#who would have thought?? well definitely all of us but not you

[reignpage]

Finders Keepers

Summary: in which alien!reader crash lands right in front of Gojo and your story with him begins Word Count: 1k (just trialing a new concept so it's a quick opening) Warnings: a little cursing, allusions to experimentation and alien warfare, reader is naked but not in a sexual manner

“I can’t believe aliens actually exist,” Satoru mutters to himself. 

This has been an incredibly wild evening. 

When he stepped out of his apartment to throw the bins out, he hadn’t expected to see a blinding flash of light zoom past him and explode in the parking lot. Thank goodness for his infinity, otherwise he would not have fared as well as the minivan you landed on. 

Yes. 

You.

The woman who came straight from the sky and fell on top of a car, missing him by just two metres.

At first, he thought it was a curse; these things get pretty weird sometimes, after all. But using his Six Eyes, he could tell you were different. Sure, you looked like any other person, with arms and legs and a head. But you had a unique aura to you, positively otherworldly. 

If he was any other kind of man, he would have just left you there and pretended nothing happened — ignorance is bliss and whatnot — but what kind of Honoured One would he be if he didn’t do his duty and helped you out?

So, he slides down the massive crater you made (boy is that going to be a pain for maintenance to clean up) and carefully cradles your naked body in his arms, carefully so as to not touch bits and pieces no gentleman has a business looking at. Why are you naked anyways? 

Sensing people making their way down the stairs to inspect the commotion, he teleports back into his apartment quick as a flash before anyone could think to look through their windows. 

He throws a blanket at you and leaves you on the sofa as he paces the length of his living room and ponders what to do. On one hand, he could call the police and leave it up to them to deal with you. The government would know best about how to deal about falling space women, right? But then, don’t all the sci-fi movies talk about inhumane experimentation, weaponizing alien technology, and Area 51? 

That wouldn’t be a very nice thing to do, at all. 

And on the other hand, he could just take care of you himself. He has the means to, that’s for sure. You really don’t look any different from everyone else — surely, you need the same things he does: food, water, shelter and warmth.

Right?

Just as he’s about to pick up the phone to call his doctor friend, you begin rousing from sleep. Your eyes flutter open and they’re a normal colour, which freaks him out more if he’s going to be perfectly honest. 

“Uh,” Satoru scratches the back of his neck, shuffling on his feet a little, “hey? I’m Gojo Satoru. You can just call me Satoru, though. If you want, or can, I guess.”

You tilt your head, scanning his body, and you open your mouth. What comes out is definitely an alien language. Or maybe he needs to travel more. But he certainly does not comprehend a single thing that you say. 

Clearing his throat, he tries to smile comfortingly. “Okay, so I didn’t understand what you said. Sorry. But uh, do you need anything? Like, do you know where you are? Yeah, you definitely don’t know what I’m saying either, do you?”

You tilt your head again. 

“What is wrong with me? Seriously. What was I thinking bringing you home? You may have fallen from the sky but I’m the one that clearly hit my head. I really am an idiot.”

Glancing around the room, you don’t look any bit as frazzled and panicked as he is. Actually, you’re as cool as a cucumber, and there isn’t a hint of shame or embarrassment on your face when you push yourself off the sofa, blanket sliding down your body. 

“Woah! Woah!”

Satoru presses his hands to his eyes and leaves them there for a second or two before realising that does absolutely nothing and when he pulls them down, he doesn’t flinch when you’re standing before him, inquisitive eyes meeting his. 

His infinity is on and he’s ready to subdue you if you prove to be a threat, but so far, he’s simply letting you reorient yourself, getting used to your surroundings and giving you the opportunity to decide he’s not a bad guy. 

That being said, however, he’s still deciding whether to keep you or not. He doesn’t want you to be poked and prodded — that wouldn’t be a very cool welcome to planet Earth and he doesn’t need you to go around telling your alien friends humans suck, though they do. But he also doesn’t know if that’s the best decision. 

You could be a danger to jujitsu society, to his students, to the world. What if, right at this very moment, you’re leaking deadly radiation? And what if his infinity can’t keep it out? Can’t keep you out?

Gosh, there are so many things that could go wrong. 

It’s entirely possible too that you’re a blood sucking monster intent on wringing him dry for all he’s worth. Maybe you’re not even an alien. Maybe you’re a special kind of curse, the kind that can bypass his Six Eyes, though he’s fairly confident that’s not the case (there’s no one stronger than him, after all). 

What if this is Kenjaku all over again?

Yeah, on second thought, he should definitely call the police. Or Ijichi, or the Prime Minister of Japan, or whoever will believe him when he says there’s a naked, alien lady in his home, and no, he’s not a pervert playing out some sick fantasy.

But just as he’s lifting his phone, you lift your hand the same time he does and cover your eyes. 

Then you say his name in perfect Japanese with a sweet, soft voice, not a hint of hesitation or unsteadiness. You smile, eyes still obscured, and he feels himself mirroring your gleeful expression. 

“That’s right. I’m Satoru. It’s nice to meet you.”

He decides, there and then, to hell with radiation, alien armies, and the deadly risk you pose to everything he knows or cares about. The military, conspiracy theorists, and scientists be damned.

He’s going to keep you. 

[bemusedlybespectacled]

The context you're missing is that the reason the person is immoral or corrupt is their genes. The word originally meant "someone who is worse than their ancestors" (so definitely still related to ancestry, even if they didn't know what DNA was). Essentially, the reason you're a bad person isn't because of your actions; it's because you were born that way, and nothing you can do can ever change it. And, conversely, being a good person is also genetic, and nothing you can do can ever change that, either.

Why is that a problem? Well, in the late 1800s/early 1900s, eugenics (the opposite of degeneration; "de" means down, "eu" means "good") became a popular "scientific" theory. It's the idea that every bad thing that happens to or is done by a person is actually a result of their genes. Not just actual genetic disorders, like Tay-Sachs disease, but also being poor or committing crimes. Literally, their thought process was, "We see that the children of poor families tend to also be poor. That must mean that poverty is genetic." (this was actually pretty well debunked in like 1911 but weirdly it kept being popular in/promoted by super racist people hmm I wonder why that would be)

If you were genetically perfect, then of course you'd be healthy, strong, intelligent, hardworking, wealthy, moral, and, most importantly, white; lacking any of those qualities meant that there was something wrong with your DNA somewhere. The best way to ensure that everyone was successful would be to just get rid of anything – that is, anyone – genetically bad, so that only the best people could breed with each other and have perfect children.

How do you do that? Well, for one, you make it illegal for anyone to marry outside of their race, and you make the requirements to be white incredibly difficult to prove (it wasn't based on skin color, but on any non-white heritage, no matter how white you actually looked) and draw the lines for everyone else very broadly (in the US South, it was literally "white" or "colored," with "colored" meaning anything from "just immigrated here from Africa" to "mostly white with a bit of Native American"), and require all of them to have some kind of identifying document or badge so that you can tell which is which. And you make it legal to sterilize undesirables: disabled people (both physical and mental), nonwhite people, and people of poor moral character (remember, being bad is genetic, and also in this era you think being gay is also a sign of poor moral character), just to ensure that there's absolutely no chance that someone might accidentally or deliberately sneak in.

(Eventually, you can also just kill them. Because that other stuff is taking too long.)

But remember! Evil is genetic! So of course there are always going to be nefarious actors deliberately trying to bring the whole race down and make it worse/weaker! And what's their evil plan? They'll encourage mixing good people with bad people with diabolical schemes like "making modern art" and "thinking it's okay for white people to listen to jazz" and "promoting civil rights for minorities." And what do we call "people who bring the whole race down"? Degenerates!

this was my thesis in college before i had a nervous breakdown so i know a lot about it. don't even get me started on how birth certificates are racist.

DNI lists on this website are fucking insane

[meglosthegreat]

I see a lot of posts on here talking about the Solas/Elgar'nan segment in Blood of Arlathan and how it's one of the best scenes in the game, and they'd be right, but I don't see enough people talking about how comically the whole thing is undercut by quite possibly the most poorly-conceived, terribly-implemented looney-tunes-ass sequence in gaming history that surrounds it.

Like you show up with your friends to this Venatori party, and you're like great, we're sneaking in! Time for disguises. How convenient that these Venatori guys all wear hoods, right? Should be a piece of cake if we're all, you know, wearing hoods that would helpfully hide our identities. But no. We all go waltzing in with our whole-ass faces exposed, you know, the group of guys that have been murdering Venatori left and right and who Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain have definitely all seen in person before. Oh, and don't worry about walking into this notoriously racist elf-sacrificing cult if you happen to be an elf! You're only here in disguise so that you can rescue a GROUP OF ELVES THEY'RE GOING TO SACRIFICE but it's ok because you're dressed as a mercenary and not a dalish so it's all good don't worry about it :) :)

Then you get into this fucking party and oh my fucking god it's like they decided to take all of the most comically over-the-top stereotypes of villainy and put them on display. Because why not! The Venatori are all sickos anyway so of course they'd be out here doing sicko things! There's some guys pulling a halla apart with blood magic! There's other guys using slaves as benches! They're all laughing and joking about how EVIL they are, hahaha, how cool is that? The fucking guy from D'Meta's Crossing is here if you don't let him die, because he's a fucked up evil sicko too! You're supposed to be shocked at this hideous display; recoil in horror, even!

And who do you bring with you to help get through this crowd of absolute lunatics? NEVE FUCKING GALLUS. You know, the person so well-known in Minrathous that a Dalish elf living in Arlathan KNEW HER BY REPUTATION. Yup, Neve Gallus with her INTENSELY RECOGNIZABLE PROSTHETIC just waltzes up to some guy and he just lets her in. Because being EVIL also makes you incapable of coherent thought, apparently.

And then. AND THEN. You walk across the bridge where Elgar'nan makes his thought-sounds at you, and YOUR ENTIRE FUCKING PARTY is already there, just hanging out nbd. Also not wearing hoods or any kind of disguises that couldn't instantly be seen through by a five-year-old with amnesia but ok, cool. Why did we bother walking through all those sickos then when we could've just taken the secret back entrance like the rest of them, idk.

But just when you think you've reached peak stupidity, it keeps going. You're now standing there, at the front of a crowd of about twelve people, approximately five feet away from Elgar'nan himself, inexplicably blending in, when the big guy puts the mind control whammy on everyone. Oh no, you think. We've been found out! Here's the part in the plan where things begin to go wrong! NO. Your mage friends SECRETLY PERFORM MAGICAL GESTURES to block the mind control, and then you LITERALLY FUCKING SIDLE OFF STAGE LEFT without ANYONE NOTICING. I should reiterate that at this point, you are still about FIVE FEET AWAY FROM ELGAR'NAN and his fucking ARCHDEMON.

And to conclude this absolute comedy of idiocy, as soon as you enter back into combat mode, you immediately ditch all of your disguises. And of course then, ONLY THEN, Elgar'nan notices you've been there. Cut to the end of the actual good sequence, this dramatic conversation performed by excellent voice actors and written miles better than most other things in this game, and you reach your final prize: about six guys trapped in a little cube. Cool, you tell yourself. This was definitely worth it. You take your fade-to-black teleporter back to the Lighthouse and they're never heard from again.

This was the quest that broke me. This was the moment that all hope for Veilguard finally snapped. I consider myself to be a very resilient person in the face of camp and goofy writing, but this was too much disbelief for my brain to suspend. The mental gymnastics necessary to make this whole sequence make any kind of sense were simply beyond me. Even Solas's dulcet tones could not salvage it for me after that.

[sweetpupii]

tw: non-con, somno, fingering & cunnilingus ( r!receiving ), reader cries just a little, praising, overstimulation, abby being the sweetest girl ever ( pretty ironic ) | 1.6k words.

having long nails is great.

they look cute, you can match them with your outfit and your makeup, you get some compliments, they're amazing at scratching and all that.

“wanna know what's frustrating though?” you start, mindlessly scrolling on your phone while abby looks at your new set of nails, her own unmanicured hand holding yours. “not to be, you know, nasty but I feel like I'm gonna slash my pussy open if I try to stick a finger in there the wrong way.”

only a low hum of agreement can be heard from the blonde as she leans back against the couch of your shared apartment, tracing the design that's beautifully decorating the nail on your middle finger. yeah, that looks like it would hurt real bad.

“then get a toy. there is more stuff you can use.”

“of course I know that, but I don't have time either. at this point I feel like a nun!” a ( kinda whiny ) sigh escaping your lips at the mere thought of all the weeks spent unsatisfied. coming home late and tired didn't give you much time to even grab a toy like abby suggested.

but luckily, you have a very thoughtful roommate!

this woman would do anything—and I mean anything—to see you happy because that's what friends are for. helping and supporting each other during tough times and, let me tell you, being sexually frustrated definitely counts as one.

“abby? what the fu—mhggm” her hand quickly went over your mouth to stop your protests to get louder and more panicked while the other worked to keep your legs and arms from pushing her face away. why are you acting so surprised to see her in between your legs when she's just trying to help? it's not like you would be able to push her away but jeez, didn't expect such an ungrateful response.

yes, she woke you up by making out with your pussy but you were basically asking for it earlier.

“gonna make you feel good.” she promised before she kept lapping at your cunt like a starved woman. slurping you up like you're her favorite dish. feeling the vibration of your desperate, muffled sounds against her palm made her speak again. “shh, I won't hurt you.”

taking off your underwear while you sleep, holding you down, forcing your mouth shut and your legs open doesn't hurt! not if you stay still, at least.

her plan was simple.

if she made you feel good by eating you out, using her own fingers to reach places you currently couldn't ( and probably have never been able to ) reach while you slept then you would surely wake up in a good mood and thank her with that precious smile of yours and maybe even a kiss.

but noooo, you decided to wake up in the middle of it and panic. ugh, just when your body was responding so well to her touch. she had seen the way your cunt was glistening when she started to slowly kiss it. the moonlight slipping through your curtains making the sight even prettier, and she'll be lying if she said the thought of taking a picture didn't cross her mind.

but a little crying from you won't stop her, even if she feels the hot tears against her skin.

she's still holding your legs open so she can continue to suck and lick at your clit, tongue tracing each fold and sensitive bit. your hips bucking into her face—but she's not sure if you're liking it and want more or you're trying to push her away.

“don't scream, okay baby?” she whispered against the soft skin on your inner thigh, peppering small kisses, while looking up at your watery eyes, “I'll be so gentle. trust me.”

actually, what other choice do you have? this woman can literally bench press 205 lbs. you get on her bad side and a single smack takes you back to your mother's womb. she has a mean right hook too, those punching bags stand no chance.

but again, it's abby who we're talking about.

the blondie that cuddles you to sleep anytime your bed feels too cold, who makes stupid jokes to cheer you up even if she cringes so fucking hard immediately after, who lets you try to count every freckle on her skin without even asking why, who can listen to you talk for hours and pay attention to every word, the one that drunkenly tells you how glad she is that you're her roommate and friend while kissing your shoulder even if deep down she wishes for more than that and stares at you as if you are the most important thing in the world—because to her you truly are.

so maybe she really just wants to make you feel good...

the second the fear and confusion in your eyes turns into something more calm, seeing the slow nod of your head, the small hiccup and your legs no longer struggling, she pulls her hand away from your mouth to trace the other set of lips, gathering the mixture of her saliva and your fluids on her fingertips before gently pushing one inside. “there we go…nice and slow.”

she might've been wrong for not asking first but how was she supposed to resist the feeling of your warm, tight walls squeezing her fingers just right as she curls them inside. soaking her knuckles in a shiny coat of stickiness that makes her want to dive in face first again and taste it until it becomes the only flavor she'll ever remember.

once she's sure that you're wet and comfortable enough, another thick digit slides in, the stretch earning a moan from you that has abby feeling like angels are singing and welcoming her to heaven. god, she has waited for so long to hear those sounds out of your lips—sounds caused by her, not your vibrator nor whoever you used to invite over thinking you two were quiet. ( she could hear you every.single.time… and honestly? it was so good to get a free show. )

even if her pace was somewhat slow, the thrusts of her fingers still managed to produce soft, wet noises that filled the room as they combined with your heavy breathing.

“told you I'd be gentle.” she cooed against your abdomen, trailing her kisses up your torso until she finally reached your lips. the same lips she has been dreaming of kissing since she moved in, since she first saw you smile, since you finally laughed at something she said, since the first time she saw them in a pretty shade of lipgloss. it's better than she ever imagined and she knows she'll ask ( beg ) for more from now on.

she's head over heels if you couldn't tell already.

“a warning would've been nice.” your quiet words bring a sheepish smile to abby’s face as she sighs, pulling her face away just a little, “sorry, you looked so stressed lately, I figured you wouldn't mind…”

abby aims to please even if she doesn't realize how bad her impulsive thoughts are before she acts on them. but look at the bright side; from now on you have a girl who's willing to drop to her knees and bury her face between your thighs at your own home almost 24/7!

after a bit, she starts to notice that the clenching and throbbing around her fingers gets more frequent and your moans louder, meaning she can finally speed up the pace. burying herself deep into your cunt to reach all the perfect spots she knows you've been missing. “fuck, you're so pretty. I wish you could see yourself…dripping all over the bed.”

she’s breathless as if she was the one getting touched, her own underwear damp just from seeing and pleasing you. can you blame her? she feels like a child on christmas morning.

“that's it, doing so good.”

oh, how she adores the way your hips tremble underneath her. making a mess on your bed sheets as you throw your head back—which she takes as an invitation and buries her face there. inhaling your scent like it's the only thing keeping her alive, like you're the oxygen she needs.

“gonna come? I can barely move my fingers with how tight you are.” liar. no matter how much you squeeze she's pumping them in and out without a single bit of effort. working out daily really pays off in the most satisfying ways. plus, you're too wet and it slides in and out very easily.

and god, her words make the flutter in your lower belly even worse. your hand gripping at her forearm, nails digging so hard she takes it as “it's too much.” when in reality she had fucked you so dumb with her fingers that reaching for abby was purely out of instinct.

she can't even understand the words ( babbles ) coming out of your mouth, all her pussy-drunk mind is able to register is the whiny tone tone in your voice because yes, she's as fucked out as you are.

the loud cry that escaped your puffy lips while repeating her name over and over definitely woke up a neighbor or two and just the thought of it makes abby's ego go up to the roof. who's making the prettiest girl in the building come? abigail motherfucking anderson.

her fingers continue their movements, a bit sloppier than before, but they keep going nonetheless. thumb circling your sensitive clit to add more stimulation.

she shushed your whimpers with soft kisses on your your temple and held you still to keep the overstimulated jerking off hips from pushing her away.

“you can take a little more, you're a big girl.”

and she's an insatiable woman.

masterlist ♡ taglist — @1ckyporcelainbunny @patronagrona

[djotime-allthetime]

Freaky Redheads

synopsis: interactions between you and fred hechinger at a red carpet event for gladiator ii.

wc: 2.5+

rpf!!! don't like, don't read!!!

a/n: i love that soft, sweet, adorable man with all of my heart. my inspiration is how fred talks about sherry. the monkey. i'm down bad bro.

italics are supposed to be comments under tiktok clips of these interviews. i definitely have more in mind for these two, but we'll see how this goes. feedback is writer's fuel!

cross posted on AO3

The flashing cameras and yelling reporters have started to become the new normal, which was so not normal for you. You couldn't believe how far you'd come.

Granted, your role in the movie was definitely more in the supporting cast territory, but you couldn't deny how massive the production was. But even as a supporting actress, you still had quite a bit of screen time as the unnamed favorite concubine to Emperor Caracalla.

The fans who knew you called out your name from behind the velvet ropes and you smiled and waved as you walked by.

"y/n! y/n! Over here!" A reporter called out. You nodded and smiled as you approached, indicating your acceptance of the carpet-side interview. Your agent had warned you that not every journalist might want to speak with you and that you should accept any interview you came by. Thankfully, as the start of your night would show, that wasn't the case.

"Hello!" You beamed, coming to a stop in front of the camera. The reporter greeted you back and handed you a microphone glued to a mini Romanesque column. "Oh, wow. I love the microphone!"

"Thank you," She smiled. With a quick glance at her blouse, you saw a name tag that said 'MTV UK: Claire'. "It was my idea, actually."

"Incredibly creative! They should give you a raise, Claire."

"If you wouldn't mind saying that directly into the camera..." Claire trailed off with a chuckle and a mischievous glint to her eye.

You shot the camera as serious a look as you could muster. "MTV, if you do not give this woman a raise, I will riot in the streets."

"Alright alright, enough of that." Claire laughed out loud with a few shakes of her head. "You look absolutely stunning!"

"Oh, this old thing?" You smiled bashfully, grabbing at your skirt to twirl it around. The styling department had made sure that all the gowns worn during press had some Roman inspiration behind them. The piece you were wearing was off white in color, representing your character's position in society. Even with your character in mind, your dress was still breathtaking. The gown was composed of yards and yards of fabric, giving it this dreamy, flowy silhouette. The neckline was so beautiful, in the cowl style and draped ever so slightly off your shoulders. To say that you loved it would be an understatement. "Thank you very much, you look amazing yourself."

"But you are on a different level!" Claire gasped, no doubt to return the topic to you. Just like you were media trained, the reporters were too. "What was the thought process behind your look tonight?"

Your eyes lit up as this was something you had wanted to talk about. "Well, the styling department and I actually workshopped this look together. Of course we wanted it to be glamorous, this is the red carpet after all. But we also wanted to show the character through the outfits, you know?" She nodded along.

"Right, your character was quite impactful even with the few lines you had." Claire added, and you smiled in thanks.

"Yeah, thank you." You felt your face heat up at the compliment. "We wanted to still be true to her, under all the glitz and glamour. So that's why we went with the understated color, to not only show her position in society but also her demeanor throughout the film."

"But your jewellery is anything but understated." She laughed.

"Yeah, I couldn't help myself." You laughed with her.

"Give us a quick tour."

You were almost dripping in gold, from your head to your toes. "We've got the hair piece." You brought a hand up to show the gold pins connected with chains littering your up-do. "Earrings upon earrings, all hoops." You pulled a strand back to show off your right ear clearly. Some were clip on earrings as you didn't have quite enough piercings to get them all. "The necklaces, of course. Some bracelets, some rings. But I think this cuff on my upper arm is my favorite."

"And these are all borrowed pieces from different brands?"

"Most of them are, yes." You confirmed with a nod. "But some are from my private collection. And some I might steal." You joked, getting a laugh out of Claire.

"Well, you really knocked it out of the park." Claire smiled, a tone of finality in her voice that showed you the interview was coming to a close. "And before we let you go, we've got one question we're asking everyone tonight. I think we can all agree that the cast of this movie is full of beautiful men." You giggled, a bit surprised at the turn in topic. "But people on the internet have separated them into two categories."

"Oh, have they now?" You asked, unaware of what she was talking about.

"Yes, they have. Gen Z has divided them into the brooding brunets and the freaky redheads." She explained, pulling up two little hand held signs. One with Paul Mescal and Pedro Pascal, the brooding brunets, and the other with Joseph Quinn and Fred Hechinger, the freaky redheads.

You couldn't contain the surprised laugh that escaped you at the sight of their little printed faces. "Oh my goodness!"

"So, as the resident Gen Z-er on the cast, who is your pick?"

"Well, I wouldn't say I'm the only representation of Gen Z here." You mused as you grabbed both the signs from Claire. You lifted up the 'freaky redheads' sign and pointed to Fred. "My friend is right there with me in the Gen Z territory."

"Alright, as the representation of Gen Z women, which team is more your style?" Claire asked as you studied the signs. "People are saying they went into the movie for the brunets and came out converted to team redheads."

"That's actually really funny," You chuckled as you looked down at both signs. "This is hard." You mumbled. A small smirk found itself on your lips as you thought of Fred seeing this clip later. Someone no doubt showing it to him, as he wouldn't find it on his own. "I feel like- yeah." You nodded with determination. "I'm gonna have to go with Fred- I'm going with team freaky redheads." You nodded. "I think it would be treacherous otherwise."

"Good choice. You'd break Emperor Caracalla's heart."

"And then he'd have my head." You laughed, stepping back. "Thank you for your great questions."

"Thank you for your time." Claire waved as you walked away. "We're gonna have a tally going throughout the night, and we'll see who wins. Team brooding brunets, or team freaky redheads." You heard her say to the camera as you moved further down the carpet.

'She looks so pretty!!'

'i love the thought process behind the outfit, you can tell she really loved her character'

'the reporter asked y/n if she prefers lucius and acacius or geta and caracalla and this girl really said FRED 💀'

'i love seeing new faces in hollywood, give young new actors a chance!!' ↳ 'right?? im so sick of them recycling the same actors for every big budget movie'

'she mentioned fred, not caracalla, twice, unprompted. i see you, y/n. you're just like us.' ↳ 'have you seen his interviews? he's literally the cutest i cant blame her 🥺'

A few steps down, another reporter flagged you down. This time, the questions were more centered around the acting itself.

"And was it difficult? In a previous interview, you've said that your character's growth was significant, but she had almost no lines in the movie."

"Yeah, I think in the final cut she only has... three lines?" You winced, looking upwards as you tried to recall what was and wasn't cut. "Though I'm not sure."

"So there were scenes where she could've said more?"

"Oh yeah, for sure! There was a lot of experimentation with my character throughout filming. Ridley's a genius and he was kind enough to truly take in my suggestions. There were times where I felt like she would actually stay quiet during a scene, whereas other times I felt like she would speak up. But yeah," You breathed in and furrowed your brows in thought as you tried to focus your answer back to the original question. "It was definitely a challenge. I had to really work on my micro-expressions. Lots of research, lots of practice. And lots of trust, too. With a character like mine, I really relied on Fr- on my fellow actors in those scenes. So yeah, definitely challenging. But who doesn’t love a good challenge?"

"And did you take any inspiration from other people's work? Any source material that helped you out as you built your character?"

"Of course!" You smiled, a hint of humor in your tone as you thought of your response. "Yeah, I did. Actually, one of the biggest inspirations for my role, believe it or not, was Ferb. From 'Phineas and Ferb'."

"The- The children's show?" The interviewer questioned with a grin.

"Yeah, Ridley thought it was brilliant!" You laughed. "We watched compilations of Ferb scenes on youtube together. And I know that Fred- Fred Hechinger, who plays Emperor Caracalla-, he also brought up Sid Vicious with Ridley, as well as other sources like that. Sir Ridley Scott has great taste, there's no denying that."

'ferb as inspiration for a movie like this,,, gen z in the film industry really are the gift that keeps on giving'

'im just imagining y/n and ridley scott curled up on the couch watching phineas and ferb reruns. that man is 86 years old. this is brilliant.'

'bro didn't even have to say anything and y/n still brought up fred 💀'

'the gen z cast members making ridley scott watch cartoons is sending me'

'not her pretending she didn't mean to say fred when she talked about trust, we all heard you y/n'

Unbeknownst to you, Fred's interviews were going much like yours, only a few feet behind you on the carpet.

"You look amazing today!" Claire, the same reporter you spoke to, told Fred during his first interview on the carpet.

"Thank you, thank you." He replied bashfully as he tried to subtly look around for you, but he couldn't see you just yet. "Everyone looks so great, everyone."

She asked him a few questions and then came time for her ending segment.

"Alright, to close off, we've got a little game here."

"A game?" Fred smiled with raised brows. "I love games." He said softly, not realizing that the microphone would pick it up.

"Yes, a quick one. You just have to choose between team brooding brunets and team freaky redheads. We've asking everyone to join."

"Woah!" Fred exclaimed as he received the signs. "That's me." He pointed out his own face in the picture of him and Joseph. "What are we basing our choice on here?"

"Well, the internet is battling on who is more attractive."

"Oh my god." Fred chortled, not expecting that answer. "Who's played the game?" He asked, still examining the hand held signs.

"As of now, we've spoken to Joseph Quinn, Connie Nielsen, and y/n l/n." Claire recounted.

Fred's eyes lit up and his cheeks reddened at the mention of your name. "And what's the- what's the consensus so far?"

"It's two to one. Can you guess who's in the lead?" Claire asked.

"Let me think... Well, Joseph -my brother-, he definitely voted for us." He pondered aloud as he counted the votes off on his fingers. "Connie... I think Connie went for team brunets. I mean, it's her husband. She's gotta." He grinned when it came to you. "y/n chose me, right? We're in the lead?"

"Yeah, you're right on all counts! You really know your cast members." Claire laughed. "y/n didn't want to anger Emperor Caracalla."

"Oh, she couldn't. I’ve got too much of a soft spot for her." Fred shook his head emphatically.

"So, are you keeping team redheads in the lead? Or will you give us a tie?"

"No, I'm going team redheads!" Fred exclaimed. "I'm not helping out my competition, no way!"

'this man has bewitched me with his beautiful eyes and calming demeanor'

'he always calls joe his brother im CRYINGGG'

'did you see his face when they mention y/n, this man can't hide his crush for the life of him 🥺' ↳ 'neither can she lol'

'what do yall know about fred hechinger 🗣️🗣️🗣️'

'fred immediately knowing that y/n chose him, kill me right now.' ↳ 'mind you the choice was caracalla. she still said 'fred' and he said 'me'. can they be more obvious?'

'the way this man said 'i love games' protect him at all costs'

‘he said ‘i’ve got a soft spot for her’ is this the year of men yearning?’ ↳ ‘it’s just the paul mescal effect’

It was during his next interview that he saw you. He was talking about his experience building the character of Emperor Caracalla with Sir Ridley Scott as well as Joseph Quinn when he finally caught sight of you. You had spent a bit longer with a specific reporter down the carpet, causing Fred to catch up to you. 

“Of course, y/n was a great help as well.” He smiled, reaching over to brush against your elbow to catch your attention. At the perfect time, too, because you had just finished talking to the reporter in front of you.

“Oh, Fred!” You beamed, coming over to give him a hug. 

“Look at you.” Fred spoke against your shoulder. He pulled away from the hug and brought you into his side in front of the camera, almost like he was showing you off. “Look at her, isn’t she stunning.”

“Stop it,” you rolled your eyes as you tried your best not to show how his compliment affected you. “I’m sorry for interrupting, I just had to say hello.”

“No worries,” the reporter reassured you. “Fred was actually saying how you helped with the building of his character.”

“Yeah, we worked really closely during pre-production actually.” You nodded, acutely aware of Fred’s hands on you. He had one hand casually tucked into his pocket while his other arm draped across your waist, his hand resting against your hip. “My character was almost like Caracalla’s sidekick, so the motives for all her actions are really based around him.”

“I’d argue that she was more of a mirror, actually.” You turned to look at Fred, never passing up an opportunity to hear his view on these things. “She’s the complete opposite of Caracalla, but in a way she represents who he truly is under all the pressure of being in Geta’s shadow.”

“And under all the syphilis, of course.” You added, causing Fred to giggle.

“Yeah, and under the syphilis.”

‘he seems like such a sweet guy 🥺’

‘did you see his face when he saw her???  😫😫😫 theyre in love, your honor’

‘him showing her off like that is peak soft boyfriend behavior’

‘they just called me single in seven different languages’

‘his laugh is actually so cute, who is this man and why am i in love with him? 😍’ ↳ 'get in line' ↳'behind y/n, you mean?'

‘the way he’s touching her???? im just gonna go take a nap in front of an oncoming train’

‘im calling it, new hollywood it couple’

‘look at how he looks at her!!! may this love find me 🙏’

[simp4fictionalmenandjesus]

Yandere platonic batfamily with a ‘definition of average reader.’

You’ve always been a low-key background character type person. Your grades were normal, every report card since you started getting report cards are all filled with B’s. At school, you’re not popular or unpopular. You have a close group of friends, and know a few people from outside of school. You play a sport, but don’t exceed at it.

The only thing that wasn’t average about you was your family.

Gotham’s sweetheart, Bruce Wayne, adopted you when you were 12 for IDK WHAT REASON HE JUST DID OKAY?????? Anyways. You were the normal amount of awkward that a 12 year old is in the face of their new family.

At your first official family dinner you sat between your older brother Dick and older sister Cass. (Yes, Alfred did strategically plan the seating so the most amicable people would be next to you.) Dick Ames you about school, your friends, your hobbies and all that jazz.

Now, you’d think a table full of vigilantes who have faced off against Gods, traveled the universe, made leaps of technology, and regularly interact with aliens and creatures of myth would be a bit bored when hearing about your math class and a new tv show you were watching. However, the fact that you’re biggest life problems was learning algebra made you seem somewhat precious in their eyes.

So they listen, and they watch, and they become more invested in your life, then, in you.

When Dick’s in town he picks you up from school and brings you to get a sweet treat while asking you about your school day. Unfortunately for the vigilante, he’s not stationed in Gotham so he’ll have to settle for face time calls. Sometimes it’s surprising how much he remembers from your past rambles. You swear he lost have a recording device in his brain, when you bring thay up to him, he laughs, ruffles your hair and glances at the tiny scar behind your ear.

Jason, on the other hand, insists on taking you out for outings, thought he always insists that you plan them. He asks you to bring him to your favourite places and you always comply, taking him to the street food stand where you go with your friends to buy snacks after school, or the manor’s own gardens where Jason will carry you on his shoulders to get a closer look at whatever caught your eyes in a tree. And sure, it’s kind of weird that he already knows the most efficient way to drive to those places before asking you, but he told you he just knew Gotham well.

The brother you see least is Tim seeing as he spends a lot of his time at the office or his own apartment and doesn’t particularly like going on outings much. However, you do text Tim the most. Updating him on random things as he does the same. It is a bit surprising when he texts you to stop picking your fingers in class, but when you ask him how he knows, he’ll claim it’s his sixth sense.

The brother you see most is Damian. Though he’s the one you talk to least. It’s kind of like he’s a shadow following you around. When you start attending Gotham Academy, he’ll sit with you every lunch time just listening to you talk. At the Manor, he’ll let you study in his room while he does art. All the conversations you have with him are mostly one sided with only slight nods to indicate he’s listening. When you ask why he doesn’t talk much he says that he isn’t use to saying nice things to siblings. You (correctly) assume that he doesn’t have friends and treat him extra kindly, sure, you haven’t been able to hangout with your friends at the academy lately but Damian’s family, so he gets priority, right?

Bruce isn’t too sure on how to raise you. When he suggested to his sons that they should tell you about them being vigilantes, all four refused. So, for once, the Batman didn’t really know what to do. Sure, the hundreds of parenting books he read placed emphasise on boundaries and not invading his kids privacy, but in a place like Gotham, Bruce had to be much more hands on. He has a tracker on ALL his kids, so what’s the harm of having one on you? He’s just a worried father.

The family’s yandere-ness boils over after Gotham Academy gets invaded by a group of thugs. Damian stays by you the whole time while the rest of your family, in costume, easily dispose of the thugs. You really didn’t get harmed at all, so when Bruce pulls you out of school you’re a bit shocked. Even if you can understand his worries, you explain to Bruce that you were okay and school was important to you. The conversation ends with an argument.

See, the thing with the bats is that they’re not normal at all. So the arguments that the family is used to ends with bloodshed or leaving the country. They don’t want you to hurt you but they also really don’t want you to try leaving.

The manor has a lot of stairs. Even thought Alfred can clean every corner of the manor perfectly, he won’t always know when there’s a mess. It’s rainy season as well, Titus likes rolling around in the puddles outside. So a wet trail on the stairs isn’t too absurd. Plus, it’s early in the morning, you’re a bit groggy. So when you tumbled down the stairs and break your leg, it’s not too crazy of a situation.

————————-

Posting for now but might rewrite i was tweaking when I wrote this late at night, i confused myself and I def lost the plot a lil oops

[palmerzy]

period sex with Spencer? to help relieve the cramps he like puts a towel down and dicks the reader deep pls pls pls

also requested: Might be weird but l'm on my period and have to ask, would you write something with Spencer and period sex?

don’t worry 2nd anon, it’s not weird at all, period sex is definitely like…top 5 ways to do it let’s be real! and spencer would totally be down for helping his partner feel better ;)

NSFW! - explicit sexual themes incl. blood & period sex.

spencer is no stranger to blood, so the prospect of period sex is really no different to normal sex for him, with the added bonus of helping you relieve your cramps.

he’s happy to give you his hands and his cock, and he’d probably offer his mouth too if you asked for it, but there’s a line somewhere. he covers his bed in towels for you, ensuring they overlap so you won’t fear bleeding through. he’s extra attentive during this time of the month, especially when it comes to intimacy.

knowing how good an orgasm is for cramp relief, he’s usually the first to suggest it, before the thought even crosses your mind. if you’re curled up on the sofa reading or watching a movie, he’ll come up behind you, leaning his chin on his hands as he speaks, “i set up some towels in the bedroom.” his words are implicit enough to have you leaping up, soft feet padding against hardwood floors in anticipation.

once you’re sat all pretty on his bed, legs spread and naked from the waist down, he’s like a predator hunting prey, giving you that shit-eating grin as his fingers tease the crimson staining your entrance. he’d plunge two inside in no time, using the blood as lube, curling his fingers towards himself.

he loves the way your reactions seem to be louder during this time of the month, like the pleasure is more intense as his slender fingers work you towards a release. he circles his thumb against your clit, gently because he’s aware it’s more sensitive, whispering sweet words of encouragement into your ear.

“come for me, baby, you know you’ll feel better after,” he murmurs, a tender kiss of his lips landing on the shell of your ear, whilst his fingers squelch in and out of your depths. his wrist and hand is coated in a gory mess by now, but his focus is on you, making you feel better.

when he’s made you come at least once from his fingers, he’d move onto your joint pleasures - not without taking a moment to go wash his hands, of course. he’s not a big fan of seeing blood on your body anywhere it shouldn’t be, so covering your hips and waist in your own plasma wouldn’t settle well in his overactive mind.

nonetheless, once his hands are clean and he can hold you as he wishes, he’d settle you back against the pillows, your legs spread in anticipation for him. even just running the head of his cock along your slit and gathering your fluids is enough to make him shudder, bracing one hand on your waist, his head buried against your shoulder.

when he finally slowly sinks into you, he lets out a shaky breath, feeling your wet heat surround him. if he’s honest, he loves period sex, mainly because the blood makes you warmer when he’s sheathed within you, and he thrives on that warmth. spencer is definitely someone who participates in sex largely for comfort, and there’s nothing more comfortable than being snuggly settled inside of you and knowing he’s helping his partner relieve their pain.

he doesn’t overly bother keeping a slow pace, knowing a faster rhythm will ease the cramps more. he pistons his hips into you, hands grasping at your waist and your stomach, feeling the slight bloat due to your ovulation as he whines against your neck. your own hands claw at his back, adding even more blood to the mix, legs tightening around him to pull him impossibly closer.

he can feel his pelvis and upper thighs being coated with a mixture of your fluids, but he’s unbothered, continuing to pump his cock into you. every smack of his tip against the slight ruggedness of your walls as you shed for the month has his mind blanking, only able to conjure thoughts of you and your pliant body beneath him.

every time spencer fucks you, he’s deep, but when it’s that time of the month, something about each stroke of his cock feels like it’s hitting somewhere new, like he’s so physically within you that you could become one. you can’t help the way you write beneath him, back arching against his chest, hips rolling to meet his rhythm.

when he’s ready to come, he’d reach down a hand once more, circling his thumb around your sensitive clit as he had done previously, coating the digit crimson. “you’re so warm, gonna make me come,” “so good, so so good, is it helping? yeah? i’m helping you?” he’d pant against your neck, and it’s then that you’d realise part of him genuinely just gets off on being beneficial to your body, on easing the pain swarming in your lower abdomen.

spencer’s hips snap just a few more times before the both of you are reaching climax, your crevice tightening around him, blood leaking onto the towels beneath the two of you. he’d keep his hips exactly parallel to yours, letting his come swarm within you, pure white mixing with deep red in a passionate cocktail.

he’d pull out eventually, cock and lower tummy covered, but he doesn’t mind. he’s really, truly, unbothered. he got to come, you got to come and feel better, so why would a little blood put him off? plus, if anything, it’s just an excuse for the both of you to run off to the shower together, likely for round two.

thanks anons! 💋

[awrkive]

For the milestone bash

No. 23 from the smut list with any of your jks please and thankyou ☺️

23. "I saw on your Amazon wishlist you wanted a dildo. You know I got a dick, right?"

note: last drabble im posting for awhile and also the reqs are closed!! thank u sm for participating in the follower milestone game and im sorry if i wasnt able to write the req that you sent in 😔! dw im still going to go over them once in a while, one of these days.

wc: 1.3k

warning/s: p in v s*x, himbo!jk (hes so stupid i have a crush on him)

Jungkook can be infuriating sometimes. Your friends assume that the reason you dislike him is because he’s a big himbo who can’t even say the word misogyny right and has a GPA lower than a minor earthquake magnitude, but you find that’s the least of your concern when the man has a problem with privacy. 

He doesn’t know it. He absolutely has no concept of it and you thought – upon the first month of being roommates with him – that he’s just the typical fratboy who likes flaunting his body to any audience because he knows he looks good, but he genuinely just doesn’t like hanging around with clothes on and would always forget that you exist and he can’t just parade around with nothing but his tight boxers on during the weekends. 

Jungkook’s the type to not lock his bedroom. He’s the type to not knock when entering the bathroom, the type to not shy away when he sees your underwear in the laundry room. He doesn’t have shame – and it’s exactly why he sticks his nose into your phone charging at the outlet by the island counter with the Amazon app opened while you go and take out the trash real quick. 

In his defense, he didn’t mean to. He just walked past it when he was making his toast – but a very neon picture on your lit up screen caught his attention and when he squinted his eyes, he almost couldn’t believe it. 

A dildo. There’s a pink dildo in your Amazon wishlist, sandwiched by a list of otherwise beige-colored stationery items that included a lot of… notebooks.

And you definitely could not miss it. Not when it’s neon! And not when… what? Eight inches? 

Jungkook scoffs.

That's exactly his size! 

He couldn’t believe his eyes. You… a dildo in your Amazon wishlist? Hah. Jungkook didn’t expect that. He’s always seen you as this… prude, somewhat innocent librarian. And you are actually a part-time librarian at school. And you kind of act sort of prude-ish, and there’s nothing wrong with it – not really, Jungkook thinks. You’re still hot and sexy to him – although, he tries to not think of you that way because you’re really nice to him even though he knows he can be a bit too much sometimes and he knows he isn’t exactly the type of person you keep in your circle.

He kept a rowdy set of friends (except Yoongi) while you go out with your intellectual friend group who are all members of an intelligent club at uni. You know, debate club, the school paper, maths and sciences… Jungkook’s just shocked you even entertain him because boy, do your friends kind of hate him. 

Anyway. The dildo. Oh wow. This definitely changes things – but Jungkook doesn’t know what exactly. He never thought about whether you’re still a virgin or not, but finding out about the dildo in your Amazon wishlist is definitely making him think things.

Can you even handle the eight inches anyway? You’re kind of small. The girls he’s been with had always commented on how big he is but he’s very efficient with it and he knows well enough to make the girl cum twice before putting it in so the stretch doesn’t hurt. Would you use lube if you used that plastic dick? You must, you should… but like, Jungkook is also really good at cunnilingus because no one loves pussy as much as him so maybe, you’d need someone’s help to prep you and—

“Jungkook?” 

Jungkook feels every hair on his body standing up when he hears your voice behind him. In quick succession, he manages to make it seem like he’s checking out the chip on the edge of the counter instead of your phone. 

“Hey!” he greets you with a smile. 

His heart skips a beat when your eyebrows furrow, eyes landing from his face to your phone. None of you say anything until you walk further into the kitchen. Then, you grab your phone and turn it off. 

“I’ll head out in fifteen minutes. I’m sleeping over at Yena’s for a group study. Can you lock the door later?” You ask him. 

It’s weird because it isn’t the first time you went around in a tank top and a pair of short shorts inside the apartment, but right now all Jungkook can think of is how tight your shorts are. And also how smooth your skin is – and how nice your chest looks.

“Jungkook?” You call again, and Jungkook snaps out of his trance. 

“Uh… yeah, sure.” 

“Okay. Thank you.” 

It’s the last thing you said before you take out your charger and go straight to your bedroom. 

Jungkook stands there in the kitchen wide-eyed, a bit stunned at the turn of events. 

———

You knew Jungkook saw that. And you ranted about it to Yena – how embarrassed you were for having him see the damn dildo in your wishlist. You weren’t embarrassed about wishlisting a dildo – you’re just embarrassed that Jungkook has seen it out of all people. 

Ever since that day, you’ve been trying to avoid him. Not that it’s hard because your schedules don’t align most of the time but Sundays are always free and you have no choice but to face him over dinners. 

What you’ve noticed, though, is that… Jungkook is being a little different, too. He usually has that suave, easy-going vibe to him, and it’s fine if his approach to other people has changed as well but you realized it’s only you he’s being weird to. 

So you decide to confront him. 

And it ends up this way. 

“Oh my god–” You gasp audibly when Jungkook inserts the first inch of his cock in your pussy, mouth agape as you stare into his eyes while he continues to get in deeper. 

“Jesus fuck.” Jungkook moans, tightening his hold around your waist. “Tightest pussy I’ve– ah, shit, stop clenching, pretty.” 

You look absolutely delicious with your mouth hanging open, pleasure written all over your face. Jungkook would lie if he says that he hasn’t thought about how you’d look like during sex – especially over the past few weeks but for some reason, the universe has pull its strings for you two to end up this way and the Academy really ought to give him an award for not nutting just right after putting his dick in you because phew, you’re more than what he imagined. 

“Oh, that– that feels good,” you pant, hands reaching out for his biceps. “Harder, Jungkook.” 

And he does go harder, pulling out for a moment and slamming right back into your tight pussy which welcomes and grips him like a vice he swears he’s popping veins over how much he has to constraint himself from going crazy. 

But maybe he’s giving himself too much credit because one second you’re moaning and it sounds like music to his ears but then the next he’s saying something stupid like, “I–shiiit– I saw on your Amazon wishlist you wanted a dildo. You know I got a dick, right?” 

Jungkook’s got to stop running his mouth. Namjoon tells him he’s way too chattery sometimes and he’s right but he can’t help that he has a lot of thoughts in his head! So what if he thinks that he can outdo a dildo in any way? From the looks of your face right now, it seems like he can!

But you have a deadpan look on your face, a contrast to how you looked just seconds ago.

He’s prepared himself for something that would ruin this moment, but you only stare at him and say, “Yeah. So put it to good use and shut up.” 

Jungkook thinks he’d cum in the next ten seconds. 

“Yes, ma’am.” He grunts as he slides in and out, picking up his pace, sweat forming in his temples. He greedily lets his hand wander over your breasts and squeeze one, making you moan.

“Good.” 

You don’t know where you began and ended, all you know now is that as much as Jungkook can be infuriating sometimes, at least he can make you cum. 

And oh, he was definitely way better than the dildo Amazon had just dropped into your door three days ago. 

[creatur3featur3]

Street Rat p2

word count: 3.6k (WOO ON A ROLL LOVES!!)

A/N: DEFINITELY out of my writers block! only took about, 3 hours? usually takes me like a full day when i'm unmotivated but here we are!

----Enjoy Loves----

Okay so maybe you were following Sevika around for weeks on end now, but it wasn't exactly your fault- it was hers.

All that being nice and giving you food, or just being human and providing for someone who obviously couldn't take care of herself properly. She had been dying to get you off her tail with you following her like a stray dog constantly, you were ruining her reputation with your weird attachment to her. 

The regulars she played cards with gave you weird glances but she always seemed to scare them off from bothering you when you were digging around in people's dumped junk with a stern gaze. You definitely seemed to live up to your name of a street rat with your constant wandering off to find someone that shined under the dim lights of the Undercity’s lamp posts, she had even gotten you a small bag as well which had honestly surprised you.

You scoffed when she threw it to you, “Are you serious? I don't need this shit.” you spat sharply, god she wished she could rip that  sharp tongue out of yours out of your mouth. She set down her cup, whatever liquid she was drinking sloushing out.

“You think I don't see you storing your little trinkets out in dumped boxes? You're pathetic, the amount of times I've seen people swipe from your little stashes is ridiculous.” Your brow furrows at her words, you're not pathetic, you're smart, hell- brilliant even! “WELL, Miss.im so smart, i'll have you know I have many stashes around the city,”

“and how many of them stay full?”

you pause.

“...like.. three maybe…” you admit with a pout, “Then take the bag” she says sternly.

You grumble as you snatch the bag off the table, examining it with cold eyes but muttering a quiet “thank you” under your breath- then you're gone.

You choose not to stick around her during the day, too many eyes, you stay on the outskirts of the city- just like today. 

you squirm up the broken fire escape, trying your best to host yourself up with- little success. You hate to admit that Sevika’s ‘gift’ was actually pretty helpful, much more storage for cogs and other useful stuff- only downside is that you put way too much stuff in it.

“come on!-" You hiss under your breath as you hang onto the railing, trying to throw the bag up onto the floor of the fire escape so you can get yourself up. Such you were fit, your worked out a good amount, but.. your weren't exactly sure what to really work out.

The bag thudded onto the rusty fire escape with a loud clang, the sound echoing down the alleyway below. You winced, glancing over your shoulder to make sure no one had heard. The last thing you needed was some nosy thug poking around while you were mid-scramble.  

"Stupid bag," you muttered, wiping sweat off your brow. The thing had been helpful, sure, but damn if it wasn’t heavier than you thought it would be with all the “essentials” you’d crammed into it.  

With a deep breath, you grabbed the edge of the fire escape again, gritting your teeth as you hoisted yourself up. Your muscles strained against the weight of your own body, your arms trembling as you kicked your legs to get some momentum. “Okay... almost there...”  

Finally, with a groan, you managed to drag yourself up, collapsing onto the cold metal floor with a loud huff. You rolled onto your back, staring up at the dim, flickering lights of the Undercity’s skyline, panting like you’d just run a marathon.  

“Maybe I should’ve worked out more…” you mumbled, glaring at the bag now sitting innocently beside you.  

The memory of Sevika tossing it to you came to mind, her cold, stern gaze practically daring you to argue with her. She hadn’t been wrong about your stashes getting raided—half of them were basically public property at this point—but still, you’d never admit she had a point. That’d be giving her too much satisfaction.  

As much as you hated to admit it, the bag was starting to feel like a lifeline. Not just because it kept your things safe, but because... well, it was from her.  

You sighed, sitting up and brushing your hands off on your pants. “Whatever,” you muttered to yourself, swinging the bag over your shoulder again. “It’s just a stupid bag. Doesn’t mean anything.”  

As you climb further up the ladders you find yourself at what you call, home. The climb had left your muscles burning, but as you finally pulled yourself up to the top platform, a sense of relief washed over you. This was your little corner of the world, tucked high above the chaos of the Undercity, where few dared to tread.

"Home sweet home," you muttered, glancing at the haphazard setup before you.

The patchwork of old carpets and threadbare blankets was hardly luxurious, and the wooden crates stacked into a leaning structure could barely be called stable. Still, it had its charm—if only because it was yours. 

You ducked under the slanted “roof” of your makeshift tent, the faint smell of oil and dust filling your nose as you tossed the bag onto the ground with a loud thud. Sliding down onto the pile of blankets you called a bed, you let out a long, drawn-out exhale, the tension in your shoulders finally releasing.  

After a few moments, you sat up, rolling your sleeves as you reached for the bag. “Alright, let’s see what we’ve got this time,” you murmured to yourself, the habit of talking aloud in your solitude one you never quite managed to break.  

One by one, you started pulling items from the bag: cogs, rusted bolts, wires tangled like a bird’s nest, a couple of scraps of metal that might be useful if you ever found a decent buyer. You laid them out in neat rows, sorting them with a critical eye.  

“Junk, maybe useful, definitely junk, hmm… potential,” you muttered, setting aside a few pieces you deemed worth keeping.  

Every so often, you paused to examine an item more closely, holding it up to the dim light filtering through the cracks of your tent. A faint smile tugged at your lips as you found a small, intact gear with its teeth still sharp. “Hah, not bad,” you said to no one, setting it aside with a sense of triumph.  

This was your ritual, your little piece of order in an otherwise chaotic world. Sorting through the refuse of the Undercity, finding bits and pieces that others had discarded without a second thought—it wasn’t glamorous, but it was yours. 

Your contented sorting came to an abrupt halt as the distant noise filtered up through the layers of steel and grime below. First, it was the sharp crack of something breaking—glass, maybe, or a chair being hurled against a wall. Then came the muffled yelling, too distorted by the distance to make out the words.  

You froze, your fingers hovering over a twisted wire. It wasn’t unusual to hear fights in the Undercity; hell, it was practically the soundtrack of the place. But this time was different.  

This time, you recognized the low, gravelly tone of one of the voices. Sevika.  

Your stomach twisted as you strained to listen, hoping you’d misheard. But there it was again—her voice, cutting through the chaos with a sharp bark of anger.  

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, scrambling to your feet. For a moment, you hesitated, torn between staying put in the safety of your little hideout and the nagging pull of curiosity—and maybe worry—that pushed you toward the ladder.  

Another crash, louder this time, made the decision for you. You grabbed the strap of your bag, slinging it over your shoulder as you moved toward the edge of the platform. Your heart pounded as you carefully climbed down, your usual annoyance at the shaky fire escape forgotten in your rush.  

By the time you reached the lower levels, the noise had grown louder, more distinct. You crept closer, ducking behind a stack of crates as you peered around the corner.  

There she was, Sevika, in the middle of a small brawl. Three guys, maybe more, circled her like vultures, but she looked as unfazed as ever, her mechanical arm gleaming under the dim light as she sent one of them flying with a single swing.  

Your first instinct was to turn back, let her handle it. She was Sevika, after all; she didn’t need help. But as another thug lunged at her with a broken pipe, something in you snapped.  

“Damn it,” you hissed, gripping the edge of the crate as you tried to come up with a plan. Or maybe you’d just jump in and wing it. Either way, you weren’t about to leave her hanging.

Though your- stupidity gets the best of you as you reach for a broken glass of whatever and throw it at one of the men, hitting his head

The moment the glass shattered against the man’s head, you felt a rush of pride. Bullseye. But that fleeting sense of accomplishment was quickly replaced with a cold, sinking feeling as the three men turned toward you, their expressions darkening like storm clouds.  

He wiped a hand over his face, now dripping with blood from a jagged cut the glass had left, his glare locking onto you like a predator sizing up its prey. “You’ve got a death wish, kid,” he growled, taking a menacing step forward.  

“Oh, crap,” you muttered, your bravado evaporating in an instant.  

Without another thought, you turned on your heel and bolted, your heart pounding in your ears as your boots slapped against the slick pavement. Behind you, the sound of shouts and heavy footsteps echoed as the men gave chase.  

“Stupid stupid stupid!!” you hissed to yourself, dodging around a stack of broken crates. This wasn’t exactly the first time your mouth—or in this case, your impulse to throw things—had gotten you into trouble, but this? This was a new level of stupid.  

You ducked into a narrow alley, squeezing through the gap between two rusted pipes as the men shouted behind you. Your pulse was racing, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you scanned the area for an escape route.  

Up ahead, you spotted a ladder leading to one of the upper platforms, the kind you’d climbed a hundred times before. “Come on, come on,” you whispered, practically leaping toward it.  

As you grabbed the rungs and started to climb, one of the men reached the base of the ladder, cursing loudly. He jumped, his fingers grazing your ankle, but you kicked out with a frantic yell, forcing him to let go.  

“Keep running, street rat!” one of them yelled.  

“Oh, I plan to!” you shouted back, your voice dripping with sarcasm despite the panic clawing at your chest.  

You scrambled onto the platform above, your legs burning and your breath coming in ragged gasps. From this vantage point, you could see Sevika below, taking advantage of your little distraction you created. For a split second, you thought about doubling back to help her, but another shout from below reminded you of your own predicament.  

"She better appreciate this," you muttered bitterly as you darted off into the shadows, praying you could lose your pursuers before they decided to make good on their threats. 

–

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” Sevika snarled as you sat next to her at the little market you had come to know for your routine feeding, “those guys could've and would've killed you!” She hissed.

“I was helping!” you grumble, “Helping doesn't mean almost getting yourself killed!” Sevika shot right back.

“You should've been able to take those guys easily, they were so much smaller than you!”

“I had it.”

“Didn't seem like it Toolbox.”

“Stop calling me that,”

“Toolbox.”

“Street Rat.”

“Mines cooler anyways.” you hum, Sevika scoffs with a shake of her head, “You fucking wish.”

“Well,” you start, shoving the fruit you had stuffed in your bag into your mouth, biting into it sharply, the juices running down your chin- “I deserve a thank you.”

“You are not getting a thank you for making me worry,” Sevika spat, “awww, so you do care!” you hum sarcastically, “oh, my heart might just explode with joy!”

Sevika rolled her eyes so hard you were surprised they didn’t pop out of her skull. “Don’t flatter yourself Rat. I care because you’re a liability. If you go and get yourself killed, that’s just one more mess I have to deal with.”  

You snorted, chewing noisily on your fruit. “Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that, Sevvy.”  

Her glare could have melted steel. “Call me that again and see what happens.”  

“Sevvy.” You said it sweetly, almost a purr, batting your lashes for extra effect.  

The mechanical fingers of her arm clenched with a faint hiss, and you couldn’t help but grin, even as she loomed closer, her presence casting a shadow over you. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that,” she growled, voice low and dangerous.  

“And brains,” you added smugly, leaning back as if her looming didn’t faze you. “I mean, I did save your ass, remember?”  

She scoffed, crossing her arms. “If by ‘save’ you mean ‘made my life infinitely harder,’ then yeah. Thanks for that.”  

You bit into your fruit again, savoring its sweetness as you shrugged. “Same difference. You’d miss me if I wasn’t around.”  

“I’d sleep better, that’s for sure.”  

“Awww, Sev, you’re so sweet,” you teased, wiping juice off your chin with your sleeve. “No wonder people love you so much.”  

Her lips twitched, like she was fighting back a smirk. “You’re lucky you’re useful sometimes, Street Rat. Otherwise, I’d have tossed you into the gutter by now.”  

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, grinning despite her insult. “Admit it, Sevika. You like having me around.”  

She shook her head, muttering something under her breath as she turned her attention back to her drink. You took that as a win, leaning back against the table with a satisfied smirk.

“So,” You hum as you throw the finished fruit onto the street, “Where we going now?”

Sevika stood up, pushing in her chair and throwing her cloak over her mechanical arm “I'm, going home.”

You frowned, tilting your head like a confused pup. “Home? What about me?”  

Sevika glanced over her shoulder, her expression flat. “What about you?”  

You scoffed, standing up and brushing the crumbs off your clothes. “I thought we were a team now.”  

She barked a laugh, the kind that was more mocking than amused. “Team? Don’t flatter yourself, Toolbox. You’re just a stray I can’t seem to shake off.”  

You put your hands on your hips, leaning forward as you shot her a challenging glare. “Stray or not, you’d be bored without me, and you know it.”  

“Bored?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow as she adjusted her cloak. “More like finally at peace.”  

“Sure, Sev, keep telling yourself that,” you quipped, falling into step beside her despite her best efforts to stride ahead.  

She stopped abruptly, turning to face you with a sharp glare. “What do you want, huh? A place to crash? A warm meal? Or do you just like annoying me?”  

You grinned, not missing a beat. “Little bit of all three, honestly.”  

She exhaled sharply, clearly trying to rein in her irritation. “You’re impossible.”  

“And yet, here we are,” you said with a cheeky shrug.  

For a moment, Sevika just stared at you, her jaw tightening as if she were debating whether to knock you out or just walk away. Finally, she shook her head, muttering something about bad decisions as she turned back toward the street.  

“Fine,” she said gruffly, not bothering to look back at you. “Follow me. But don’t think for a second this means I like you.”  

Your grin widened as you fell into step behind her. “Of course not, Sevvy. This is purely professional.”  

“Call me that again, and you’re sleeping in the gutter.”  

“Love you too,” you teased, earning a sharp growl from her as the two of you disappeared into the crowded streets of the Undercity.

God she hated you.

As you follow her not too far behind she doesn't look back- until she hears a loud CLUNK.

She looked back to see you diving into a dumpster, your legs propelling yourself further into it.

Sevika stopped dead in her tracks, her mechanical arm twitching slightly as she turned to stare at you, her expression an unreadable mix of irritation and disbelief.  

“What the hell are you doing now?” she called out, her voice carrying that sharp edge of exasperation she reserved just for you.  

Your legs flailed for a moment, kicking at the air as you wormed your way further into the dumpster. “I saw something shiny!” you shouted back, your voice muffled by the metal container.  

Sevika pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering under her breath. “Shiny? Are you a crow now?”  

“Shut up, it might be important!” you countered, your voice ringing with mock indignation.  

The dumpster rattled as you rummaged around, the sound grating on Sevika’s nerves. She glanced around, noting the amused—or horrified—looks from a few passersby. She sighed deeply, her patience wearing thin.  

“You know,” she said, her tone flat as she leaned against a nearby wall, arms crossed, “there’s a fine line between being resourceful and being a complete idiot. Guess which side you’re on.”  

You didn’t respond immediately, too engrossed in whatever treasure you were hunting. A moment later, you popped your head out of the dumpster, holding up a slightly dented but intact pocket watch. “See? Totally worth it!” you declared, grinning triumphantly.  

Sevika raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “A broken watch?”  

“It’s vintage!” you argued, shaking the watch for emphasis.  

“Yeah, sure. Vintage trash,” she shot back, turning on her heel. “Let’s go, before someone mistakes you for actual garbage.”  

You hopped out of the dumpster, brushing off your clothes as you jogged to catch up with her. “You’re just mad you didn’t see it first,” you teased, tucking the watch into your bag.  

She didn’t respond, but you swore you saw her roll her eyes as she picked up her pace, trying her best to ignore you.

But your voice was grating, the way you chatted away about god knows what, trying to take apart the watch as you walked, proving to Sevika by the brand name on the inside of the watch that it was definitely worth something.

“See? I told you, I know what's useless or, worthy!” You hum happily.

you were definitely a lot different from when Sevika first saw you, when you were a lot more sharp and,I guess hateful. Now here you are, talking her ear off about some history behind the watch.

Cute.

Sevika shook her head firmly, no, absolutely not, you were not cute or anything like that, you were a dingy kid from the streets, probably not even 26, you had your whole life ahead of you.

Sevika’s gaze flickered over to you as you babbled on about the intricate history behind the watch, your hands working quickly to twist and turn its parts, barely looking up as you walked beside her.  

“Mm-hmm, sure, sure,” she muttered, her focus on the path ahead, though her mind was starting to wander despite herself. You were relentless, a flurry of words and energy that kept bouncing from one topic to the next, your excitement practically buzzing through the air. It was almost impossible not to listen to you, even if she didn’t want to.  

But cute? No.  

You were just some kid, a street rat, sure, but not in a pathetic sense anymore. She couldn’t quite pinpoint it. Maybe it was how you had this endless drive to find the value in everything, even when it was so easy for someone like her to overlook. Or how your once sharp edges seemed to have softened over time, the constant biting sarcasm now replaced with, well, an actual willingness to communicate, to engage.  

God, what the hell was wrong with her?

She tried shaking it off, focusing on the weight of her boots as they hit the cracked pavement. She was not about to get all sentimental or soft. That would be a mistake.  

“I’m serious, Sevika,” you continued, eyes sparkling as you looked up at her, “I could sell this for a few cogs. It’s pretty rare, maybe even more than that if I find the right buyer!”  

She made a noncommittal sound in her throat, but inside, something shifted just a bit. You really are something else, she thought.  

Her mind screamed at her to pull away, to put some distance between herself and you before she made a mistake, but here she was, still walking beside you, letting you prattle on and on.  

“Yeah, whatever, just don’t go blowing it on something stupid,” she muttered, though there was a flicker of something in her voice that she quickly smothered.  

You gave her a sidelong glance, not missing the subtle change. “You really do care, huh?”  

She didn’t answer, instead pushing her shoulders back and picking up the pace, determined to ignore the way her heart seemed to tighten. She could still feel the eyes of the people around you—at least, that’s what she told herself.  

But maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t just about saving you from getting yourself killed anymore. Maybe... she was just stuck with you, whether she liked it or not.  

“Keep dreaming, kid,” she said gruffly, her voice betraying none of the warmth creeping up her spine.  

“Aw, you're soft, Sev," you teased, and she felt her chest tighten even more.  

"Shut up, Streetie," she snapped, the words coming out far too fondly for her liking.  

“Streetie? that's a new one,” you giggle slightly, seeming to notice before you cleared your throat.

(what do we think about making this a series Loves?)

[circeyoru]

Shadow and Void _ Part 4

[Yandere!Sung Jinwoo x Enemy Monarch!Reader]

Part 1 ― Part 2 ― Part 3 ― Part 4 (here)

You want to kill something—someone to be specific—right now. Even as you were surrounded with snacks you liked, you hated the situation unfolding before you. The mind of a human is just too weird for you to understand in any sense.

You angrily bit on the chip between your fingers with a loud and resounding snap that broke the silence while your eyes drilled holes into the man who was basically holding you there against your will, maybe with some form of bribe, but it was definitely not the snacks. Definitely.

“Just let her in your guild, you edge lord.” You hissed as you took the female Hunter’s side, annoyed at the various ridiculous excuses Jinwoo listed to push Hae-In away. You would admit that you’re impressed with her resilience when facing such a menace; then again, she is in love, and love makes one do crazy things.

Jinwoo had half a mind to know not to voice out the question of how and why you’d know such phrasing, since there was Cha Hae-In present and there was no need to raise alarm bells. Though the greatest reason was that he didn’t want another to know about you or what you are precisely. He can’t say he’s bothered by the way your eyes stared at him, all focused and guarded, ready to take Hae-In hostage if the situation calls for it.

Ah, but it won’t be much help to you. You’d have picked the wrong target. If it were someone like his mother or younger sister, then there’d be an effect you’d wanted. However, this was Hae-In, he barely met her and she barely knew him. That can’t be the case between you two. 

He knew about your being as a Monarch and an inhuman thing using a human body as a vessel, you knew about his levelling-up system that granted him his status as an S-Rank and all his other abilities. He and you could be your true selves in each other’s presence, no filter, no expectations of fulfilling anything. In a sense, he felt more at peace with you than the other people around him. Like you were someone as close to him as family. 

Perhaps this was the after-effects of viewing the memories between you and Ashborn, but that was his thoughts.

“There’s an entrance test before I can allow you to join, Hunter Cha.” Jinwoo stated nonchalantly.

You raised a brow while Hae-In flinched in alarm, “H- Huh?! That wasn’t in the recruiting notice…”

“A mistake, since we were busy these few days.” Jinwoo got up and eyed you to do the same, you complied while bringing along your unfinished snacks. “If you think it’s too sudden and unreasonable, you can―”

“What kind of test is it?” Hae-In asked with resolve.

You practically saw the shock in Jinwoo’s eyes, hiding a snicker as you internally mocked his poor insight into a woman’s determination. 

“You have to win against one of my summons.” Jinwoo laid out the simple yet vague requirement. 

“Is the evaluation of me in your eyes so low, Hunter Sung?” Hae-In’s tone turned firm and solid, nothing like her previous blushing mess. You can’t miss the fire burning in her eyes, “What kind of summon is it?”

With a cruel thought, you wondered if killing this Hunter for Ashborn and adding her to his army would be a good enough apology gift. Then again, you had to do it when the vessel’s soul is gone and Ashborn is back to fully appreciate your work well done. You’ll keep the thought in mind for the future. For now, you’ll let the humans deal with their business.

“For you, Hunter Cha, I’ll use my strongest summon ally.” Just as you were leaving the scene, Jinwoo’s hand placed firmly on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. You looked up at him in confusion and question as he looked down with a smirk. “This one.”

Hae-In jumped, “You’re a summon?! But you’re so… So…”

“Human?” Jinwoo smiled, leaning down to your level as his face was next to yours and made eye contact with Hae-In, “Yes, this is my perfect ally and companion in battle; it wouldn’t be good for a monster to be around me, right?”

You glared at Jinwoo, completely unaware of the conflicted expression on Hae-In’s face as your back was facing her. You whispered a hiss at him, “What are you doing? Don’t drag me into this.”

“A small deal then.” Jinwoo whispered back, taking advantage of Hae-In’s inner turmoil. “If you can ward Hunter Cha from joining my guild, you won’t have to stay by my side all the time. In other words, defeat Hunter cha and you get some free time for yourself without me around.”

That got your attention and you turned to glance at Hae-In. This woman can’t even manage to hold this vessel’s attention for long, not to mention how you were now dragged into some useless fight. Even if you let her into the guild, her use wasn’t much and she is weak compared to this vessel before you. The comparison was unfair, but it was the truth.

“Fine, but you keep your word.”

“Of course.”

You turned your heel and dumped the snacks back onto the coffee table. Taking a page out of Igris’ book, you stood at attention and fixed your expression to a more stoic and indifferent look, your chin angled down and your hands were placed behind your back, your eyes stared sharply at Hae-In. “My Lord has suggested I do battle with you for your place in his guild,” You offered your hand as you asked, “Should you accept, only if you win against me will you be considered acceptance. Do you still wish to partake in the duel?”

Jinwoo was almost taken aback with your shift in attitude and character. Not that he found fault in it, but rather, he was more drawn to you. It was smart of him to make such an appealing offer to you. The System’s information was right on the money. You are so self-centered and willing to abandon others for your own cause.

Now, all he needed to do was make sure you don’t can’t leave him.

His eyes glowed briefly when Hae-In’s hand gripped yours with a firm nod that meant ‘yes’. The moment you looked over as if asking for approval made his heart skip a beat, you were acting just like an actual Shadow soldier of his. He nodded back and watched you raise your other hand to snap your fingers. 

In the blink of an eye, all three of you were transported to another dimension. All your surroundings were misty, and even the ground was covered with a layer of fog that obscured their vision of their own feet. You had long walked off from Jinwoo’s side, only when he snapped back to attention did he realize he was standing at the perfect angle to see you and Hae-In on either side of a field of sorts.

“Here, we can battle without restraint.” You said, and with another snap of your fingers, a rack of weapons appeared by Hae-In’s side. “Pick your weapon, and we will begin on My Lord’s mark.”

So Jinwoo was right; you could have escaped to your own realm at any moment, with or without his consent and knowledge. Why you haven’t done so was odd, but that also proves how much of a hold Ashborn has on you. If only he could shift your attention from his predecessor to himself. 

Hae-In picked a long sword while you stood immobile. 

“Ready.”

Hae-In got into a stance, but you were as still as can be like you were frozen in place.

“Set.”

Hae-In’s mana aura surrounded her, charging her blade as well. You did nothing.

“Go!”

Hae-In took the initiative and charged forward, planning to end the duel with one quick decisive move. However, just before her blade reached you, you had disappeared in thin air. As quickly as you disappeared, you materialized behind Hae-In and kicked her in the back to send her flying to the side. You stood at your spot, fixing your clothes, tugging at your sleeves from your movement.

Swiftly, Hae-In had recovered and remained on the offensive. Your head tilted and you dodged her incoming attacks with graceful movements. The way you put minimum effort into this was almost like you were toying with the Hunter. Your monotonous expression and your hands behind your back were screaming handicap. It may look like an advantage to Hae-In, but it hurt her pride.

“Fight me for real.” Hae-In panted, finding this play irritating.

You merely blinked and hummed. Your eyes darted over to Jinwoo’s analytic look, no doubt he was watching this fight with a hawk, mainly judging your abilities than Hae-In’s qualifications to join the guild. You knew and he knew, there was no way Hae-In could win against you, a Monarch. It was only a matter of how to create that loss without death.

If only you could kill. Then everything would be so easy. You sighed, momentarily closing your eyes before they opened and glowed, “Humans are so ignorant of their limits…”

Note: Probably not the update you guys wanted, but I've been writing for this series still~ I'm thinking of making the parts longer cause of the gaps between updates though, not just for this series, but maybe for future posts too.

𝕮𝖎𝖗𝖈𝖊 𝖄.

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: @o-qi-shisme @2021animeandwebtoons @mochinon-yah @skylar896 @rai-xxx @lilliana-14 @larettajudith

[pushingdaisies1]

hihi I am not sure how to submit a request because I have never really done one before but isit possible if u could do a myunggi x female reader fic😓😓🙏🙏 I haven't really seen much ffs about him and I really want to see his protective side being portrayed🙌

➜ ౨ৎ Paz Con Usted.

― ꒰ PAIRING: Lee Myung-gi x Reader! ꒱ ― ꒰SUMMARY: Your last relationship wasn't left on the best of terms. It was a small little fling, only lasting for five months. But the way he left was sudden and abrupt. He told you flat out that he wanted to end things, and that was that. Didn't give you any time to ask why, was it your fault? He had mentioned once or twice about his ex-girlfriend. But after making up this grand charade to your face you didn't expect to be the rebound. But in hindsight... you were. Now you are here, being told that you have an opportunity to abolish your debts. A hefty prize, an amount of money you've never seen in your entire life. This was the worst time to run into your jaded ex-boyfriend. But maybe he still had some room in his heart left for you. You weren't so gullible, fool me twice and whatnot. But him swooping in to stand up for you definitely made you feel those same old butterflies rise in your gut.꒱ ― ꒰WARNINGS: Honestly the biggest one I can think of is you and Myung-gi being messy. Like within the context of your prior relationship.. if that makes sense... yk? Start is kinda angsty!! Woops!! There's no violence (excluding regular squid game violence mentioned) but Thanos is Thanos!! No Jun-hee slander here folks. Mentions of Abortion (Jun-hee.) Consequences of Myung-gis actions with a somewhat happy ending!! yay!!! Like you two don't like reforge a whole relationship but no bad blood by the end of this..... wooo!!! Use of She/her pronouns once for reader. Also this is a tad bit long n may have spelling mistakes , woopsie...꒱ ― ꒰AUTHORS NOTE: Ohh no dw!! Yes ofc , here you go!! I really do hope you liked this!! I tried to stay as in character for Myung-gi as possible. He's very much a 50/50 character amongst fans. His actor's so funny and I honestly like his character. Like you envy him but you cant help but feel sympathy for him in moments. Crypto bro who I wanna dissect/look at under a microscope!! Also like... look at him... he's a cutiepatootie. He has his moments but like bro Jun-hee defender forever lmao. Also, I got this title from a beautiful song. It's by the band Ataquemos!! It's just so sweet and a generally warm song. I think it fits Myung-gis's motivations at heart. I tried to deliver on this as hard as I could, enjoy!!<3꒱

☓﹕You never thought you would see Myung-gi again. After your breakup, it all seemed a done deal. He hadn't truly explained his reasonings to you. About... splitting ties with you. I mean it was utterly absurd? Throughout your entire relationship, you always tried to do and be better than before. ☓﹕Always listening to his woes even if they were a little bit baffling for your tastes. What was his problem? You could tell he wasn't being entirely honest with you about everything. His past relationships, his history. But that was his business and not yours. But your breakup definitely surprised you out of left field.

☓﹕He wasn't answering your calls for a good week leading up to it. You were worried sick about him. Thinking that something terrible must've happened. You were so naive to his true intentions. When he finally answered your multiple texts and missed calls, he only followed with, "I'm sorry but I can't do this anymore. I loved you I really did. But I'm not in a well enough place to continue with this relationship. I hope you can understand. I'm breaking up with you and blocking this number. I'm sorry." ☓﹕The familiar sensation of your chest winding tight took over your entire body. Your hands began to tremble as you held your phone. No tears at the sight. But you were practically blown away. Ghosts you for a week and then break up with you over TEXT?! ☓﹕This was jarring beyond the humiliation and general grief you felt swelling inside of you. Did you mean that little to him? What was his fucking deal? He'd even met with your parents on a couple occasions. You at least thought you were serious enough for him to at least break up with you face to face.

☓﹕You didn't even bat an eye about the fact that he was a crypto-bro! Or, that he never truly got over his last relationship. I mean you at least never thought he did. Throughout your past committed relationships, you valued the honesty in partners about what their dating life had been like before meeting you. ☓﹕ It felt like their openness was full transparency, you know? Even if the relationships they had before meeting you were full-blown train wrecks. But Myung-gi was a whole different story from other previous partners. It was odd but again you never tried to pry at him. Were you truly in love or just blind with infatuation?

☓﹕It had been a month since he had cut you off from his life. It had been a month full of bitter spite and just... sorrow. The amount of loans you had taken out definitely started to pile up. You had teetered on the line too many times at work. Eventually losing your position after you accidentally blew up at a coworker. It didn't take you long for your debt to increase even more after that. ☓﹕With how bad the job market was you stayed unemployed for too long according to the bank. Job interviews weren't pulling through. You were practically drowning in unpaid loans and growing unpaid rent bills. Never were you a person to take handouts from friends or family. You were too stubborn for your own good. It was so isolating as your landlord continued to threaten to kick you out if you didn't have all that money in a week. If he was nice enough, he'd outstretch it to two.

☓﹕It was one humid evening when you were waiting for a train. That a man approached you. He looks clean-cut, a businessman-looking briefcase held in one hand. His faint eery smile didn't falter at all as he slid down right next to you. You had spent the afternoon visiting friends for once and running errands with what little you had. One headphone is looped and tucked around the left ear. Of course, you noticed him. He stuck out like a sore thumb compared to the middle-men office workers office workers, or the families trying to get home and escape from the summer heat.

☓﹕You kept your eyes straight ahead. "Pleasedon'ttrytoconvertme..." you repeated over and over again in your head. All you wanted to do was just rinse and repeat the same routine you had accumulated. The same pathetic routine you lived with ever since Myung-gi broke things off with you. But you were totally moved on now! It's been a month... that's a lot of time... right? ☓﹕ The sharply dressed man beside you broke your train of thought. Addressing you very formally, he offered you the opportunity to play a game. What game? , ddakji - for a cash prize every time you flipped his card to the opposite side. By the time you finally gave him an ounce of acknowledgment, most people had already gotten on their designated train. The station was empty and you still had awhile so why not? ☓﹕Shockingly you had won a majority of the rounds. Your arms shot up as soon as you saw his card flip over. He may have gotten one or two slaps in after you flat-out told him you had no more money on you to pay for your losses. "That's okay, you'll pay with your body.", excuse me? ☓﹕By the time he handed you the money he now owed you, he quickly started to latch up his briefcase. Trying to bring levity to the situation, he stopped you before you could get any other words in. From his pocket, he slipped out a card. A circle, triangle, and square on the front of it. Flipping it over it looked to be a phone number. Examining it with keen eyes you heard him mutter "Have a great rest of your evening." under his breath. Before you could thank him or do such a thing he was already gone. ☓﹕Vanished right before your eyes. Your head spun around, eyes landing on the now arriving train. Time to think about this and more once you finish your trek home.

☓﹕If it was only a little game, how hard could it be? You needed the help desperately. No matter how pathetic it was you called the number. Giving the unknown voice on the other end your name and birthday. Quickly and precisely they explained where and when you would be picked up. ☓﹕Seemed easy enough from your point of view. The place they referred you to was one of the largest shopping centers in Seoul. The time was way after the park's hours. It was odd but guaranteed a spacious and empty environment for the pickup to happen. As you listened you couldn't help but feel a low twisting in your gut. This felt wrong, not right at all. You were too far gone now. So you agreed to the terms and hung up the phone.

☓﹕The day finally arrived. You tried to get your assets in order. Told ones closest to you that you'd be busy due to a "new job offer." It was shocking how they all bought the lie. You just wanted to make a quick buck to lessen your debt, that's all. Your eyes flicked down to your phone as you clicked it on. The breeze rustled your hair. The home screen of your phone reads that it is finally midnight. You had gotten there earlier than told on the phone. ☓﹕Just to shake the impending nerves away. It felt like a bust because right on schedule, a van arrived. A masked man rolled down the window and stated your name. Your eyes widened as that pit feeling got deeper and deeper. The door of the van slid open and you slid inside the vehicle. Getting a feel for the van you right saw the slumped-down bodies beside you. Your throat tightened as you tried to find answers to your questions. Before you knew it heavy gas started to fill the backseat. The car whirred to life as you slowly collapsed, finally unconscious.

☓﹕By the time you awoke, you were met with the sounds of classical music and a bed. The metal squeaked gently as you sat up in the bunk bed where you lay. People who were dressed in similar attire as you, with numbers on their chests and backs littered the beds around you. Some were already starting to climb down and stand around on the main floor of the dormitory. Standing back, you were puzzled by where you now were. You were practically whisked away from your life on the outside. This wasn't disclosed in the phone call.

☓﹕Murmurs could be heard in the wide crowd of participants forming in the middle of the room. Others were scared of what this might entail, while some were dumbfounded by the swift change in scenery. The same masked men with different variations of their masks walked out, one outwardly greeting the bewildered players. Immediately as soon as they started taking questions, people kept on giving and giving. By now you had joined the crowd, standing more by the back wall of beds.

☓﹕All of a sudden your ears get all warm and irritated as soon as you hear a specific voice. The same voice of the guy who ripped your heart out and left it beating on the cold floor. Asking for his phone and wallet for market checking of all things? You were staring directly at the back of his head as he whined in annoyance. If it was anyone else, you would've been remorseful. These "guards", had stripped everyone of their personal belongings and usual clothes. But hearing that prick made your head get all hot and all rationality gets just as fuzzy.

☓﹕On the screen they displayed multiple of the players. Their individual names, and the debt amount they had to their name. Myung-gi's face flashed on screen with his hair mostly hidden with a bucket hat. Playing the same game you had when the recruiter found you in that subway. His face getting slapped, holding his cheek. You especially heard ringing in his ears when you heard he had CHARGES against him?

☓﹕During the time you had spent with him, he never once brought that up. Nor the crypto coin scam he ran on multiple people. Other player's faces followed after his. One person's debt reaching into the billions. But your head was spinning at the fact that maybe you didn't know your ex-boyfriend that well. You weren't judgemental of the fact that he dealt with cryptocurrency. Which was probably your biggest mistake. The rose-colored glasses were even more damaged now. Who really had you been dating for those five months?

☓﹕After the square guards' passionate but monotone speech, consent forms were immediately dished out. Four guards stood at each individual post. Handing participants pens to sign the contracts, the rules all in bold. Your number was somewhere in the middle of the large range of game participants. So let's just say you stood around in that line for a while. You didn't really take the time to strike up a conversation with anyone.

☓﹕An older woman, the same one who was arguing with her son earlier was behind you. She was kind enough to take the initiative. She seemed like a nurturing sweetheart. Her words were kind to you as she asked you why you were here and other small talk. It was the most sympathy you had heard from someone in a while. Finding the time to crack a grin of three as she commented "You look like a respectful kid." It was the most conversation you had... since you had gotten here.

☓﹕You two both discussed how this may work. The entire you mostly listened as she talked about how this all seemed "too bizarre for her tastes." You chuckled, cluelessly shrugging with a "We'll find out soon enough." Her son the entire time was trying to get his mom's attention. But she was determined to keep on talking to you. Until it was your turn to sign your signature. ☓﹕Glancing over the rules your head cocked to the side a little. Already here, it felt useless to back out. Leaving with nothing is worse than leaving with something. Readjusting your hold on the pen you quickly signed the contract. Gently placing the pen back down where it sat before, your mind now clear, you started to walk out and away from the four single-file lines. ☓﹕Until you heard a scuffle at the other side of the room. Chu Su-bong and another player were towering over another player. You don't realize who the victim was until you hear the purple-haired one rather loudly announce the name "MG Coin." You wanted to scoff at the cheesy name. Clearly, if those guys were picking a fight with Myung-gi they must've been the people who invested in the coin. ☓﹕You know what? , serves him right. Facing his comeuppance face-on and head-on. But you couldn't help but feel some odd form of pity as you watched Su-bong almost swing on "MG Coin." Thankfully the other player riled him down. The two walked off and the air in the room stayed as stale as it was before. Something inside of you was eager to approach Myung-gi. Before you could stop yourself your feet were already walking to where he was sitting.

☓﹕He looked so small and so pitiful. His head was in his hands as he rubbed his face. Your steps were precise as you walked towards him. Your arms were crossed as you looked him up and down. "Was I just some joke to you?" You sneered. As soon as he heard you his head shot up. Eyebrows creased and mouth agape. The last time he had spoken to you, he didn't expect you to be here of the sort at all.

☓﹕"What are you even doing here?" He whispered, trying to keep his volume to a low. Not to make another fool of himself again. "I should be asking what you're doing here? Oh wait, never mind, I know. Guess I was dating a criminal. I wasted a lot on you. Supporting you, listening to you, being an above-average decent human being for you? And you repay me by keeping me in the dark about something as big as this?" You snapped back at him. Not holding back any resentment that grew towards him during your mutual time apart.

☓﹕"It's not like that-" Your eyes went wide and your jaw fully dropped. "No, I think it is like that. You don't hide stuff like this from someone Myung-gi! What was I even to you? And by your actions.. clearly nothing." He couldn't stop the scoff escaping him, which just pissed you off even more. "Do you ever stop talking? Everything was always my fault when it came to you. But when I tried to explain myself you'd immediately patronize me." ☓﹕"Patrionize you?! You didn't tell me you were wanted by the authorities! For five months, I thought you were just struggling. That's why I helped you so much. That's why I practically let you live with me after a while-" The realization came to you. Was he just using you to hide from the cops? He put his hands up in between the two of you. "When I met you I was in a rock and an even harder place. I-I was trying to turn a new leaf... I had hurt so many people. But you took me in and I..." ☓﹕"And you what? Found an easy cash grab to live off of until you felt guilty enough in that bitter heart of yours?" Your words pierced every muscle in his body. "I loved you, you piece of shit. I loved you a lot. You met my parents! You saw the best of me. You are acting like our time together was nothing. I for sure thought it was something and guess you didn't feel the same." A sigh left you as you got everything out. Everything that started to slowly form after you got that text.

☓﹕"... Are you only here to scream at me? Right now, here? Gotten it out of your system?" His words were like an even deeper twist of the knife. He clearly could see on your face that his response was the incorrect thing to say. He tried to stammer out an apology but you were already backing away. "I'm here to revel in your misery. I've seen enough... good luck." ☓﹕Turning around you noticed a specific player in the sea of people looking at you. She was sitting by one of the bunks. A hand gently cradled her stomach. Her eyes looked glazed over with unshed tears. Her stare was icy and almost demeaning as you looked back at her. They told a story that you didn't quite understand, at least not now. Shrugging it off you went to go find a place to cool down before the first game.

☓﹕It was comical hearing what the first game was. A children's game you used to play with your classmates when you were young. Shouldn't be that off-putting on the outside. Definitely was more with the larger-than-life doll staring all four hundred and fifty-six players down from the finish line. An older man, the 456th player, immediately ran up before the games even started. Yelling that this wasn't just any ordinary game. That lives were at stake and the doll had motion sensor eyes?

☓﹕You definitely started to believe him along with many others once the first player died. One by one gunshots rang out. Bodies were either piled up at the entrances or littered across the sandy ground. People immediately changed their tune and began to run in a lot more of an ordered fashion. Because the doll would only pick up the first person's motions. In following the orders this stranger shouted you actually made it to the finish line. You shockingly made it out alive... only after the first game. ☓﹕After a good chunk of the players were left, everyone was escorted through that colorful maze of stairs back to the dormitory. People were practically cowering in fear and begging for mercy from the guards. The same stranger who had practically saved the lives of every remaining player urged for a vote to take place. Since it was in the forms and already promised, it had to be done. ☓﹕The bloodshed you saw was terrifying. People dropped like flies even if their hands were trembling. It was mortifying to see so up close. By the time your number was called you immediately felt a sense of determination. You weren't desperate enough to watch others lose their lives while participating in gruesome children's games. Nor did you want to die here and have no one you knew realize you died. You'd rather get your body stripped for parts.

☓﹕It wasn't shocking that Myung-gi went for the opposite side as you. You clearly barely knew the man, so anything made sense at this point. It was neck and neck, practically so close to having your side win. But one person broke that, and the opposing side ended up winning. Their cheers were met with broken hearts and people who had just lost a fraction of their hope. ☓﹕The air in the room was building with tension. As players were given food one by one by the circle guards, the entire time in line you could only think about one thing. The girl who was staring daggers into your soul. You didn't know if it truly was something to worry about. But hell you had a ton of time to kill. So you thought the best thing to do was to try and ask the million-dollar question.

☓﹕You slinked back to the side. Your eyes scan around the spacious area to look for her. You recognized the same head of the older woman you had conversed with. During the first game, you noticed that in a fleeting second, the two had conversed. It must've been something to do with that. Right away you started walking over. Her son giving you the perfect moment to approach player 222.

☓﹕She was eating her food, not noticing your steps. At least that's what it looked like. You gripped the water bottle in your hand. Clearing your throat, you two made eye contact. Her gaze was less hurtful. More hollow, as if she was yearning for something. But you had no idea what. Words were stuck in your throat, you were at a loss. ☓﹕"Can I help you...?" Her tone was cautious as she let her tin of food rest in her lap. Her arms were more closed, resting towards her side. You stammered out a "Here." Your hand offered up the water bottle. Her eyes looked at the hand, and then back to you. Almost as if she was waiting for you to finish your sentence.

☓﹕"I-I saw you earlier in the game ... I know it's impolite but it was all just me guessing I didn't mean to offend you-" You were surprised you weren't cartoonishly slipping on a banana peel here. Expecting her to cut you off, she still kept on staring back at you. "Thank you." She whispered as the palm of her hand opened. You immediately handed her the water bottle.

☓﹕The quiet was suffocating. Everyone's conversation and consumption drowned out your subconscious. "Are you Jun-hee?" You abruptly questioned her. She lost all the color in her face. Instead of responding to you verbally, she nodded her head as she stared down into her lap.

☓﹕You could easily connect the dots. Myung-gi had mentioned her by name once when you asked him about his previous partner. She was here, trying to win to make money for Myung-gis unborn child. You had lived five months blissfully unaware of this, of any of this. "Is that why you were watching me earlier?" You asked with a tremble of your lip. Repeating her prior action, she nodded her head. ☓﹕"Oh my god... I... I'm so sorry." Your words were a mess as your past relationship with this perfect guy broke apart. You had fit each other so perfectly. You didn't expect this behavior from him, how could you? Jun-hee was clearly holding in a lot. But she couldn't muster any anger. You clearly were clueless about his lies. By the way, your eyes went wide and your mouth parted, she couldn't stop herself from feeling pity for you. ☓﹕"When I told him, he originally wanted me to get rid of it. Said that we'd handle it." She spoke up as her tone of voice wavered. "I had already invested into that Dalmation coin and he was being hounded by the cops. By then I found out about its failure, he already left my life without another word. I decided that our child didn't have a father anymore and kept it. It's been six months."

☓﹕Anger burned in your chest. Jun-hee looked like a sweet girl. She was so beautiful, like a little button. You felt wronged and betrayed but also vengeful? She stopped you from thinking any harder. "I don't need him. So please do not feel bad for me. When he left he lost his chance. I tried too many times to be there for him, but he didn't try once for me. He's not a good guy."

☓﹕Your head lulled in recognition as you listened intently. "I-I seriously had no idea. He told me a whole other story." She simply shrugged at your response. "That sounds like Myung-gi." She remarked in a reserved way of speech. You couldn't help but crack a small laugh in defeat because it sure was him. ☓﹕You felt pure remorse running through your veins. You extended a vine of friendship to the poor girl. "I know we know each other for the worst of reasons. But... I hold only anger for that man. If you need anything or anyone, you have a friend in me Jun-hee." You lamented as your shoulders lost some of the tension they held before. ☓﹕She plastered a small but noticeable smile on her face. Either real or fake, you took it as a win either way. "I appreciate your kindness." She politely remarked as her head bowed at you, you did the same. "You are a good person. I hope we make it out together and can form a real friendship." That seemed to lighten her spirits. "I hope so as well." Her words were direct but her tone was soft and gentle. ☓﹕You were already bothering her enough. With a small wave of your hand to bid her farewell, you began to walk away. Opening up your tin of food you spent the next couple of hours picking at the once-enclosed meal. You were too stuck in the past. Every sweet moment you had with Myung-gi rotted and turned sour. The only things that gave you any ease at night were thinking back to your exchange with Jun-hee and the warm glow of all the prize money in the middle of the ceiling.

☓﹕The next morning came as a definite wake-up call. The same classical elegant tune blared over the speakers. You wished you could curl back into bed with the pillow muffling the repentant noise. But thanks to the system in place you were stuck here. People were quickly rising out of beds, no one really stopping to sit.

☓﹕Walking down to stand at your bed post you noticed two familiar figures conversing. Myung-gis bruised face and Jun-hees stern brow. You could remember the fight that broke out in the middle of the room, and the reason why he looked so beat up. The same purple-haired guy, Su-Bong beating down on him with the help of what looked to be his sort of right-hand man. Only until the same player who broke the vote count tie stepped in. Myung-gis and Jun-hees exchange didn't look pleasant but no time to focus on that. Guards were already walking in, ready to escort every current participant through the game hall.

☓﹕After making it through the long and winding staircases, you were brought into a large room. It almost resembled an elementary playground. With the bright colors and two rainbow roads, as well as the back walls resembling a sort of school structure. You were set to make teams of five with ten minutes on the clock. Nobody wasted any time in finding teammates. You were having a hard time locating one to join.

☓﹕Time was ticking down bit by bit. It felt more like five minutes to decide who to team with as you saw people right away strategizing. Your fingers danced at your sides as you cautiously walked around. You had gotten rejected from two groups. One because they were already full, with wishes of good luck as you walked away. The other one was because they were also full and you didn't have "the look." ☓﹕Suddenly you heard someone trying to get another person's attention. When you looked back you saw that someone was trying to get your attention. The same guy who was ready to beat Myung-gi to a pulp if he had the chance. The same guy who was pushing people over in the first game as if they were only dominos. He walked with pride as two men followed behind him, one of them the same person who was also beating up on Myung-gi. ☓﹕"Owww Senorita... you're too cute to be alone. Let's play this game together." He purred as he approached you. His arms were crossed and his chest was clearly puffed up. Player 124 clearly didn't look happy about this. Chewing at his inner cheek with an unpleased look on his face. Player 256 was clearly awe-struck with the guy, practically ready to kiss the ground he walked on. ☓﹕You would rather get gunned down than be stuck with this guy and his lackeys. It was a hefty gamble... that's why you never participated in the act. Besides he may get you killed in the next game, if not in this one. So you flashed on a polite but guarded expression. "Sorry but, I'm alright over here." Player 124 scoffed in relief as Su-Bongs head turned back, almost as if sending him a long and lengthy message only with a glare.

☓﹕"It's only you over here though. Come onnn... I'll protect you the whole game. You don't have to worry about anything when you are in the Thanos world. It's a pretty perfect deal." He smirked with confidence. On accident you let a sheepish laugh slip out. He took that as the initiative to push even harder on your buttons.

☓﹕"Whatever the game is I'll destroy anything that tries to tear us apart." He hummed with a boyishly sinister way of speech. You've denied him multiple times by now. Before another polite "no" could be added to that list, you looked up to notice Myung-gi. He was standing in between you and Thanos. His feet are firmly planted in the ground. The clock just now ticked past four minutes.

☓﹕"Ahhh MG Coin, I'm a little busy over here." Thanos snarked as he took a step back. Myung-gi huffed out a reply, "She said no man. So listen to that and go find two other people." By the way, Thanos's expression appeared; he thought this was humorful. "Are you looking to continue where we last left off, MG Coin? I think your purple and new red would look nice together." He replied with promise laced around every word. ☓﹕Myung-gi wasn't backing down and you were taken aback. His body guards Thanos from approaching close to you a step further. Why was he doing this? The clock on the wall took no pause for this. Clearly, this little confrontation was only wasting time. Thanos backed down but "took it to heart." He placed his hands on his chest in a quick heart rate motion. "You hurt my feelings MG Coin. Thanos never forgets." He emphasized his statement as he and the two other players walked away in the opposite direction.

☓﹕As as the three men leave out of sight he's already turning around to face you. "Are you okay?" His voice was signaturely dry but almost sweet. Outwardly trying to sound as apologetic as possible without saying it. You hadn't seen Myung-gi act like that in a while. It definitely made something in you stir. But you weren't going to say anything of that. He was met with a similar closed-off attitude he was met with by Jun-hee. This time with anger simmering beneath the surface. ☓﹕"Is that your way of apologizing?" You remarked with no remorse. "I-I do feel terrible about what I said. Please... I'll explain it to you after you join me." Your eyebrows creased, your expression reading like he had just dropped a bomb of news onto you. "You don't have a team and the people I partnered with - we need one more person... I'm begging you." His voice was finally filled with genuine emotion and emotion that wasn't him whining about problems he caused. ☓﹕"Fine." Your response was one note but that's all that he needed. He led you over to the group of older men. They were much more friendly faces than some of the participants you had to interact with. The game was finally introduced, more like the game and minigames were introduced. Right away, as soon as the monotone voice on the speakers was done explaining the ins and outs, you all started talking about what games would be your biggest strengths. ☓﹕Watching each team go up was like a game of chance. Either both teams would cross the finish line with triumph and hurrahs of joy and relief. One would have their moment in the spotlight of victory while the other would be mercilessly gunned down. Teams who didn't even make it past the second or third game would be shot without notice by the time the timer was done. You tried to stay as focused as you could, examining the surviving team's strategies for your group's potential success.

☓﹕By the time yours and Myung-gis's team went up, there was still a pretty size-able audience left of players. You kept your hands gripped into fists as a circle guard locked your ankles together. The previous rounds of gunfire from the guards still rang in your ears. But your top priority was to survive all five games and make it out of this one alive. You weren't going to die running around a rainbow road playing some small little minigames anytime soon, that was below you. The five of you felt that same momentum coursing through your veins , and then you were off.

☓﹕The sportsmanship that coursed through the crowd with previous teams was already heavy. But experiencing that yourself felt electrifying. Like the only time players who wanted to leave and those who wanted to stay felt truly equal. It was another asset that pushed you and your fellow teammates to finish every game with perfect precision. Your mind wasn’t focused on your potential demise when your turn arrived. The cheers made you focus on the task in front of you.

☓﹕It was with Myung-gis's final kick that your team made it. You made it with time to spare! Arms quickly locked together, each final step you and your teammates made was quick and firm. Everyone erupted with applause and cheers as your team jumped around with utter relief and joy. You had the freedom to walk out with your spirits still held, being led back to the dormitory by a couple of the guards. ☓﹕Making it back, there were only a few teams in there. You had recognized the same familiar face of the older woman. The same woman who was conversing with Jun-hee and one of the winning teams. Other groups of players were littered around in tight units. Only some looked back to the door to see who arrived back. ☓﹕ It was a lot more quieter now compared to before the second game began. This made sense since more five-player teams still had to compete and make it out alive. The door unlatched open and you were absorbed in the ambiance of whispers and emptiness. You gave gentle nods of recognition as your older teammates boasted about your combined success. You noticed how sullen Myung-gi was. ☓﹕Your stomach contorted as a deep sigh left you. "Hey." He heard you call out to him. You were walking directly behind him. He slowly spun around to face you. His eyes bore into the ground under the two of you. "I-I know I... I know I messed up. Especially with you and I am sorry." He looked up to face you. But you were trying to guide him away to a more secluded area of the multiple bunks. He followed you like a lost puppy. ☓﹕You sat down on the edge of a random bunk, the metal under you squeaking at the sudden pressure. He sat down right beside you, arms hanging low in his lap. You looked to him as to give him the room to speak, to "explain himself." You could hear how tight his chest was while he spoke. Bursts of air left his upper frame at every grating word that left his mouth. ☓﹕"When I met you... I was a mess." Your head lulled in a nod as a sign for him to continue. "I had hurt so many people, so many people I once held close to me. But you didn't know who I was. You looked at me like... no one else had. You were someone who still thought of me with some respect. I-I didn't want to ruin the image you had of me so I was a coward and hid that from you." A shaky chuckle left him. His words were so warm, they reminded you of the good times you two shared together. But you were past feeling pity for him, it was more so guilt now. Guilt for a relationship built on falsities that you participated in. ☓﹕Your head turned in his general direction. But your eyes didn't meet him. "Were you using me?", you bluntly asked. "No... I took the help you offered me. I was happy with you-" Your eyes began to water. "I know about Jun-hee." He almost looked surprised as the two of you locked eyes. "... I didn't know about it. I didn't know she kept it." A sheepish chuckle left you as you wiped away falling tears from your eyes. Dribbling down your cheeks, staining them with your constant reminder of turmoil. You didn't want to cry in front of him, but he noticed. ☓﹕"My life was falling apart. I had people out there who wanted to see me hang for what I had done. Which ... wasn't entirely my fault if you think about it. I met you and you closed up all my wounds. You didn't look at me with shame so many others did. I finally felt good about myself for once in a very long time. But then my feelings just grew too complicated. I didn't want to pop our little bubble.. so... I ran away." ☓﹕"You're an asshole." Your words had so much emotion in them. But he couldn't help himself. "I know I am. I regret the times I could have been better... for you." A long and lengthy pause for silence grew in between the two of you. You rubbed your eyes as you thought of whatever you could say next. You were too tired to argue with him. "Do you promise me that if you make it out of this alive, with her, you'll be a better man..?" It was a dumb question to ask of him. Could men like Myung-gi ever change?

☓﹕"Yes. One hundred times yes." He nodded his head adamantly. Your expression was bittersweet. Your head lulled in a nod one more time before you just sat there with him. He turned his head away from your direction. Staring down into the floor, the silence shared between the two of you was almost comforting. It was a familiar sort of ember that burned in the coldness that was your entire relationship. -> "I hate your guts." He smiled, hearing an emotion that wasn't resentment in your voice. "You have every right to."

― ꒰AUTHORS NOTE: Aghhh I know this one was really angsty I'm sorry!! Guys, I love angst can you tell? The idea seemed so somber like u 2 r so tragic it’s aghhhhhh. I really hope this was an enjoyable read. If you’re interested in sending me a request , check out my currently pinned post<3 Ly all , byeee!!! ( ^ . . ^ )

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Looks like I haven't. Okay, well, let's see. I'll just give highlights, but it'll be long, so let's do a readmore.

So, in mid-2022, I dared to age past about 35 and therefore started withering bodily. Of course, this is partly my fault, because I do not get enough exercise, but also (shakes fist at uncaring universe, pulls muscle in fist) Life Hates Me

So, I started getting muscle pain between the shoulder blades. In my case, this is actually one of those annoying to-avoid-one-disability-you-created-another things, because I've had problems with my lower back since I was in my mid-20s thanks to never using proper lumbar support. Therefore, my standard spot to be in my living room became the sofa that stretches away from the TV, because then I could lie on the sofa and prop my head up on the arm to watch, but that means I spent several years as a recreational candy cane and NOW HERE WE ARE. I remember desperately trying to find a massage therapist that could see me that day before I went away to Edinburgh in August that year, and there was nowhere at all available. I had to get one in Edinburgh when I arrived, which was lovely, but also about £20 more expensive, because Edinburgh.

And then! In November! Of 2022!

I must have wished really hard. Because around the corner from my house - so close I could forward roll that distance, if it weren't for, you know (gestures at body, pulls muscle in arm)... a massage parlour opened.

Except. Here's the thing.

It had a name like "Swansea Oriental Massage" or "Thai Lotus Massage" or what have you (real name not given for privacy reasons.) The kind of name that makes you go "Ah. An independent business, likely staffed by workers fresh from abroad, with a name that implies exotic women to a certain type of client. This may be entirely what it claims, but it definitely Fits a Profile."

And to be clear, I have no issues at all with it being a brothel! I truly, genuinely don't. But for obvious reasons, I do want to know if I'm booking a session with a masseuse or a sex worker, because those are very different types of happy endings.

So Steff and I tried looking them up, which became almost a game in itself. We were like "Right. It has a legitimate-looking website that offers three different types of massage: Swedish, Chinese and deep tissue, complete with a disclaimer that deep tissue is not recommended unless you have good pain tolerance. A brothel would probably use more euphemisms, right? Intimate massage, full personal, that sort of thing. But maybe those are euphemisms?"

And then we'd be like "We have found a review. It says 'Very relaxing, beautiful girl.' That could either be a clumsily worded review from a gross orientalist marvelling about the massage, or it could be a subtle nod to them being sex workers."

And we went back and forth for weeks, until in the end I was like, no, enough. I am in pain. There must be someone, in any brothel, who can give a genuine massage - if you hide behind the phrase 'massage parlour', you MUST get people turning up occasionally looking for a back, neck and shoulders. It's the seamstress/needlewoman thing in Pratchett. They must be able to go 'Tracy, this one's for you.' That's who I need. I need Tracy. I need to be able to enter and go "Trace, what it is, it's my neck - no, no, Trace, leave your clothes on. Or, don't, I don't know your process. At this point I don't care. You know what? You do you. Mash my neck, don't worry about the happy ending."

(Well, unless it's reasonably priced as an add-on. I'm bisexual and I love a bargain.)

So one particularly painful day I thought fuck it, and I rang to book.

It did not clear anything up.

"Hello!" I said, when the lovely woman on the phone answered. In the interests of avoiding embarrassment on all sides, I decided to be Very Clear. "I currently have pain in my neck and shoulders, so I'm after a massage."

"Of course!" said the nice lady. "When would you like?"

"Tonight?" I asked. "About seven? If you can fit me -"

"Of course!" she beamed. "We will see you at seven!"

And she hung up. That was it. She did not take my name, or anything further; there was no indication as to how I would make sure I could, you know, actually claim the appointment on arrival. That was it.

"Hmm," I thought.

And then the phone rang. I picked up.

"I forgot to ask!" said the woman. "Do you want a male or a female?"

This, I thought, could still very much go either way.

"Well," I said. "I don't mind. As it's for getting knots out, I suppose -"

"Ah!" she said delightedly. "A male! See you later!"

And she hung up again.

"Hmm," I thought.

And so it was that I went to the massage parlour that evening, still none the wiser, waved off by my husband telling me to take the happy ending if it's offered, because he didn't mind at all and didn't want me to feel unsatisfied. This was very kind, but also qualifies for a "He's a little confused but he's got the spirit" meme, because I cannot tell you how little I was thinking about sex and how much I was thinking about the Gordian situation in my trapezoids and the way it was making me move like a T-rex.

Anyway. I was met by a lovely man who took me to a private room, gave me a towel, and told me to call him in once I was undressed and settled on the bed. This I duly did.

And then, what followed ended up being an hour and a quarter of the best massage I have ever had in my entire fucking LIFE.

I paid for an hour, to be clear. But this guy put his hands on my shoulders, frowned, said "Hmm," and then proceeded to work me over like I was meat for a tenderiser. It wasn't sexual. I just ceased being a person in his eyes. I was just muscles to him. Flesh to sculpt. I became a personal challenge. I watched as he passed into a state of intensive hyperfocus, time slipping away from us. He was like a fucking truffle pig after those knots, Tumblrs. He found every one. I could literally hear them clicking as he pressed them.

It was also, and I cannot stress this enough, the closest I have ever come to achieving enlightenment. There were points where I thought I was no longer in residence. I think I purred.

Eventually, he remembered the time, and left so I could get dressed. Then he sat me down in a chair and spent a final bonus ten minutes on my neck and shoulders, during which we chatted. His UK name is Chris (it's not, but both his real UK and Chinese names are here redacted for obvious privacy reasons), and he told me all about how he wanted to be an architect, and how his parents were hoping he would go back to China but he likes Wales and wants to stay, and which is the best Cantonese restaurant in Swansea. It was great. Transcendent experience. I walked out pain-free for the first time in months. He told me to drink water because it would remove the toxins the massage might have unleashed, and I thought that is not true, Chris, but I will do it for you.

I got home. "It's not a brothel!" I told my waiting husband and friends. "It's a legitimate massage parlour!"

"Hurrah!" they all said. "Perhaps we should get massages too."

And so, I went weekly. One time he had to reschedule, and so I received a message saying "Hello, this is Chris the massage boy", which is the most endearing sentence anyone has ever said to me, just absolutely delightful. Such a nice guy.

And then, one day, Steff thought maybe he'd go and get a massage.

And; well.

It turns out, Tumblrs, I had drawn a conclusion from too few datapoints; it turns out, Tumblrs, if you are male, in addition to the Swedish/Chinese/deep tissue options, you also get to order off the Forbidden Menu.

I had been ushered into a room where I was given a towel, and Chris would leave and only return once I was under the towel on the bed, so that he never saw a thing. But the first major difference we discovered was that, when Steff arrived, he was taken to a room and the woman who took him in then watched him expectantly until he stripped naked in front of her.

He did so, and got on the bed. She said, "Do you want two hands? Four hands? I can bring someone in."

"Oh," said Steff. "Um. Just a massage, please."

She stared at him.

"But," she said. "You don't want...?"

She mimed, very graphically, the act of wanking him off.

"No thanks," said Steff, voice getting higher.

"No??" she said, dumbstruck.

"Just a massage, please!" squeaked Steff.

They stared at each other.

"Okay," she said after a moment. "Okay."

She gave him the massage. It was very good. He's been back a few times. He's offered the menu every time. Every time, they are baffled by his refusal.

And then tragedy struck after almost a year - Chris the massage boy became Chris the no-longer-massage boy and moved away to Cardiff. Devastating. Horrifying. I was inconsolable for months. Why do bad things happen to good people.

Which meant I started seeing the other workers there. I don't think I've ever seen the same one twice, so immediately, there's an issue of never getting to a point with anyone where they know how much pressure I like/can take or anything like that; but also, every damn one of them has been a waif of a girl I could bench press with one hand with no ability to do a proper deep tissue massage.

Mostly, this has not been a problem. They do very nice massages regardless, though it turns out they really do just wait for you to get naked in front of them, and Chris was very much an outlier in that regard. But a few months back I did get one who checked the file they apparently had on me, and got out her language translation app on her phone, and spoke into it. In English it read, "You want me to go hard? Deep?"

"Well," I said. "Just on my back, if possible?"

Her phone translated what I said into Chinese, for her to read. She nodded, and said something back, and held up the phone.

"My me is very small," it read. "But I will try."

And then what she did, Tumblrs, was channel every ounce of rage and hatred and inter-generational trauma for the British that she possessed in her heart straight into into her hands and, by extension, my me. Have you ever seen someone, like, scrub at a bloodstain that won't come out, and is going to send them to prison? Ever seen someone scrub so hard and so fast and so desperately that they start grating off their own fingertips, and yet they just keep scrubbing? Ever seen someone scrub like their life might literally be depending on it?

How I still have skin baffles me. I'm astonished she didn't buff off every mole on my back. She fucking pummelled me. And the worst part was, she didn't let up once she moved away from my back and down my legs, and I couldn't communicate that she was now going far too hard, because she didn't speak English and her magic phone app was put away, and also I'm a wimp who never tells tradespeople when I'm unhappy. It was an endurance session. I paid her £30 for it, and thanked her once she was done.

Anyway. All this brings me to today.

So I managed to jar my back by falling off a Ninja Warrior cheese-shaped board just before New Year, which, naturally, jarred right between my shoulder blades. Super painful, now passed, but the stiffness has remained and seems reluctant to leave; so, I thought, it's massage time.

And

Well

I think that was the worst massage I've ever had from that brothel.

Not bad as in painful! It was not bad as in "This is actively painful." But it has never been clearer that this girl was a sex worker cosplaying as a massage therapist, and was sort of guessing at what to do.

Like, she started on my back, and normally that's the focus of a massage. I would say you normally get about two thirds of the session on your back. Not so today. Today, in a half hour session, she spent maybe five minutes, if that, just loosely running her hands up and down my back. Just loosely. Sort of skimming her hands over the skin, if you will. A sort of extended stroke, like I was a flighty Thoroughbred.

Then she moved on, whereupon she she spent, conservatively, about TEN FULL MINUTES on the backs of my legs. Some of that was doing a sort of pressing pinch, where she was squeezing big handfuls of flesh. Some of it was a massage stroke. And the rest of it - quite a lot of it, actually - was her attempting that thing where massage therapists do the smacking with the sides of their hands, but she hadn't understood it, so it was actually about ten minutes of being softly but rigorously karate chopped on the thighs and calves.

(No overlapping strokes, mind. I appreciated the transferrable skills on display.)

Next, she told me to turn over, so I did. At this point, she attempted to put a towel over me. I'm unsure why, since I was bollock naked and had been the whole time; perhaps she wanted me to stay warm? I don't think it can have been for modesty, though, at least not entirely, because I KNOW the kitty cat was not wholly covered. I think there was a good centimetre or two of labia poking out the base, two happy little hills, peeping out at the room as the session progressed.

And progress it did, but with one change - she used absolutely zero oil to do my front. From this point onwards, this encounter was was done dry. That is probably making some of you wince, but honestly, it actually wasn't that bad, for reasons of there was very little massaging that actually required it from here on out.

She sort of pulled on my fingers first of all. Really very firmly too, one of them clicked. She started with my left arm, and pulled every finger in turn; then she raised my hand up above my elbow, pressed her thumbs into the centre, and then quite literally punched my palm. Then she laid the arm back down, held my shoulder down with one hand, and then used her other hand to grab my arm at different points to sort of half squish it, half grind it into the bed. And then she yanked on my shoulder, karate chopped a bit more on my forearm, and then that was it for Arm 1. Arm 2 was much of the same, except she added in a fun lil move where she sort of waved it about a bit from the shoulder a couple of times.

Then she went back to my legs. No more oil, so she sort of half-heartedly prodded and karate chopped my shins a bit, but to be honest I don't think her heart was in it by then.

But THEN she had a brainwave, so the last five to ten minutes were an attempt at a face massage.

Except when I say a face massage, I mean:

Well; she started well?

She did the fingertips on the temples, thumbs on the forehead, rotate gently thing, which lasted maybe 15 to 20 seconds. But then she got bored, I suspect, so she smooshed my cheeks a bit and rotated them vigorously like a cartoon character. And then she decided that I carry my stress in my forehead, so she started gently pinching my eyebrows and spider walking her fingertips left and right across them. And then she massaged my forehead for a moment

and then

she went back to karate chopping. On my forehead. Where my skull is. Repeatedly.

And like, don't get me wrong - it didn't hurt. But there's only so pleasurable and relaxing you can find "softly yet rapidly struck on the head in a rain of blows for two minutes straight."

Also, and I probably should have led with this, but she had her tits out the whole time.

Anyway it's my favourite place to go for a massage. I mean I now have to go somewhere else tonight to get my back sorted, admittedly, because I in fact carry my stress in the shoulders and not the eyebrows and they were the least attended part of me. But absolutely 10 out of 10 experience, no regrets.

Search is turning up nothing, but that's Tumblr even if there is something, so:

Have I told you guys about my many adventures with the brothel massage parlour around the corner from my house yet?

[linskywords]

2024 HRPF recs

As has become my wont, I spent the last few weeks trying to catch up on some of the new fics in the hockey RPF tag that I missed over the course of the year. I definitely didn't get to everything, or even all of the most popular ones; there may also be a bias towards shorter fics here, as I was trying to get through a lot. 😅 But I hope you enjoy, and possibly find a gem or two that you missed!

First, some general favorites:

Scoring Effects by @helenish (McDrai, 30K): Ah, Helenish. A goddess among us. I love a good mistaken identity story, and this is a GREAT mistaken identity story.

barons by dilangley (MattDrai, 43K): Future fic in which Houston gets its own expansion team, Matthew coaches it, and Leon and Trevor Zegras play on it. Gorgeously done. The Trevor POV section broke me a bit, but it was worth it.

Living Things by @makeit-takeit (TK/Patty, 115K so far): I am so deeply invested in this series. It's very real and vivid-feeling future fic that does an amazingly thoughtful job exploring the NHL wife-and-kids pipeline and what happens when that doesn't fit you as well as you thought it would. The stories that are written so far feel nicely complete, but if you'd rather hold out for the full HEA, you can check out her Wild Ice for a different highlight from the past year.

put the stars in our eyes by @notthequiettype (McDrai, 17K): the McWedding story that I wish I had written. I thought it was going to destroy me, and instead it left me all warm and fuzzy.

Lost and Found by angry_geno_is_score (MattDrai, 2K): angry_geno_is_score had so much to choose from this year, as always, and I loved this as a microcosm of the hurt/comfort they do so well. If you like it, you know where to find more from them!

Next, we move to the irresistible new Sharks babies. I'm not sure I can oversell how hot these three stories managed to be:

come on (leave me breathless) by countthestars @moondoggiestyle (Will/Mack, 10K): I've already talked about how much I loved this one. There can never be too many stories of one player catching the other getting off in the shower, especially if they're as hot as this.

revising the shoreline by ohyellowbird @teex (Will/Mack, 6K): another super well done exploring-their-sexuality-while-not-talking-about-it story, aka my kryptonite.

teamwork makes the dreamwork by canary @bigdogenergy (Will/Mack and Will/Mack/Ryan Leonard, 19K): I'm sure a lot of you have already read this in the last week or so, but I couldn't not recommend it. Mack goes into heat and Will needs an alpha to help him out. Who to call but the ex?

And then we enter the realm of vaguely devastating but gorgeously written JDTZ trade fics:

home by now by donderwolk @donderwolkenblog (Jamie/Trevor, 6K): The moment they found out about the trade, and a little bit after. Brilliant, impeccable, ruinous.

heat check by jolach @hyggles (Jamie/Trevor and also Carts/Richie, 4K): Outsider perspective on Jamie and especially Trevor as they deal with the aftermath of the trade, through the eyes of Mike Richards, who may have some experience in the area. I don't know how anyone writes this well, honestly.

Finally, one of my favorite things about reading through the past year's fics is finding a prolific new author I love who I had totally missed in my year of mostly reading people I'm already subscribed to. This year it was unsay (@tungpin). They seem to have started writing HRPF this year, and they tend toward the kind of complicated sometimes-ambiguous stories that I never manage to write but love to read. Here are a few of my favorites of theirs from this year:

malt (MattDrai, 4K): Leon meets Sasha Barkov and has feelings about how he wants to be more serious than Matthew does (OR DOES HE).

accessory to the rockstar (McDrai, 5K): once again we have Leon having thoughts about how he feels more than the person he's into, this time about Connor. Bittersweet and lovely.

the care and keeping (Jamie/Trevor, 12K): in which Trevor's friends get on Jamie's case about neglecting him post-trade, and Jamie does something about it.

That's it from me, at least for now! I know there were many excellent stories this year I didn't get to, especially the long ones that I just didn't commit to while reading for this list. Perhaps this is the year I do what I've been telling myself to do for the past two years and keep track of what I read and love throughout the year. We can only dream. 😅

Happy reading!!

[livinghalfway]

Younger Years Pt. 4

Masterlist

Summary: Damian gets temp de-aged to 6yrs old; cue him asking where his twin is. This is how everyone finds out about Danny's existence Word Count: 2088

Explaining to them what Talia had said did not make the situation any better. While her information had been helpful it wasn’t nearly enough to calm the storm that raged in them. If anything caused the winds to roar even stronger. They had to know what happened in that room, and the only one that knew was currently 6 years old. Which meant everyone would just have to wait; something this family was never good at especially when it came to personal matters. 

“Talia doesn’t know what really happened to Danyal. Ra’s could have just lied to her, and made Damian swear to never tell her the truth. We all know how much he idolized that man. It would have been easy for Ra’s to convince him it was for the best.” Tim suggests as he types hurriedly at the computer. 

“If Talia thought for a second that he had done something like that it would have come to light by now.” Bruce counters, “Ra’s would still have needed help getting Danyal out of Nanda Parbat, and one of them would have most definitely let it slip to Talia if he had done that.” 

“Which is why Ra’s would have everyone involved killed before they could have done so.” 

“Tim-”

“Crazier things have happened Bruce; multiple people in this family have come back. Why not Danyal?” Tim looks away from the screen for but a second as he interrupts Bruce before focusing back on the screen. A clear sign that he doesn’t want to continue talking about this. 

Bruce leaves Tim to continue his investigation; a part of him hoping that Tim is right. He could never admit that though. It would just be that much more crushing if proven wrong. So he turns attention to Dick, who is still near the med bay ready to rush in if need be.  

“Chum, why don’t you take a rest? Damian is perfectly fine right now, and you look like you need a break.” 

He knew that the reveal of Danyal’s death would hit Dick partially hard as someone who was very protective of his younger siblings. It wouldn’t matter to him that Danyal died before he even knew of his existence. Bruce expected Dick to be consumed with sadness right now. He wasn’t though he was overcome with fury. 

“A rest Bruce? We all just found out that Damian’s twin is dead; that Ra’s did something to make sure Damian wouldn’t tell anyone. And you want me to take a rest?” Dick eyes burned into him as he spoke. “I’ll take a rest once I know what that psychotic old man did.” 

Bruce knows Dick well enough to read between the lines of what his son is saying. He’s angry at Ra’s, yes, but Dick’s angry at himself too. He’s probably wondering why Damian never felt comfortable enough to mention such a big part of himself to them. 

“And we’ll make sure Damian knows that whatever Ra’s said or did was wrong, but you look exhausted right now. At least let me bring a chair over here for you to sit in.” Bruce calmly states to his eldest son. 

It looks like his words haven’t calmed Dick in the slightest, but before he can speak up again a chair is being pulled up next to Dick by Jason. “Jesus Christ Dick, just sit down already. And that’s me agreeing with B on something so you should know that it's not just the old man saying some b.s.” 

It doesn’t take much for Jason to force Dick to take a seat; one hard shoulder shove and he was collapsing into the chair. After which Jason pulls his own chair up next to him. “I’m gonna need you to put an end to this little pity party in the corner, Dickiebird.” 

“I’m allowed to be upset, Jason. We just found out that our brother is dead, and I should have been able to do something. 

“You think I don’t get that? The only difference between us right now though is that I was there; I could have done something to save the kid if I had known.” 

“Jaylad-” 

“No Bruce, if Dick here wants to blame himself for not doing something then he can blame me too.” Jason gives Dick an annoyed look then turns his head towards Bruce, “You’re free to get out of here old man. Can’t believe I’m the one that’s gotta talk some sense into Dick here.” 

He really doesn’t want to leave this conversation where it’s currently at, but when Dick gives him a nod he knows that he should withdraw. Bruce does make a mental note to ask about how the discussion went later; for now though he’ll do as they want.

So for now he moves on to check on his final son, Duke, before doing so though Bruce stops by his office once more for a moment to just sit and think. Once there it doesn’t take long before he is reaching into the bottom drawer where he keeps a bottle of whiskey hidden away. When he doesn’t feel it though Bruce knows that Alfred must have taken it. 

Of course Alfred knew he had it; that man knows everything that goes on here. 

It’s for the best that it’s gone anyhow he doesn’t need to be repeating past habits from when he lost Jason. That’s the last thing this family needs right now; not when there are still so many questions that need answers. 

In the end it’s Duke who seeks him out first. A mere 10 minutes goes by where Bruce is sitting in silence before a few light knocks echo against the walls around him. After announcing that the person knocking entrance Duke almost hesitantly approaches him. His habit of always tapping his fingers on whatever he was holding a dead give away for how nervous his son must be feeling right now. 

“Hey B,” Duke started, “everyone seems to be going through it right now huh?”

“It would appear so. What about you chum? How are you doing with all this?”

“I’m … not fine, but I know that that’s ok; I don’t think anyone wouldn’t be somewhat affected by the recent news. I actually wanted to talk to you about something else though if that’s ok.” 

Bruce takes a quick steady breath preparing himself for whatever this conversation may bring. “Of course, what did you want to talk about?”

“About what’s going to happen afterwards; when we find out the truth from Damian. Because- If Danyal is … dead then I think asking Damian about who Danyal was as a person, and setting up a memorial of sorts might help everyone with their grief.” 

“That,” his throat feels tight, “that sounds like a wonderful idea, Duke. I’m sure Damian- everyone would appreciate having a setup for Danyal in the manor.” 

Duke seems satisfied with his answer, and with a small smile makes his way out of the office. Before he leaves though he says one last thing, “I’d also make time to call Cass and Steph to give them an update on this before they get home.” 

After that the silence once more takes control of the room while Bruce thinks about the what if’s and the could have been. 

He’s not sure what the future holds for them now, but Bruce does know that whatever comes they’ll deal with it; together. That means he can’t keep sitting here in sorrow; he can’t fall apart again. 

“It’s time to get to work,” is his last thought as he leaves to make his way back to the cave. 

-

The rest of the day seems to go by in a blur, and not in a good way. Damian spits fire anytime anyone steps into his room. He has only willingly allowed Alfred inside to deliver food to him, and even that was met with cautious anger. 

At the very least Damian isn’t trying to escape; some piece of evidence they showed him must have convinced him that what they were saying was the truth. That conclusion is a double edge sword though as now Damian for sure knows that Danyal is gone. Why else would his brother not be here?

Red Hood and Red Robin are the only ones that go on patrol when the time comes. Dick refuses to leave his station at the med bay door knowing that Damian could be transferring back to himself any time now, and Bruce doesn’t want to leave him by himself if that does happen tonight. The two don’t talk much while alone in the cave, but Dick does allow Bruce to momentarily take his place at the door while he takes a moment to refresh himself. 

While it doesn’t actually happen that night the family is definitely in for a surprise when they check in on Damian the next morning, and find the now normal 14 year old boy asleep on the bed. 

Everyone had to hold Dick back so that he wouldn’t wake him up, and in the end it was Alfred who finally managed to convince him to let Damian rest without interruptions. Unfortunately for the sleeping child though this only gives the rest of the family more time to think about what they’re going to ask, and heaven knows he already has a lot to answer for.

-

Damian feels himself slowly waking; his body feels stiff and slow when he attempts to sit up, but otherwise fine. He knows he must be in the med bay since the last thing he remembers was being on patrol with Nightwing and encountering a blinding light. 

When enough of his strength finally returns to him he cracks his eyes open to see his father and brothers all looking at him with varying degrees of concern. Whatever happened must have been a lot bigger than he had originally thought if they are all here with him.  

Slowly he rubs a hand across his face and groans out to everyone in the room, “What happened?” 

No one says anything for a few beats. In fact they all seem to avoid meeting his eyes entirely. Eventually though his father clears his throat before speaking in a voice far too soft and gentle, “Well chum, you got hit with a spell while on patrol. It- It reverted you back to your 6 year old self.”

Oh. 

Oh no. 

That was probably the worst thing he could have been told right now as Damian thinks back to what he was like at that age; to who had been by his side since birth. There is absolutely no way that his long gone other half wasn’t mentioned, or brought up in however long he was in his younger state. 

“I’m frankly surprised to see you all still standing. I was very dedicated to the league at that age.” He’s not going to admit to anything just in case he is wrong though. Danyal is not someone who Damian is ready to speak about. His twin, his brother, and his biggest regret; he’ll never forgive himself for being so brainwashed by Ra’s that he allowed Danyal’s death that day. That he was prepared to do it himself because the older man said it was for the best. 

“You did manage to break Jason's nose!” Duke lightly chuckles as the mentioned man throws a glare, but otherwise remains silent. Followed by more deafening silence from everyone else. 

Dick is the one that finally brings up the elephant in the room, “Dami … who’s Danyal?”

Why did he have to be right about them knowing? Ready or not it seems the truth about Danyal was coming to light it seems. “Danyal was my twin; the other half- the better half of me. I understand that now.”

His eldest brother gently grabs his hand, and holds it in a firm embrace of comfort. He’ll allow it for now. “And what happened to him?” 

Damian can’t keep his past hidden anymore, and Danyal deserves to have his story told. “When we were 10 Gran- Ra’s took Danyal and I away from our studies early one afternoon. He said that he had a couple lessons of his own that he wanted to teach us personally.” 

For one it was a life lesson, and for the other a death sentence. 

… 4 years ago …

“Damian, Danyal, come. You two are about to learn what it truly means to be an Al Ghul.”

[jweekgoji]

Hi can I request for yandere Sentinel Prime x maid femme s/o please

Yandere!Sentinel/Femme!Maid!Reader [TFO/hcs]

tw: yandere themes, jealousy, possessive behavior, power imbalance, master/servant relationships, mentions of objectification of reader (from Sentinel's side), controlling behavior. word count: ~1300 additional tags: cogless!reader (but I didn't state reader's height just so it will fit for everyone ig), cybertronian!reader, femme!reader, maid!reader. a/n: It's funny, but in the ± official Transformers comics, at least Nightbird, Starscream and Windblade had some sort of maid job.

I can imagine Sentinel already having a bunch of maids, running up the tower while he's too 'busy' being a Prime.

Knowing Sentinel, and his obsession with appearing like a real Prime, it's not surprising that as soon as he gets his high title, he surrounds himself with a bunch of servants who humbly work for him.

If he wants to live like a real king, then he definitely needs assistants to provide him with constant comfort.

In fact, it amuses me to think that the original thirteen Primes didn't worry about such things. Sure, they were busy on Cybertron, constantly creating new things for a young, future race, but having maids? Yeah, well, no, thanks.

After Prime takes his position, like I said, he immediately surrounds himself with trusted confidants. Airachnid is also a very good help at this point. She may not be quite the 'social' bot that she seems at first glance, but her perceptiveness can easily crack any potential rascal.

Such a concept as 'maids' hardly existed on Cybertron, so the term came right after the Sentinel → Prime.

↑ Most likely, like miners, no one thought about their need until the newly elected Prime decided to introduce a new class.

↑ Given that, there's a good chance that bots that play the role of maids aren't as high just like miners, so it's a likely that maid bots won't have t-cogs either. Poor things.

I'm not sure if it got that much popularity among the rest of Cybertron's elite, but at first the rest of the Iaconians were surprised.

↑ Like, we definitely need a new class of bots that will be used every day as servants and will suffer from the elites? Really?? But yeah...! Knowing how much they idolize Sentinel, I wouldn't even question such a decision.

Sentinel is pretty careful about who he accepts into his inner circle, so naive, incompetent, but utterly respectful bots are exactly what he needs.

This bastard can watch for hours, sitting in a comfy chair in his office, Airachnid standing silently beside him as he flips through each profile.

'Too bright, too dull, I don't like this type of frame-' even without looking twice, it can go on like this for hours until he accidentally bumps into you. Everything about you seemed to fit his every whim. You were the perfect size, the perfect paint job, and without a single flaw, what else could a bot of his stature want?

↑ Yandere! Sentinel definitely got a sense of “love at first sight” in this scenario, but I'm not quite sure what he feels for you can be called love at all.

He's not going to immediately order your services the minute you do, but you can't say he doesn't want to either. Sentinel is very concerned about how he looks in front of others.

“Should I contact her?” Airachnid decides to speak, leaning a little closer to take in the sight of the bot on the panel.

Too focused on his thoughts, the Prime flinches, but quickly hides it as he tries to compose himself and sit up straight in his seat.

“No-no need to, for now,” he clears his throat. ”I need some time to think.”

And then he can't help but come back every time to look at you. It's no secret he's interested. Each new profile is now more boring to him than the last, and at some point he doesn't have the patience not to call out Airachnid.

↑ But...! It would be too suspicious if he only called you. No, he can't let the others think he has favorites, so grudgingly, he might as well call out a few other assistants, even though he hardly paid attention to who they might be. All his attention was only on you.

From the moment you arrive, it seems that everyone's favorite Prime just can't live a day without you. Every day, you'll be at his beck and call.

He needs to clean up his own office in a hurry? You go straight to him. In the middle of the night, you're called to bring a few cubes of energon directly to his chambers? You forget about your rest for the whole night. And sometimes it gets absurd.

At some point, he even forgets that he also has other maids that run errands for him; at some point, you're promoted to be his personal maid.

Since then, you can say bye-bye to your privacy since Sentinel gets even more greedy about it. Having you helping him and cleaning around is not enough at one point. Of course, like any other hardworking person, you need to rest; he doesn't want you to end up passing out because of low energon in the middle of nowhere. That is why you should always be kept next to him.

During the important meetings, when many members of Iaconian elite group came to the tower, discussing boring, important stuff, you're here to make sure that everyone is satisfied and happy. He wants to keep his high rate of approval after all!

Seeing how other bots look you up makes him practically grind his teeth. Part of him hates it deep to the core of his spark; the other is arrogant about it, knowing how none of them can actually have you. You're his personal favorite, so there is no way someone would dare to take Prime's maid.

↑ but if someone dares to make a gross, disgusting comment about you, he'd make sure that they learn the lesson. He wouldn't kill them, since he doesn't want to stain his servos in energon, or lose an important member, so he just scares them off in ‘seize them, cut their throat! oh, wait— I changed my mind!’ way.

The more you stay close with Sentinel, the more comfortable he gets. At first, it's all started with keeping your presence nearby. Nothing too suspicious or weird; you may think he's just testing your skills, and that alone makes you put more effort into your work,  even though the reason for his staring is a little different than you might think.

↑ He's not a hardcore yandere even though when he ‘‘falls in love’, it hits him hard. There will be this overly sweet period with him, where he shows that he does actually care about you. Like when you can't reach for something, he will help to get it for you, or if you're too tired, he lets you rest with him together in the privacy of his office. Overall, when he wants to show himself from the good side, Sentinel is such a perfect mech.

↑ He's always polite, and when he's with other bots who are lower in rank than him, he acts all humble; it's hard not to feel at ease around him.

But as much as a bastard Sentinel is in canon, yandere Sentinel still doesn't treat his darling as equal. Like I mentioned in previous headcanons for Sentinel, he sees only himself as ‘a king’, and sharing that title with someone else will only take the part of power he wants to have.

He's still selfish and arrogant, since he believes that his maid lover was created only for him, and him only. There is a part of him that actually sees you as an object that he wants to possess, and it's not really romantic.

↑ Sentinel loves to control everyone and everything, and his pretty darling is not an exception. If he sees you slacking off when you're supposed to work, he's not shy to scold or even punish you. It's nothing too drastic, at least for now, but that will make you remember that you work for a Prime, after all.

[meanbossart]

ASK COMPILATION #385032: Shape-shifting genitals, mouth-mashing skillsets, who taps out first in the bedroom and the 17 different types of meat this guy eats.

I TRIED TO MAKE THIS A BIG ONE. Thank you everybody for your patience!

The truth of the matter is that I need one dramatic light-source or I will perish. HOWEVER...

Yeah, they seem the type to leave it purposefully ajar for the thrill of it. As well as the excuse to bring hell down upon anyone caught trying to steal a peek.

YES, actually! I've had the concept for a comic or two that's precisely about interactions they've had while younger. Comics take a lot of work, and there's a LOT of things I want to do, but that is definitely in the plans.

Yes! Or rather, as a shapeshifter, I believe she doesn't bother with them 99% of the time, possibly never, even though she has the habitability to form them if she so wished. The Orin DU drow knew was always doll-like in appearance when nude, and he did not particularly mind it or fantasized about anything different.

I believe this is both a preference in Orin's part (and across many shapeshifters, if I recall correctly) as well as a strategic choice.

And thank you so much!

[MORE BELOW THE CUT]

I don't know, kissing isn't that hard LOL I think they're pretty even-leveled in technique but Astarion is the tonguier one.

ALL IN DUE TIME, MY FRIEND, ALL IN DUE TIME...

Maybe 😊 🤫though I'm not sure how useful his powers would be in that context.

That said, Indeed! The irony of this match isn't lost on anyone. I'm sure Astarion would have some thoughts about the convenience of it.

I know this is more of a jokey message, but I don't think Astarion would be cool with that sort of thing, and DU drow most definitely wouldn't ask 😂

Whatever works, as he would probably say!

Astarion got drunk through DU drow on occasion while he still fed on him, yes LOL I don't care if that makes sense or not, It's a hysterical concept and definitely factual in my canon. To be fair as well, DU drow is a huge man and has to drink a LOT to get properly wasted - so Astarion wouldn't have to consume a whole lot from him to get on a similar level!

Post a few particular post-campaign events, Astarion gets drunk through strangers' blood that were either piss-drunk already or have been fed alcohol forcibly by the pair.

He likes thick stews, braised pork, and meat-pies the most. Don't ask me when or why I've decided this but he likes octupi as a every-once-in-a-while treat - I think he mostly enjoys the experience of eating it more than the taste.

For drinks, he likes beer, red semi-dry wine, and mead the most. He also likes a GOOD whisky - none of the copper-coin garbage they serve at most Inns.

Hi! Incredible question. DU drow can go indefinitely but when he stops he knocks out in record speed. There usually comes a point where Astarion flops over and lets him do all the work.

You know how, shortly after you find out about it, if you tell Astarion that you're frightened of your origins you get that really heartfelt bit of dialogue about how yourself and him are so much alike, and how he feels similarly powerless before Cazador as you do toward your father? Well, I never got that, because DU drow was too busy squinting into the horizon and contemplating the logistics of his conception which prompts Astarion to, essentially, say something along the lines of "Okay, if all you want to do is discuss your dad's cum I'm out"

So, like that.

They didn't smash in the graveyard! I'm hoping to either write a short thing about it, draw something inspired by how the scene went down in my head, or, ideally, both!

That IS kind of a wild comparison but I'm guessing you know about my origins, LOL.

Not... Quite. I'm reluctant to say more because I would like for it to be a surprise that I bring you all through art (even if you can make a pretty accurate deduction based on what has been said so far) but suffice to say that this is the flipside to the Bhaalist DU drow AU.

I don't think I could find the time 😭😭😭 but that's a hysterical idea and I would gladly mash together a bunch of clips if someone else was willing to highlight them!

Hello and thank YOU for humoring me in my nerdy little forays!

I hadn't heard about Model/Actriz but I had a little sneak-peek and, indeed, this might just be right up my alley LOL

It's hard for me to remove these characters from their intended universe so I have a difficult time picturing what they would listen to if the options didn't all sound like string-y bardcore music. I'm sure there are more genres to speak of in DnD lore, I'm just ignorant of them!

That said I do have some thoughts about which of them even enjoy music at all.

REALLY enjoys music: DU drow, Jaheira, Misc, Karlach, Wyll.

Modestly enjoys music: Gale, Shadowheart, Minthara, Halsin.

Generally doesn't enjoy music: Astarion, Lae'zel.

No notes just canonical character information being shared

I forgot what this one was in reference to for a moment and I was so aghast.

I really, really hope you weren't hoping for me to give you work-out advice because both, if you were, you've come to the wrong man.

But if you're just wondering about lore here, I think it's a solid 50/50. I think he's predisposed to a really well-built physique because Daddy Bhaal said so AND he's incredibly active and incidentally does a lot of manual labor. If he's had a few too many sedentary days in a row (which is rare) he pretty much has to tire himself through at-home routines or he goes a little cuckoo-bananas as well.

And thank you for being interested in my little freak!

He's pretty thoroughly desensitized, and thinks far too little of Orcs and half-orcs to be intimidated by them, even when that lack of fear is downright stupid. He's not impervious to fear, however, despite how hard he tries to be - Myrkhul, Grym, the giant Steelwatch, the brain, and even Cazador AFTER he snatched Astarion away were all encounters that made his blood run cold to varying degrees. I think it takes an unfamiliar foe for his sweat to run a little cold.

(Ironically, Raphael had no such effect on him.)