#when central casting attacks

[bywons]

⋆ DOUBLE SHOT ESPRESSO — YJW

╰—— “ say you can't sleep? baby, i know, that's that me espresso ” — where jungwon still remembers the way to your heart

🪽 𝖾𝗑-𝖻𝖿! 𝗒𝖺𝗇𝗀 𝗃𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗐𝗈𝗇 x 𝖿! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 g . 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝖾𝗑𝖾𝗌𝟤𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌 1855 𝒘𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌 ! 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉, 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 ✦ ◞ CATALOGUE

๑´ ³`) ﾉ pls leave feedbacks if u liked it ♡ REBLOG !!

ib — espresso by sabrina carpenter ♡ for @okwonyo ’s celestial ballet event!

“jay?”, you pause your typing on the desktop, groaning as you massage your temples. “can you grab my usual drink from the cafeteria?”

“double shot espresso”, a mellow voice floats to you from the cubicle to your left, “am i right?”

“yeah, you're righ—”, wait. this doesn't sound like park jongseong. his voice is more serious, and besides you never had to repeat your order for jay. then whose voice is this? it sounds so familiar, so close. almost as if you know the face behind it.

you push your heels against the cold office floor, propelling yourself backward in your swivel chair, rolling away from your cubicle. it's dull, the atmosphere inside the office. the central AC cranked to the coolest setting, contributing to the dim lighting to make you squirm on your seat. outside, the sky is overcast, heavy with the promise of rain.

the wall separating you from the unknown man's cubicle, is now visible. behind it you can only see the outline of his black shirt, sleeves rolled up, fingers pretending to type.

“uhm”, you clear your throat, now just behind him, “you new here?”

“new to the office,” he finally spoke again, this time turning around in his chair, only to give you a heart attack, “but definitely not new to you.”

yang fucking jungwon. this cheeky bastard. you wish you could punch that sly smirk out of his face. the way his arms are crossed together with his head held high, eyes glinting with a mischievous hint while he holds his smirk on his lips.

is he trying to challenge you? but the last time you saw him was 5 months ago, in a desperate cry of getting you back in front of your apartment doorstep, with a bouquet of roses and baby's breath he bought in a rush. you had a hard time shooing him away that night. but then again jungwon is a fishy player, always at the node of your suspicion.

he has you banging your head against the wall, internally of course, yet again after 6 whole months.

jungwon leans back in his chair, head resting back, that teasing smile never leaving. this nonchalant asshole. "new job, same floor. didn't expect to see me, did you?”

“what do you want, jungwon?”, you try to keep your cool, arms crossed with a bored expression.

“ouch!”, he places a hand over his heart, pretending to be in pain— all the while having a smile attached, “jungwon? where's won? wonnie, my love? can we not do that?” what a drama queen.

you furrow your brows, a suspicious look casting over your face, “are you stalking me now?”

jungwon chuckles, sitting up straight in his chair, “stalking? no, i just happened to get a job here. pure coincidence.”

you narrow your eyes, not buying it for a second. “really? pure coincidence?”

“okay, maybe i pulled a few strings,” he admits, raising his hands in mock surrender. “but can you blame me? i missed you.”

“seriously, get out”, you whisper-scoff, loud enough for him to hear and frown. pushing your heels against the floor again, you return to your cubicle.

you cannot believe this man right now, did he actually stalk you enough to know your workplace? is he that desperate? heck, you can't even remember why you broke up with him in the first place. not with that pretty face of his following you to your cubicle, on his own swivel chair. and oh you can already predict his whines and horrific shenanigans to impress you back.

not to say, you do enjoy his company. he's a charming devil, always knowing how to make you laugh even when you don't want to. but you refuse to let him think he can just waltz back into your life without any consequences.

jungwon rolls his chair up beside yours, the wheels squeaking slightly. “ever since we've broken up, i can't sleep y/n. you're there in my dreams.”

you let out a chortle, loud enough to echo back to you, as you turn your head to jungwon— still laughing sarcastically. “i know, that's me, espresso. it's my kinda effect.”

“c’mon babe, let me have a chance to prove myself—”

“...i need to check this paperwork”, you stand up abruptly, collecting the messy papers filled with sticky notes all in a bunch and hurrying to the desk at the corner of the office.

before even putting the paperwork down on the desk, you feel his presence again beside you. he is speed, didn't waste a second of his time right after you broke up to show up at your door with your favourite plush toy he won at the claw machine in 5 minutes paired with his horrible guitar skills. to be very honest, you enjoy jungwon's antics. maybe even love it, he is an incredible person to be around. but he just can't be your hype boy, and you crave hype in your life.

you sigh, rummaging through the paperwork.

“remember our dance nights?”, you gasp at his sudden proximity, his lips nearly grazing the tip of your ears, the strong smell of his perfume ghosting all over. he moved a tad bit closer, the soft outline of his abs pressing gently against your back, “or the karaoke ones? or our late night swimming session? when have i ever bored you out, baby?”, his voice drops to a whisper.

thank god the office was empty, you don't how you would've explained your flustered face. you try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, let them fly around, yang jungwon's going to mess up anyway. find some absurd antic of his to give you the ick and then you're gonna shoo him away again.

no more yang jungwon, no more headache, no more drama.

but what is life without a little drama? you've given the poor guy a fair chase of 6 months. he loves to chase hard to get, you love to play hard to get. it's a simple equation really, a match made in heaven. you can't deny the void you felt in your heart all these months when jungwon was away too. you were eager, longing, almost manifesting for his touch, for him to come back in your life.

and the universe listened, so you shouldn't complain now.

“i've been thinking of you, every day, every night”, his voice becoming huskier, now standing just behind. his fingers threaten to close in your waist; he plays with the fabric of your shirt.

“isn't that sweet?”, you reply, unable to move a muscle— you're under his spell, or is he under yours?

“i guess so,” he scoffs, “everything about you is sweet.” his hands finally close in around your waist, chin resting on top of your shoulder.

god, why aren't there any people in this office! it's only giving yang jungwon more courage to pull you closer, until your back pressed against his broad chest. a wave of nostalgia, dangerous for both of yet more for him. he has missed you, your touch, your voice, your daily espresso. god knows how bad he waited for this, again.

feathery lips brushing against the tip of your ears, a shiver down your spine. are you in for it again?

“why now?” you ask, exasperation creeping into your voice. “why after all these months?”

he takes a deep breath, his expression turning serious, arms tightening around you. “because i’ve had time to think. time to realise how much i screwed up and how much i miss you. i know it won’t be easy, but i'm willing to do whatever it takes.”

you shake your head, feeling the weight of his words but unwilling to give in just yet. “jungwon, we broke up for a reason. we both needed space and time to figure things out.”

“i know,” he says softly, turning you around. “and i've used that time to work on myself. i’ve changed, love. let me show you.”

you look into his eyes, searching for any hint of deception. but all you see is sincerity and determination. it’s the same look he had when you first fell for him.

a moment of bliss, before jungwon makes it even more euphoric. he pulls you in, in a long awaited kiss, lips desperately in search of the lost taste of espresso in yours. the bitter sweetness that he misses so hard. his hands grasp around your waist and pull you in closer, tongue running past your lips.

a bold move. all of this. a serious kiss with your ex on the first day of your new job? jungwon knows you like this type of bold.

“so..”, you pull away from the kiss, hands resting behind his neck, “...what now?”

“you still taste sweet,” jungwon lets out a breathy laugh, brushing his thumb against your lower lip, “just like i remember, like your double shot espresso.”

you can’t help but roll your eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “you and your cheesy lines, won. some things never change.”

“some things shouldn’t,” he retorts, his gaze softening. “like us.”

you open your mouth to respond, but the moment is interrupted by the sound of a familiar melody playing from his phone. jungwon grins, pulling back just enough to fish his phone out of his pocket.

“speaking of espresso,” he says with a playful glint in his eyes, “remember our dance nights?”

before you can protest, he’s already hit play, the catchy beat filling the otherwise quiet office. he holds out a hand, eyes twinkling with bliss. “may i have this dance?”

you glance around, ensuring the office is still empty, then take his hand with a resigned sigh. “you're impossible, jungwon. impresaing with dance steps now?”

he pulls you close, swaying to the music. “impossible to resist, you mean.”

you laugh despite yourself, letting him twirl you around the small space. jungwon’s dance moves are as ridiculous yet fabulous as ever, over-exaggerated and comically dramatic, but it’s exactly what you needed. he spins you out and back into his arms, dipping you low as the chorus hits.

“you always did love this song,” you say breathlessly as he pulls you back up.

“because it reminds me of you,” he replies, his expression softening. “strong, bold, unforgettable.”

your heart flutters at his words, and you find yourself leaning into him, the familiar comfort of his presence washing over you. maybe, just maybe, giving him another chance wouldn’t be the worst idea.

as the song ends, jungwon holds you close, his forehead resting against yours once more. “so, what now?”

you smile, feeling a warmth in your chest that you haven’t felt in months. “now, we take it one step at a time.”

“deal,” he agrees, his smile matching yours. “but can we start with that double shot espresso?”

“i'm more of a one shot espresso girl now.”

“one shot, double shot, triple shot, anything to get you back now”, jungwon presses a soft kiss against your lips.

espresso and jungwon will definitely be your favourites in the world, for a long long time.

a/n — omg i had so much fun writing this, i hope i brought out the best meaning of that song through this writing ^^ once again, happy 3k jiah pie,, love ya loads always mwah mwah ><

© bywons, 2024. do not copy, translate or upload any of my works without my permission.

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[tobiasdrake]

Fun Fact: Even in space, ACAB.

Let's talk about Jaco: The Galactic Patrolman, a somewhat more obscure manga compared to Dragon Ball that Akira Toriyama wrote in its setting.

For the most part, this is a short and fairly simple story. It's primarily a character drama, with the developing relationship between Jaco and the scientist Omori as its central focus.

The manga is surprisingly vague about its connections to Dragon Ball for nearly all of its length, until its final chapter. Jaco is here on Earth to thwart some vague threat sent to the planet from a world of hostile aliens. It's only at the end of the manga that we learn he's talking about Goku.

Galactic Patrol detected an Attack Ball leaving Planet Vegeta and making its way to Earth, so they sent Jaco to... assess the situation and then make a decision about whether or not to do anything.

In his defense, the Saiyans are the most powerful race in the universe. I can understand why he doesn't want to fuck with a full-grown Saiyan warrior. Nobody wants to fuck with a full-grown Saiyan warrior. The most that the finest police force in the universe can do against Saiyans is to try and nip them in the bud when they're babies.

It's interesting that Galactic Patrol doesn't have Scouter technology. I wonder if that proprietary? Frieza might have a patent.

But at the same time, I don't want to be too sympathetic to Jaco because. Well. He sucks.

Galactic Patrol sucks. That's kind of the bit. Jaco is a self-absorbed little shit, utterly devoid of empathy or compassion for the people he polices. He's stranded on Earth right now because he wasn't watching the road while driving.

Jaco's a prick, but what little we learn about Galactic Patrol as a whole doesn't make them sound much better.

This one time Jaco accidentally pressed the Extinction Bomb when he wasn't supposed to and wiped out a planet. Hoo boy, was his boss mad! Gave him a real talking to before giving him another Extinction Bomb and putting him back on patrol.

Universe isn't going to police itself, y'know. Someone's gotta be out there very occasionally trying to stop those real estate genocides.

For his part, Jaco's in it for the aesthetic. He likes the image of being a cop, and he spends his time practicing looking cool for when he presumably dispenses justice upon the criminal element.

But his interactions with the common people are filled with condescension and menace.

Like I said, this is the bit. Jaco is a self-important thug with a badge, with the initial conflict stemming as much from trying to keep him from doing something awful to the community under his jurisdiction as from trying to solve his problem.

Ostensibly here to protect Earth from the impending arrival of a Saiyan threat, he is as much a threat to this community as the invader he's here to assess. Without Omori there to guide him, he'd be killing people left and right.

He fits in pretty well with the cast of Dragon Ball, many of whom at least begin their tenure with a degree of amorality to them. Omori himself is a bitter misanthrope ironically thrust into the position of having to convince Jaco not to kill people.

And then there's the manga's biggest Dragon Ball connection: The introduction of Tights.

Any reader who's been picking up on the Dragon Ball-ness of this universe will know immediately where Tights came from. Her name pun gives the game away. Just like how the final chapter clarifies Jaco's target as the young Goku, we get to see the familiar faces of Tights's family as well.

Bulma basically solves the entire plot singlehandedly.

Even as a little kid, the universe's greatest heretic remains unparalleled in the field of game-breaking super-intelligence. Bulma OP do not nerf.

Again, this speaks to how little of the manga is actually about the plot. If this were a story-driven manga, having a character from another manga show up in the final issue and solve the plot in the span of two pages would be pretty disappointing. But since the plot is just an excuse to make these characters interact with one another, it doesn't really matter.

We aren't here for the story; We're here for the relationship between Jaco, Omori, and Tights. With that in mind, Baby Bulma waddling up and going "I fixed the spaceship; Are you stupid or something?" is hysterical.

For her part, Tights lives up to her family legacy of being super-brilliant.

She graduated from college at 16. She's a genius like the rest of the family. What she's not is interested in science and technology. Possibly as a justification for why we've never heard of her before, Tights goes against the mold for her family.

She honestly seems like something of a free spirit. She lives in East City when we meet her, famously the city that Nappa wiped off the map, while Capsule Corp and Bulma's family are out in West City. Rather than a scientist, she works as a body double for a famous pop idol.

As a publicity stunt, they're going to launch an idol into space. Tights's job is to impersonate the idol so she can die in the inevitable disaster instead. She is bizarrely chill with being paid a huge sum of money to get stupidly killed. Much like Bulma, Tights has a terrible sense of self-preservation and is willing to take on incredible risk for the sake of achieving a personal goal.

Tights is the best character in the manga. An aspiring sci-fi novelist who agreed to probably die in space for the sake of the experience. This family gives zero fucks.

And then there's Omori himself.

Despite its title, Omori is basically the main character of this manga. He's the one whose life situation is most heavily scrutinized. This is his status quo that Jaco and Tights enter. Similarly, Omori is the character who undergoes personal transformation as his experiences with Jaco and Tights help him find hope in connections with other people again.

The three characters click really well together. So well, in fact, that Dragon Ball would end up recycling the setup of Super Alien/Crotchety Old Man/Spunky Young Woman for one of the best dynamics they ever wrote.

This is not a copy/paste; Cheelai, Leemo, and Broly are all distinctly separate characters. but you can still feel the barebones aesthetic of Tights, Omori, and Jaco in their dynamic.

So. Yeah. Overall, for what it is, it's a cute little short story about a group of characters just living lives in the world of Dragon Ball. It's the kind of thing that the franchise needs more of, and still does to this day: An opportunity to flesh out the universe a little but also just to let us live in it through the eyes of someone else.

[embbarnes]

Fugitives.

summary: While you and Bucky flee from captivity in Berlin, Bucky shows his thanks to you for always being by his side.

warnings: SMUT | 18+ Minors DNI | CW!Bucky | Some violence | Bucky is triggered | Non-serious injuries | Light dirty talk | Cunnilingus | Slight nipple play | Swearing

a/n: Um...I did not mean for this to get so long, it just kept coming out. I had a dream about this scenario so I had to write it. Unedited, so ignore any mistakes please. wc: 6.0k

You felt panic surging through your body as you paced back and forth in the empty room they threw you in.

Things were nice. Things were...manageable.

Until Steve showed up and brought a barrage of government men with him, vowing to capture Bucky and you. Steve didn't seem to have ill intentions, but...you nor Bucky could afford to trust anyone. Especially since shortly after Steve broke into your apartment, there were dozens of men trying to take you out. You hadn't prepared for the chase that followed, the sheer panic in his eyes as you both made a break for it and ran off. You leaped from your apartment down to a lower building, suddenly a man in a black suit was now attacking Bucky with the intent to kill.

Everything happened so fast.

You were running, avoiding cars and guns, then you surrendered.

Now you were stuck in this tiny room, left to the unknown.

As you paced restlessly back and forth, the tumultuous thoughts swirling in your mind were abruptly interrupted by an unexpected plunge into darkness, the sound of electricity dying as the low frequency slowly quieted with the loss of power. The sudden absence of light startled you, leaving you momentarily disoriented. Before you gathered your bearings, a cacophony of alarms began to blare, their urgent wails piercing through the silence and hurting your head. Pulsating red lights started to flash intermittently, casting an eerie, crimson glow throughout the space of your confinement.

The combination of blaring alarms and flashing lights created a sense of urgency and you could hear the rapid footsteps of running agents outside the prison you were kept in, chaotic shouting and commands came from them as they continued towards something. The building had a complete shutdown of its electrical systems. The electronic lock securing your door, now devoid of power, had been rendered ineffective. The door that had kept you trapped was now...unlocked.

Immediately, you seized the opportunity to escape and locate Bucky. The door flew open with a resounding crash and you swiftly navigated the narrow hallway, stealthily trailing behind the surge of agents converging on a central location. Your presence didn't go completely unnoticed; a few agents spotted you on your way there. You swiftly incapacitated them with well-placed strikes, your past training came in handy, and with a few sneaky moves Bucky taught you when you were still living as peacefully as you could in Romania.

As you rounded the corner, you found yourself in a more spacious chamber. There, amidst the chaos, stood Bucky - tall and imposing. His movements were fluid and precise as he dodged the batons wielded by the attacking agents. He expertly dispatched his assailants, sending them sprawling across the floor. They weren't a match for him. You wasted no time in making your approach. "Bucky!" Your voice rang out, cutting through the din of the fight as you sprinted towards him, your heart pounding with a mixture of relief that he was okay.

He pivoted in your direction, his glacial blue eyes piercing through you with an unsettling emptiness that seemed to chill the very air around him. His countenance, a mask of stoic indifference, coupled with his rigid posture, caused you to halt abruptly several paces away. The atmosphere grew thick with tension as you observed him, searching for any hint of recognition in those familiar yet distant features.

"Bucky...?" The name escaped your lips in a hushed, tentative whisper, barely audible even in the deafening silence that enveloped you both. As the seconds ticked by without response, you found yourself repeating his name, this time with a noticeable tremor in your voice, uncertainty and a touch of fear coloring your tone. The man before you seemed both intimately familiar and alarmingly foreign, leaving you caught between the urge to approach and the instinct to retreat.

No response.

"...Soldat?"

There, his form straightened slightly, a flicker of recognition passing across his features. His eyes, once vacant, now held a glimmer of awareness. "я готов отвечать," he intoned, the Russian phrase rolling off his tongue with practiced ease. His voice, though devoid of any discernible emotion, carried a weight that seemed to hang in the air between you. He spoke in a low, measured tone, each word carefully enunciated as if reciting a long-memorized script. As he regarded you, his gaze remained steady and unwavering, his passive figure into an attentive, albeit still detached, presence.

Shit. They activated him. How?

Someone here knows more. This just became way more complicated, and dangerous.

"Soldat, we have to go, now," you spoke quickly to him, your gaze fixed upon the soldier's eyes. Despite their vacant expression, a flicker of comprehension seemed to pass through them. His programming, deeply ingrained and unyielding, compelled him to heed commands and execute them without question. You knew he would comply, for that was the very essence of his conditioning. You felt bad for this, making the soldier do the work for Bucky but right now you had no time to bother deactivating the soldier. Right now, he was needed for the sole purpose that he would get you both out of here.

With swift, decisive movements, the soldier's hand clamped around your arm, his grip firm yet not painful. He began to move, his powerful frame easily clearing a path through the agents that stood in your way. As you ascended flight after flight of stairs, you found yourself struggling to match his relentless pace, your feet tripping as he drug you along like a helpless doll at his side. The soldier's unwavering hold on your wrist proved to be your saving grace, effortlessly hauling you upright whenever your footing faltered. Your destination became clear as you continued your ascent, knowing a helicopter sat waiting.

Upon reaching the roof, he swiftly detached the tether from the helicopter and flung open the door with a sense of urgency. He tugged you around and forcefully pushed you inside the aircraft, your body stumbling against the cold metal interior. Seconds later, he adeptly climbed in after you, the confined space of the helicopter suddenly felt even smaller with him next to you, not to mention you’ve never actually been inside one.

"You can fly this thing, right?" you asked, your voice tinged with anxiety. Your eyes darted around the cockpit, frantically searching for any sign of a seatbelt or safety harness to secure yourself. The lack of familiar safety measures only made your growing sense of unease worse.

"Да," Bucky replied tersely, his voice carrying a harsh edge that left no room for further questions. It was clear that the soldier was still firmly in control, his demeanor radiating a cold efficiency. With practiced ease, his hands moved across the control panel, flipping a series of switches in rapid succession. The long rotor blades of the helicopter began to spin, their increasing speed creating a deafening whir that filled the air around you.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest as the helicopter's rotors whirred to life. The chopper lifted off, you felt a mixture of relief and anxiety wash over you at the thought of finally getting away from captivity with him. Your eyes were drawn to the window, where Steve, determined and desperate, made a last-ditch attempt to stop your escape.

The soldier ran at you both, he tried to grab on, anything to keep Bucky here and prevent him from fleeing. His fingers grazed the helicopter's landing skid, missing it by mere inches. You watched, a lump forming in your throat as his face contorted with a mix of frustration and concern. He was shouting something, but you had no idea what he was saying. The image of Steve standing there, looking increasingly small as Bucky skillfully piloted the helicopter away from the base, was the last thing you saw as the base shrunk out of view of the trees.

Bucky piloted the helicopter and carefully monitoring the fuel gauge as it gradually depleted, the carrier wasn’t full when you took off, so you knew it would run out quick. As the last drops of fuel were consumed, he maneuvered the aircraft to a safe landing spot in the heart of the dense, verdant forest, finding just the right spot to sneak a landing to. The thick canopy of trees surrounded you on all sides, creating a sense of isolation and wilderness and covering you from open view if any of the agents had begun to follow.

You took a moment to survey your surroundings, drinking in the lush greenery and the earthy scent of the forest. The rhythmic whirring of the helicopter blades slowly came to a halt, the sudden silence amplifying the natural sounds of the woodland. Once the blades had completely stopped their rotation, Bucky reached over and unlatched the door with a metallic click.

You turned to him to speak, and without warning, he grasped your arm and began to pull you from the confines of the helicopter. "Wait, Bucky," you stuttered, caught off guard by his sudden action. Your protest went unheeded as you found yourself tumbling out of the aircraft, your legs tangling beneath you in a decidedly ungraceful manner.

Fortunately, Bucky's firm grip on your arm remained steady throughout your clumsy exit. His quick reflexes and strong hold prevented you from an embarrassing and potentially painful encounter with the forest floor. Instead of face-planting into the damp, spongy moss that carpeted the ground, you found yourself teetering on the edge of balance, saved only by Bucky's steadying presence. He looked down with a mostly blank, unamused expression.

Still the soldier.

"We need to move. They will follow." He grunted to you, his voice low and strained. His hand found your arm again, tugging you along forcefully after he spoke. The sudden movement caught you off guard, causing you to stumble. However, this time you managed to regain your balance quickly, adjusting your pace to match his long, determined strides from him doing this earlier.

"You don't have to pull so hard, I'm right behind you," you stammered with mild discomfort. You gently worked your arm from his tight grasp, your fingers lightly massaging the skin where his grip had been. Despite the firmness of his hold, you didn't sense any malice or anger from him. He didn't actively mean to hurt you, he never did.

You had lost track of time during your trek through the forest, your feel would occasionally get caught in a sunken hole in the moss and make you stagger a bit. The minutes blended together as you strolled side by side, Bucky somehow never faltering. The once vibrant sky, painted with hues of orange and pink, had gradually faded into darkness. Heavy clouds, like a thick blanket, now obscured the stars and slowly rising moon, you had no light to guide your way through the thicket. The air grew heavy with moisture, and soon, a light drizzle began to fall over you both.

As the gentle shower persisted, you found yourself shivering involuntarily, your body reacting to the sudden drop in temperature. the cold rain didn’t help, and your lack of a coat made your skin bubble with goosebumps. Bucky glanced down at you, taking notice of your discomfort almost immediately. He didn’t say anything, but he shed his red henley and draped the shirt over your shoulders, carefully guiding your arms through the sleeves. The garment engulfed you, its size emphasizing the difference in your builds. The fabric, still warm from his body heat, provided an immediate sense of comfort against the chill.

You wrapped your arms tightly around yourself, your body still trembling from the cold despite the additional warmth provided by his shirt. The henley offered a much-needed shield against the relentless, chilly rain that continued to fall. Its fabric felt comforting between your skin and the rain, despite knowing it would probably get wetter within a few minutes. "Thank you..." You murmured softly, your voice barely audible above the patter of raindrops, lifting your gaze to steal a glance at him, noting his stoic expression as you walked side by side.

Bucky remained silent. Instead, he acknowledged your gratitude with a curt, almost impatient grunt. His hand suddenly reached out, grasping your arm firmly but not roughly and gave an insistent tug.

He urged you to quicken your pace, his voice low and insistent. "Train station up ahead," he grumbled, his eyes darting around warily. "I've got some money in my pocket. Should be enough for tickets." As you hurried along, the dense forest gradually thinned out, giving way to the first signs of civilization. Warm, golden light from street lamps pierced through the misty rain, and you could see the outline of buildings rather than the uneven, almost abstract silhouette of the trees.

The transition from the forest floor to urban terrain was abrupt and jarring. Your feet had been accustomed to the soft, springy moss of the woodland for the last few hours, now met the unyielding surface of wet concrete. The sudden change in texture caused you to stumble slightly, your posture jerking upright as you adjusted to the new environment.

The outline of a small train station materialized through the rain as you both walked across the empty lot. As you approached, a ticket booth came into view, a solitary worker visible behind the foggy plexiglass. Bucky took the lead, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a fistful of crumpled euro bills, sliding the money under the narrow opening in the plexiglass. He exchanged only the briefest of words with the booth attendant, making it short and quick.

You boarded the waiting train, your footsteps echoing softly on the metal floor as you made your way through the narrow corridor. Eventually, you reached the car designated for your stay, fumbling briefly with the key before successfully unlocking the door to your cabin. With a gentle push, the door swung open, revealing a compact yet cozy space. Though, with all the anxiety you both felt, there wasn’t much appreciation for it.

Bucky carefully maneuvered himself into the small cabin, he sat on the modest bed nestled against the wall, sinking down onto its surface with a barely audible sigh. You noticed the tension in his shoulders, the slight furrow of his brow. Bucky closed his eyes, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, repeating this process several times. It was a technique you'd seen him use before, every time he would try to regain himself after an episode.

Your gaze remained fixed on him, concern etched across your features. It was obvious that Bucky was still engaged in an internal struggle, fighting to get control over the soldier's mindset that threatened to remain the dominant consciousness. These moments of transition were always challenging for him, the process of the soldier's persona receding leaving him vulnerable and raw.

"You're doing good, Bucky," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper but filled with encouragement. Your words seemed to reach him, and you noticed a slight relaxation in his posture as he continued his measured breathing. "Just like that...he will fall asleep and let you keep control." You hummed warmly, sitting beside him and rubbing his back.

He exhaled one final, deep breath, his chest deflating as the tension slowly ebbed from his body. The train suddenly jerked to life, the ancient gears in the wheels groaning and creaking as they began to turn. With a lurch, the massive iron beast slowly inched forward, gathering momentum. "I'm okay," Bucky finally managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. His throat bobbed visibly as he swallowed hard, trying to regain his composure after the soldier finally relented control and faded into the back of his mind.

"Good," you rasped back, your own voice rough with fatigue and stress. You turned your gaze to the window, but the darkness outside revealed nothing of the world rushing by. Trails of rain ran down the window, the spotted droplets turning into streaks as the train moved. After a moment of contemplation, you shifted in your seat to face Bucky once more. "So... where exactly are we going?" you asked, curiosity and a hint of trepidation coloring your tone.

Bucky's eyes, which had been fixed on some indeterminate point in the distance, finally lifted to meet yours. "France," he replied, his voice low and steady. "Then back here. Then... somewhere else. We have to keep moving, keep them guessing." He paused, "They won't think to look around Germany once they believe we've left the country. We'll use their assumptions against them, stay one step ahead."

"Ah, smart..." You murmured, settling back onto the plush bed. The gentle sway of the train car and the rhythmic clacking of wheels on tracks created a soothing ambiance that prevented that dull ringing from pure silence. From what Bucky had told you, the ride would stretch on for hours, well into the night. You wouldn’t have to get off the train at the stop in France, so this was going to be a long trip.

You decided to make yourself as comfortable as possible for the long haul ahead and began to peel off your rain-soaked garments. The damp fabric clung stubbornly to your skin, requiring some effort to remove. As each piece of clothing came away, you felt instant relief from the clammy sensation that had been plaguing you since the downpour. You were left in nothing but your undergarments, your skin finally able to breathe freely.

Bucky, ever attentive, couldn't help but watch as you undressed. His eyes traced the gentle curves of your form, appreciating the soft planes of exposed flesh. There was a sudden need in his gaze, though he maintained a respectful distance. The sight of you, vulnerable and nearly bare, completely trusting in him, stirred something in his gut. Bucky followed suit, he saw little point in remaining in his waterlogged attire for the duration of the night so he shed his own rain-drenched clothes, revealing his gorgeous physique. His meaty arms and legs, his soft belly, he had been doing so well since HYDRA. He filled out, and he looked so much healthier, building much more mass.

He crawled next to you, his movements slow and deliberate as he positioned himself close by. The two of you lay side by side, your bodies gradually warming up in the confined space. The gentle hum of the train's heater filled the cabin, its warmth seeping into your damp clothes laying on the opposing cushions and caressing your exposed skin. You shifted, nestling against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. His larger frame instinctively curled around you, providing an additional layer of warmth and security. The exhaustion of the day began to settle in your bones, and you allowed your eyelids to flutter closed, savoring a few moments of respite.

He glanced at your arm, noticing with concern the light bruises forming from when he had been grabbing you earlier in his role as the soldier. Bucky tenderly pulled your arm closer to inspect it, a frown taking over his features as he observed the marks of where his hand grasped you many times. His usually bright blue eyes narrowed, now clouded with guilt and remorse for his earlier behavior. In a silent gesture of apology, he softly kissed the bruised area, offering comfort where he could without words as you lay against him. The room enveloped in what was mostly silence, save for the tapping of heavy rain and the rhythm of the tracks. You were so exhausted from the day's events and the emotional toll they had taken on you. Despite everything, you chose to stay by his side, no matter what happens in his life. You were always there with him. You were the one person he could count on more than anyone else.

As your consciousness began to drift away, it suddenly snapped back into focus as you felt Bucky's warm body pressing closer to yours. His calloused hand slowly descended, gently caressing your inner thigh with a tenderness that belied his strength. His thumb traced delicate circles on your skin, sending shivers up your spine. Bucky shifted slightly, propping himself up to gaze directly into your eyes, his own blue orbs filled with a mixture of vulnerability and adoration.

"Doll, I..." he began, his voice husky with emotion, "You mean the world to me. You've been by my side...no matter what. Even with...the winter soldier still hidden in my head. You have stuck with me." As he spoke, his hand continued its gentle exploration, inching closer to your most sensitive area, his touch both comforting and electrifying.

"Bucky..." you breathed, your voice laden with affection and reassurance. "I love you. I'm not going anywhere - not now, not ever." Your hand instinctively reached up to cup his stubbly cheek, your fingers tenderly stroking the rough texture of his skin. Bucky leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he savored the intimacy of the gesture.

"You don't need to thank me for standing by you or for protecting you," you continued, your voice soft but filled with conviction. "It's not a burden or an obligation like you always seem to think…it's a choice I make every day because of how much you mean to me. I may not be able to move mountains or change the world, but I'll always do whatever is within my power to support and love you, Bucky. That's a promise."

His eyes glistened with a hint of moisture, your words resonating with him and making him feel much more emotional. Slowly, he leaned down, closing the distance between you as his lips met yours in a tender kiss. The softness of his slightly damp lips sent a shiver through your body as he moved them against your own eager ones. His body hovered over yours, creating a protective cocoon around you. His thick arms, strong yet aware and careful, formed a gentle cage, holding you close beneath him. The warmth of his presence enveloped you, the cold of the rain and soaked clothes now long gone as you pressed up into his lips in return.

When Bucky pulled back, his eyes met yours, filled with tenderness and longing. "M'gonna show you just how much I love you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "For stickin' by my side through everything... through all of those long nights, through hiding and running..."

His right hand gently cradled your arm, his touch feather-light as he examined the tender flesh he had inadvertently grabbed earlier while in his Winter Soldier mindset. Your skin was sensitive, sporting light bruises from where his hand had held on. Bucky's expression softened further, a hint of regret flickering across his features. “I’m fine, Buck Buck.” You whispered soothingly, not wanting him to feel bad.

He placed soft, reverent kisses along the discolored skin after you spoke, each press of his lips was like a silent apology. His warm breath fanned across your skin in gentle, soothing pants, you could see he was getting worked up.

His body shifted above you again, his fingers delicately hooking into the elastic of your underwear and slowly tugged them down your legs, savoring every inch of newly exposed skin. The fabric whispered against your thighs before he flicked them off onto the floor, not paying any attention to where they went. A shiver of anticipation ran through you as the cool air caressed your now-bare skin. Your breath caught in your throat, a mixture of excitement and vulnerability washing over you after being fully exposed to his gaze. It wasn’t the first time, of course, but that didn’t matter right now.

Bucky held your legs, his touch both firm and tender, wrapping his arms under your hips, lifting you up off the flimsy mattress slightly. The sudden contact made you gasp softly, your body tensing momentarily as the cold metal of his left arm pressed against your warm skin. The contrast was electrifying, sending a jolt of sensation through your body.

"Ah, Bucky..." You hitched, your voice a breathy whisper filled with desire and anticipation. Your fingers gripped the sheets beneath you, your body trembling slightly, feeling his hot breath against your lower abdomen.

His mouth placed open kisses on your belly, a line going across your abdomen as he kissed. His hair draped over his forehead as he dipped down, his stubble scratched your sensitive skin as he lowered farther to your core. You felt yourself quiver, his lips were right there...and the damn soldier was teasing you.

He gently spread you open, taking in everything you had to offer him. You were so beautiful, his hazy eyes glued to your folds and he finally lowered down to you. His tongue licked a slow stripe up from your entrance to your clit, teasingly flicking over it once and making you moan quietly. Your breath hitched as he did it again, his tongue was so warm and the pressure he applied was always perfect.

Bucky always knew what to do, his lips were wrapped around your pretty pearl within seconds and he gave you little nursing suckles. Your body stiffened instantly and your hips moved towards him on their own, chasing that addicting wave of pleasure that continuously shot through your limbs. He sucked so good, his tongue teasingly circling the bud in his mouth while he nursed on your clit. Those strong arms held your hips firm, preventing you from having more and less.

He released your clit, listening to you moan below him and he chuckled, his voice coming out in a teasing whisper. "Shh...we can't let anyone hear you..." You felt his hands trail up your body in a slow rub, squeezing your soft sides before he groped your breasts. He teased your nipples, pinching them and rolling them in his fingertips. The cool metal fingers of his left hand made you gasp, your back arching up off the flimsy mattress.

"Bucky...oh shit..." You huffed and held his wrists while he toyed with your sensitive buds. It was dark in the cabin, but he could tell they were a bit more red than usual, your body responding to him eagerly. "Please..." You lifted your hips to try to encourage him to lick you again, desperate for his lips and tongue on your wet cunt, lapping and sucking you to your climax. You were desperate, needy, you wanted more as he continued to give you enough to tease, but not enough to feel that ecstasy you desired.

"S'good baby...just let me play with you. I'll make you feel good, I promise...just sit still for me." He laid sloppy, open mouthed kisses to your inner thigh, his teeth gently nipping your skin as he lightly suckled with each kiss. His hot breath hit your pussy and you knew he was hovering his mouth there on purpose, just to watch you whine and mewl under his hold. That stupid smile on his face that made your belly tighten, his mischievous glint, he finally relented and let his tongue lap at you again.

He teased your entrance, his tongue pushing in a few times and swirling around, dragging your arousal up and over your throbbing clit. Bucky expertly drew elaborate designs on your little pearl, being urged on by your sweet, delicate sounds of need and pleasure. Your hips desperately chasing his light touches, encouraging him to do more to you. You let out a frustrated huff and your hand tangled in his hair. "Bucky, come on, please..."

Your plea went to his groin, the blood rushing down and making him twitch. "You're so good to me, doll..." he grunted against your folds, taking your clit into his mouth and giving a harsh suckle. You bit your lip hard to stifle your loud cry. "So damn good to me...always by my side. Always makin' sure m'alright..." He laid kisses along your slit, his tongue slithering inside you again, swiping all the way up through your folds. "You taste so good for me...like a drug. I love lickin' you baby...I love suckin' your pretty clit. Such pretty sounds for me, c'mon babydoll, make some noise f'me..."

Your clit was engulfed once more, his lips and tongue giving you intense suckling and swirling. He sucked on your precious bundle of nerves like he were drinking down sweet honey, his tongue cradling your bead as his arms and hands kept you perfectly still for him to work on you. His tongue swirled in gentle circles before he settled it underneath the bud, continuing to nurse on you.

"Bucky...I-I'm close, if you keep doing that..." You rasped and stuttered, your voice coming out with gentle whines emphasizing the pleasure you were feeling. You let out short pants as your orgasm rapidly approached, his tongue working your clit relentlessly, he could feel you were close. The way it twitched on his wet muscle, how you writhed beneath his arms, the erratic breaths coming out of your parted lips.

He kept just as he was, knowing that this is what was getting you there. He didn't change a thing, and you finally reached your peak, chasing it down and pouncing on it until it overwhelmed you. With the sweet arch of your back, he finally allowed you to grind and buck your hips into his mouth. He held your waist as you tugged on his hair and mewled out a little too loudly. His name leaving your mouth in a sweet symphony of beautiful moans, he about humped the mattress below him to satisfy the growing urge from his cock.

After your body relaxed from its rigid state, you laid back down on the mattress and gasped, his tongue continuously and lazily lapping up your mess. "Ah...Bucky..." You gave his hair a gentle tug, overstimulation making your legs shake vigorously. He lifted, his lips glossy and his chin wet from his little feast.

You didn't care, you pulled him close and kissed him, tasting yourself on his lips and eagerly pulling him closer to your body. The aftershocks had run completely through you, so your shaking body was growing chilled in the tiny train cabin. His warmth was something your body instinctively sought in the dark room. The tracks were loud as was the rain, you hoped that was enough to muffle your embarrassing outcry of pleasure.

Your face reddened, a deep blush spreading over your cheeks as you thought back to the sounds of your own moans, which seemed to echo in your mind. Bucky, so attentive and extra charming in the moment, just chuckled softly in response, his eyes twinkling with affection. "You're beautiful, doll. So beautiful...did so well for me," he murmured in that endearing tone of his that never failed to make your heart flutter.

Bucky dipped his head down, pressing soft, lingering kisses along your chin and jawline, slowly moving down the side of your neck. He kept himself close to you, his arms creating a warm, secure cocoon around you…despite the usually cold metal arm that you often had wrapped up when you two slept together. He clearly tried shielding you from the chilly air that permeated the train cabin, his warmth a comforting barrier against the cold.

"And you're very handsome, with the prettiest pink lips," you whispered back, your voice soft and full of admiration for the man you loved. Even though you were still rather dazed from your orgasm, you felt a little better than you had moments ago. Your arms were still heavy with blissful exhaustion, but they lazily wrapped around his neck and shoulders. You played absentmindedly with the roots of his hair at the back of his head, twirling the strands gently between your fingers in the way that he liked.

"What happens when we get back to Germany? Where will we go once the train turns around?" You asked in a soft whisper as Bucky laid beside you, cradling you close and more comfortably. He sighed back to you, watching the faint lights out the tiny window of the roomette flicker and dance as the train sped through the night.

"We go somewhere else. Quickly. Maybe Russia," he replied, his voice a gentle murmur that matched the rhythmic clatter of the train's wheels on the tracks. "There are a lot of small, private towns we could go to, hidden away from the world. Places they won't think to look, places where we can blend in and live quietly, away from prying eyes and cameras. Places where we could be at peace. Or, try to be." He mumbled softly, his thumb gently caressing your shoulder as you laid close, feeling the warmth of his body and the reassuring steadiness of his presence.

You gave a soft hum in response to him, feeling the warmth and comfort as you snuggled even closer into his broad, welcoming chest, so warm like a heater. "Well...I guess I have to practice my Russian," you said with a playful chuckle, the sound light and soft. You placed a tender kiss on his sternum, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing before settling in for the night. The drop in hormones after fleeing from the government and Bucky so eagerly eating you out made you feel especially tired. Bucky glanced down at you with a gentle gaze, pulling you a little closer, his lips curving up into a small, affectionate smile.

"I'll teach you, help you refresh," he whispered with a reassuring tone, his voice a calm and soothing presence in the quiet room. "Let's worry about that later...for now, get some sleep. We've got at least eleven more hours," he added, his words a comforting reminder of the time you had together, promising a long, restful night ahead.

"You need sleep too," you insisted, your brow furrowing with concern. You had a strong feeling that he wouldn't allow himself a moment's rest while you were sleeping. "Promise you'll get some sleep," you repeated earnestly, "You can't stay up the entire time and be exhausted when we get back. It's important to take care of yourself too, besides, if you’re sleep deprived you won’t be alert."

"I promise I will," he replied, a gentle chuckle escaping his lips as he tried to reassure you. "I'm just gonna stay up for a little longer. I want to make sure everything is good... that no one is here lookin' for us. Once I know we're safe, I'll get some rest, I swear." His eyes softened as he spoke, trying to ease your worries.

"Hm..." You narrowed your eyes at him, suspicious of his promise but he had never lied to you before so...you relented. "Fine. Since you promised." You settled down into his chest and let your heavy eyelids finally close, sleep had been clawing at your consciousness and you were finally allowing yourself to be taken. Bucky was happy you fell asleep, he wanted you to rest. For everything you've done for him, being with him throughout everything, your love and loyalty was something that constantly amazed him. But he couldn't ask for anyone better than you. You were his everything, and he'd continue to love and protect you with every fiber of his being.

Bucky's own eyes grew heavy after staying awake for a while, weighed down by the fatigue of the long journey and the emotional toll of the day’s events. You both gradually succumbed to the comforting embrace of sleep, wrapped together closely with limbs hooked around each other, fitting together snugly like customized puzzle pieces. The rhythmic and soothing sound of the train tracks clicking beneath you provided a steady lullaby, while the rain stormed down incessantly on the roof of the train, creating a calming yet persistent background symphony that replaced your need for white noise that you had always insisted on using.

As the train tirelessly carried you to newfound safety, away from the chaos that lay behind, the world outside blurred into a haze, granting you a temporary break from all the stress the world brought upon you both.

Thanks for reading - em🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Cover images from Pinterest.

[colormepurplex2]

Now I'm Yours | Feel It In Your Soul

↳ Alpha!Jungkook x Omega!f.Reader ⤜ A/B/O, Established Relationship/Mates ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 6,697 ⚠️ Vulgar language, fingering, knotting, creampie, discussion of violent acts, fighting/physical altercation, alpha challenge, knife violence/attack, blood, injury, bond sex, dick licking/oral, slick eating, biting/marking, blood/wound licking, surprise pregnancy

A/N: Read Make You Mine, the first installment of this series, here!

⇽Previous Chapter ◅ Back to story masterlist

When you meet Jungkook’s family in the garage the next morning, the sun isn't even up yet. His parents are waiting next to the large SUV that’s idling by the open door when you enter through the side entrance from the laundry room.

After a hasty shower, you threw on jeans and a t-shirt and are now helping Junghyun load the back of the vehicle with a few boxes from the storage room. The tops of the boxes are labeled with various things, mostly boasting medical supplies or nonperishable foodstuffs.

“Did Jungkook say why he wanted us to bring all of this stuff?"

Junghyun looks up at you from under his brow as he bends over to retrieve the next box, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. “Donations. We’re going to be close to The Sanctuary, and we try to donate once a quarter if we’re able.”

This is the first you’ve heard of the Jeons donating to The Sanctuary. You’re intimately familiar with the place. It’s exactly what it sounds like: a sanctuary for abused or neglected omegas and their children. Mari was one such omega, cast aside by her original pack when she didn’t match with any of the alphas within it. It wasn’t until Roland, having just taken over as pack Alpha of your old pack, started up his own annual donations to The Sanctuary that he met Mari. Your old pack made at least a donation every six months after that, helping as many omegas and children as possible.

It’s not that you wouldn’t think the Jeons are a pack that would help those less fortunate; you’d just not given it much thought, considering you grew up thinking they were run by power-hunger alphaholes. Not that Jungkook isn’t an alphahole, he’s just…maybe not as bad as you once thought—even without the rose-tinged view you have of him now from being your mate.

The duel is taking place on neutral territory, which happens to be an old warehouse that’s been converted into a performance theatre in the entertainment district of the central city. The warehouse was renovated a few decades ago by the council when enough of the surrounding packs hounded them for a space to meet en masse.

It’s about three hour's drive, the view filled with the sun peeking over the mountains and trees with their leaves changing in preparation for winter. You sit in the passenger seat, head resting against the window while you try not to stress too much over the events of the next twenty-four hours.

“Come on, dear,” the soft voice of Jungkook’s mother drags you from your rumination. She’s leaning through the gap between the front seats, her hand lightly squeezing your shoulder. “We’re here.”

You hadn’t even realized the vehicle had stopped and that Junghyun and Jungkook’s father had gotten out already. 

“Sorry,” you mutter, popping open the door and sliding out.

She meets you along the side of the SUV, a concerned look pinching her brow. ���Are you feeling okay?”

Now that she mentions it, you are feeling a bit off-kilter. Though, it’s probably just the nerves. “Just worried, that’s all,” you explain, pressing a hand against your stomach.

“Did you skip breakfast?” she asks, hooking her arm around your other one and slowly leading you to where Junghyun and his father stand near the elevator of the parking garage.

Breakfast was the last thing on your mind this morning. “Yeah. I’ll be okay, though.”

“Nonsense,” she tuts, producing a whole-grain protein bar from the bag slung over her other shoulder. “You’ll feel better with something in your stomach. Now, let’s go find my son. Being near your alpha will do you a dose of good, as well.”

You nibble on the protein bar, looking to simply placate her, but find yourself suddenly ravenous and consume the whole thing in three bites. It sits like lead in your belly, and you immediately regret wolfing it down so quickly.

“This foolish display will start at precisely noon, not long now,” Jungkook’s father states, the clip of his cane hitting the linoleum flooring of the elevator echoing the disapproval that’s evident in his voice.

Junghyun presses the button that’s labeled ‘theatre hall’ on the control panel and the cabled car begins a swift ascent up to the fifth floor. You caught sight of Jungkook's motorcycle in the parking garage, sitting next to Jimin’s red sports car. A few other familiar vehicles lined the rows, but there were dozens more you didn’t recognize.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you feel a familiar humming warmth bloom in the center of your chest. It’s the same feeling you’ve learned to associate with being nearer to Jungkook. Peeking at your phone, you see it’s a message from the alpha, letting you know he’s waiting for you just on the other side of the elevator doors.

“There you are,” Jungkook exhales, not even waiting for you to get off the elevator before he’s gathering you into his arms. His scent engulfs you, immediately putting you at ease. Jungkook is all alpha, and as much as you hate to admit it, he’s exactly what you need; your stomach and nerves are instantly soothed.

Jungkook’s father clears his throat, drawing Jungkook’s attention. “What news do you have?”

Jungkook sighs, releasing most of his hold on you, but keeps an arm over your shoulders and ushers you out of the elevator and into the hall. “Most all the other families have arrived. Jimin is with Daehyun now. I haven’t managed to lay my eyes on either Raiden or Demetrius. According to the council, they’re supposed to be in the eastern dressing rooms. I have seen Kiel skulking around the halls, though, creepy bastard.”

“Have you seen Hyunsoo?” Jungkook nods in answer to his father’s question. “I’d like to have a word with him.”

“Last I saw him, he was inside speaking with the council.”

“Perfect, I could do with a word for them, too,” Jungkook’s father grumbles before starting toward the entrance to the performance hall proper. Junghyun follows closely behind, after dipping his chin at Jungkook. You’ve never seen Jungkook get bent out of shape over designation deference, as some alphas do. He doesn’t force those below him to bow and scrape; he just asks for as much respect as he affords them in exchange. It’s just another tick you’ve had to add to your ‘Jungkook isn’t as bad as I once thought’ list.

“Are you feeling okay?” Jungkook asks softly, his eyes flicking between yours.

You do feel much better now that you’re with him, which would normally grate on you, but you can’t seem to muster up the typical ire for some reason. “I’ll be fine,” you assure him. “Just nerves.” That seems to satisfy him.

“Come on, let’s go before Dad causes too much of a scene.”

“Umm, I’ll be right there. I’m just going to go to the restroom real quick.”

He continues to stare at you for a moment longer before slowly nodding. “Okay. Mom, we’ll be right back—”

“No, no. It’s okay, you don’t have to come with—”

“Jungkook,” his mom interrupts you both, giving her son an amused smile. “She might be your omega, but I promise she doesn’t need you to hold her hand while she uses the restroom. I’ll wait here for her. You go on ahead with your father and Junghyun.”

Pink creeps up Jungkook’s neck and kisses his ears. “Right. Okay. I’ll see you inside,” he mumbles, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before reluctantly taking his arm from across your shoulders and heading toward the door his father and brother disappeared through.

“Thank you,” you say to his mom. “I’ll be right back.”

You’ve only been here a handful of times over the years for various events, but you’re able to follow the signs well enough to the restrooms located on this side of the venue. However, when you get there, the door is locked, and there is a janitorial wet-floor sign posted right outside.

It’s just your luck, right as you’re starting to feel a light wave of nausea wash over you. Taking a few deep breaths to try and calm your inner omega, who isn’t helping the situation at all, you turn to retreat back to where Jungkook’s mom is waiting for you a few halls over. Maybe she’ll have something that can calm your warring stomach and nerves.

“I can break the lock if you need to get in there,” a voice calls out from further down the hall just as you take a step to go back. “You look like you need it.”

You swivel toward the voice but can only make out the silhouette of someone standing in a darkened doorway a few doors down. They pull out a phone, and the blue light illuminates the ceiling for a moment before it’s plunged back into darkness. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“You don’t look fine to me.” The words come with a chuckle that slithers over your senses and sets you on high alert. You’ve heard that voice before. “If fact, you look like a helpless little omega that’s about to sick up all over the floor.”

That’s a thought. You might just do that, considering who steps out from that doorway, the face fitting with the name screaming inside your head. Kiel Barton. He’s every inch the viperous bastard he’s known to be. Despite being not much taller than you, he’s thicker through each arm and leg than both of yours combined. His bald head glints in the overhead light, and the jagged scar on his right cheek is bright white against his red-flushed face. He swaggers into the hallway, just a few feet away, twirling a switchblade through his thick fingers.

“I’m not helpless,” you seethe through your teeth. You don’t necessarily mean for the words to come out so aggressively, but they do. Years of not taking shit from anyone don’t seem to have worn off too much from your time of being mated with Jungkook. And if it’s one thing you’ve always hated, it’s how everyone thinks omegas are weak and soft—helpless without an alpha.

Kiel grins, and it reminds you of something you might see in a horror film right before the psycho killer attacks. “Oh, sweet, sweet omega,” he crows before sucking in a deep lungful of air, “I don’t think you realize just how helpless you are right now.”

You’re about to turn on your heel and run when he leaps. It’s like a strike of lightning; he moves so fast—faster than your reflexes can keep up with. Pain thunders through you as his burly form knocks into you and sends you hurtling a few feet down the hall to land in a heap on the floor.

He’s back on you in an instant, cold steel pressed against your neck. “Get off me!” you scream, trying your best to buck him off despite the disorienting feeling still reeling inside your head.

“I promised my brother as long as he did his part, I would do mine,” Kiel sing-songs in a demented tone, his words trailing off into another one of those spine-chilling chuckles. 

“Fuck you!” You struggle under his weight, your knees and elbows trying to get any purchase along his thick-muscled body that they can. You manage to catch him along the neck with your hand, nails scoring bloody lines through the devil tattoo he has there.

An ear-splitting roar, the sound of loud banging, and running feet sound from somewhere down the hall, making Kiel’s laughter trail off. “Looks like my time to play is—” A small, sneakered foot meets the side of his ribs, turning his words into a grunt. The hit barely rocks him, but you can’t be sure of who it is, though, around his bulk.

“Get off of her, you snake!” snarls a familiar feminine voice, only it’s dripping with far more acid than you’ve ever heard before.

“FUCK! I don’t have time for this!” Kiel thunders, rearing back and bringing a fist around right into your temple, sending you careening into hazy darkness.

There is so much noise and movement that when you first come to, you think you’re dreaming. But then the very real pain lights up along your side, and you’re reminded that this is very much not a dream. You’re laying on the floor in the hallway outside the bathroom, side smarting hard from the impact of hitting the floor and the memory of a meaty fist stark in your mind.

You go to sit up, only to have your hand slip through a puddle of warm, sticky liquid. The scent hits you a second later, thick and metallic. “Oh gods,” you whimper softly. Your hand is bright red when you bring it up in front of your face.

“Please,” comes an even more pitiful whimper from beside you. Adrenaline kicks in, and you flip onto your hands and knees, letting your eyes swing over the scene around you.

A dozen bodies are packed in the hall, fists flying and mouths opened in concussive bellows. It’s pandemonium. Everyone is fighting, familiar faces and those of strangers alike. All the sounds combined make you want to crawl into a corner and cover your ears, but the form lying beside you keeps you right where you are.

Jungkook’s mom lies on the floor. Her body turned at an odd angle, with her hips going one way and her torso the other as if she was flung around like a ragdoll. You realize the whimpering is coming from her. She lifts a trembling hand toward you, and you grab onto it, crawling closer to kneel beside her.

The blood covering your hand, now seeping through the knees of your jeans, is coming from her. A familiar-looking switchblade is protruding from the upper right area of her chest, between her clavicle and shoulder, and there is a cut over her left eyebrow that blood is steadily oozing from.

“No, no, no!” You quickly rip off a strip from the bottom of your t-shirt and press it around the blade, trying to staunch the wound. The cut above her brow doesn’t look deep; all the blood is a bit alarming, but you know headwounds are the worst in being deceptive; they bleed so much. You’re also scared to take your hands away from her chest. “What did you do?”

Her eyes flicker open, rolling wide until they land on you. “Had to”—she pauses, whimpering in pain as someone stumbles backward and knocks into her splayed legs—”pr-protect the baby.”

“Protect the–protect the wh—”

“NO!” The alpha roar echoes through the hall, as loud as a thunderclap.

In the same instant that your hands are moved aside and replaced by the older, more gnarled ones of her mate, arms come around you from behind and you’re lifted up off the floor. Fear grips your throat, and you flail, aiming your elbow backward at whoever grabbed you.

“Stop, calm down!” Jungkook’s voice snaps you out of your fight instinct, and you sag in his arms. The fighting around you has turned into pockets of isolated struggle.

You blink a few times, clearing the panicked haze from your eyes, finally able to piece everything together. There are a few busted lips and some already swelling eyes, but there are at least a handful of familiar faces around you. Each one is executing some form of hold over individuals with less familiar faces; headlocks, arm bars, and others that look just as effective, if maybe more painful.

Then there is the scene at your feet, right out of a horror movie. Jungkook’s dad and brother are kneeling beside his mom, the knife still sticking out of her chest. It looks like the blood has stopped pooling around the blade, but you can’t seem to remember if that’s a good or a bad sign.

“Jungkook! Your mom, we need a medic!” you urge, struggling in his arms again.

A sinister, wet, cackling laugh cuts through the hushed din of the hallway before it turns into a hacking cough. You can hear the distinct sound of flesh hitting flesh and pained grunts.

”Shut up, you sick bastard!” The ragged cry comes from further down the hallway, where you see Seokjin with his arms wrapped around Kiel’s upper torso and Yoongi throwing fists into his stomach. “How dare you!?”

“Yoongi.” Jungkook doesn’t have to raise his voice at all. The other alpha stops, fist poised mid-punch, his shoulders heaving. “That’s enough.” The coldness in Jungkook’s tone has the hairs on the back of your neck prickling. You’ve never heard him sound so utterly emotionless. “For now.”

Pounding footsteps sound from the other end of the hall, and a few betas come skidding into view, medical bags in hand. “Out of the way!” one of the betas shouts, shouldering his way down the hall before dropping down beside Junghyun and beginning to work. “I need to get her stabilized before we can move her.”

Everything is still a bit cloudy for you; all you have are flits and flashes of memory, but it’s not hard to piece it together. Kiel came after you outside the bathroom, and then Jungkook’s mom tried to interfere. “Is she, is she going to be okay?” you ask, voice soft, your lips trembling around the question.

Jungkook hooks an arm under the backs of your legs and hoists you up against his chest, and you get your first good look at his face. There is a dribble of blood coming from the corner of his mouth and mild swelling coming up around his left eye.

He’s about to open his mouth to say something when a group of grey-haired alphas cut around the corner at the end of the hall, and the one in the front gasps dramatically, “Good gods! What has happened?” You groan at the loud sound, burying your face into Jungkook’s chest.

“This is what happens when you entertain absurd demands from a known trouble-making pack,” Jungkook’s father states with barely veiled malice.

“This is your mess,” Jungkook says, directing attention to the elders shuffling their feet at the end of the hall. His words are acerbic despite him speaking at a normal volume. It’s an alpha statement, carrying the cutting edge of an unspoken command. The entire hallway stills, the air thick with tension.

“Our mess?”

“If you had listened to me from the start about how utterly ridiculous this whole duel bullshit was, this”—he nods down at his mother, who is still being worked on by the betas—”wouldn’t have happened. I’ll have all of you off the council before the week is over, mark my words,” he seethes. “And, if she doesn’t recover fully, I’ll have more than just your titles. Yoongi, Seokjin, you know what to do.” With that, Jungkook turns and stalks down the hall, carrying you with him.

🌙🌙🌙

Jungkook

There is so much rage simmering beneath Jungkook’s skin that he thinks he might explode if he doesn’t let it out somehow. However, the only outlet he wants right now is you—to get lost in your body and your soul—but you’re in no state to take the brunt of his emotions.

“Jungkook.” Your soft voice draws his gaze down to your face. Seeing the swelling around your eye makes him want to turn around and finish what Yoongi was starting. Jungkook isn’t violent, but he could level the entire city right now if he weren’t so focused on getting you checked out. You bring a hand up and lightly trace the break in his lip. “What happened?”

“Raiden and Demetrius. I think this was their plan all along. One minute, Father and I were talking to the council while we waited, and the next, Raiden and Demetrius, along with a half dozen of their pack, came bursting into the theatre and attacked us.” Jungkook sighs, shaking his head. “I felt you, I felt the…” the trails off, not wanting to voice those feelings aloud. The pure terror he felt through his mate connection to you. The tie between the two of you has never really been an open street, he’s never been able to feel your emotions so viscerally before. It was almost enough to take him to his knees. If he didn’t need to fight off a pack of rabid alphas, it nearly might have. “I’m sorry,” Jungkook rasps.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for. We knew they were up to no good. I should have been more vigilant or, at least, taken you up on your offer to escort me to the restroom.” You try to laugh, but it turns into a groan as your head pounds.

“Let’s get you to the hospital so they can check you over.”

No amount of protests from you will deter Jungkook from getting you to a doctor. Junghyun texts him shortly after he places you in the backseat of the SUV, letting Jungkook know that everyone else is on their way to the hospital and an ambulance is en route to get their mother but that the betas are hopeful.

Several hours later, you’ve been released from the hospital with confirmation of no lasting damage, just a recommendation to get some rest. Jungkook’s lip is patched with a butterfly stitch, per your insistence, and it itches as he sits on the edge of the bed in the hotel room he booked before leaving the hospital. Even though you aren’t concussed or anything, Jungkook didn’t want to risk taking you all the way back to pack lands.

Besides, his mother was admitted and is still there for observation, and he doesn’t feel comfortable being too far away while she’s in recovery. She went in for surgery immediately upon arrival and woke up not too long ago. Junghyun and their father are staying at the hospital with her until she’s cleared to go home, which will hopefully not be more than a few days. Apparently, her wounds looked worse than they were, and she was fortunate Kiel didn’t get her an inch further to either side. Otherwise, it might be a very different outcome.

Jimin texted him a bit ago, letting him know the entire Barton pack is being detained at the local precinct, and the authorities are awaiting word from Jungkook about charges. The council sequestered themselves behind closed doors, but the duel was considered null due to the circumstances. Jimin feels bad about being part of the ruse, even if he was just being used as a means to get close to the Jeon pack.

It’s come to light that the Bartons decided to use their feud with the Parks because they knew the Jeons wouldn’t sit idly by. One big, elaborate plan, all to get close to Jungkook’s Luna and try to tear down the hierarchy. If Jungkook lost his Soulmate, he’d lose his foundation of power as well. Or so, that’s what the buzz was when some of the Barton betas were interrogated, according to Jimin.

Jungkook knows everything is going to be okay, that you’re going to be okay; the doctor told him as much. But, despite that assurance, he can’t seem to relax. You’re curled up in the bed, facing him, and you look so peaceful, even with the swelling on the side of your face, but all he can feel is rage when he sees that…rage and so much guilt.

He never should have let you go to the restroom on your own. If he has his way, he’s never going to let you out of his sight again. It’s such an alarming realization, going from one polar sensation to the next. The fact he could give two shits less about you just a few months ago, and now here he is wanting to murder someone for touching you, is hard to wrap his head around.

Yet, here he is, fisting the edge of one of the blankets as he battles this feeling inside himself. The fact his alpha has been mostly silent since Jungkook laid eyes on you in that hallway is just as alarming. It’s almost like his alpha is giving him space. For the first time since coming into his designation, he feels like a giant void separates him from his alpha; he doesn’t like it.

There’s also the pile of papers sitting on the desk, a few feet away, that hold another key bit of information that won’t let him relax. It was standard testing, just something to help rule other things out and see what kinds of tests they could and could not perform to assess your head.

You’re pregnant.

Now that he knows, Jungkook can tell. There is a distinct, underlying change to your scent. It’s sweeter somehow, more alluring in the sense that you now smell partly like him. He should have known before. He knows that if he hadn’t spent so much time away from you, he would have realized it sooner.

You were surprised, but your shock seemed more subdued. When questioned, you told Jungkook what his mother had said to you. Somehow, even his mother knew before he did. Jungkook feels like a failure, like he’s done nothing right by you. It had to have happened the night of your designation celebration. Neither of you had bothered with any preventative measures that night, too lost in the touch and feel of each other to care.

And now, here you are, pregnant without a bite on your neck and a knot on the side of your head. If anything were to have happened to the baby…Jungkook isn’t sure he can even think about that right now. Not without wanting to put his fist through the wall.

He’s spent weeks worried about staying away from you when all along, he was clearly concerned about all the wrong things. The doctor assured him that even the most attentive of alphas take several weeks before they can smell their own child in the womb. But that doesn’t make Jungkook feel any better.

He thinks back on all the curt and what he thought were nagging messages he had gotten from his mother the last few weeks and can see them in a different light now. She wasn’t just trying to chastise him about his duty; she was trying to coax him home so he could be there for his mate in a way he should have from the start.

Jungkook knows what he needs to do now. There is no question about it. Though, it’s not because he feels obligated…no, he truly wants to solidify that bond with you. As soon as you’re ready, he’s going to offer himself to you, finally and fully.

“Jungkook, are you okay?” your sweet voice breaks him out of his thoughts and makes him release his tight hold on the sheets.

Your eyes look so big and bright even in the dim light of the hotel room as you sleepily blink up at him. How he never wanted to give himself over to you so completely before now marks him as a sure fool.

He sighs, exhaling a slow breath. “Yeah. How are you feeling?”

You stretch, wincing only slightly as your arm brushes along the side of your face. “Better, I think.”

“Can we talk?” he asks after a pause of silence.

You give him a guarded look as you slowly sit up and gather some of the blankets in your lap. The doctor told him you might start feeling the need to nest and gather comfort items, so he had specifically requested the Omega suite, which comes with complimentary brand-new fuzzy blankets and extra pillows that guests are allowed to take home when checking out.

“Sure,” you finally say.

Jungkook watches as emotions cross your face, echoing the pulse he can feel emanating from his chest. His alpha perks up, rousing for the first time in hours it feels like.

“Okay.” Now that he’s been given the go-ahead to talk, he’s suddenly feeling very self-conscious and uncertain. “I know you told me I don’t need to apologize, but I’m going to anyway.” Your lips form a thin line when he says that, so he hurries to continue, “Not for”—he gestures vaguely in your direction—”but for everything else. I want to apologize for everything before this. The way I’ve treated you and how I’ve acted. You’ve deserved better than what I’ve offered you these last few weeks—for being an asshole and a fucking dick,” Jungkook uses your own choice of words for him, and that earns him a small smile from you.

“I want to apologize, too, then. And before you can protest”—Jungkook was 100% about to—”just let me finish. Sure, you’ve not been the greatest the last few weeks, but I know I haven’t either. I should have tried harder, fought you on you being gone all the time, stood up for what I wan–er, needed, and been honest with how it was making me feel.”

Jungkook shakes his head, unable to believe how you’ve yet again turned the tables on him. “I, uh, there’s something that…there’s something I want to do,” Jungkook barely manages to get the words out as anxiety spikes at the prospect of you refusing.

“What is it?”

The look of intrigue on your face turns into pure shock as Jungkook prostrates himself on the bed in front of you, deliberately turning his head to expose the side of his neck to you, an act of submission. “I’m giving myself to you, wholly and completely. All those weeks ago, I claimed you and made you mine, and…now I’m yours.”

🌙🌙🌙

You stare at Jungkook, not sure what to say. “I-I don’t need,” you begin, reaching for Jungkook and encouraging him to sit up, “you to do that. You don’t have to bend to me…as long as you promise never to make me bend to you either.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “I can’t promise I’ll be perfect, but I’ll never force you to be something that you’re not ever again. I’m sorry I didn’t realize this sooner, I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you when you asked to come with me to Jimin’s. From now on, I’ll listen to you, and I’ll not dismiss your concerns or voice. I don’t want you to feel like you’re beneath me simply because you’re my mate. I want you as my equal instead.”

The truth behind Jungkook’s words is evident in the fervent way he delivers them but also in the way your omega mews in satisfaction. A bite for a bite, an equal. Even though you wouldn’t be leaving a permanent mark on his neck like he will on yours, it’s still the intention, and it’s completely unheard of in your world. There are stories, myths, really…but nothing wholly substantial.

You shift on the bed, gathering your knees underneath you. Your jeans went into the trash, and all the hospital had was a thin pair of shorts and a t-shirt for you to wear. You fluff out the blankets absently as you mull over his words. “Your equal?”

“Yes,” Jungkook resolutely declares.

“I think I would like that,” you whisper, eyeing Jungkook’s mouth with a quickly burning hunger.

“Are you sure?” Jungkook asks, swallowing hard as you lean in closer to him. “If you need more time to think, that’s okay.”

“Are you sure?” you counter, raising a questioning eyebrow.

Jungkook responds by kissing you hard on the mouth, wrapping his arms around you, and dragging you against his chest. He tastes like home; his tongue is warm and wet against yours, and you’re certain you could drown in the sensation if he let you. But, he comes up for air, breaking the kiss for a moment before pressing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw.

Even with the aches in your face and body, you respond to him. With every teasing nip of his mouth, you feel yourself growing wet. The fragrant cream of your slick blooms in the air, melding with his masculine and spicy scent to create the perfect, heady bouquet.

“I’ve never been more sure about something,” Jungkook whispers the affirmation between kisses until his warm breath ghosts over the scent mark on your neck. “You smell so damn good,” he groans.

You can feel his lips part over the skin there; his tongue laves out and swipes up the side of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. With trembling hands, you help each other discard your clothing, finally coming back together skin to skin. Jungkook pulls you into his lap, his thick cock sitting snugly against your ass. You can feel the bulge of his knot already as if his body is automatically responding to just your closeness.

“You can say stop at any time,” you tell him, earning a surprised grunt when you shove him back against the pillows and deliberately slide your ass slowly over his cock as you move backward.

There is a challenge in his eyes as you meet them. You move until you’re kneeling between his knees, cock sitting prettily before you. “Where, ah,” Jungkook sucks in a stilted breath when you take the head of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it, “did you want to?” Pink tinges Jungkook’s ears as he looks down at you, mouth full of him. You tap the inside of his thigh and raise your brows in silent question. “O-okay, just…just be gentle.”

That makes you chuckle, the vibration coming up your throat, and you can tell it sends a shock through Jungkook; his head drops back, and his mouth opens with a loud moan. “Gentle says the man about to put a permanent bite on my neck. An act that is none too gentle, I might add,” you say, letting his cock slip out from between your lips.

“Okay, that’s fair,” he relents, his words breathy as you trace along the underside of his dick with your tongue. “Be as aggressive as you want, then.”

Feeling egged on just a little by that declaration, you plant your teeth firmly into the meat of his inner thigh and bite as hard as you dare. Your teeth pinprick his skin, and the metallic tang of blood leeches onto your tongue. Jungkook grunts; his whole body shivers against your mouth.

“Was that okay?” you ask tentatively once you’ve pulled back to admire the twin crescent impressions you left behind. There isn’t that much blood. The two small wounds from your teeth are already clotted.

Jungkook lets out a heavy exhale as his body finally relaxes back against the bed. His cock twitches beside your face, producing a thick string of pre-cum that has your mouth watering for a taste.

“That was,” he pants, “hot as fuck.”

Pride fills you, and your body kindly reminds you with an intense throb in your clit, how much it turns you on when Jungkook talks like that. “Your turn,” you urge, desperate to get his teeth on your skin and his cock in your pussy.

Jungkook growls his approval, letting his alpha strength take over, and maneuvers you easily into a kneeling position in front of him. Using a gentle hand in your hair, he pulls you up until your back is pressed against his chest, giving him unfettered access to the front of your body while being able to tease your clit with the tip of his length.

“Are you ready for me?” he asks, using the hand in your hair to angle your head sideways so he can lick along the side of your neck. “Let’s see.” His other hand slides down the front of your body, tweaking your nipples on the way, until his middle finger grazes over your swollen, aching clit.

“Don’t tease me,” you say between clenched teeth. Your omega adds her indignation to your own, making your words come out laced with additional grit.

“I just want a little taste,” Jungkook whispers as he hooks his finger lower and massages it along your slit, collecting a generous amount of slick as he does so. You watch as his finger comes up and disappears beside your face.

The wet laving sound of Jungkook sucking his finger sends a shudder through you. You reach down with your hands, cupping Jungkook’s cock in one and using the other to part the lips of your pussy so you can fit him against your entrance. “Fuuuck,” you drawl out as the broad head of his cock slides in.

“I love the way your pussy tastes,” Jungkook moans, dropping his hand to your hip and using it to guide your ass back against him, forcing him deeper. “It’s almost as good as how it feels.”

His fingers prod along your hip, sliding until his palm rests over your lower belly. You whimper, rocking your hips the best you can, and place your hand over his. “How do I look?” you ask. “You once told me I’d look so pretty once I was pregnant with your pup. Do you still think that?”

“You are,” he starts, “the single most”—he emphasizes the words with long, rolling strokes of his cock that have his knot kissing your lower lips with every forward motion—”beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. Even before I fucked you raw and knocked you up.” The beautiful, endearing words contrast so wildly with the dirty confession he tacks on at the end. Proving once again that Jungkook knows exactly how to wind you up and have you begging for more.

“Prove it,” you goade, intentionally dipping your head to the side to expose your neck further to him.

The moment his teeth touch your skin, you both freeze. It lasts only a second, the time it takes for them to sink into the tender expanse of your scent gland. It’s like a double punch to the gut; you can feel it all the way in your soul. The bond snaps into place the same instant Jungkook fits his knot inside you, and you explode, disintegrating into a million tiny little points of pleasure.

Your body opens for him, both physically and mentally. What was once a small trickle of feeling now becomes a deluge of intensity. You’re vaguely aware of Jungkook groaning as he meets his own release, throbbing heavily within your walls. You can feel him beneath your skin, feel the way your own body is wrapped so tightly around his knot, and the infinite pleasure that’s flooding through both of your systems.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jungkook mumbles against your neck, his teeth finally pulling free from your skin. “I can feel everything.”

It’s hard to tell where he begins, and you end. There is a sense of middling permanence, the perfect balance between alpha and omega. You once feared that submitting to him completely would change you in some cataclysmic way. And, it has…only, you don’t feel damned. In fact, it’s far more empowering than you ever thought possible.

Jungkook brushes his tongue along the fresh bite, tending to your wound in a tender way that has you slumping over. He follows you down, gently rutting his hips, which forces his knot to rub and grate inside of you, flooding you with another luscious rush of dopamine, like a second orgasm.

“Jungkook?” you ask, trying not to fall asleep as he continues to nuzzle your neck, and his knot keeps you secured so close to his warm body.

“Hmm?” he hums. Jungkook settles you both on your side, holding you against his chest with one hand and stroking and petting with soft, sensual strokes along every inch of your body that he can reach with the other.

“Thank you for taking care of me.”

“I promise never to make you doubt me ever again. You are my soulmate, my Luna…the mother of my child. You are my everything.”

And just as Jungkook said, he made you his, and now he’s yours. Forever.

⇽Previous Chapter ◅ Back to story masterlist

◅ Back to Master List ©️    2024-02-14    ColorMePurplex2  

[fanaticsnail]

I Like Matching

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,600+

Synopsis: Returning home from an away mission for your boss, you are immediately spirited away to the nearest unoccupied space and met with the lips, hands and grasp of Corazon. He missed you, and it was showcased in his neediness in every kiss and motion planted against you.

Warnings: Corazon x gn!reader, MDNI, 18+, Smut, NSFW, lap riding, grinding, premature ejaculation, Corazon whining, Corazon whimpering, neediness, kissing, little bit of angst if you squint, almost confessions, secrecy, wordless communication.

Notes: Just warming up with some Rosinante to write some more Rosinante. This is him being a little Subby, in comparison to the Dommy fic incoming.

Tag List: @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @feral-artistry @indydonuts @skullfacedlady @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training

Hands curling over your ass, you sit flush over his lap as tongues and teeth clash against one another's. Lips mouthing and gnawing on each other like animals starved and fighting for dominion over a kill, he bucked his hips up to meet with your own as you grind down against him. Huffing and panting, you collect his soft whimpers and whines in your mouth as his clothed cock meets with your pelvis. 

Unsure of when it exactly happened, and perplexed as to why it even started, Donquixote Rosinante had a way of summoning you to him with a single look spared your way. His hazelnut eyes had a playfulness in that golden band interweaving around his pupils, something incredibly rare to find in amongst the Donquixote Pirates. His smile would curl at the corner, a hidden intent weaving within the small indent where his lips met. 

Returning from an away mission at the bequest of Doflamingo, you began readying yourself for the evening communal meal. Refreshing yourself and donning clean clothes, you exit your room and click the door shut behind you. Making your way down the hall, you were harshly tugged into the small corner of the library by a large hand clasping around your wrist. Your eyes had little time to adjust to the darkness, the towering silhouette lingering in the shadows was the only clue you found yourself with before the attack was mounted against you. 

Before you even had a chance to speak, his lips were on you, marking your face and staining your skin beneath the red tint of his painted smile. His broad fingers lifted you by your ass as he attempted to wrap your legs around his larger frame, only to knock his knees with the plush surface of a velvet lounge chair and fall immediately backwards onto it.  

That is where you found yourself, your kisses pouring from your lips like cooled honey and hungrily consumed with an unbridled neediness from the man beneath your thighs. Corazon tilted his chin, his brows meeting in a raised peak central to his forehead as he non-verbally whimpered into your mouth. While no sounds fled from his lips, your hands planted on his chest felt the vibrations indicating his small whines alongside his elevated heartbeat. 

Corazon was so patient, waiting for you to return from your covert operation assigned by his older brother. Although he initially desired to become closer to you to gain information to sabotage his brother’s maniacal plans, he found a great comfort in you. You were like the warmth of the sun to cast aside the chill of winter, a small kindness he found amongst the brutality and chaos. He had become reliant on you, seeking out your touch, and stealing your kisses in the shroud of secrecy between meeting spaces. 

Kisses were simply not enough this time. Each time you rose to reposition yourself on his lap, deepening the kiss and pinning him back against the frame, the need deepened in his abdomen and propelled him to grind you harder against his steely cock. His breath flew past his lips in huffed pants, his hands anchoring you to his pelvis as he rocked you on his lap. 

Smiling against him, you matched his movements and allowed muscle memory to take the reigns of passion between your bodies. Cracking your eyes partially open, your gaze darkened as you noticed the rising blush on his cheeks and ears. His tongue enthusiastically lapped at your lips, pleading with you to give him more. Obliging, you parted your lips and stole a soundless moan from deep within the chasms of his chest. 

Seeking out dominion of one another's kiss, you placed your hand at the base of his trachea. The hum of his larynx vibrated against the pad of your thumb, his voiceless whimpers growing needy and desperate as he pawed at your hips and ass while you bore down against him. 

Elevating your hips from his clothed cock for a brief reprieve, he sucked in a shaky breath and allowed you to grasp a fistful of his golden hair to deepen your claim on complete control over him. Finally planting your pelvis back down over his cock, his eyes snapped open and his body stilled in petrification beneath your medusa's gaze. 

A dark patch of staining fluids pooled beneath you as his trembling breath attempted to gulp air between the onslaught of perpetual kisses. Feeling his body freeze beneath you, you ceased your rapid kisses and halted your rocking as he rose out the final waves of blissful ecstasy. 

His thighs shook, his abdomen tightened and the coil whipped like the crack of lightning as ropes of his cum flooded his pants. Trembling while his toes curled, his eyes glazed over as the unexpected release spilled from the slit of his cock and sprayed against the material beneath you.

The soft choke of a shocked moan flew through his lips as he gazed up at you with blown pupils, overcome by the deep lustful release of neglected need shooting hot spurts over his knob and down his shaft. Each twitch and bob of his release expelling was matched by a soft silent whine sobbing and keening for you. 

“Did you-...?” you started, looking down at your lap and noticing the soft twitches of aftershock tensing and releasing in a tantric bob. He softly nodded, a bashfulness overcoming him as he curled his face away from you in a bid to hide his shame. 

“Corazon,” you whisper softly, calling to him with an arch of your back and a smile on your lips, “Corazon, look at me, honey.” His lips pouted as he acquiesced to your demands, gazing up through his eyelashes at you. You smiled down at him, noticing the smear of his paint over his lips that you were likely mirroring on your own face. 

He hooked one of his arms between your shoulders, while his other sought out the fingers placed on his chest, and drew them up to his lips. Tightly shutting his eyes and furrowing his brows, he held your fingertips over his bruised and swollen lips, pressing a warm kiss against your digits. Your brows rose as you felt his lips move against your skin. 

“Missed you,” his lips depicted, no voice following his soft confession. His lips returned to their prior engagement, trailing a kiss down to your palm and the ball of your wrist in slow and intentional kisses. Climbing down your arm, his lips mapped your skin as if holding you for the first time: testing, exploring and hesitant, but always meeting the target. 

“We're going to be late for dinner, Corazon,” you warn him, your tone holding a playfulness within your scold. He smiled against your skin, raising your arm and placing his lips on the bone of your elbow. Shaking your head, you attempt to pull away from his kiss, his lips tracking you and chasing your withdrawal with a smile. 

“We have to fix up this mess,” you whine at him, gesturing with your unoccupied hand between your clothed bodies before pointing between your faces, “I'm likely matching your smile.” He grinned playfully at you, his lips meeting with your cheek and mouthing words against your skin. 

“I like matching,” you felt the puff of breath and curl of his tongue darting out to taste you with each word. Gently reaching beside you on the table, he scribbled against his drawing pad and held it to you. Finding his lighter, he flicked the flint to light the soft flame. 

“You're right. Let's go to my room for a bit before dinner,” you read his words, gently thumbing over the corners of the tanned paper, “I'll repay you for my hastiness a few times. I'll make it quick, I promise.” You rolled your eyes, handing him back the paper and gently leaning down and blowing out his flintlock light. 

“You're being exceptionally needy today,” you nudge the tip of his nose with your own. He cupped your ass and molded the muscle within his broad hands and fingers, collecting a whine from you in response. He smiled, pressing his lips to your chin before picking you up and walking you away from the library chair towards his quarters. 

Soft laughter was shared between you as he carried you in his larger frame towards his quarters. Nuzzling softly against your neck, you acted as his guide as you steered him towards the correct direction. Corazon ignored the squelch oozing down his legs, instead focusing on how good it finally felt to hold you in his arms once again. 

He wanted nothing more than to form his own little world with you, remaining within the armorment he sought to cloak the two of you in. His need to talk with you, reveal his voice to you, and expel your name as the source for his bliss was growing ever stronger the more attached he became to you. 

Kicking open his door and stepping the both of you within, he made a pact to himself that the day would come. When his trust and security was finally enough to live with, when his assignment was finished, when his brother was sabotaged and cut back from any chance of rising to power: he could finally relax into you completely. All he continued to chant like a prayer was the penance of his confession, hoping and pleading you could forgive him for his secrecy once it was all over. 

He reassured himself as he placed you on his mattress, crawling over you and pinning you beneath his thighs, was with a soft repetition of his unspoken promise. Meeting your lips and rolling his hips against you, he claimed a soft whimper that spilled from you to him. 

Soon.

He will tell you soon. His past, his mission, his love and devotion to you and you alone. All of it, soon. 

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Devoid of Attention (Doctor Who Drabble)

Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader / requests are open

Summary: The Doctor is oblivious as per usual

DW: @nyxiethesimp @quickslvxrr @midnight--raine @blueberry-sunshines @stevekempscocktails @go-bonkers-go-foolish @peytonpenguin37 (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

Main Street in the London Central Business District in the eighteen hundreds was quite a sight to behold. Between the stunning architecture, the horrible smells, the carriages being pulled by gorgeous horses and the frilly clothes- oh, you were in heaven. Truly, you thought, nothing could get better than this. 

The Doctor had been explaining how he had a theory that the gargoyles found on the top of buildings in London were possibly real, flying stone aliens from some planet out yonder and that they may be responsible for a spate of disappearances along Main Street. It was interesting, but he was more talking to himself, really. 

You’d been listening, but had stepped away for just a moment when a paper boy had wandered by shouting about getting a copy of the latest release of the Times. It was a weird thing to collect, you understood, but who else could say they had a mint condition genuine London Times paper from… you checked the date- the twenty-fourth of November eighteen-eighty seven? Not very many, you would have thought. 

When you turned around, there was a dog sitting in the same spot you were just standing in a minute ago. You blinked, folding the paper under your arm and taking a couple steps towards him and the Doctor, who was having a rather lively conversation with the canine in question. 

“See nowaaah!- You’re a dog,” he said, sounding rather dumbfounded. “How- how did that happen?” He leaned forward and threw his glasses on to get a closer look at the pooch. You blinked again, not sure what to make of this situation before you. 

“Oh, but look at that transmogrification work,” he gasped, rubbing the dog’s ears and petting its head. “Oh, it’s gorgeous- you’re gorgeous! Undoing it might be a bit of work, but blimey- this is impressive!”

You weren’t sure how to approach this. Did you wait for him to notice? Did you break him out of his thoughts now? You weren’t sure. The only thing you were sure of was the fact that this was hilarious and also incredibly ridiculous.

The Doctor pulled his sonic out and scanned the dog, flicking the screwdriver back up to his ear to read the results. Hear the results? You weren’t really sure how it worked. 

“Hmm, that’s odd,” the Doctor said, and even from behind him you could see clear as day the expression on his face. That special expression with his mouth slightly ajar, eyebrows cast inwards and eyes darting off to the side as he tried to process the information he was receiving. “Sonic’s saying one hundred per cent dog. Not a sliver of human in there. Blimey, this might take a bit more effort than I thought.” 

You sighed, walking up behind him and whacking him over the head with the newspaper softly. 

“Oi,” the Doctor yelled, raising his hands to protect himself from this ruthless and unprovoked attack. “Wotchit!” 

The Doctor turned around to see you, hands on your hips and exasperated expression on your face. The irritation bled from his face in a second. 

“Ah, wait-” the Doctor looked to his left down at the rather mangy dog. “You’re not- oh, I see. I stopped paying attention again, didn’t I?” 

You snorted with laughter, not even caring how unattractive it sounded. 

“You think?!”

It did make for a good laugh, though. You’d never let him live this down. And every time you brought it up, the way his cheeks flushed and he grew just a touch embarrassed only made your bond stronger. 

[bbcphile]

The Yin Leaves Threat Is a Bluff (MLC Meta)

Mysterious Lotus Casebook fans: Are we ready to talk about how the yin leaves threat was a bluff?

So many people seem to be taking Di Feisheng at his word that he wanted to make Li Xiangyi eat the yin leaves of the Wangchuan flower to regain his martial arts for one last glorious fight and that he was fine with Li Xiangyi dying very painfully from their poison after. And I see why: after all, LLH took him at his word, too, and LLH is famously smart and a good detective.

However, LLH has a history of jumping to false conclusions about DFS and, like the rest of the jianghu, assuming the worst of him: in fact, his mistaken belief that DFS broke the peace treaty and had his shixiong killed is the central misunderstanding that nearly destroyed both their respective sects and each other. So, since LLH is canonically very bad at telling who actually wants him dead and who loves him, it’s worth investigating this further. And looking at DFS’ history of bluffing is a good place to start.

DFS and Bluffing

Di Feisheng has a history of bluffing and/or threatening to kill or torture people when he doesn’t mean it. Here are some of his most notable examples (but click here for a much longer list of things he’s lied about or withheld info about):

Threatening to kill Qiao Wanmian to convince LLH to let him find a cure for Bicha (he doesn’t kill women)

Threatening to torture Gao Qian for information (he searches rooms instead)

Threatening to kill FDB when LLH says he’s trouble (the smirk after shows he was joking)

Threatening to kill Xiao Zijin at the wedding if LLH doesn’t help him get into 188 prisons (LLH walks him into a trap and yet DFS doesn’t even try to hurt XZJ in the fight)

Lying about poisoning and curing QWM to protect LLH’s identity and pretending to kidnap her

In all of those examples, DFS is trying to help or protect LLH, albeit in a very dysfunctional way. In the first example, he’s trying to blackmail LLH into living; the second example is to solve the case to find Shi Hun to expel the Asura Grass so he can find a cure for Bicha; the third is a joke, but also one designed to make LLH admit he does care about FDB because LLH is pretending he doesn’t care about anything as a prelude to giving up once he finds SGD’s body; the fourth is to get evidence that someone framed the Jinyuanmeng so LLH will trust him again and want to live to figure out who really killed his shixiong; and the last is to protect LLH’s identity (even though he only agreed to protect it until the Asura Grass was expelled. He’s trying to prove to LLH that LLH can trust him and he wants to help him, not harm him.)

All that to say: DFS has a history of bluffing about threatening to kill people if he thinks it will help Xiangyi live, and will take on the role of the villain—role the jianghu regularly casts him in—if he thinks it will help. And as some of those examples show, he also doesn’t share his plans with LLH until after the plan has been completed. And just look at all the things DFS withheld from LXY at their first donghai battle if you need more examples: he doesn’t mention that he knows it’s a frame job or why he stole SGD’s body. In all these examples, it’s not just that DFS has control issues and doesn’t want to share theories until he has proof: it seems likely that he knows/assumes LXY wouldn’t have believed him, because LLH already proved he didn’t trust him when he fell for the frame job, broke the peace treaty, and attacked the Jinyuanmeng. DFS assumes that there’s no point in presenting information to someone who won’t listen to it; he’d think it’s a waste of time and energy that could be better spent actively solving the problem.

But Why Bluff About the Yin Leaves?

Yao Mo’s Questionable Loyalty:

When DFS says he just needs LLH to live long enough to compete with him, he’s not talking to LLH himself: he’s talking to Yao Mo. In fact, the entire yin leaves plan was Yao Mo’s idea. And that changes everything.

Why? Well, for starters, Yao Mo is the one who invented the Bicha poison and gave it to JLQ to use on LXY (without DFS’ knowledge or permission). That alone is reason enough for DFS to not know if he can trust him, and this lack of trust explains why DFS never told Yao Mo that the mystery patient was LXY/LLH or that he was poisoned by Bicha. Since JLQ poisoned LXY because DFS paid so much attention to him and to fighting with him, it makes sense that DFS would try to protect LLH by hiding his identity and not drawing attention to him. 

But of course, as soon as Yao Mo figures out the mystery patient was poisoned with Bicha, that secret is blown. The pained face (and Throat Bob of Emotion) DFS makes while Yao Mo is having this realization shows not only how upset he is that they don’t yet have a cure, but also how worried he is that Yao Mo now knows it’s LLH, which makes everything more complicated.

DFS was right that Yao Mo would figure it out, since the first thing Yao Mo does after this realization is tell DFS he’s thought of a way “to heal him so he can compete with you.” DFS had pointedly NOT mentioned competing with him in front of Yao Mo yet (to hide LLH’s identity), so this is definitive proof that his cover is blown and that DFS needs to find a new way to keep LLH safe. 

This new plan is to downplay how much LLH means to him, and that motive explains so much about this scene. We know from watching him grieve and tear up while mourning LLH at his personal waterfall after his enthronement ceremony that DFS is miserable because of LXY’s supposed death and that he doesn’t see the point in fighting anymore without him, so we know that one last fight with LXY wouldn’t fix that: he’d still be dead and DFS would still be devastated. 

(Here are some screenshots of him mourning at the waterfall.)

But this isn’t common knowledge. In fact, it seems to be a closely guarded secret; he’s mourning in private, with only Wuyan as a witness. In public and to the rest of his subordinates, he’s trying to project the attitude of the unemotional, unflappable, heartless demon of the jianghu because his reputation is part of his armor that keeps him safe. It lets him seem like he doesn’t have any weaknesses (since “a swordsman shouldn’t have weaknesses”), and it keeps people from knowing that his primary weakness (other than the mind control bug) is LXY/LLH. 

(NOTE: He’s not even comfortable with anyone other than Wuyan and the three kings knowing he cares more about reaching the pinnacle of martial arts than he does about the Jinyuanmeng itself, and it’s not clear if any of them know that he mainly wants to increase his strength and power to free himself from the mind control bug. That’s how closely he guards his vulnerabilities.) 

With that in mind, if he wants to keep Yao Mo (and therefore JLQ) from knowing how important LXY is to him, there’s only one possible answer to Yao Mo’s question about whether he’d mind if LLH dies from the yin leaves after the fight: pretending he wouldn’t object. If he said he’d give up a fight rather than let LLH die from the yin leaves, then Yao Mo would know LLH matters to him more than fighting, which would be revealing a weakness. If DFS said he would give the entire Wangchuan flower to LLH to cure him and would therefore be sacrificing his chance of getting stronger, it would be painting an even larger target on LLH’s back and showing Yao Mo that endangering LLH would be the key to controlling him. The only safe option for both LLH and DFS is for DFS to claim he doesn’t care if LLH dies after they fight and to give orders to find the flower.

Here’s a gif of his command about the Wangchuan flower:

Notice his furrowed brow, the tightness around his eyes and mouth, the way he’s almost wincing as he gives the order? He is miserable about having to play this game and his incredible poker face is barely up to the task.

Here’s a still image of right after the pronouncement; you can still see the barely suppressed wince.

After this command, he dismisses Yao Mo from the cave immediately so he doesn’t have to keep pretending he’s going to sacrifice LLH. The entire time Yao Mo is present, even while he’s walking away, DFS holds himself completely motionless, staying in character from the bluff and desperately waiting to be alone with LLH. The instant Yao Mo is gone, DFS slumps in relief, or at least, does his version of a slump: he bows/droops his head as though the weight of what just happened was too much to shoulder. 

Here’s a close-up of his reaction:

DFS’s relief at being alone with LLH shows that he believed LLH knew him well enough to know when he was bluffing.

He was wrong. 

LLH: Believing the Worst of DFS (again)

LLH’s belief that DFS wants to kill him for a duel makes sense, since at this point, he still thinks DFS did in fact have SGD killed and broke the peace treaty, and he’s pissed off, feeling betrayed, and also in pain (from the medicine and the Beifeng Baiyang transfer that made him cough up blood, and from all the snake bites–he’s primed to read those as exclusively aggressive and cruel attempts to heal him at all costs for the fight, and not to realize that DFS would absolutely do all these things to himself to heal his own martial arts without batting an eye. And he’s in too much pain to see the horrified look on DFS’s face when LLH coughs up blood and DFS realized he almost killed LLH while trying to cure him.) 

But that doesn’t mean LLH is right. 

DFS, upon seeing that LLH has again cast him as the heartless villain, doesn’t try to dispute it. In the same way that he didn’t explain about why he took SGD’s body at the donghai battle, he doesn’t explain himself about the flower, possibly because he thinks he doesn’t have time to waste arguing. His goal is to get LLH to live–he grieved him for a decade, after all, and doesn’t want to have to do it again–and he is painfully aware that he is running out of time. LLH hasn’t exactly been subtle about only staying alive to find and bury SGD’s body, and now that they’ve accomplished that, he wants to make sure LLH doesn’t give up. Growing up in Di Fortress, DFS probably learned how to recognize what it looks like when people give up on life, and seeing those signs in LLH would explain some of the desperation behind his actions.

So, what does he do instead of trying to convince LLH the threat was a bluff? Here’s a gif of his response:

He swallows his disappointment at being thought a heartless killer–bowing his head again and shaking it, then looking up at the cave roof in exasperation–and takes a long, long inhale to collect himself and to quickly brainstorm a new plan. Once he’s figured it out, he says LXY’s name and launches into stage 2 of his plan to convince LLH to live: correcting the initial misunderstanding that first led LLH to not trust him anymore. 

DFS tries to convince LLH that someone conspired against both of them a decade ago–the truth he thought LXY wouldn’t believe him about on the ship–because if that worked, then it would solve two problems: 1.  LLH might believe him that he doesn’t want to kill him for the rematch if he knew he hadn’t had SGD killed, and 2. LLH would choose to stay alive to find SGD’s real killer and get revenge. 

And when LLH doesn’t believe his initial attempt, he gives what is possibly his longest speech in the entire show detailing the evidence supporting his claim that they were both set up and offers to help him find the truth in exchange for their rematch. While he definitely does want a rematch, DFS mentions it here in part because LLH thinks it’s all he cares about; if he were to offer to help without requiring the fight, LLH would be less likely to believe him and even more suspicious of his claims, especially since LLH currently thinks DFS would kill him for said rematch.

But unfortunately, his plan for them to team up fails as he thought it would all those years ago, so he decides to play along with being the heartless villain LLH thinks he is, and it’s only then that he threatens to kill FDB (revealing FDB’s parentage in the process), because he knows that LLH would stay alive to protect FDB. 

I have another 2000+ words worth of thoughts about his talk and fight with FDB–the way he tries to “kidnap” him first instead of fighting him, the way he looks miserable during the fight instead of enjoying it the way he did during the fight at QWM and XZJ’s wedding–but it will have to wait for another meta because this is already way too long as it is. The point, though, is that he’s not fighting FDB because he wants to or is enjoying hurting him: he actually hates every second of it and of performing the role of jianghu villain LLH has once again cast him in. But he’s doing it because he thinks it’s the only way to keep LLH alive. 

These aren’t the actions of someone who just wants to sacrifice his old rival for a fight; they’re the actions of someone trying everything he can think of to keep the person he loves alive. It’s an incredibly convoluted way to show his care, but given that he’s desperate, out of time, and can’t get LLH to trust or believe him, it makes sense that he’d fall back on a reliable skillset that’s kept himself alive despite all the odds: bluffing, keeping his true goals a secret, adopting the mantle of villain, and letting himself be hated for things he hasn’t done.

With both the fight with FDB and with the yin leaves threat, DFS plays the villain to try to force LLH to live, because he’d rather LLH hate him and live than love him and die. 

Because Di Feisheng has never wanted Li Xiangyi–or Li Lianhua–dead.

[bluegiragi]

hello! i'm gira, i go by she/her, and i've been making fanart for the cod fandom for about four months now :) the majority of that time's been spent on the soapbox saga, which is sort of just what i call the very plot-ridden porn comic featuring ghost, soap and konig. and recently i've been working on the monster 141 au!

i'm here to address the reasoning behind how i assigned certain monsters to certain characters, particularly the POC characters as well as accusations of racism regarding me neglecting gaz in all my art :) whoever you are, if you're reading this in good faith, i thank you! i earnestly never intended to make anyone feel uncomfortable from my work.

The Monster AU

i won't post the blog who brought this issue up mainly because, (realistically speaking) i think people might go after them and spam them with hate so I'm paraphrasing here. but basically..."how come all the POC in the Monster AU are assigned animal-associated monsters? Comparisons to animals can be incredibly demeaning when it comes to minorities".

I completely agree! But earnestly, I think my desire to assign every character a 'monster' that was relevant to their culture overshadowed the part of my brain that would've raised red flags about this sort of thing. There's the argument here that I could've assigned these characters cooler monsters such as Price who is a dragon, and Ghost who is a wraith, but I wanted to be respectful of all the minorities in the COD cast by giving them creatures that reflected their culture and personality.

ALEJANDRO - NAGUAL

In the Monster AU, Alejandro is a nagual, which is considered a guardian spirit in Mesoamerican culture. Typically, it's said that the nagual is the shapeshifted form that powerful men can transform into in order to do evil (although that doesn't apply in this case, Ale's a heroic lad), and can come in the forms of a jaguar, deer, dog or bird. I chose a jaguar, since it seemed to be the most common form of nagual depiction in the resources I was looking at. The 'panther mode' isn't pre-established as part of nagual mythology, but since most panthers are just black jaguars, i thought the association wouldn't be unreasonable.

I chose Alejandro to be a nagual because it's so in character for him to be protective of his home. The idea of him being a literal guardian spirit for all he considers his just made sense to me :)

--

RODOLFO (RUDY) - CADEJOS

In this AU, Rudy is the vessel for two cadejos, which are legendary dog spirits popular in the mythology of Central America, parts of South America and Mexico. Historically, they've been known as psychopomps (guides to help humans into the afterlife following their death) but modern interpretation has shifted to depict them as the good guardian dog and the evil attacking dog respectively.

A lot of the minute information about the cadejos tends to differ depending on the source. Like whether they're actually two separate dogs, or they're the same dog just in different 'modes', or how big they are. My personal depiction of them has them sized as normal dogs (although their spirit nature means they can move into small spaces pretty easily by just becoming immaterial temporarily) and as separate spirits that have been passed down through Rudy's family generationally.

I chose the cadejo for Rudy because although I wanted to include him in the Monster AU, i still liked keeping him as a character who was a bit more 'human' than Alejandro. I think Ale needs Rudy to hold him back sometimes, and having the two cadejo definitely helps with that. Sort of like how cheetahs in zoos have therapy dogs growing up because they're so anxious all the time! I think it also does a good job of showing Rudy's two sides as well, like he's a softie who just wants to protect those he loves, but he's capable of a lot of violence too.

--

VALERIA - GORGON

Valeria is a gorgon which, admittedly, is not part of Mexican mythology. However, I was put in a bit of a bind here, since my research didn't really reveal to me a monster in Mexican culture that I thought would suit Valeria's vibe (manipulative, elulsive) and I just felt like a gorgon would be perfect for her. Medusa's myth has her being continuously demeaned by the men in her life and is a symbol of female empowerment, which I thought was a great reflection of the implied reason that Valeria left the army was due to internal sexism. There's also the perfect parallel of how anyone who sees El Sin Nombre's face dies, and Medusa's whole 'turn you to stone' thing.

I thought i could compromise by making Valeria a gorgon but her hair would be Mexican black kingsnakes but...turns out they're actually not that dangerous. Some people even keep them as pets! So I decided to keep the visual, but make her a pit viper, a subfamily of vipers found in the Americas as well as Eurasia.

--

HORANGI - HAETAE

Horangi is a haetae (해태) which is a beast in Korean mythology that typically comes in the form of a horned lion or dog. It's prevalent in a lot of cultures in East Asia actually, although it goes under different names depending on the region - kaichi for Japan, xiezhi for China. I made Horangi a tiger variant on the creature because...well...'horangi' means 'tiger' in korean. It just made sense to me to put that little twist on it.

Typically, haetae are seen as spirits of judgement, that decide on innocent and guilty parties in disputes and punish the latter. It's also considered a guardian against fire (hence the fire immunity and cloud manipulation powers I gave him).

GAZ - HARPY

Gaz is a harpy which, I won't lie, was purely inspired by the fact that he seems to keep falling out of helicopters. But it's also because...yeah, I did neglect Gaz in the soapbox saga. But I think I neglected...everyone in the soapbox saga who weren't directly involved in the main ship. I sort of just tunnel visioned on the main three, so my exclusion of characters isn't just limited to Gaz, it was included Price, Laswell, Alejandro, Rudy, Graves etc.

I just want to make clear that my treatment of Gaz in particular isn't reflective of any inner preference against him. And to make good on that, me assigning Gaz wings of all things was to help me spend more time on him in the Monster AU! I think the contrast between Gaz being an upstart harpy, and Price being a one-winged dragon has a lot of potential as a mentor/protege relationship (and perhaps even something more) and it's why I assigned this monster to him. I really wanted to establish a connection upfront, but just making Gaz another dragon felt cheap - the harpy thing felt a little more in turn with his character :)

--

I really hope this cleared up any remaining frustrations with my designs for the Monster AU. I hope you can see that I never meant anything demeaning by assigning these monsters to their respective characters - in fact, I earnestly tried to go out of my way and be respectful to their backgrounds.

In any case, if you have any more questions I'd be happy to answer them - I'd just ask you to please ask politely :)

[elemom]

okay i caved and decided to draw a little bit of my three sides au. Specifically, the side that i think is the most unique, the side where Euclid and Scalene Try To Avoid Being Jailed For A Murder They Did Not Commit And May Not Have Even Happened. Have fun!

BREAKING NEWS!

“In today’s news, the mysterious disappearance of a young child casts a shadow on beloved detectives. Citizens are left asking: Did They Do That? Here’s Lexy Hex with the story.”

[The screen changes, showing a green hexagon holding a microphone. ]

“Thanks, Tetra. I’m currently standing in front of the scene that’s left the people of Euclydia scratching their points and asking themselves, just who could be responsible for this?

Just last night, a child was reported missing from this very location. Bill Cipher was only three years old when his parents claim he “suddenly disappeared.”

[Footage of Euclid and Scalene Cipher plays.]

“Our son was sitting in the middle of the room when he started acting strange. I believed it to be his visions acting up again, until a bunch of circles suddenly materialized and surrounded our poor Billy!”

“Six, there were six of them.”

“Thank you, dear. It was downright peculiar. Impossibly, the group of six circles started to grow. My wife and I tried attacking the intruders, to no avail. Just as quickly as they’d arrived, they vanished again.”

“And Billy…”

[The screen changes back to the hexagonal news reporter.]

However, not everyone is convinced. Chief Officer Pointe Pentagg of the EPD seems to doubt the Ciphers’ story:

[The screen shows a red square in a police uniform.]

“Kids don’t just disappear into thin air. That’s just not possible. And to claim that this was the work of not one, but six circles? It’s outlandish at best, and treasonous at worst.”

[The screen shifts back to the hexagon.]

“Their possible motives are unclear, but some suspect that their son’s birth defect could have contributed.

The Cipher family is currently being detained at the Central Euclydia Detention Center until further investigations are completed. Tetra, back to you.”

[The screen changes back to the newsroom.]

“Thank you, Lexy. This has been Tetra Abcde with Euclydia News Network.”

[ Complete transmission. ]

[rowinablx]

How Supercorp and shipping at large, damaged the Arrowverse fandom

This isn't meant to be an attack on any actor or ship in any form from Supergirl, just an analysis of shipping culture and toxic fandom

In the sprawling metropolis of National City, Supergirl soared through the skies, an emblem of hope and justice for all. Yet, beyond the bright lights and soaring capes, a darker narrative began to unfold in the digital realm. The Supercorp fandom, a fervent subset of the Supergirl fanbase, coalesced around the romantic pairing of Kara Danvers and Lena Luthor, two of the show's central characters. Initially a celebration of friendship and the potential for love, the movement grew a sinister underbelly as some of its most vocal members turned toxic. Their insatiable thirst for validation and the desire to impose their narrative onto the show's trajectory began to cast a shadow over the very essence of the show they claimed to cherish. The once harmonious fan community transformed into a battleground where dissent was met with vitriol, and the creators of the show bore the brunt of the harassment.

The Supercorp shippers grew increasingly aggressive as the show progressed without affirming their desired relationship. They bombarded social media with demands for "their" couple to become the central romance, often targeting the show's cast and crew. The intensity of their campaigns grew from hopeful fan art and thoughtfully crafted analyses to vicious personal attacks on those who disagreed with their perspective. The actors, who had once engaged with fans with grace and enthusiasm, began to withdraw from social media, citing the overwhelming negativity. The writers, caught in a crossfire of expectations and creative vision, were vilified for their narrative choices, regardless of the complexity and depth they sought to imbue into their characters. The atmosphere grew so toxic that any deviation from the Supercorp narrative was met with accusations of queerbaiting and betrayal, silencing any nuanced discussion about the show's themes of friendship, redemption, and identity.

When Tyler Hoechlin's Superman, a symbol of truth and moral fortitude, appeared to give his blessing to the burgeoning romance between Kara and Mon-El, the fury of the Supercorp shippers was unleashed like a torrent. They saw it as an affront to their own version of the story, a storyline they had grown so invested in that it had begun to overshadow the very essence of the show. The character they had once revered as a paragon of virtue was now vilified, his every action dissected for signs of "anti-Supercorp" sentiment. Hoechlin, known for his portrayal of the stoic and noble Man of Steel, found himself at the center of a maelstrom, his personal life and professional credibility questioned by a fanbase that had grown to resent his very presence on the show. The backlash was swift and unforgiving, with some going so far as to claim that his portrayal was intentionally sabotaged to diminish the Supercorp narrative.

Melissa Benoist, who brought Kara Danvers to life with a blend of earnestness and charm, faced a similar plight. Her portrayal of the heroine's journey was no longer appreciated for its complexity, but rather scrutinized under the unforgiving lens of the shippers' obsession. When she dared to express excitement over the show's new developments, she was met with a deluge of anger and accusations of being complicit in the "erasure" of the Supercorp relationship. It was a stark contrast to the early days of the show when her interactions with the fandom were characterized by mutual admiration and joyful exchanges. Now, every smile and every word of hers was twisted into a weapon to be used against her, a testament to the tragic transformation of a community that once championed love and inclusivity into one that embraced hostility and division.

The situation came to a boiling point when Jeremy Jordan, known for his role as Winn Schott, dared to perform a light-hearted song at a Comic-Con event, poking fun at the intense shipping culture surrounding the show. The song, which playfully affirmed Kara and Lena's friendship without romantic undertones, was intended to be a moment of levity amidst the intense fan debates. However, the reaction was anything but amusing. The Supercorp shippers took his jest as a declaration of war, and Jordan soon found himself on the receiving end of a barrage of death threats, his inbox flooded with messages that were far from the love and support he had once known from his fanbase. The line between passion and obsession had been crossed, and the consequences were dire for all involved.

Mehcad Brooks, who played James Olsen, became the next target of the Supercorp shippers' wrath when his character entered into a relationship with Lena Luthor. Despite his character's longstanding friendship with Kara and the natural progression of his story arc, the mere existence of a romantic option outside of the Supercorp pairing was seen as an affront. The racial undertones of the backlash against Brooks were impossible to ignore; a Black man daring to pursue a romantic interest with a white character was met with a deluge of racist vitriol. The harassment was relentless, with some fans even going so far as to digitally manipulate images of Brooks to vilify him further. The joy and camaraderie that once defined the Supergirl community had been replaced by a toxic brew of entitlement and hate.

The showrunners, too, were not spared from the wrath of the Supercorp shippers. When James and Lena's relationship grew stronger, the show's creators faced a barrage of accusations that they were "forcing" a narrative to appease a non-existent "anti-Supercorp" agenda. The creators' inboxes were flooded with threats and demands to change the course of the show. The once-celebrated diversity and inclusivity of Supergirl's cast and storylines were now weaponized against them, with the show's very ethos of fighting for justice and equality being twisted into a narrative of oppression and exclusion. The irony was palpable, yet the toxic shippers remained unmoved by the harm they were causing to the very fabric of the fandom they claimed to love.

Chris Wood, who portrayed Mon-El, found himself an unwilling participant in a sordid drama that reached beyond the confines of the screen. As Kara's romantic interest, he became the object of the Supercorp shippers' scorn, with many accusing him of being a homewrecker who had stolen Melissa Benoist away from her ex-husband, Blake Jenner. The accusations grew increasingly personal and spiteful, with some fans even going so far as to claim that Wood was the reason for Benoist's divorce. This spiteful narrative painted Wood as a villainous figure, a heartless usurper who had dared to stand in the way of the "true" love between Kara and Lena. Little did they know that the real-life events were far more complex and tragic than their fictional grievances.

Years later, Melissa Benoist bravely came forward with her harrowing story of abuse at the hands of a former relationship who is believed to have been Blake Jenner. Her revelations sent shockwaves through the fandom, shattering the illusions that had been so meticulously crafted by the Supercorp shippers.

In the aftermath, a disturbing pattern began to emerge as it was discovered that almost immediately following Benoist's public disclosure, certain factions within the Supercorp fandom had twisted her personal tragedy into a twisted narrative that served their own purposes. These shippers took to the digital realm, crafting fanfictions that painted Mon-El, and by extension Chris Wood, as the abuser, rather than the supportive partner and friend he had been in the show. It was a macabre display of how deeply their obsession had distorted their moral compass, using real-life pain to fuel their fictional vendetta against a character they perceived as a threat to their preferred narrative.

The new fanfics spun a sordid tale of Kara, the quintessential heroine, being saved not by her own strength and resilience but by the love of Lena, a narrative that not only trivialized Benoist's experiences but also reinforced harmful stereotypes about women in need of saving by other women. The audacity to appropriate such a sensitive and deeply personal revelation was met with disgust by many, particularly Karamel shippers. Yet, these toxic shippers remained steadfast in their belief that their imagined reality was more important than the actual lives and well-being of the actors who had brought their beloved characters to life.

Chris Wood, now cast as the villain in their warped narratives, faced a new wave of abuse. His social media accounts were inundated with messages that not only vilified him as Mon-El but also claimed that he had been the one responsible for Benoist's suffering. The leap from fiction to reality was a chilling one, and it illustrated the extent to which the Supercorp shippers had lost touch with the distinction between the show and the personal lives of its cast. The once-supportive environment had become a cesspool of projection and spite, with the actors' personal lives being used as fodder for their fanatical fantasies.

In an effort to maintain their sanity and protect themselves from further harm, both Melissa Benoist and Chris Wood made the difficult decision to turn off comments on any Instagram posts that mentioned the other. It was a silent declaration of the boundaries they had to enforce, a digital barricade to shield themselves from the relentless tide of harassment. The vibrant conversations that once filled their social media feeds with excitement and camaraderie had become minefields of toxicity, and the joy they once found in connecting with fans had been tainted beyond recognition, even on posts about their engagement, wedding, pregnancy and birth of their son.

Katie McGrath, who played Lena Luthor, had always been an advocate for fan expression and a vocal supporter of the Supercorp ship, appreciating the passion and creativity of the fandom. However, as the harassment grew, she found herself caught in the crosshairs as well. Her genuine support for Benoist and Wood's relationship was twisted by the toxic faction into a tacit endorsement of the abuse they were facing. The irony was not lost on her; the very essence of the ship she had championed, the love and friendship between Kara and Lena, had been corrupted into a tool for attacking the very people who brought those characters to life.

When McGrath was one of the many Supergirl cast members to model for Wood's mental health help organization, I Don't Mind, it was a gesture of solidarity that highlighted the importance of mental well-being and the need to break down stigmas surrounding mental health. Yet, even this act of kindness and advocacy was not immune to the distortion of the toxic Supercorp shippers. Some fans, blinded by their obsession, claimed that her participation was a covert declaration of love for Wood's character, thereby "betraying" the sanctity of Supercorp. The twisted narrative grew more convoluted as they accused her of using her platform to promote an "anti-Supercorp" agenda and asking if Wood forced McGrath to help campaign, despite the clear intentions of her involvement in the campaign. The very essence of I Don't Mind, which sought to foster an environment of openness and support, was hijacked by a vocal minority who could only see the world through the lens of their own narrow desires.

Jeremy Jordan, who had been a staple of the show since its inception, decided to take a step back from the series after his character, Winn Schott, was written off. The decision was met with mixed reactions from fans, with many questioning the timing and whether it was due to the relentless pressure from the Supercorp shipping community. His exit was not just a loss for the show, but also a symbol of the destructive power of toxic fandom. Jordan had once been a beloved member of the cast, his performances celebrated for their humor and heart. But as the show progressed and the shipping wars intensified, he had become a pawn in a larger, uglier battle that had nothing to do with his own artistic choices or the story he was helping to tell. His departure was a stark reminder that even the most well-intentioned creators and performers could not escape the wrath of those who felt entitled to dictate the course of the narrative.

Chris Wood's exit as Mon-El was perhaps the most contentious of all. His character had been a polarizing figure among fans, with many feeling that his relationship with Kara detracted from the perceived "true love" between her and Lena. As the abuse grew more vicious, it was evident that Wood's experience on the show had been deeply affected. His decision to leave was met with both relief and anger, with some Supercorp shippers claiming victory while others lamented the loss of a character who had grown so much since his introduction. For Wood, the experience had undoubtedly left its mark, a testament to the power of fandom to shape not just the narrative but the lives of those involved in the storytelling.

Mehcad Brooks faced a similar fate when his character, James Olsen, was written out of the show. Despite being a founding member of the cast, Brooks' portrayal of James had often been sidelined in favor of the Supercorp narrative. His character's growth and development were often overshadowed by the fervent desire for Lena and Kara to become romantically involved. When the showrunners allowed James to find love and success outside of the Supercorp dynamic with his relationship with Lena, it was seen by the toxic faction as a betrayal. The joy of his character's evolution was lost in the sea of anger and entitlement. Brooks' exit was not just a loss for the show but a stark reminder of the way in which toxic shipping can diminish the contributions of actors of color, reducing them to mere props in a white-centered romance.

The show's cast and crew, once a tight-knit group who reveled in the love and support of their fanbase, now found themselves navigating a minefield of accusations and hostility. The Supercorp shippers had become a force to be reckoned with, capable of turning any positive interaction into a battleground. The atmosphere at conventions and press events grew tense, as actors and creators alike were forced to tiptoe around the subject of their characters' relationships. The joy of collaborative storytelling and fan interaction had been tainted by the relentless pursuit of a single narrative, leaving a bitterness that was palpable both on and off-screen.

As the final season of Supergirl approached, the anticipation of the Supercorp shippers reached a fever pitch. They were certain that the showrunners would finally succumb to their demands and make their ship a reality. Yet, as the episodes unfolded, it became clear that the show had a different ending in mind. The narrative arc that the writers had been carefully crafting over the years culminated in a finale that saw Kara and Lena's friendship not just endure but flourish. It was a poignant reminder of the show's core message: that love comes in many forms, and that friendship is one of the most powerful and enduring bonds of all.

Everybody lost their minds when Supergirl's series finale didn't give the Supercorp shippers the ending they had so fervently demanded. The fallout was swift and brutal, with the toxic faction of the fandom unleashing a new torrent of abuse and anger. The cast and crew, who had worked tirelessly to bring the story of Kara Danvers to life, were vilified for not bending to the will of a vocal minority of toxicity. The actors who had dedicated years of their careers to the show were vilified, their personal relationships and mental health dragged through the mud by fans who claimed to love them. Yet, amidst the chaos, there was a sense of relief among the show's broader fanbase, who had watched with horror as their community had been hijacked by toxicity.

The Supercorp shippers screamed their grief into the digital void, feeling betrayed by the very show they had claimed to champion. The irony was not lost on the rest of the fandom; here was a group that had claimed to fight for representation, yet when it was given to another character in the form of Alex Danvers marrying a woman, it was deemed invalid. The cries for diversity and LGBTQ+ inclusion had been weaponized, wielded like a cudgel to bludgeon anyone who didn't adhere to their narrow vision of what that representation should look like. The reality was that Supergirl had been a bastion of LGBTQ+ visibility since its inception, with characters like Alex, Nia Nal and Maggie Sawyer paving the way for more nuanced and complex portrayals of queer relationships in mainstream media. Yet, the Supercorp shippers could only see the world in terms of their own desires, dismissing the value of any narrative that didn't conform to their narrow viewpoint.

In stark contrast, the introduction of Nia Nal, played by the charismatic Nicole Maines, was met with an outpouring of love and acceptance from the majority of the Supergirl fanbase. Nia, a transgender woman with the power of dream manipulation, brought a new dimension to the show's ensemble, embodying hope, strength, and courage in a way that resonated deeply with viewers. Maines, the first transgender superhero to appear on a CW show, became a beacon of representation and a symbol of progress in a genre that had often fallen short in this regard. Her portrayal was met with applause and admiration, not just for her acting chops but for the authenticity she brought to a character that was so much more than a token gesture towards inclusivity.

But not all were as welcoming. On Tumblr, a transphobic radical feminist Supercorp shipper, unable to reconcile their narrow worldview with the show's evolving narrative, lashed out. They posted a blog entry questioning Nia's identity, using hateful language and misgendering her as a "him." The post was a blatant act of disrespect, not just to the character but to the entire transgender community. It was a stark reminder that even within the LGBTQ+ spectrum, there were those who sought to diminish and erase the experiences of others.

Evidently showing that while racism and bullying was okay for Supercorp shippers, transphobia wasn't a card they were willing to play, the backlash against the transphobic blogger was swift and severe. The Supergirl fandom rallied together in defense of Nia Nal and Nicole Maines, using their collective voice to drown out the hate. Fans from all corners of the spectrum, including those who had once shipped Supercorp, banded together in a display of solidarity that was truly inspiring. They recognized the importance of genuine representation and the impact it had on the lives of transgender individuals. The incident served as a stark reminder that while the love for a fictional couple could be intense, it should never come at the cost of real people's identities and experiences.

The IMDb trivia section for the 2021 Mortal Kombat film, in a bizarre twist, had become an unexpected battleground for the Supercorp saga. Twice listed as a "fun fact," Mehcad Brooks' name was associated with being "toxic and rude."

Why is this interesting? Because the Supercorp fandom was shocked when Mechad Brooks snapped at Supercorp shippers on his Instagram when one of them told him to stay away from Katie McGrath. The fandom exploded with accusations of his rudeness, which spread like wildfire across social media. It was a rare moment where a celebrity broke the fourth wall and addressed toxic fandom behavior directly. But what's even more intriguing is the persistence of the narrative. Despite Brooks' portrayal of James Olsen on Supergirl being widely praised for his charm and grace, his name is now tarnished with a label that seems to stick like a stubborn piece of gum on the sole of a shoe. The IMDb trivia section, typically reserved for light-hearted anecdotes and behind-the-scenes tidbits, had been appropriated by a faction of Supercorp shippers to perpetuate their grievances. It was as if they had claimed a piece of internet real estate to broadcast their discontent to the world.

Hayley, known online as Redkrypto, was one of the most notorious Supercorp shippers. Her digital footprint on Tumblr was a minefield of anger and bitterness directed at anyone who dared to support the Karamel or Guardiancorp ships, which involved Kara with other characters. Her blog was a toxic stew of accusations, manipulation, and harassment. She had a knack for turning the most innocuous interactions into fodder for her crusade against perceived threats to her preferred ship. Her followers, a small but vocal group, eagerly lapped up her rhetoric, creating a echo chamber of negativity that spilled over into the wider Supergirl community. The line between critique and bullying had been crossed, and the effects were palpable.

Following the comic con "incident" as discussed above, Jeremy Jordan suffered severe food poisoning following lunch at Chipotle with the rest of the cast and was hospitalized, Redkrypto "joked" that someone who worked at the restaurant was a Supercorp shipper. Whether she was legitimately joking or being serious is unknown but this could've gotten the employee fired if the joke went too far. Hayley's digital crusade had grown so pervasive that even the most innocent of events were now seen through the lens of her toxic worldview.

The situation grew more alarming when Redkrypto took her rhetoric to new lows. In a series of blog posts, she launched a scathing attack on asexual fans, claiming they "belonged in the sewer". The irony of her words was lost on her devoted followers, who echoed her sentiments with a fervor that was both disturbing and disheartening. The Supergirl fandom, which had once been a haven for all, had become a battleground where even sexuality was a point of contention. Her diatribes grew more extreme, as she began to target bisexual fans who dared to date men, insisting they were "straight-washed" and not truly part of the LGBTQ+ community. The division she sowed grew wider, fracturing the once unified fanbase into a fragmented mess of accusations and spite.

The toxic environment that Hayley had created was not limited to social media. Her influence had seeped into the real world, where her words had tangible consequences. Conventions, once a place of refuge for fans to come together and share their love for the show, had become battlegrounds where alliances were drawn in the sand. Panels were no longer about celebrating the show but about interrogating the cast and crew on their personal relationships and narrative choices. The joy of the event was replaced by tension as actors and creators tried to navigate a minefield of hostile questions and accusations, all while maintaining the façade of a happy, inclusive community.

When the final season of Supergirl aired, Hayley's anger grew with each episode that did not bend to her will. Her blog posts grew longer, her words more caustic, and her accusations more personal. The showrunners, actors, and even fellow fans who dared to disagree with her were vilified in a relentless stream of vitriol. It was clear that for Hayley, the ship had become more than just a fictional romance—it was a battleground for her own identity and self-worth. The validation she sought in the arms of her "OTP" had consumed her to the point of obsession, and the realization that she may not get the ending she craved was unbearable.

As the finale approached, Hayley's digital presence grew increasingly erratic. She posted feverishly, crafting elaborate conspiracy theories about the show's narrative choices and the motives of the cast and crew. Her followers grew more desperate, clinging to her every word as if it were a lifeline in a sea of disappointment. The tension grew so thick that even the most devoted Supercorp shippers began to feel the strain, some questioning if the fight was truly worth the cost.

The night of the finale, Hayley's blog remained eerily silent. The anticipation in the fandom was palpable, with fans across the globe waiting for her reaction. As the credits rolled and the reality sank in that Supercorp was not to be, the digital silence was deafening. The Supergirl community held its collective breath, waiting for the storm that was sure to come.

A few Supercorp shippers turned on her for getting their hopes up for years only to watch them crumble before their eyes. Some accused her of being a "sellout," while others claimed she had lost touch with the "true essence" of the fandom. The accusations stung, but Hayley remained steadfast, her resolve to fight for her ship unwavering. Yet, deep down, she couldn't ignore the nagging doubt that whispered she had gone too far, that her obsession had turned from a labor of love into something dark.

Whether her blog was forcibly deleted by Tumblr for the harassment or her ego being damaged for the show not bending to her will, Redkrypto's account was deactivated shortly after the finale. The absence of her toxic voice was a relief to many in the fandom, but the scars she left were not so easily erased.

Part of me feels bad for the shippers who genuinely didn't bully anyone in the cast or crew or fandom and wanted Supercorp to be canon, who had their love story validated. They're the true victims here. They didn't deserve the toxic behavior from Redkrypto and her ilk. The damage done by a few radicals had cast a pall over their innocent love for a TV couple.

But the aftermath of Supercorp's end was a reckoning for many. Fans who had been swept up in the ship war took a step back and reflected on the community they had become. The joy of shipping, of rooting for a couple, had been twisted into something ugly and harmful. The cast and crew had become pawns in a game that had grown out of control, and it was time to dismantle the toxic structures that had been built.

Looking to other fandoms, one could not help but draw parallels to the Olicity and Snowbarry ships. In Arrow, the tumultuous relationship between Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak had once been the epicenter of fan adoration. Yet, as the showrunners wove a narrative that didn't always align with the shippers' desires, a toxic undercurrent emerged. The Olicity fandom, much like Supercorp, had become a force to be reckoned with, their influence extending beyond the confines of fanfiction and into the lives of the actors and creators. The relentless pursuit of their "endgame" led to a frenzy of entitlement, with any deviation from their desired plotline vilified.

Credit to the Olicity fandom, their ship was canon and remained the main couple until the end of the series but at the sacrifice of Laurel Lance and her actress Katie Cassidy's relationship with the show and fandom. The Snowbarry shippers, on the other hand, faced a rollercoaster of emotions with the on-again, off-again romance between Barry Allen and Iris West, hoping that would lead to Barry getting with Caitlin Snow.

In the Arrowverse, the Olicity shippers had their way, often at the cost of the show's narrative coherence. Storylines were manipulated, characters were sidelined, and any potential romantic competition was vilified. The once-promising character of Laurel Lance, who had been an integral part of the show's foundation, was reduced to a tragic plot device to fuel the Olicity relationship. The toxic rhetoric grew so intense that Katie Cassidy, who played Laurel, found herself in the crosshairs of the fandom's rage, her every move scrutinized and criticized, no matter how much she tried to rise above it.

When Laurel was controversially killed off in the show's fourth season, the Olicity shippers celebrated, viewing it as a clear path for their preferred couple. Yet, the fallout from this narrative decision was profound. The Arrow fandom was irrevocably split, with many feeling betrayed by the showrunners for sacrificing a beloved character to serve a romantic plotline. The death of Laurel Lance became a symbol of the toxicity that can fester within a fandom when the desire for a specific romantic pairing overshadows the integrity of the show's storytelling and character development. The subsequent treatment of Katie Cassidy, who was vilified for playing a character that had been written to challenge the Olicity narrative, served as a stark reminder of the real-life consequences of fandom entitlement.

For those who had invested themselves in the Laurel-Oliver relationship, known as "Lauriver" shippers, the loss was particularly acute. Laurel's canonical last words to Oliver, urging him to be with Felicity, felt like a slap in the face. It was a narrative twist that seemed to cater directly to the Olicity fanbase, a knife twisted in the heart of those who had rooted for the original pairing. The anger was swift and decisive; a boycott of the remaining episodes of the season was organized, with hashtags like #NoKatieNoArrow and #NoLaurelNoArrow trending on Twitter as fans rallied around their fallen heroine. The boycott was not just a statement of dissent but a declaration of war, a battle cry against the perceived tyranny of the showrunners.

The CW network, noticing the seismic shift in fan sentiment, stepped in and instructed the Arrow showrunners to bring Laurel back. But the damage had already been done. The trust between the show and its viewers had been shattered, leaving a fractured fanbase in its wake. The showrunners, in an attempt to appease the disenchanted, brought back Katie Cassidy not as the beloved Laurel Lance but as Earth-2's villainous counterpart, Black Siren. The move was met with more fury than relief, as it felt like a cruel twist of fate to those who had invested so much in the original character's journey.

The decision to rebrand Black Siren as the new Black Canary was a strategic one, a move that sought to rekindle the love lost by the Olicity narrative. The transformation was a slow burn, with Katie Cassidy delivering a powerful performance that showcased the character's complexity. Initially, her character remained a villain, a constant thorn in Team Arrow's side, but as the seasons progressed, she began to grapple with the echoes of the Laurel they had lost. The writers delicately wove a narrative of redemption, one that allowed her to embody the essence of the hero they had so fervently loved without betraying the integrity of the original character arc.

Through a series of heart-wrenching episodes, Laurel's doppelgänger faced the consequences of her actions and the weight of her identity. She was forced to confront her past as a villain and the pain she had caused, particularly to Oliver Queen. The dynamic between them grew taut with tension, a dance of regret and resentment that slowly evolved into something more. It was clear that the writers were treading a fine line, not wanting to diminish the memory of Laurel Lance but also eager to give the character a second chance at heroism. The journey was fraught with emotional turmoil, as the fandom watched with bated breath to see if this new iteration of their beloved character could truly atone for her past sins.

The transformation of Black Siren into the new Black Canary was not instantaneous. It was a meticulously crafted arc that showcased the depth of Katie Cassidy's acting and the writers' commitment to redemption. Each episode was a delicate balance of light and shadow, revealing the humanity beneath the hardened exterior. The moments of vulnerability she shared with the team, particularly with her father Quentin Lance, served as a poignant reminder of the love that once existed in her heart. The scenes of her training, her struggle to control her powers and find her moral compass, were a testament to the complexity of the human condition and the endless capacity for change.

What does this have to do with Supercorp? Because it shows what happened when the writers of a show listened to the fandom about a popular ship. It was a cautionary tale that Supergirl's showrunners had to navigate carefully. The aftermath of Laurel's death and the subsequent fan revolt was a stark reminder that the pursuit of "endgame" happiness could come at a steep cost. They had to balance the desire to appease the vocal minority with the need to serve the story and its diverse cast of characters.

In the end, the shipping wars in the Arrowverse proved that the ultimate fate of a couple on a CW show was not the be-all, end-all of a character's story. Characters evolved, relationships grew, and even the most steadfast of ships could change course. The real beauty of these shows was not in the romance but in the friendships, the growth, and the journeys of self-discovery that each character embarked upon. Supergirl, like its sister shows, had a multitude of narratives to explore beyond romance, from Kara's development as a leader to the complexities of Lena's redemption arc.

Maybe the Supercorp fandom will eventually be deader that Clark Kent and Lois Lane after their finale of Superman and Lois, but for now, the wounds are still fresh. The shipping wars had left a gaping chasm in the heart of the Supergirl fandom, one that threatened to swallow any semblance of unity and camaraderie whole. Yet, amidst the ruins of the fractured fanbase, a quiet revolution began to take shape.

Some fans, tired of the toxicity, started to re-evaluate what they truly loved about the show. They turned their focus back to the themes of empowerment, friendship, and family that had drawn them in from the beginning. They found solace in the unbreakable bonds between Kara and Alex, the Danvers sisters' unconditional love serving as a beacon of hope amidst the chaos. They celebrated the nuanced portrayal of Lena Luthor's moral compass and her struggle with the weight of her family name. They even dared to explore other relationships, like Kara's blossoming romance with Mon-El and Lena's partnership with James Olsen. It was as if the fog of shipping had lifted, revealing a rich tapestry of narratives that had been obscured by the obsession with one ship.

I conclude that this may have been a tad biased in its stance against the Supercorp toxicity. After all, who doesn't have a favorite pairing or two? But it also argues that the love for a show shouldn't come at the cost of its cast, crew, or fellow fans. So, thank you, dear reader, for wading through this minefield of emotions and emerging unscathed. I hope you've gained a newfound appreciation for the power of shipping and the importance of maintaining a healthy fan community instead of resorting to bullying and death threats.

[tallfroggieart]

The World

A secret santa gift I made for the lovely, wonderful @liesmyth ! So excited to get to finally share it!!! :D

(Tarot meanings for the World card and some extra ramblings beneath the cut for those who are interested)

The World

Upright: Success, achievement, accomplishment, travel, completion, fulfilment, sense of belonging, wholeness

Reversed: Shortcuts, delays, seeking closure, incompletion, emptiness

"To encounter the World in your cards is to encounter a great unity and wholeness. It symbolizes the moment when the inner and the outer worlds - self and other - become a single entity. In some traditions, this state is described as enlightenment, or nirvana. There is a recognition that the individual self is profoundly linked with all other things, and that we all dance and sway along the flow of life to one rhythm. Not only do you hear this rhythm, but you participate in it - following the dips and the rises, the joys and the sorrows.

The meaning of the World card is fulfillment, achievement, and completion. This shows that all the efforts that you have been putting in place are starting to pay off. It reflects that you have completed a major milestone in your life and you have built the resilience to withstand challenges. The World may indicate completion of a long-term project, study or any other major event in your life. It may also mean the birth of a child, marriage, graduation or any other thing that you have accomplished.

The World card shows that you have a desire to give back to the community in various ways. You have a commitment to make the world a better place because you understand that everything is connected."

- Labyrinthos, The World

Ok and now for my unhinged rambling about Jamie motherfucking Tartt. Ahem.

Like. GUYS HES LITERALLY THIS CARD IN HIS S3 ERA AND IM NOT KIDDING. he’s the central cog!!! He’s the fulcrum of the triangle!! He’s total football! He’s the world’s most specialest puppydog-coded central attacking midfielder!! He’s the conductor, the playmaker, the literal heart and soul of AFC Richmond’s whole tactic!!!!! He means soooo fucking much to me you don’t even understand.

Yes I did take the bisexual Fibonacci spiral from Sunflowers and make it a key part of this card. If the universe didn’t want me to do that then it would have killed Jason Sudeikis before he could make that scene because my molecules have been forever altered.

(ps: ahem. stay tuned for some more AFC Richmond tarot! I’ve got a Roy in the works and plans for the rest of the main cast, though idk how far I’d follow it through. you could follow me and see what happens if you want 👉👈)

[daichiduskdrop]

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Chapter 03

Pairing: BTS Ot7 X fem! reader

Genre: A/B/O AU, Fluff, Angst, Strangers to lovers,

Warnings: none for this chapter

Words: 3307

Taglist: @thelilbutifulthings @ilovemoneymorethenmen @singukieee @cherrysainttt @felicityroth

Previous:

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„I want to come too!” Whipping his head around, Jimin was suddenly wide awake. The chance of seeing the sleepy state the girl was most likely in sounded just too good to pass up.

Shooting up from his seat, he rushed after his eldest hyung, taking the stairs two at a time. Hearing light snickers in the background. Meanwhile, Yoongi went back to the kitchen.

While waking up the omega did sound pleasing to his ears just as much as anyone else's, he knew that the girl could potentially be very grumpy and just want to go back to bed right away. A sure way to keep her up was a nice, filling meal that would warm her right back up.

He knew how annoying it was to leave the warm sheets on in the cold winter mornings. So he turned on the stove and started heating up the vegetable broth, stirring it occasionally while he prepared her a bit of kimchi fried rice.

He wasn't sure just how sensitive her belly was, and he hoped that the spice wouldn't be too much and wouldn't upset it. Listening to the TV play a documentary about the history of Egypt, he hummed softly to himself.

„I didn't know anyone sleeping for longer than hyung existed.” Teased the youngest, making Hobi burst out in loud laughter. The others chuckled too, agreeing.

„It's normal for omegas to sleep in if they feel safe. It's like a compliment; she feels settled here. That's a really good thing.” answered Namjoon, still typing on his MacBook, smiling at the thought, happy that they finally managed to calm you down a bit.

Standing near the guest room door, the two alphas quieted down. Slowly opening it, they calmly stepped into the dark room. The heater was on, so it felt cosy and warm inside. The guest room was pretty plain but still nicely put together.

The big window has rectangular glass panes with a black metal grid in between with long, heavy fabric curtains that stopped just about five centimetres above the parquet floors. There was a wooden dresser with dark knobs in the left corner of the room, and a big, spacy bed pushed up against the wall with the window. A bedside table had a cream-coloured lamp on it and a glass of water Hobi carried there yesterday evening.

A few plants were littered across the room too, some placed on the ground and others hung up above the window. The pack alpha loved gardening, even if he didn't get around to it too much with how hectic their idol's life often got.

They had a large garden behind the house with a terrace facing it, so they sometimes had a barbecue there too, when the weather allowed it. Namjoon took good care of all the plants there. During the spring to early autumn, he made sure to water them all, and once it got colder, he covered all the plants that were too fragile for the first frost bite.

A short flower placed next to the lamp that grew only to about 11 cm tall, with solid azure petals decorated with azure dots and a light grey central disc. Five small flower blooms grew on alternate sides along the length of the stem. It carried a faint scent that smells like rainy days, cleverly placed to bring peaceful sleep.

It must have worked at least slightly, given that the girl was still long asleep and breathing calmly and slowly. Cuddled up in the heavy duvet,covered with dark grey sheets that Jungkook recently bought, Your face was facing their way, your cheeks rosy with sleep, and your long lashes casting shadows.

Cooing softly, Jin stepped closer to your curled-up body. Just next to your face was the soft, brown hoodie, held close by you. Lightly shaking your shoulder, the older alpha started waking you up, not wanting to startle you.

„Cub.., baby, wake up, come on..” mumbling the words softly, he squatted down so he didn't have to bend so much anymore. Pretty much face-to-face with you, he watched carefully how your eyes fluttered open before closing back up again. Light shone in the room suddenly, the curtains pulled wide apart by Jimin, who stood looking outside for a minute. It was still snowing heavily, and the garden in view was completely covered in the soft, pattering snowflakes that had fallen long before.

Turning to also gaze at the small omega, he smiled, his eyes almost closing up. Giggling softly at how you whined at the sunlight, you curled up into yourself more. Walking back around the bed, he took a seat at the bottom of the mattress, caressing your legs.

When you made no move to wake up fully, the eldest once again softly rubbed your shoulder, cooing at how you hid your face in the jumper instead, softly protesting. You weren't ready to get up yet; why did they keep on bothering you? After so many years of not resting properly, you decided to take back all the time you could have rested but lost due to insomnia.

Pulling the sheets off of your shoulders, you weren't quick enough to roll out of the way before strong hands took a hold of your underarms, pulling you up against wide shoulders. Whining about the lost comfort, your fingers hung up on the shirt the alpha was wearing, your bleary eyes hardly even open. Too tired to kick up a bigger fuss, you just lightly kicked at your legs, earning a soft chuckle in return.

Brushing your fluffy bed hair, the younger alpha sighed out in relief. They were slightly worried that you would start to cry at the loss of the warmth, but you seemed to be just mildly annoyed. Your chin rested up against Jin's collarbone, and you gazed at Jimin while the eldest stood back up with you in his arms. Softly holding your tired body up, he walked with you out of the room, the other alpha following closely, keeping his eyes set on you. He knew the man holding you up would never allow you to drop, so he wasn't too worried, but with how cute and sleepy you looked, he couldn't help but stare.

The calm morning carried on after you were placed on the chair at the kitchen table. Rubbing your eyes with a fist, only to have it pulled away suddenly, you looked up just to meet Yoongi's cat-like eyes.

„Don't do that, kitty; it's not good for you. Here, I've warmed up some soup for you; come on, have some. It's hot still; you need to blow lots and lots, okay? Don't burn yourself, kitten.” handing you a large wooden spoon and a steaming bowl, you nodded slightly before slurping up a bit. Being careful with the heat, you made sure to blow before taking another spoonful.

With the warm broth in your belly and Yoongi watching closely over you, you were soon handed another glass of juice, this time made with oranges. Taking your bowl away for you, your feet brushed up against the floors, only now realising you didn't have any socks on. The rest of your clothes were the same as yesterday; you were glad they didn't change you, letting you be. It would definitely be more uncomfortable.

While you felt a bit awkward, suddenly realising your situation, it felt easy to let up and go with how the pack reacted to you, fully slipping into the dominant second gender they were assigned. Your soft nature just easily fitted right in.

Even though the pack was formed a few years ago and the boys did have a strong bond, that didn't mean they didn't sometimes argue here and there. It was mostly small stuff that resulted in them making up quickly. Still, with how touch starved they were and with how few occasions they actually had to talk with lower-ranking second genders, it was a relief to finally have someone to take care of and be responsible for.

Namjoon was used to taking on all their worries and troubles, but this still felt a lot different, like filling up a hole in their body they didn't know really existed until it was gone.

Omegas were highly appreciated and precious in most packs, with the rarity they brought making them considered even more special. Not all packs could have an omega, and it was common that even when a possible one was found, they just didn't settle in well with the packmates and had to leave.

Placing a small plate before you, the kimchi fried rice smelled delicious. A fried egg placed on top that was already cut up in bite-sized pieces for you, you dug right in. You weren't too hungry anymore, but you still wanted to eat it because of how delicious it seemed.

„Be careful, pup, it could be a bit too spicy for you. Slow down, don't choke." Said Taehyung, who just passed by to fill himself a cup of water. Your eyes didn't stay on him for too long. You were occupied with the food before you, and you intended to keep your focus fully.

The enoki mushrooms made a soft, crunchy sound, and while the food was made with only a small amount of spices, it really did feel just a little too hot for you. Biting into the egg that was salted just enough, you nodded with satisfaction. You only had a few bites before you pushed the plate away from yourself; not only were you full, but it really did burn your tongue quite a bit.

„Are you full already?” Looking at the alpha's face while he crouched down next to you, rubbing your knee in light circles. Meekly nodding, you felt a bit bad leaving so much of leftovers.

„That's okay. You can say anything anytime if anything isn't okay, yea? Do you understand my kitty?" Softly voicing his concerns, you looked into his eyes shortly before you mumbled a yes.

Being met with a gummy smile wasn't really what you were expecting for not finishing a meal, but it felt nice. You never met a pack that was so compliant with your needs and wants and patient like they were.

Pulling the chair out next to you, he slid the plate to himself, starting to eat your leftovers. He didn't bother to change the cutlery either; already used to sharing pretty much everything with his packmates.

You sat next to him still, your eyes occasionally closing in tiredness. The kitchen was to your left; your back turned to the living room, where some of the alphas were. Sometimes when they walked by, they left an occasional rub and pat on your head, greeting you sweetly and asking about your sleep.

Yoongi picked up a piece of egg, the part he considered the tastiest—the fried-up corners dipped in the still runny egg yolk—and with a hand underneath, careful not to burn you, he blew on it softly before encouraging you to eat it yourself. Quickly convinced, you chewed calmly.

„There you go, baby, it's tasty right? You want some more?” Cooing at how your eyes watched him closely, he took another bite-sized piece and held it up for you. „Of course you can, here kitty, slowly."

Watching your reaction, the alpha in him felt good about providing for you. It was something greatly satisfying for him—for all of them, to see you trust them enough to let them feed you, hold you, and keep you around. They valued the trust you allowed them greatly, keeping you close and safe at all times.

Once he finished your leftovers and fed you the last bite, he stood up to clean up, taking your now empty juice glass to put in the dishwasher for you. Getting up, you pattered towards the others, hesitating a little, not sure where to sit or even if you should sit with them. You had no idea what was going to happen in the future.

It was the pack alpha who noticed you the earliest, turning in his seat and smiling widely with his dimples showing. He had a pair of glasses on that were yellow-tinted with black top framing and bare wires at the bottom. His longer black hair styled into a shorter mullet-like hairstyle, with a few hair strands touching his forehead, made him look put together. The pyjamas he kept on earlier in the day were also exchanged for an earth-green crew neck and baggy jeans.

„Come here, pup, sit here. Come on, the movie is starting soon; hurry!” lightly ushering you along, your feet moved before you knew it, and soon you were resting on the couch between him and Jin.

The eldest ran his fingers through your hair, taming it down further. Sitting with your knees pulled up to your chest, you watched the screen before you. Some of the alphas weren't there at the moment, but they did walk by from time to time. When Jimin took a seat next to the eldest man, he gave you the brown jumper again; you must have left it back upstairs in your room, and he came to carry it downstairs for you.

Understanding that you still weren't truly out of your anxious and worried headspace, they were still trying to keep you as calm as possible. Having you cry like you did yesterday felt like torture to them, making them want to prevent it from ever happening again.

„Here sweetheart. Keep it close now.” He muttered while you held it to your nose, breathing in. It still smelled really clean, with only the slightest hint of vanilla and citrus. It felt calming.

The movie captivated your attention eventually, only slightly boring in the beginning. Whenever you started to fidget and move around more, they were quick to soothe you. Joon always easily pointed out something interesting in the movie, like the cleverly done product placement, a book he knew the author of, or the paintings hung up in the background of the shot.

„It's Cézanne; he painted that one.” You pointed your finger at the screen where a main character was currently talking about the prodigy he held. There, behind him in a simple brown frame, was a painting of tulips on a vase, their bright red blossoms contrasting with the forest green of the glass jar. While the movie had an interesting story, you were more focused on the small details regarding his so-called prodigy.

„Really? Wah,” said Jin from next to you. The four alphas sitting with you focused on the screen just until the painting was cut off from the screen.

 „What a smart cub you are, baby. It is his; you are right.” I approved the pack alpha, smiling proudly at you. You felt your cheeks heating up slightly, so you were quick to look away. Mumbling about how it's not that big of a deal, you squeezed your palms around the fabric you held.

In the corner of your eye, Taehyung typed the artist's name into Google, quickly finding the tulip painting he made.

„Oh, he was good; look, Hyung." Showing the screen to the alpha next to him, Jimin leaned in as the other man scrolled through the photos of his other art.

„He was a French, a postimpressionist artist, so the photos don't really show what he made well. The brush strokes are what you are meant to focus on, and with how flat it looks on the screen, it doesn't really work. He was a big inspiration for the cubism movement later on too,” you said, while looking over Jin at Tae's phone.

„You know a lot; do you like art?” asks Jin while softly petting your hair. You smiled, almost laughing at the question; it felt a bit silly to you.

„Yea, I study at an art school. I've been making art since I was really young.”

That caught their attention for sure, with how quickly their eyes turned to your face. In the morning, they collectively decided that it would be best for them not to ask why there was no pack alpha huffing at their entrance doors yet; after all, if you had a pack and didn't spend the night there, especially without discussing it before hand, it was going to make them worry for sure.

At least they knew that they would worry for sure.

But still, nobody knocked. They didn't see you pull out your phone even once, and they weren't sure if you even had it on you. You didn't smell like any other alpha or beta thought, so they were left in questions.

Whatever caused you to get so unsettled yesterday concerned them, but they didn't want to push you to tell them. If you wanted to open up to them, you would.

„Really? Which college?”

„Korea National University of Arts.” You answered the pack alpha quietly.

„Oh, I heard of that one; do you like it there, cub?” Tae shot up, looking at your face closely. Nodding hesitantly, you thought about your answer for a few seconds.

„Yea, it's okay.” You smiled softly. You were glad you could pursue the arts, and while not all your classmates were nice and some teachers gave you a hard time sometimes, you were able to learn a lot. And that was what mattered.

„What's your major?”

„I study fine arts.” You said, looking up at Jimin. Holding the jumper closer, they sensed you had enough questions for now and focused back on the movie. Even when it finished, the five of you stayed huddled close together on the couch, only getting up a few times and coming back again soon.

With a nagging question on your mind, it was complicated for you to focus on the cooking competition, and so you carefully leaned closer to Namjoon, lightly touching his forearm. Looking over at you quickly, he didn't take long to notice something was on your mind that made you anxious, and so without little to no hesitance, he pulled you to his side.

Leaning over slightly so he was face-to-face with you, the soft smell of flowers blooming covered the air around you. Calming you just the slightest bit, his hands held your shoulder and side, rubbing faint circles with his palm.

„What is it, pup? You can tell Alpha; don't worry, okay? What's wrong, little baby?” With the sweet words, you almost burst into tears once again, surprised at how sensitive you still were after yesterday. You felt startled.

Looking down, and when you didn't answer for a few seconds, the pack alpha pulled you to his chest once again. With your hip resting against his thigh, he held your other one, softly patting it in a rhythmic pattern. His other hand pulled your face close to his chest, where it was easy to listen to his heartbeat.

„Hm? Poor cub, you keep on getting stressed out over and over again; there isn't much time to rest up, is there? It's okay, I got you now." Cradling you up against his chest, he allowed you to sniffle for a few minutes and didn't push you to talk. With your legs getting carresed and placed over the eldest's lap, you eventually asked the thing that had worried you since yesterday dinner.

„When do I have to leave?” You mumbled, a whimper leaving your throat. It was quiet for a beat or two, the pack alpha just holding you close.

„That's up to you, cub. You are free to leave whenever you feel like it. You can stay too if that's what you want; we wouldn't mind.” answered Namjoon calmly, but you weren't fooled. His heartbeat fastened up for a bit there, and you noticed.

„I would like to stay please..”

⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ *

Next:

[waffowo]

I cannot stop thinking about how Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain ironically fits as the missing link of the Metal Gear Solid franchise by being this ambivalent and spiteful text that could only be possible because it exists after Metal Gear Solid 4: Guns Of The Patriots.

Like think about it. MGS4 is Kojima’s perfect farewell in how it encapsulates his complex relationship towards his own series, his own cynical but still very much hopeful take on The Irishman (2019) if you will. The game simultaneously reveals Kojima’s hope and affection by pulling every known idiosyncracy to a hyperbolic degree but also his exhaustion and suspicion through Snake being not a hero but an old killer and his reflections on his role as a pioneer of the military-stealth genre within the gaming industry. It even seeks to tackle the behemoth of closing at least the majority of the loose narrative threads. As a consequence, any future game is attacked with the question of purpose since Kojima has already said what he needed to say. 

Through this question is how MGSV can even be allowed to exist because it affirms that the question is rhetorical. The game chronologically exists in a liminal space in the middle, neither here nor there. It even narratively exists as a structural ouroboros, a almost completely closed system which begins and ends on a mirror. Kojima elevates this sentiment to an extreme level by denying any kind of player satisfaction (or nostalgia) by still being an encapsulation of a lot of overarching themes now filtered through a lens of condemnation. 

 There is at least this sense of valour found in the main cast of MGS4. There might not be any heroes but you can tell that at the end of the game, there is a sense of dignity. MGSV works completely opposite to that. The central cast of MGSV is so pathetic that the game plays like a tragicomedy as they aimlessly wander about, overdosing on some serious fucking copium that taking revenge will bring peace. A particular venture you know that’s doomed but can’t help but watch. Phantom Paz expresses this so unsubtly yet so perfectly in her final cassette tape. Peace Day is always going to be a mirage and has been even since the Peace Walker days, it’s just that Kojima doesn’t always focus on the other reality that these people are all still terrorists and war criminals. 

People who expected Big Boss instead got a confused, empty and depressed war criminal who can be found roleplaying as a cowboy. His other hobbies include non-stop vaping and managing war criminal spreadsheets. Mission 43 doesn’t feel like a descent into evil because Venom is already kind of evil but instead works by acting in perfect opposition to Chapter 1 where you sort through your digital files to identify patterns and promptly send them to death in the quarantine ward. He’s so high up the military hierarchy that of course he can’t help but have a crisis when he is directly confronted with the physical reality he used to be able to meet with mechanical detachment. 

Venom Snake also serves as a perfect way to comment on the overarching theme of agency. However, there’s no final monologue to tell you to think for yourself, no Raiden throwing away the dog tags, no Naked Snake refusing to shake an official’s hand. Instead all these typical moments are denied in every way possible to the point it’s very funny. Venom is not only a castrated protagonist but is also basically a preprogrammed AI with no hope to break free because he’s narratively doomed. Your actions don’t really matter. Even funnier, the ending is perfect by hitting you with the “you, the player, were the war criminal all along” that heightens the tragicomic beats through recontextualisation. What is more mortifyingly funny than realising that you’ve just been playing as Raiden AGAIN but instead of someone that exists beyond the player you have become canonised as an in-world character complicit in perpetuating imperialism. This works so well with how if you listen to the tapes and mission briefings closely, you realise that there are so many contradictions that no one are bringing up. Everyone is lying to you and everyone is telling the truth but it doesn’t matter. Venom just captures the disorientated position of the player, caught in this Pynchonesque paranoid labyrinth that it leaves you confused and speechless. What other choice do you have but to smoke a fat one, it’s not like you can actually resist the game if you’re completely out of the loop. 

Aside from Venom, there is of course Huey who has descended into full on pathological lying and delusion. Even if he didn’t cause the second outbreak, he’s so overwhelmed by guilt and paranoia by his other crimes he’s most likely guilty of that he’s able to beat the truth serum. When you’re rescuing Huey, he literally blames you for the destruction of the MSF. Like literally as you’re hauling ass to get him out. Even more pathetic is Kaz who makes these grand statements alongside Venom about taking revenge that you know doesn’t mean shit. His monologues are so passionate and are so depressing and yet he is met with awkward silence constantly that it’s depressingly funny. 

There’s this amazing usage of comedic timing, after you rescue Kaz and bring him back to Mother Base, where he monologues and says, “Dogs of war for nine whole years…that ends today. Now you’re not sleeping, and we’re not junkyard hounds. We’re Diamond Dogs.” The swelling of the music at the last moment is instantly followed by Kaz being shut the fuck up by a medic who puts an oxygen mask on him and lies him down. No one responds to the speech. Ocelot merely only talks to stop the medic and allow Kaz to get a few more words in out of pure pity. Likewise, Kaz’s extreme cognitive dissonance as he believes he can return to the good old days is so pitiful and poignant you can’t help but to stare with sympathy. 

The end of Chapter 1 shows how far gone he is with a very clever cut as Venom turns away from a vision of Skullface where Skullface is replaced by Kaz himself. Chapter 2 then logically shows him becoming full on paranoid, going full on 1984 Minister of Truth because what else does he have left if he doesn’t have an object of revenge anymore? I remember a moment, where he’s calling you, with this sense of manic fanaticism as he rambles to Venom that it’s time to dig up dirt on Huey and finally get him out for good. It becomes so absurd that even OCELOT tells him to shut the hell up. 

Ocelot is maybe the only normal person on board but that title means nothing in-universe. He’s thriving because he’s happily going along with War On Terror 2. He’s normal because he flat out embraces this and even goes out with his crush dressed as a cowboy. Of course there won’t be those moments where he’s of central dramatic focus here, he is simply here for the ride, his true goal to win the game of 8D chess for the man he’s down bad for. 

This band of losers are completely devoid of real purpose and are so…beta and it works because of how it both confronts an equally important reality of the characters not usually as overt and how MGS4 already closing off the franchise sets up how MGSV’s narrative and characters are already and should be dead. Peace is only possible in the case of war criminals when they’ve been buried. Evoking dissatisfaction might not always be intentional and is sometimes accidental but it works because there is no real satisfaction in beating a dead horse just to see your faves perform one more song. Especially if they already aren’t good people.

[bayleavesfromthevine]

some kn8 ramblings (with a side order of manga spoilers)

i love that (as far as we know) kafka and mina's tragic backstory is "dead cat." we know nothing of their parents, homes, or friends from after the kaiju attack, only that mina's cat died. (obviously, the series isn't over yet, so this could be totally disproven at any point, but bear with me lol.)

i actually find that really refreshing. yes, it's so heartbreaking to lose a pet, but it's not the typical trope of a character's power level correlating to how traumatized they are (ex: family massacres, everyone they've ever loved ending up dead, backstabbing, torture, etc etc). their traumas are grounded in very realistic and relatable circumstances, and i think that goes to show that a character doesn't need these extreme reasons to want to do good and fight the scary monster. mina's cat died in a kaiju attack and she wants to make sure that no one else has to lose their best friend/ball of floof to a kaiju ever again. that is enough of a reason and a noble one at that.

soshiro, as another example, has a complicated relationship with his family, but they aren't dead or rogue. he's not seeking revenge on them, but rather they did not support him when it mattered and made him feel inferior - that is a traumatizing environment to grow up in, and unsupportive parents & sibling favoritism are also SO grounded in reality.

it really makes these characters feel real, and i think it's a powerful thing for a reader who maybe doesn't have the best relationship with their parents/siblings like soshiro, or who has lost a beloved pet like mina, or who doesn't have natural-born talent in a specific field like kafka, to see these characters take those experiences, work through them, find a support system, and overcome them.

(side note: i LOVE to see that soshiro actually went no contact with his brother for past behaviors! that sets such a powerful example to readers that it's okay to cut out people who have made you feel like shit!!)

of course, there are other characters like narumi and reno who have heavier backstories, but i love that their experiences don't automatically turn them into the brooding emo characters who think only of killing kaiju and seeking revenge with zero intentions to form friendships with the people around them.

it's just really nice to see. i feel like in stories that have a large cast, it's easy for a character's backstory to completely shape their personality, rather than being shaped by a multitude of experiences - good and bad - gained throughout life. (in cases like reno and kikoru, we see them grow as people & change their outlooks due to their positive experiences with kafka and the rest of the defense force. that doesn't override their past experiences, but adds layers to who they are overall.)

i see kn8 getting criticized a lot for lacking in depth or themes - and i do think there is a conversation to be had about locating the series' central theme and whether or not it's been clearly communicated (and whether or not that even matters) - but i also think part of that criticism stems from having a fantastical premise (that maybe SHOULD have a little more death, but that's another conversation entirely lol) with deeply grounded characters, a contrast we don't see too much of - especially from series in the battle shonen & shonen-adjacent genres (thinking about shows like naruto, aot, jjk, demon slayer, hell's paradise, etc).

basically, i find it refreshing that kn8 isn't over-traumatizing its characters despite the fact that the premise would allow it lol

[thecommandertable]

Keystone Commanders and How to Avoid Them

I think most Commander players realize that there are some decks that just fold in upon themselves when they can't keep their commander on the battlefield. I like to call these kinds of commanders "keystone commanders".

A keystone is that large, wedge-shaped central stone at the top of an arch. The idea is that if you remove that one piece, the whole thing collapses. If you've studied ecology or conservation, you're probably familiar with the term "keystone species"; a species that plays an integral role in sustaining an ecosystem. Likewise, a keystone commander has an integral role in a deck's strategy; without it, that deck won't be able to execute its gameplan.

Keystone commanders are often very powerful! I have an Arcades, the Strategist deck, all about attacking people with defender creatures.

Arcades draws a bunch of cards and lets me attack with an ever-growing squad of large-toughness creatures like Shield Sphere, Wall of Shards, and The Pride of Hull Clan. Take Arcades off the battlefield, though, and I'm left with a bunch of creatures that can't attack. Savvy opponents will just kill and counter Arcades until I can't cast him anymore due to commander tax, or use something like Darksteel Mutation or Kenrith's Transformation to turn off his abilities. Powerful keystone commanders tend to make for these hot-and-cold strategies. Either your commander sticks and you win handily or it doesn't and your deck does next to nothing. That might not be a big deal if you've got a wide variety of decks, but if you've only got a handful and most of them fit this mold, the polarizing gameplay can get tiresome. It can happen pretty easily, too; keystone commanders are enticing to build around for less experienced deckbuilders, as their designs tend to provide a clear roadmap to how to build the deck. It doesn't take a veteran Commander player to look at Arcades and realize that the deck should be chock-full of defender creatures, but it does take experience to foresee the consequences of building a deck that's so reliant on its commander.

Well, what to do?

Sometimes the solution is swapping in a different Commander. One of my earliest Commander decks was a White/Blue flyers & blink deck with Isperia, Supreme Judge at the helm, but when Brago, King Eternal was printed a couple years later, I eagerly swapped him in over Isperia: his ability was on-theme, after all, and he was on the whole a much more powerful commander. I added Strionic Resonator, which can go infinite with Brago's ability and some mana rocks. As I kept playing with Brago, it became more and more obvious to me and my friends that whether I won or not depended entirely on whether I could keep Brago on the board long enough to start attacking with him. Classic keystone commander.

I cut value flying creatures for more counterspells to protect Brago and more mana rocks to ensure that I would be able to combo with Strionic Resonator. At one point it stopped being about flying creatures altogether—it was just about Brago. And after a decade of Brago's despotic ghostly grip on the deck, I decided to depose him. I replaced him with Yorion, Sky Nomad. Yorion still gives me good value even if an opponent kills it right away, its ability doesn't threaten an infinite combo, and the cards it works well with, creatures with enters effects and flicker spells like Ephemerate, also work well with each other in case Yorion's not on the battlefield.

Other commanders provide a little more flexibility in how you build around them, and the degree to which they are keystone commanders can vary. For instance, many players who build Feather, the Redeemed will build her as a Voltron deck.

Voltron Feather recurs spells like Titan's Strength and Psychotic Fury to grow Feather and crack in for big chunks of damage. As you might imagine, any deck looking to kill people with commander damage is going to have a keystone commander regardless of what it is. Voltron Feather, though hard to kill due to repeatable protection spells like Loran's Escape and Boon of Safety, like any keystone commander, will leave the deck in the lurch if she can't do her thing. Fortunately, there are lots of different directions you can take a Feather the Redeemed deck. My personal build mixes a creature token theme with a devotion-to-white subtheme and has lots of ways to recur small creatures. I use Feather primarily as a card draw engine—letting me reuse cantrips like Bandage and Crimson Wisps—and the deck as a whole is a lot more powerful when she's in play. But if she gets killed in the mid-to-late game, assuming I still control my other creatures, I can still get over the finish line without her. You can consider many commander deckbuilding decisions in this light. Not every card choice will make the difference between making your commander keystone or not, but they'll shift the needle a little bit. For example, putting background cards in the 99, such as Guild Artisan, will push that needle towards keystone-ness; or at least make your commander a juicier target for opponents' removal. Same goes for Lieutenant creatures like Skyhunter Strike Force.

In general, you'll want to be careful about cards that require your commander to be on the battlefield to function at all; say Well of Lost Dreams in a Dragonlord Dromoka deck that doesn't have many ways to gain life outside of Dromoka's lifelink: it might be a decent way to draw cards, but it's also further incentivizing opponents to aim their removal spells at Dromoka. If you're looking to build a new commander deck and want to get away from keystone commanders, here are some criteria to look for:

Low mana-value commanders that you can play early for value, either by ramping you or drawing cards: Ruby, Daring Tracker; Azusa, Lost but Seeking; Jori En, Ruin Diver

Commanders with "enter" effects, like Gonti, Lord of Luxury; Sharuum the Hegemon; Prime Speaker Zegana

Commanders whose abilities have a lot of redundancies among their 99: Sythis, Harvest's Hand; Nekusar, the Mindrazer

Alternately, as you're building a new deck, ask yourself these questions:

Can my deck win without its commander on the battlefield?

If I were playing against this deck, how highly would I prioritize killing its commander?

Hopefully this will help you diversify your commander portfolio a little bit. I want to reiterate that having the occasional keystone commander isn't a bad thing, it's only that it's very easy to fall into the habit of exclusively building around powerful keystone commanders—and when your playgroup gets in the mindset that your commander always needs to die, well, they tend to kill your commander a lot.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Dean Obeidallah at The Dean's Report:

It’s a “coup!” declared hysterical Republicans.  Were they talking about Donald Trump’s efforts after the 2020 election to overturn the election for which he’s currently facing criminal charges in both federal court and Fulton County, Ga?! Nope! What Republicans from JD Vance down were calling a “coup” was President Biden dropping out of the 2024 race. (I’m serious!)  Arkansas US Senator Tom Cotton wrote on X shortly after the news broke, “Joe Biden succumbed to a coup by Nancy Pelosi, Barack Obama, and Hollywood donors, ignoring millions of Democratic primary votes.”  “The coup is complete,” wrote Trump loving Representative Paul Gosar from Arizona. That was followed by Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene who also echoed the claim we witnessed a “coup” with Biden dropping out.

Talk of a coup even made it all the way to the top of the 2024 GOP presidential ticket when—in an interview that aired Monday--Fox News host Jesse Watters asked Trump and his running mate JD Vance, “Is it a coup against Joe Biden?” Vance responded point blank, “Yeah, I think it is.” Trump though—perhaps reflecting on what he did after the 2020 election—was uncharacteristically sheepish, offering Watters only this two word answer: “Sort of.”

Back on planet earth, we know that Biden made the decision to drop out for the same reason politicians have chosen to end their campaigns since time immemorial. As NBC News reported, in reaching his decision, Biden reviewed along with his family and top aides extensive polling data, including how Vice President Kamala Harris would fare in a potential matchup against Trump. It’s true Biden was not happy with the growing calls to drop out after his deeply troubling debate performance three weeks before. However, as NBC News noted At the end of it all, “Biden came grudgingly to accept that he could not sustain his campaign with poll numbers slipping, donors fleeing and party luminaries pushing him to exit.”

That led us to Sunday afternoon when Biden released a letter that informed the nation, “While it has been my intention to seek reelection, I believe it is in the best interest of my party and the country for me to stand down and to focus solely on fulfilling my duties as President for the remainder of my term.” (President Biden is addressing the nation on Wednesday night where we will find out even more of the details.) That’s not a coup. That is what American politics and democracy have long looked like. True, given it was a president dropping out only a little more than a hundred days from the election, it was both jarring and history making. But at the end, Biden made what he believed was the best choice for himself, his family, his party and his country.

[...] Trump attempted a coup in every sense of the word. Despite losing the 2020 election, he attempted to overturn the results to remain in power. That is why the federal indictment against Trump charging him with four felonies states, “Despite having lost, the Defendant [Trump] was determined to remain in power.”   To that end as the indictment continues, Trump “pursued unlawful means of discounting legitimate votes and subverting the election results.” Trump’s “criminal scheme”--as the indictment describes--included replacing legally elected electors to the Electoral college with fake ones chosen by his campaign to deliver Trump the victory he didn’t actually win. Trump’s illegal plan also included preventing Congress on Jan 6 from certifying the legitimate votes cast for Joe Biden--despite Trump losing every court battle to invalidate these very votes. Then there was the brutal Jan 6 attack on our Capitol, which FBI Director Christopher Wray testified before Congress was an act of “domestic terrorism.” As the Jan 6 House committee’s final report put it: “The central cause of January 6th was one man, former President Donald Trump, whom many others followed,” adding, “None of the events of January 6th would have happened without him.”

Dean Obeidallah debunks the right-wing bad faith “coup” attacks against Joe Biden, and rightly points out that replacing Biden with Kamala Harris as the Democratic nominee (before the nomination was formalized) is NOT a coup, but the Capitol Insurrection on January 6th, 2021 and Donald Trump’s efforts to overturn the 2020 election results were most definitely one.

See Also:

The UnPopulist: Republicans' Bogus Claims that Democrats Acted Illicitly in Replacing Biden