack real life suddenly got so busy and interesting that I didn’t, and still don't, have time to play, but who knows what the future holds right?! There just might appear a contender so unique, I might not resist the urge for a little tussle.

Anyways, back to the topic of this post, as it is sort of a continuation of this one → Solstice & Equinox, it is indeed about the Jikook Travel vlog we still no absolutely nothing about, but of which I woke up with thoughts/ideas about, hence, why I’ve placed this post, yet again, in my Silver Lining series 🤡. In my previous post I tried to predict the vlogs' scheduling, in this post I would like to talk about the possible style this vlog might take, while making, as always, educated guesses and also diving into JK’s filmmaking style.

⚠️I MOST LIKELY WILL WAX HELLA POETIC OVER A LOT OF FILMMAKING STRUCTURES, SO BE HELLA WARNED⚠️

Let’s start right off the bat with:

Also if you are NOT familiar with “Youtuber” Jimin, below is a little summary:

As you can probably tell by some of the ss because there are so many more, believe me!, JM is very enthusiastic about vlogging and, as we all know, JK is very enthusiastic about producing video related content as well as taking it further when he directed Life Goes On for example. Both JM and JK consume copious amounts of video content, be it movies, dramas, anime or shows and they often seem to be watching the same shows as well. Reason why, perhaps, they often seem to be the only privy of their media related inside jokes.

Now, imagine loving to watch shows so much and having as a significant other someone whom not only has so much footage/pictures of you which will never see btw 🤡 but also has the skills to potentially make a show out of you, or with you, because they also enjoy the same thing, what would you do? Sure, you like travelling and he is not too big into that, but some time 7 years ago this person not only took you on a trip, but also found the most memorable way to immortalise this for you, resulting in this person producing more and more travel vlogs. Not sure if JK has come to enjoy travelling, but one thing is for sure;

he seems to enjoy making one helluva good vlog out of it.

Now, before we get into the reason for my title (Min & Kook or Busan Brother?) let’s look into JK’s filmmaking style THIS IS WHERE I AM SURE I WILL NERD OUT, and in order to do this we will look into two of particular videos, as I feel like their travel vlog could be a mixture of this two:

VIDEO 1: [BTS VLOG] Jung Kook l CAMPING VLOG

youtube

VIDEO 2: G.C.F in Budapest

youtube

Let’s start from VIDEO 1. This was a series of vlogs we got from each of the members and were posted on BANGTANTV between July 9, 2022 and December 10, 2022 as always with the Tannies, the actual filming dates may or may not be close to the time they were posted. There are many different types of vlogs out there, because many are the different interests of viewers out there. When looking at our boys, you can clearly see theri vlogs divided in 3 specific types of vlogs:

“HOW TO”-vlog: In this type of video, usually the hosts want to learn to do something, and so they either attempt or they are a master in said craft to do said something, while showing the viewer step-by-step, with the intent/hope that the viewer can learn or feel inspired to want to do it as well.

Jin

Yoongi

“CELEBRITY LIFE”-vlog: This type of video, we follow a typical/particular day in the life of a celebrity. There is usually not so much editing done, and it gives very much the feeling of watching a reality TV show.

Tae

Hobi

“TRAVEL”-vlog: These are usually specifically about showcasing cities, spaces, activities. They are very action filled, so they will not have as many static shots as, for example, the previous two themes

Joonie

Even though JK and Joonie have the same style of vlog, there is something that JK has, which all the other 6 don’t, which is his own “colour”.

JK has a very specific style that is unique to himself within the group, and you can notice in the editing, which makes me think he often takes part in, whereas, even though the type of vlog is different for the other 6 members, the style of editing is the same for all of them. When I say that JK adds his own colour, I mean that, for example, he so often breaks the 4th wall in very conventional and unconventional ways and this is something I've noticed only he does actually in Bangtan.

Aside from JK’s Film Colour, I do believe that this is also an indication of how long we can hope their travel vlog to be. In the end the main event was camping, with other events as well and it was edited to 45mins, which is a long ass video for this type of vlog, it basically means that they realistically had hours of footage and at least 3 type of campers, which I will get into in my next point.

GCF in Budapest has all of JK’s colours as of 2023.

This video is the result of 6 years during which he filmed, edited and directed different projects. GCF in Budapest is very professional, and even though he didn’t do the final edit on this, he did direct it, meaning that there wasn’t a single shot that he hadn’t planned, requested or approved of. Basically, JK is the person that instructed other camera-people the times he wasn’t filming himself as to what shot he needed and wanted for the final project, all the way from principal, to secondary, footage I DON’T THINK YOU CAN’T BUT I’M ABOUT TO NERD OUT, RIGHT NOW. Following are the notable structures in this GCF, with related explanations/examples:

Non-static self-filming - This is the typical vlog style where the main subject is filming himself. But in his case he seems to favour this type of shots when he is moving the most, as if he wants us to fill like we are really travelling with him, as opposed to constantly placing the camera on the surface, not moving, and talking.

B-Roll Footage - is also known as “filler footage”. Usually there is no talking or nothing of importance, but they are quite good for either transitions or comic relief. I LOVE B-ROLL FOOTAGE and JK uses it so well. I believe that b-rolls fit JK so well because of his personality, he tends to space out so often that, in the filmmaking context, this type of footage offers a way to show this dimension of his personality, for example, himself goofing off in the b-roll is perhaps what he does in his head when he is spacing out in real life.

Traditional filming - This is your typical main subject being filmed by a camera-person. As there seem to be two different angles during this type of shot, there were at least 2 different people filming him I will not go deep into the type of camera/s that were you as this is not that kind of post.

Establishing shots - This are shots that make the viewer know where and when something is happening, and they are extremely important in film-making, but not really in vlogging as the title of the vlog already tells you where and sometimes when, if not you’ll find out in the dialog you are, but it is exactly this kind of touch that makes his work feel very cinematographic.

All the aforementioned, are characteristics that I am expecting to see in their travel blog and I am soooooo much looking forward to check our the whole crew, if by any chance we get a roll end credit scene 🥹 to be honest, going back to video 1, since they were in each known location for more than a day, they could make at least 2 self-sufficient vlogs but hey ….

JK surely came a long way from GCF in Tokyo, didn’t he? And even though he hasn’t produced a GCF with the same colours ever since, there was something that was:

To me, filming is the art of skilfully deceiving, while willfully being deceived, during a specific amount of time, after which we all go back to our realities unharmed or “not”, depending on the depth of the film.

Films are like magic.

But what is filming for JK? To be veeeeery honest with you, the person who has a future in acting amongst the Tannies is Kim Taehyung, yet, the two people who can for sure act, on the silver-screen, are Kim Seokjin and Kim Taehyung … so why do I feel like Tae is the only only that has a future in this field? Because Tae can live for and with it. Just knowing how to act is not enough, you have to want to be an actor, for real-real. You know how Hobi breathes dancing? Tae breathes out imaginary characters in a similar way, reason why I can see him having a very prolific career as an actor as well.

Now ... why do I bring this up?

If JK just wanted to become a movie director alongside being the amazing musician he is, he’s had the perfect subject/s to do so. So why has he been so fixated with filming JM? JM is not the type of subject you can use for a long film, sure, he likes to act with his friends, but I don't think that cinema glory is one of his objectives in life I may be very wrong. He can perform/dance like hell crazy for the camera, HANDS FUCKING DOWN, but, once again, serious silver-screen acting isn’t what he wants. So, once again, given a choice of Tae and Jin;

Why JM?

TIME FOR TIN HATS Y’ALL HURRY 👏🏾 HURRY👏🏾 HURRY! 📢

I, Marengo, think that JK had always intended to make GCF in Tokyo as merely a video to preserve the happy memories, during a hard moment in their lives, which they spent together. This video-gift was specifically intended, for JM, in the style that JM mostly appreciated at the time, which might have happened to be YT vlogs. While editing his video, JK perhaps realised that it might have been a bit on the nose, so he added establishing b-roll shots of Tokyo, thinking it might have been enough to divert the attention from JM; but unfortunately failed. For a few reasons, but mainly, the lack of any spoken words in my opinion.

The thing is that for the purposes of what i think his objective was, words were absolutely not needed. “Look! See how happy you were here! It doesn’t matter how shit things are, we can still be happy; You can still be happy!” In the same way, with Life Goes On he wanted us to see their changed everyday life of the time, the sadness, melancholy and hope they all felt. Words were not needed, and this is the type of filming which is closest to the inner colours of Jeon Jungkook. JK is not the best with words, so I believe that he found in filmmaking a form of expressing himself in a more effective way.

HOWEVER, as we all know, even though Life Goes On was well received, GCF in Tokyo’s main critique was “Where is tokyo? All I see is JM”. Yet, his main purpose wasn’t Tokyo, the shots, the song, the editing, clearly indicated that. Nevertheless, if at the time, JM was indeed his queer interest as I don’t believe they were going steady at the time, he wasn’t going to jump out gun blazing to defend his choice; was he now? No, he left us to believe that he was gonna get better, and next thing he did was add more members and better establishing shots, but never forget; gcf in Tokyo is still there and still something he remembers fondly.

Now as for the title of this post 😂😂😂. Be it straight, queer, interrational or whatever, there is one thing that most of couple YT channels have in common:

Their channel name is either a union of their name or there is and &/and to join siad names. When JM was pretending to have a channel with JK during this live → VMINKOOK LIVE he named their channel MinKook, because he was Min and he was Kook so, MinKook and let’s forget for a second that this actually resulted to be a very funny korean pun. I honestly do believe that if you are a platonic duo on YT you will very rarely use your name with your friends name as it seems like it is a universal YT truth that “” & “” channels are couple channels. So if anything, if JM was talking out of subconscious, he maybe had been watching a lot of YT couple channels, at the time, and thought it okay for them to have a channel name that matched the same energy? …

🤡🤡🤡

So my question is: will the channel be named something akin to that couple vibe RISKY AF, WHY WOULD THEY DO THAT?? Or will it be something more like the Busan Brothers name that they are often given … HELLA SAFE, MAKES A LOT OF SENSE? I guess only time will tell!

Ok then, hats off! Let's go back to reality, where we can happily keep waiting for this blasted travel vlog LOL.

Always respectfully yours 💜🫰🏾,

Marengo.

#Youtube #Marengo's Silver World #Jikook #Jikook Travel Vlog

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