#you can just feel it in the bones of the series

[euthymiya]

i adore you (can’t you see you’re meant for me?) — ft. sylus

sylus likes to sleep late in the mornings, and you like to admire him. the two are just a series of steps that bring you to where you are now: on top of him

— word count: 4.7k words — it’s literally all pure filth with no plot idk what to say atp

— before you read: female reader ; established relationship ; sleepy sylus ; banter and teasing ; reader rides his abs (do not look at me) ; praise kink (it goes both ways tbh) ; blow jobs ; cum eating ; reader has an obsession with his veins (it is her not me okay?) ; sylus wraps his hand around her throat (but no choking) ; body worship + one clit kiss ; nipple play ; morning sex ; unprotected vaginal sex ; creampie ; do not be fooled it is all pretty soft i promise

— comments: i am new to this game and i haven’t gotten too far go easy on me for this one :( i dedicate this to all my sylus loving nonnies in my inbox thanks for helping me figure out this game LOL. and kass. ily kass

Sylus sleeps more when the sun is out than when it’s not. You don’t mind it so much—not when the view is what it is.

(He’s pretty, and so is the sun. The two combined make for an even prettier picture. You think, if you weigh your options, there are certainly worse things out there than sitting beside your sleeping boyfriend and waiting for him to wake up.)

It’s hard to keep your hands to yourself, though. His hair is too tempting not to brush away from his face. And while your hand is right there, it’s a little impossible not to cup his cheek for a moment. And, well, if you’re already touching him, you might as well let your hand slide down to his chest and rub circles against the skin. He leans into your touch subconsciously anyway—it’s not hurting him. It’s helping.

(You like telling yourself plenty of things to justify your hand and his skin having an early morning rendezvous.)

“Bored, sweetie?” His voice is always deeper when laced with sleep than it usually tends to be. You stiffen, moving to pull your hand away, an apology already prepared on your lips for waking him when he catches your wrist, eyes still closed. “I didn’t say to stop, did I?”

“You’re ridiculous,” you huff, letting him guide your hand back to his bare chest. It rises and falls slowly, so warm and firm under your palm that it’s a little dizzying.

“Am I?” He cracks an eye open, “I was just enjoying a little tenderness. I wonder why I can’t ever seem to receive something so sweet when I’m awake.”

“Precisely this reason,” you say flatly. He raises a smug brow. Just to humor him, you add, “Your ego can’t handle it when you’re awake.”

“What, that you find me too irresistible not to touch?”

“Sylus, go back to sleep,” you grumble, shuffling away from him with a face that feels unbearably hot under his half-lidded gaze. “You’re easier to get along with that way.”

“I don’t know,” he all but purrs. In a swift motion—swift enough that you let out a shrill squeal—his hand tugs at your arm and pulls you close enough that he can hoist your body to sit on his lower belly. “We get along pretty well when we’re wide awake, don’t you think?”

His hand hikes up your (well, technically his) shirt and rests on your hip, nothing but the thin fabric of your panties separating you from him as you’re seated on top of him. You shiver lightly when his thumb caresses your hip bone, a satisfied hum pulling from his throat at the feeling of goosebumps rising against your skin. 

“Sylus,” you breathe, squirming over him—but you can’t say much else because you cut yourself off with a soft gasp when you hear the distinct sound of something tearing. 

Fabric. 

More specifically, your fabric. Your underwear—which was a rather nice pair too, you think woefully—is torn into two pieces, one held in Sylus’s hand like some form of victory, while the other falls against his belly with nothing holding it together around your hips. 

You blink. He gives you a large Cheshire grin.

“Sorry, sweetie,” he says, not so apologetically, “They were just in the way.”

“I liked those!” You hiss, glaring at him, “They were nice!”

“What, you don’t think I can buy you more? I could buy them faster than I could rip them, I’m sure.”

You have your doubts about that last part—but it’s still persuasive enough that you’re no longer as mad as you were just a moment ago. But you’re still petulant, pouting as you huff, “You ruin everything.”

“Mmh,” he hums, closing his eyes, voice still a low drawl from sleep as he says, “Are you sure? Because I can feel you dripping already, sweetheart.”

Shame floods your system quickly, but lust is faster. Stronger, too, perhaps—because you don’t have it in you to be ashamed for too long before you grow impatient. With a deeper pout, you press your hands against his chest, leaning lower until your mouth hovers over his. 

“Can you blame me?” You breathe against his lips. “Just look at you.”

He stiffens. Just barely, of course. Just enough that you can hardly even detect it, but you do. You do because you know him. And you know that when Sylus teases, it’s really just to deflect from his need to shift the attention to yours—like he doesn’t want you just as bad. Like he’s not just as hard as you are wet in his boxers. Like he doesn’t need to feel you just as badly as you need to feel him. 

But he likes to keep the upper hand. It starts with two hands on your hips, firmly squeezing them before slowly rocking them against his abs. Your bare cunt (courtesy of him destroying a perfectly good pair of panties) glides along the ridges and indents of his muscle. Very well-defined ridges and indents of muscle, too. You tense, letting out a shaky gasp as your clit rubs against his hard-planed physique. 

“If you like it so much, why stop at just a look?” He chuckles, “You’re more than welcome to feel, too, sweetheart.”

He’s so sickeningly proud of himself, you can’t help but think bitterly as soon as your hips start grinding against him of their own accord. He’s so pleased and amused and deeply content with the sight of you falling apart over him. His eyes are hungry, and they don’t stray away from you for a single second. They don’t miss a single twist in your expression, nor do they have the decency not to stare shamelessly at the image of where your pussy meets his midsection, where your slick pools and coats his skin and makes it glisten as you make a mess on him. 

He hums, large hands leaving your waist buried in their frames as they guide you at a slow, steady pace. “Bet that feels good, doesn’t it?” He grins—and oh, he’s aggravatingly happy as he laughs breathlessly, “You look like you’re about to fall apart. Don’t worry, I’m right here. You can’t fall far.”

You would say something smart if you could. Maybe even reach back and palm over his crotch that’s rudely tight against his boxers. But you can’t. Not when your clit rubs against his warm, heated skin and leaves jolts along your spine. All you can manage is a pathetic, “S-Sylus, please—”

“Oh? Please what? Please more?” He coos.

Something of a dull ache builds into this deep, throbbing need to feel your walls hug around something. To constrict around and latch onto something warm and big and full—something like him. Something like the way he fucks you into the mattress and makes you feel like he’s so deep in you, you can feel him in your throat. 

That’s what you want—but of course, you’re naive if you think that’s what he’ll give. For now, at least. For now, he’ll tease, and tease, and tease until he can watch you crumble just the way he wants to witness. And you’re close to that, too—you know it, and so does he. He can tell by the way your wetness drips onto him in a messy pool, making your cunt drag against him easier, smoother. He can tell because he can all but feel the quiver of your walls clenching around nothing, empty and desperate for some sort of building friction. And he can especially tell because of your face—that devastating look on your face when you’re so close to the edge you can just practically cling to it with the tips of your fingers as it dangles teasingly in front of you. 

“More,” you plead, “Want you. Want to feel you.”

“Oh, but you’re almost there,” he says in faux sympathy, soothing you with a sleepy, smug little grin. “Surely, you can take it just like this, can’t you? You’re better than that—I know you are.”

His words take you to the edge. You plummet off of it, in fact, practically collapsing against his chest as he holds you upright with a firm, strong grip and guides you through your orgasm. You gush around nothing, making a wet, sticky mess on his skin as you cum against him, grinding your clit as much as you can along every indent along his hard, built muscle. 

“Sylus,” you whimper, “oh—f-fuck.” Your body quivers for a few more moments before you slump against him, burying your nose into his neck. “You’re despicable,” you bite the skin lightly.

He laughs. It’s low from the sleep that’s still clinging to his voice but boyish enough that your heart skips a beat. “Am I? You seemed to enjoy it.”

You shuffle to curl into him more, but your leg brushes against the bulge in his underwear—a small, barely-there sound pulls from his throat. Something caught between a gasp and a moan that makes you pause before you grin against the crook of his neck.

“Guess I should pay you back, hm?” 

He watches, pupils dilated and eyes half-lidded as you pull away and kiss from his collarbone to his pecs. A rise of goosebumps litters his skin, too—just like they did on your skin earlier. You silently revel in that victory, making your way lower, lower, lower. But it’s painfully, obnoxiously, ridiculously slow. 

“Don’t be a tease, sweetie,” he hisses, grunting as you kiss down his torso, the well-defined muscle of his abs flexing under every touch of your lips. 

“Who, me?” You blink, batting your lashes sweetly, “Oh, I’d never, baby.”

Your lips graze over the skin that’s still marked with your essence as you kiss and suck along his torso, a trail of marks left in your wake and declaring him yours. You can taste yourself from just a few moments ago—the moments when you rocked your hips into him and fell apart, when he held you through it with a sleepy smirk. The image of his smug face makes you glance up at him with a flustered look, and almost as if he already knows, his gaze is on you. Waiting. Smug here in person just as much as he was in your memories.

“What a naughty thing,” he drawls, teasing glint in his eyes. “Did you get a taste of yourself? I’m sure now you have an idea of why I find it so…addictive, don’t you?”

He’s filthy. Cocky, too. And more often than not, he’s absurdly prepared with smart comments. Just to even the playing field a little, you decide he could use a little relentless teasing of his own. 

“Oh, I can think of a thing or two just as addictive,” you smile innocently—and just like that, you lean in to kiss against a pale, blue line across his porcelain skin, pulling away to admire the veins that mark his body. Something in you aches for him all over again—something that you don’t like to admit happens from just the sight of something like his veins. But you pay careful attention to them anyway, leaning down and pressing soft, feather-like kisses against his lower belly, feeling him stiffen tightly underneath you as his breath gets labored and slightly erratic.

He’s impatient. You glance down at him, cock hard and strained against his boxers, the beginnings of a wet patch dampening the skin from pre cum dribbling from his tip. You almost feel bad. 

Almost. 

“Don’t you ever get tired of your games?” He grits, involuntarily twitching his hips to chase some friction. 

“I could ask you the same question,” you snort. 

“Yet, it seems I’m always the one spoiling you,” he retorts. 

There’s some bit of merit to that, you suppose. So you give in, humming as you kiss along his v-line, one finger looping under his waistband while giving a small tug downwards. He lifts his hips instantly, letting you pull off the offensive piece of clothing that separates him from your touch. 

It’s flushed, his cock. Swollen, flushed with a pretty rosy shade at the tip, and glistening with leaking pre cum. You lean and give the thick vein along the underside a series of kisses tracing upwards before pressing a delicate one to his tip. He groans, and his cock twitches at the contact, his eyes fluttering closed as he bites his lip. 

“Pretty,” you observe, smiling softly at the sight of him. 

He scoffs, lips almost a pout as they curl into a frown. “Then do something about it,” he insists. 

You think you’ve sufficiently teased him enough, so you do—you take him into your mouth slowly, inch by inch, as your tongue and the wet heat of your mouth envelop him and make him tense for a moment before his body goes slack. A deep, throaty groan rings through the room, the sound making something do a flip in your lower belly. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, breathing heavily. “You…you’re so good at this.”

The praise does something to you that you’re not proud of. Some flash of an ache deep in your core that you don’t want to focus on, so you pay closer attention to him instead. Your tongue swirls over his tip as your head bobs up, tracing down that pretty vein of his as you take him down your throat once more. What you can’t fit in your mouth—because there is enough of him that you can’t fit in your mouth—you pump with your fist, wrapped around the base of his shaft. 

Sylus has a lot of veins. You admire them long enough to know them all by heart. The ones along his hands that you love to trace when you hold them in yours. The ones along his arm that you love to eye when he’s working out. The ones along his abdomen that you trace every once in a while with the tip of your finger when you have him to yourself in private. And the long, pretty one along this inner thigh—the one you see only when you’re like this: between his spread-out legs with your mouth around his cock. 

Your free hand moves to lay over this thigh, gently rubbing into the skin as if to anchor him as he throws his head back and groans. Your eyes are trained on him, staring up at the twists of pleasure in his expression and the crinkles in his eyes as he closes them tightly and moans. But you don’t have to look at your hand to know your thumb is tracing along that vein. You know it better than you know yourself, you think—his body is so easy to memorize. So easy to get to know and keep ingrained in your brain forever. 

His thigh flexes under your touch, and you hum around him, the vibrations around his length making his breath hitch as he curses under his breath. 

You pull away with nothing but a string of saliva connecting you to him, his eyes glancing down at you sharply for the interruption. But you smile, equal parts soft and equal parts smug. Gently, you press a wet kiss to his thigh, right over the same pale blue line you traced just moments ago, as you murmur, “You’re so pretty. You know that?”

“I’m flattered,” he says tightly, warily staring down at you with hungry, desperate eyes. “I’m sure you can save the flattery for later, though, can’t you?”

“But what if you think I’m just using you for your body?” You gasp dramatically, “Can’t have that, you know. I have to appreciate you more.”

“Teasing can easily be reciprocated, you know, sweetheart,” he grits, “Or have you forgotten that so quickly?”

“Oh, I’m aware. I’ll take my chances.” Your lips trail up his thigh until it reaches the base of his cock. You press another kiss against it, murmuring a quiet, “I love you.”

His cock twitches—it’s like it responds to every soft word of affection and every littlest bit of praise. For all the denying and for all the impatience, too, Sylus loves the attention. Thrives under it, even—it does something to his ego that you know you probably shouldn’t help stroke, but you can’t help it. 

You press one more kiss to his swollen tip before murmuring, “Mine,” and then you take him down your throat once more—faster this time. Your head bobs up and down his length, lips wrapped around him as you swallow every now and then. 

His hand flies to his hair, tugging at the soft, silvery strands as he groans deeply, hips pushing up to meet your pace and thrust deeper into your mouth. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” he hisses, “Just like that, sweetheart—shit.”

He spills down your throat not too long after. Warm, sticky ropes of cum that paint your mouth with every twitch of his cock, filling you enough that some spills from the corner of your mouth, dripping along your face and collecting at your chin. You swallow what you can, working him through his orgasm, listening to the sweet, lust-hazed sounds he makes as pleasure burns through every nerve of his body. 

He slumps back when he’s finished, panting with an arm over his eyes while you wipe your chin and swallow before climbing up his body and slumping on top of him. He wraps an arm around your waist instantly, humming lowly as his large, warm hand rubs into your lower back. 

“Had your fun?” He raises a brow. 

You grin cheekily, kissing his jaw as you murmur, “I think you had more fun than me, but what do I know?”

He chuckles. It’s low, and the sound vibrates through his chest so that you can feel it under you. There’s a small bead of sweat along his temple, and his face is flushed a soft shade of scarlet that you admire—it brings out the deep crimson of his eyes even more from here. 

“You’re so pretty,” you whisper. 

“How many times will you remind me of that?” He asks, bringing a hand to your chin, tilting your face up, and inspecting you carefully. “You’re making me feel bad. I haven’t reminded you how stunning you are nearly enough times.”

“You could always start now,” you wink, “It’s never too late.” He laughs again. Deep, genuine, soft. Sylus is a lot of things. You think your favorite is in love. 

“Do I really have to remind you?” He whispers, voice husky as he slowly shifts your body to lay under his, flipping you over as he hovers over you. “You don’t already know how beautiful you are—how you drive me insane?”

“A reminder wouldn’t hurt,” you blink innocently. “What if you’re secretly getting tired of me?”

His eyes flash with something dangerous at that. You only meant it as a joke, of course—he loves deeply. So deeply, you don’t think you’d escape him even if you wanted to. (Not that you do, of course. You’re quite happy knowing your place is beside him.) You know he’s never tired of you—quite the opposite, in fact. 

But you like teasing him. Getting under his skin enough that his hand moves to your throat and wraps around it firmly—not quite tight enough to block your air flow, but enough to serve as a light warning. 

“You think I would get tired of you?” He challenges. Offended. In disbelief. “Tired of this?”

Just like that, the familiar sound of fabric tearing rings through your ears again. It’s a sound you seem to be getting more and more used to the longer you date Sylus. And yet, every time, it pulls the same sound of disbelief from your throat as you gasp at his audacity. But before you can speak, before you can scold him for ripping your (his) favorite shirt straight off of your body, his hands curve around your tits, molding against them perfectly as if they were made to cup them. His thumbs roll over your nipples, humming in approval as you whine softly at the feeling. 

“Sylus,” you pant. (Regretfully, you think that’s the only collection of syllables you can manage anymore on this fine morning.) “W-wait—”

“Wait?” He pretends to gasp in shock, “But we’re just getting started. I was just about to show you all my favorite parts of you—they never get old. Would you like to see?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he leans down, latching his lips around one pebbled nipple, sucking and nipping lightly at it as his thumb rolls over and pinches the other one. Your back arches into his touch, a soft moan spilling from your lips as he grins against your chest. 

“Here’s a favorite, for starters,” he murmurs. “And here—” he kisses along your belly and makes his way to your hip bone, biting lightly at the flesh and making your breath hitch, “—this is certainly a memorable place too, isn’t it? Can’t keep my hands off of it.”

Finally, his hands slowly pull your legs apart, exposing the wet, dripping mess that is your cunt, folds puffy and waiting for him. He presses a soft, lingering kiss to your clit, smiling at the small whimper you let out from the sensitive touch before he says through a low, breathy whisper, “This, however…this has to be my favorite part of all.”

“Okay,” you whine, pulling at his arms with a plea, “I get it, okay? I need it, please.”

“Well then,” he huffs out a soft laugh, “Who am I to deny?”

He’s level with you before you can blink—mouth on yours with a heavy, heated kiss that sends your brain into a fogged state as you kiss back. All you can register is soft flesh, pressure against your mouth, the taste of his tongue on yours, and hot and heavy breath seeping into your lungs while he inhales yours. It’s slow, the way he kisses you—but still undeniably needy. He chases after your mouth as soon as you pull away to breathe, a soft gasp pushing past his throat at the loss of contact. As if it might kill him. As if he might die without your breath down his throat, keeping him alive. 

“Do you want it, sweetheart?” He breathes erratically, “Because I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

“I want it,” you practically beg, “I want you.”

He’s hard again—stiff between his legs and throbbing at your words enough that his cock does a little jerk on its own, like it’s responding to you itself. He drags it along your entrance, rolling slow circles against your folds and coating his tip in your slick, earning a sharp inhale from you as he groans at the teasing friction against the head of his cock.

“I always want you,” he breathes. 

He pushes past your folds as he speaks the words against your mouth, letting you swallow up the low moan he lets out as your walls wrap around him little by little. It’s painstakingly slow. Inch after inch after inch until the blunt head of his length presses deep into you, nudging against a soft, sensitive spot in your walls that makes your whole body react with a quiver. He curves into you perfectly, thick and deep and so, so full. 

“Ready?” He smiles tenderly, gripping the fat of your thighs and hooking them around his waist, leaning to kiss one of your knees as you melt into the mattress and nod. 

“Please,” you whine, “Need it—need you.”

There’s a sharp thrust of his hips at that—he pulls out until he’s almost completely left your warm cunt before slamming back in past your folds, pressing mercilessly against your sensitive spot. It’s partly because he has your body memorized but mainly because his body is practically made to mold into you. It’s like he fits you perfectly, curves into the shape of your body like the shape of his was hand-made to pair with yours. 

When Sylus fucks you is when you see past his exterior the most. When his eyes hold the most emotion, staring at you like he can’t believe you’re his. When his hands shake for once because he doesn’t know if he deserves the weight of you in his hold. When his breath is the most labored and uncontrolled because you steal every breath from his lungs, and selflessly, he gives up air for you. When sweat coats his skin and makes his hair cling to his forehead because when he loves you is when his body is most responsive, most affected. 

When Sylus fucks you is when you love yourself most. Because how could you not when he pays such close attention to you? Thumb finding your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles just the way he knows drives you crazy, watching your face closely for every reaction? How could you not when close is not nearly close enough, when he presses his chest against yours and buries his face into your neck to all but melt under your skin? It makes you feel desirable. Beautiful. Lovable. 

So easy to want.

So easy to lose control to.

So easy to need. 

“You feel that, don’t you?” He mumbles, panting harshly as he grunts when you squeeze around him at the sound of his labored voice. “Feel me? How badly I need you? How crazy you drive me? Feel how hard I am for you? Don’t tell me you think I’d ever get tired of that.”

“I know,” you whine, “I know, I know, baby—I promise.”

You let out a small squeal when he angles your leg higher, thrusting deeper into your cunt, pressing harshly where you need him most with his tip in a dizzyingly punishing pace and a harshly rough deepness that makes your vision blur. Almost go blank, even.

“Tell me you love me,” he demands.

“I love you!”

“Tell me you need me,” he adds, so selfish and needy for your approval. To know you’re nothing without him like he’s nothing without you. 

“N-need…fuck, I need you,” you stumble over your words as your orgasm comes closer and closer, creeping up on you enough that you can’t catch your breath fast enough to keep up with him.

“Tell me you’re mine.” This time, it comes out as almost a plea.

“Yours,” you sob, body on the precipice of breaking all over again, “Yours, yours, yours.”

You cum as soon as you say it. Harder than maybe ever—it’s like being reminded that you’re his makes your body react tenfold. You fall apart with a shrill cry of his name, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a bruising kiss as your nails press indents into his skin. 

He groans in pleasure at the slight pain, melting against your lips, an open-mouthed, wet kiss working him up to his own orgasm. His first one was a slow build-up—but this one happens quickly, coming out of nowhere and hitting him full force, his hips stuttering for a moment and losing rhythm as he sloppily thrusts into you. 

Yours. Yours. Yours. 

Your voice rings in his ears, aiding him through his pleasure as he fucks his thick, sticky release deep into your folds, sharp thrusts that match the harsh twitching of his cock. 

“Ngh,” he grunts, “Sh-shit, sweetheart.”

Finally, when you’re both done, breaths frenzied and harsh as you try to make up for the lost air in your lungs, he slumps over your body and hides his face into the crook of your neck, practically purring as your shaky hand buries into his sweaty locks and strokes the soft, silvery strands. 

It’s quiet, just the sound of your breathing eventually shifting from heavy to slowed as you finally catch it, the quivering of your body dissipating, too. Your fingers journey their way from his scalp to the back of his neck, lightly making a feather-soft trail along his bare back as he shivers from the touch.

“Don’t fall asleep after I showed you a good time,” you pout, “It’s rude.”

“You were the one that woke me for a good time,” he mumbles, amused. “That’s equally as rude.”

“I did not,” you huff, “You were the one who escalated it. I just wanted a peaceful morning.”

“I don’t know,” he grins against your skin, pressing a chaste, warm peck where it's closest to his lips, “I’m feeling pretty at peace, wouldn’t you agree?”

so uh..........basically i got the card where u measured him for clothes and i saw a vein in his abs and lost my mind. so. here is the product of that. i REFUSE to be told this is not a completely totally normal reaction. thank you!

[pitzer]

✨✨My Blog’s &

AO3’s Philosophy, Really✨✨

I’ll just drop my favorites lists and call it my blog’s fandom list, since I’ll probably post about all this stuff at some point or another. These also double as recommendations lists if you’re bored and in need of something to watch and don’t know where to start looking, I guess.

FAVORITE MOVIES / GOOD MOVIES

•Fight Club

•American Psycho

•Memento

•Shutter Island

•Whiplash

•Black Swan

•The House That Jack Built

•i’m thinking of ending things

•Inception

•Predestination

•Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

•The Truman Show

•Us

•Arrival

•Sound of Metal

•The Father

•Mother!

•Midsommar

•The Substance

•The Passenger

•The Holdovers

•Pig

•Coraline

•Jumanji

•The Devil Wears Prada

•We Need To Talk About Kevin

•Lady Bird

•Donnie Darko

•Grand Piano

•Forrest Gump (for all its immense political ideology flaws...)

•The Old Guard

•Gattaca

•Kill Your Darlings

•Knives Out

•Promising Young Woman

•Kajilionaire

•Portrait of a Lady on Fire

•Thoroughbreds

•Most Bo Burnham specials, but specifically Inside

•Fresh

•Perfect Blue

•The Game

•The Guilty (I think? need to rewatch)

•God’s Crooked Lines

•The Shining

•The Lodge

•1408

•The REC series

•Fallen (the old movie, not the one based on the fantasy YA book)

•Oculus

•Hard Candy

•Triangle

•The Platform

•Gone Girl

•Sinister (1)

•Creep (1 and 2)

•Joker

•Everything Everywhere All at Once

•I Saw The TV Glow

•8mm

•Sanctuary

•(500) Days of Summer

•The Fly

•Speak No Evil (the remake—gotta watch the original still)

•Parasite

•Strange Darling

•Smile (1 and 2)

•All Quiet on the Western Front

•Challengers

•Munich: The Edge of War

•Forgotten

•Bones and All

•Nightcrawler

These are either lighthearted or just Not Very Good, but still fun:

(lighthearted & not bad [definition of lighthearted stretched a bit, though—from comedy to action comedy to romantic comedies to horror tinged with dark comedy]):

•Booksmart

•Bottoms

•Dinner in America

•School of Rock

•Mamma Mia! (1 & 2)

•Mean Girls

•Legally Blonde

•Jennifer’s Body

•Red, White & Royal Blue

•Ella Enchanted

•All Deadpool movies

•Confessions of a Shopaholic

•Heathers

•But I’m a Cheerleader

•Imagine Me and You

•Happy Death Day (1 and 2)

•Stardust

•Pitch Perfect (all 3)

•Guns Akimbo

•Bodies Bodies Bodies

•A Perfect Getaway

•Cruel Intentions (the 90s one)

•Ruby Sparks

(serious):

•Hide and Seek

•Hustlers

(questionable quality, AKA guilty pleasures):

•Final Destination (1)

•Saw (1)

•Step Up 1, 3, and 4

•The Butterfly Effect

•The Number 23

•Twilight (1)

FAVORITE TV SHOWS LIST (aka favorites who are also great)

•Crazy Ex-Girlfriend

•The OA

•American Vandal

•Dark

•Russian Doll

•Fleabag

•The Haunting of Hill House

•The Haunting of Bly Manor

•Midnight Mass

•The Fall of the House of Usher

•Sense8

•The Queen’s Gambit

•Bojack Horseman

•The Good Place

•Mindhunter

•Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency

•Hannibal

•Arcane

•The Exorcist

•Orphan Black

•How to Get Away with Murder (still debating this one because the last seasons weren’t the greatest)

•You (can say the same for this one. season 4 was SUCH a letdown)

•Squid Game (can’t talk about season 2 yet, haven’t seen it. still think it should have been a limited series.)

•One Day at a Time

•Brooklyn 99

•The Office (acquired taste, but I have acquired it lol)

•Breaking Bad (though I haven’t finished yet)

•The 100 (another debatable one, last seasons really dropped the ball, but when it’s good, it’s good)

•La Casa de Papel/Money Heist

•Tabula Rasa

•Patrick Melrose

•The Sinner (season 1)

•Jane The Virgin (gotta finish the last season, but it’s suchhhhhh a good show)

•Santa Clarita Diet (maybe should be on list 2 since it isn’t amazing, per se, but I really think it’s a good show, so it goes here)

•A Series of Unfortunate Events

•Sex Education (also questionable, because apparently season 4 dropped the ball. wouldn’t know. haven’t watched it yet.)

•Superstore

•Feel Good (again, possibly debatable, but it mattered to me a bunch, and it’s a good show in my eyes.)

•The Boys (and its spin-off, Gen V) (what I’ve watched of either is really, really good. can’t speak beyond season 2, I believe. so a bit shaky in its spot here.)

•Heartbreak High (on this list because, fuck, the autistic representation is the only one I’ve ever seen that feels like me, completely. honestly, the representation overall is amazing. haven’t watched season 2 though, so can’t speak for that one.)

•Unbelievable

•Maniac

FAVORITES OF QUESTIONABLE QUALITY, OR THAT I SIMPLY HAVE CONFLICTING FEELINGS ABOUT (anything that shouldn’t go in list 1)

•Lie to Me (the fact that this show is based on bullshit pseudo-science is enough to put it here, to be honest, but, eh, I had fun with it.)

•Suits (maybe this should go in list 1, but it’s here because I only watched, like, 4 seasons out of 9, so can’t really judge as a whole.)

•Supernatural

•The Vampire Diaries

•Teen Wolf (debatable even in this list, but season 3b really has my heart, as do the first two silly, silly seasons.)

•Drop Dead Diva (watched this ages ago, really liked it, might be problematic now.)

•Once Upon a Time (will defend this show to death, even through its worst seasons, except for the last season. that one can burn, except for the finale.)

•Lucifer (I just love it. is it good? no fucking clue. but I love it.)

•Everything Sucks (just a really sweet thing. here because it isn’t life-changing or anything, but I rewatch it yearly, which, for a Netflix original that lasted one season and was forgotten pretty quickly by everyone, is a good sign.)

•Miracle Workers (only watched season 1, it was super charming. again, not life-changing, but it’s very cute and fun.)

•Good Omens (amazing first season, should go on the other list, but I didn’t vibe much with the first episode of season 2 [so I didn’t even watched the rest yet] and I think the show should’ve ended as a mini-series as intended, so it’s here.)

•Julie & The Phantoms (feel good! cute! same category as Everything Sucks in my head.)

•It’s Okay Not to Be Okay (no idea why it’s here and not in the other list, other than it feels right here. but it’s a really good show, and I appreciate the representation of mental illness and neurodivergency a lot. really meaningful to me. I think it’s here mostly because it’s an acquired taste, as a Korean show. the plot sometimes does crazy somersaults, and it’s so dramatic sometimes, but it’s good.)

•Them (ooooh boy, this one. I think it’s a good show if we’re talking structure [especially season 2] but... very controversial spot here, because it does feel a bit like misery porn, to be honest. it attempts to represent the struggles of Black people with racism but it goes too far on the trauma aspect. I can watch it, but it sure as hell is triggering as fuck for Black folks, and I have to wonder if all that was necessary to get its point across. here because I really liked season 2, though, despite everything.)

•You Me Her (LMAOOOO this show. it’s both good and terribleeeeeee polyamorous representation, but I love the characters so much I watched it from beginning to end. still a comfort show, even if messy as hell and sometimes boring. something about it, I guess.)

•She’s Gotta Have It (breaks my heart to put my baby here, but... season 2 just didn’t hit the same. I had many complaints [found on my TV Time account, where I rant in reviews lol] but I still cared for it, and season 1 is still one of my favorite things in the world. just here for the conflicting feelings, truly.)

•Jessica Jones (here because season 2 was... fine. kind of boring. fumbled the bag with many characters. but season 1 is incredible. absolutely worth the watch.)

•The Society (teen drama, your standard, but there’s something about it, man. the premise had a ridiculous amount of potential and I was hooked. the fact that it was cancelled and we’ll never know what the fuck was going on is my villain origin story.)

•Girlboss (...........yes, it’s become A Thing™ and all that to say girlboss unironically because of how fake feminist this whole thing is, and yeah, I get it, but this show is actually fun, and I like the characters. it was the show that actually made me fall in love with San Francisco as a town and want to visit [or live there] someday, so special place in my heart.)

•Channel Zero (I love all seasons of this show for its weirdness, and I think there’s nothing quite like it on TV—there wasn’t before, and there isn’t now. it’s based on creepypastas, but it’s actually well done. not every season was the same level of quality, though, but I would say the creepy vibe remains consistent throughout.)

•Pretty Little Liars

•Forever (just another Sherlock Holmes-inspired character trapped in an episodic guy-with-different-abilities-helps-detective-solve-crimes, but, I don’t know, the main character and his backstory has its charm, and somehow it managed to stick with me since 2014/2015 besides having only one season, so that must mean something.)

•Limitless (same thing as Forever, pretty much. it’s also a sequel to the movie Limitless, which it’s also kind of mediocre but I have a soft spot for.)

•Witches of East End (something about this show, man. I love the actors, the characters, the wild plotlines, the romance [one of them, anyway]... it’s not, you know, Good™, but it’s my baby. another comfort show.)

•iZombie (it’s been so long since I’ve watched it, but I really loved the seasons I did watch [never finished it]. insane concept, really fun, another episodic cop type of show, but worth it [though from what I recall, it had a bad pilot. thank god it gets better after]. hope the last seasons didn’t ruin it.)

•Sherlock (sigh... need I say more. like Supernatural, it has burrowed into my brain and it will never leave. plus Sherlock and John are so QPR and Sherlock so autistic that it means the world to me, the creators and their bullshit aside.)

•The Umbrella Academy (another sigh. great season 1, fun but flawed season 2, watchable but really weird season 3, and an abomination of a season 4. rewatching season 1 actually makes me sad, because there were such beautiful and interesting themes being explored and the characters were much more interesting and nuanced, and that just went out the window entirely later. there was a reason why I wrote two fics about this show.)

•Heartstopper (just a cutie of a show. I still haven’t gotten around to watching season 3, but this show really matters to me, because I started reading the comic it’s based on years ago, before the show was even an idea, so seeing it come to life was very special.)

•Cruel Summer (teen drama, great first season, but nothing mind-breaking, just a really good mystery for an afternoon watch. haven’t watched season 2, though, so can’t vouch for that.)

•Dead Boy Detectives (it’s here mostly because it’s a favorite, but not a favorite, you know? the plot itself didn’t give me as much brainrot as Edwin + Charles and the Cat King did.)

•Heroes (not finished, but I always have a soft spot for it, even when it’s bad. the powers were always so cool, and some of the characters were just too good for me. also, I never got over having a guy who wants to be a hero so badly being named Hiro. that shit was hilarious to me.)

•Legends of Tomorrow (not finished either, and I’m pretty done with DC universe overall, but that show was goddamn fun [excluding season 1] when I watched it. might finish it someday.)

•Lost (still stuck on season 3, someone rescue me please lol. I love it so far, but I know people are reallyyyyy unhappy about the ending, so I am treading carefully.)

•Don’t Trust the Bitch in Apartment 23 (don’t remember anything about this show other than I liked it. it’s been years. gotta rewatch it lol.)

•The Lying Game (ooooooh boy, another blast from the past. I was addicted to this show back in the day, and I love the book series it was based on, but I just know in my bones it’s going to be bad if I rewatch it. I just do.)

i respect those people who have sideblogs for all their different interests, if you follow me, you’ll just have to accept you’ll be submitted to whatever nonsense i’m into at the moment

[sailoryooons]

Obsidian | 1 | (myg)

☾ Summary: You’ve never been able to forget a face. Neither has Min Yoongi. And you both remember the face of the man who ruined your lives.

☾ Word Count: 7,979

☾ Genre: Urban fantasy, criminal/syndicate, strangers to lovers, angst, eventual smut

☾ Rating: Dead Dove. Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence and death, graphic depictions of blood and dismemberment, mentions of death and previous suffering, mentions of withdrawal like symptoms and sickness, on screen murder and death, depictions of gore (people literally get exploded I’m so sorry), mentions of power and wealth disparity between glasses, general warnings associated with gang/criminal empires, recreational drinking, explicit language… I think that’s it (she says, knowing there is a ton of blood in this). 

☾ A/N: Hi, I am so nervous to be writing this series again and re-doing what I feel like I got wrong the first time. I hope you like the new and what I think is an improved version. This chapter has the bones of its predecessor, but is a lot heavier and is very different from the first chapter in the original fic. I don’t pull punches on the gore/murder here because it is very… I do it this way for a reason, I swear. This is shorter than the original, but I hope you like it nonetheless and I’m excited to share more with you. 

☾ A/N 2: Happy New Year! I hope your 2025 goes better than readers lmfao. 

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Main Masterlist ☾ Ask ☾ Tag List Requests ☾Series Masterlist ☾ Playlist ☾ Previous ☾ Next

Market Town is a writing mass of snakes. At least, that’s what it feels like when you get pushed and shoved in the street, trying to find a single flow of people going the direction you need. The press of bodies is so close you can smell the sweat of people as they pass by, feel the slick of their skin as biceps press by yours. 

It makes you want to crawl out of your skin and slither away somewhere dark and cool. 

Someone with sickly sweet perfume goes by. You scrunch your nose, blowing air harshly out your nostrils to try and dispel the scent. Perfume doesn’t do much to cover the stench of bodies and the grime-slicked streets, but it doesn’t stop from the general population pumping it on, creating a cacophony of smells.

At least it isn’t raining - the smell is worse when it rains. 

Vendors shout prices from a variety of stands - some crooked, some well-built, some nothing more than a table, some three tables long. There are carts everywhere, some in the middle of the road with the bodies of people breaking around them like water on rock, some in permanent storefronts beneath the towering wall of apartments above, others on rolling carts knocking people over as vendors hawk their wares. 

Taking a left turn, you breathe in as the crowd thins. Most of the population of Market Town exists on the single, wide street that carves through the middle of the Lower District. Alleyways offer less crowded offshoots to businesses who don’t exist on the main thoroughfare 

Metal ladders and staircases line the sides of the alleyway like intricate spider webs. You narrowly step to the left, sensing the spill of liquid from above just before it hits the pavement in a splash. Glancing upward, you see the window closing - whoever threw the liquid out the window didn’t care whether it hit you or not, and from the smell of it, it isn’t water. 

Multiple flickers of energy radiate somewhere in the hundred something windows of apartments. You ignore it as you walk down the street, hands tucked into your pocket and eyes forward. You sense them like lights on a heat map, each one different, some brighter than others. 

Head down, you push onward, keeping to yourself and moving swiftly. Market Town isn’t always dangerous - you’re not close enough to Gwishin territory to worry about your affiliation being a problem - but it’s not exactly safe either. 

You take another turn, skirting the back of an apartment building. Here, the dumpsters are overflowing into the street and cats hiss at you as you pass by. You hiss back, flashing your teeth to make them scurry off. You don’t have to radiate for them to know you’re a danger to them - a lot of people are not above catching and cooking the cats in Market Town, especially during winter.

Cutting down an alley, you come to a dead end with a chain link fence. You climb it easily, the wire bending beneath your feet as you do. Scaling and hopping over the other side, you land with a splash. You grimace, not wanting to know what your jeans are wet with as you jog to the mouth of the alleyway and back into the main street of Market Town. 

The crowd isn’t as compact here. Sun beats down, just past its zenith as it crawls toward early afternoon. You head right toward Namjoon’s massive stall, a crooked structure with rusty nails that leans dangerously close to Margot’s fruit stand. 

No matter how many times Margot has asked Namjoon to fix the leaning stand, he never does, despite the fact that Namjoon can fix almost anything in the city. He likes electronics, though, which is why you approach him as he leans over a tiny watch, goggles on with a soldering tool in hand. 

On the other side of Namjoon is Len’s stand. The old man is vacant from it for the time being, leaving his crystals and tarot cards to the empty wind. His stand is just a simple piece of plywood supported by cinder blocks with an always-wet and stained purple tapestry across the top. He suddenly appears, as though your presence has manifested him.

“The world is ending,” Len warns you. “The world will end in midnight and obsidian.” 

“Hi, Len,” you greet, making Namjoon look up at the sound of your voice. “Thank you for the warning.” 

Len warns you of a variety of different things whenever you visit. His gnarled finger points to you, hands liver spotted and shaking when he makes his predictions. You don’t know of any Radiants that are able to predict the future, but you know Len is Radiant. You can feel the pulse of his energy underneath his skin, stronger than most people in Market Town. He wears no jewels, but there’s a single, opal tucked into the pocket of his shirt. 

Just like there’s a rose quartz hidden in Namjoon’s shoe. He doesn’t know you know, of course. Namjoon doesn’t know much about you, but he does know that he should keep his jewels to himself. People like to murder and steal jewels all over the city, but particularly in Market Town where they can vanish into thick crowds and get away with it.

“I have your repair for you,” Namjoon says, lifting up his goggles and putting down his soldering tool. “A fascinating piece of technology. Kind of dangerous though, no?” 

“For some people, maybe.” You cross your arms over your chest as he ducks under his table, sliding open multiple drawers as he tries to find the object he fixed for you. “Not me.” 

It is dangerous to you, actually. Using it nearly incapacitates you, but he doesn’t need to know that. Namjoon doesn’t know you’re a Radiant. He’s too light on the Jewel Caste to tell, and most Radiants can’t sense other Radiants without detecting the jewels they wear anyway. 

Namjoon lets out a soft ah ha and sits up in his chair, placing a bracelet on the table. It’s nondescript and silver with a single, circular charm on it. Namjoon slides it over to you, leaning over it to assess it again. His eyes are glittering as he runs a finger over it. 

“I fixed the soldering on the inside of the charm. It was damaged due to a melted wire. Fascinating how small the tech in this thing is. It emits high pitched frequencies, right?” 

“Mhmm.” You pick up the bracelet, easily clasping it on your wrist. “How much?” 

“No cost. It was a fun little device to look at. Aren’t these illegal?”

“You can’t not charge me. I told you to stop giving people their shit for free.”

His cheeks turn cherry as he scratches the back of his neck. “Fine, what about five nil?” You toss the coins on the table. “It’s a mini shatterwave, right? The high-pitched frequency scatters the frequency of Radiants?” 

You give him an annoyed look. “Yes.” 

“Who made it? It’s a fascinating device.” 

Instead of answering Namjoon’s question, you toss another five nil on the table. “For silence,” you tell him firmly. 

He wants to ask another question. You can see it in his face. Namjoon is always asking you questions about the things you bring to him. It isn’t his job to ask questions, especially as freely as he asks them, which is all you need to know that places like Market Town are not where Namjoon was raised. 

Nothing Namjoon does is that of someone low born. He’s too polite, gives too many handouts, and lets his curiosity get the best of him. You’re fond of him as much as someone of your position is allowed to be - maybe even a little more. Namjoon is a danger to himself, no matter how often you keep steering him back in the right direction. 

“You!” Len leans over Namjoon’s table, his glassy green eyes wide, pupils dilated. His hair is white as salt and sticks up in multiple directions, looking as though he may have been electrocuted and never recovered. He points one knobby finger at you. “The world will end in midnight and obsidian.” 

“That sounds lovely, Len.” 

You predict the next words. You’ve heard him say prepare for the end dozens of times. Instead, he says, “Obsidian.” 

You blink in surprise. That has yet to be a response in your little game of prophecy, and you open your mouth to indulge and ask him what he means when something tingles at the back of your neck. 

You pause and glance to the side where Margot is dealing with a customer arguing about the price of squash. A soft breeze rustles the canvas topper to Margot’s stand, carrying the scent of tangerine with it. Something is buzzing at the back of your neck, and your gaze slowly drifts from Margot to a man passing by the cart. 

This is someone who blends in. His clothes are plain: his pants are ripped at the knees and scuffed at the bottom, his white t-shirt clinging to his chest in places where he’s sweating through. He has a floral shirt pulled over the tee, open and fluttering in the balmy breezy of the market.

Nothing about him is remarkable, except that he’s beautiful. Perhaps not at first glance… No, that's not right. It feels like you have to blink several times to perceive him, like there’s something about him interfering with your vision the first time you look at him, but when you really look, it’s like piercing through a veil to see the truth. 

He has a round face, glowing and pale like the moon. Inky hair that is a little bit dirty, a few wavy pieces falling over cat-sharp eyes. He smirks as he walks, and though he isn’t looking at you, he seems smug about something. You’re not sure what, but as he passes you, you feel that tingle again. 

Your eyes dart to all of the places you look for jewels first. Hands, ears, neck, and wrists. Nothing, there’s no jewel on him. You can’t sense a frequency on him, which means he doesn’t have jewels, but it’s definitely a Radiant-adjacent sensation. He’s on the caste, but you don’t know where.

Most Radiants feel like a dull buzz when they get close to you. If they have jewels, it’s more like an itch that you want to - no, need to scratch. Jewels pull in Radiants like flowers attract bees. It is an instinct for a Radiant to want to use a jewel, which is part of what makes being a Radiant so dangerous. Jewels always have the potential to corrupt the user, especially the darker the jewel. 

When the strange man gets a few yards away, the sensation begins to fade. You start to turn away but he tosses something up and the air and catches it. You narrow your eyes and he does it again. It’s a tangerine. You watch him toss and catch the object a few times, the skin of the fruit supple, the sunlight glinting off its ripe skin. It’s definitely one of Margot’s - he has the only ripe fruit in all of Market Town, thanks to his hidden jewels. 

Which means this stranger stole it. 

It puzzles you. He hadn’t walked directly by Margot’s cart. From the moment you turned around, he had kept a wide berth, walking a few yards away. And yet the tangerine is in his hand, ripe and round, the perfect shade of orange. 

Something about him makes you step toward him. A breeze comes down the street, lifting the ends of your shirt and carrying the smell of sizzling meat and grease, accompanied by the sweet fruit from Margot’s cart. Sound fades to the background, your focus on the man so singular that everything else becomes secondary. 

The man keeps walking, tossing the fruit up into the air and catching it easily. He starts to round the corner of a block, but pauses, turning to look over his shoulder. He looks right at you, cat-eyes zeroing in with uncanny precision. 

It’s like the world fades away to leave the two of you in an impenetrable bubble. You see no one else but him and those feline eyes, his head cocking to the side as he drinks you in. It makes you nervous the way he looks at you, like he sees you just as clearly as you see him. 

You don’t like that, used to the shadows and being unseen. 

He grins once and winks before turning and vanishing down the alleyway, fruit in hand. 

Sound comes back to you, the spell broken. You snap your head toward Len’s cart, where he is breathing heavily, hands clutching his table while he looks at you, eyes wild. Namjoon tries to gently pry Len’s hands from the table, but the man tears away from him, pointing a finger at you. 

“The world will end in midnight and obsidian.” 

-

Cool air breathes against the back of your neck as you walk to work. A flock of crows startle in an alleyway as you pass them, squawking angrily and hopping away from the dead carcass of something - or someone - until you’re gone and passed, no longer a threat. 

The lane of pockmarked pavement between the left and right sides of the street is totally devoid of cars. No one in the Lower District drives vehicles. They can’t afford them, so the Armory leaves all of the roads to disrepair, letting the pavement cave in and crack with time.

You keep your eye on the other side of the street as you walk. It’s lined with clubs and bars and gambling dens that belong to the Jiangshi, the ghoulish symbol of the organization painted on doors and signs. They aren’t an enemy of the Yong organization - no one technically is an enemy on paper - but you keep your wits about you regardless, never trusting anyone that doesn’t bear the green dragon of the Park family. 

The sun is sinking toward its final goodbye, rays of gold light cut in half by the towering buildings of the Civ District just a few miles away. It’s a beautiful sight, a shot straight down to the lower elevation of the giant buildings turned burnish gold by the sunset. 

Even from a distance, the commercial district of the city is imposing, its steel teeth biting upward at a colored sky. You wonder what it must be like to live in that world. To work or live in one of the Civ towers. You imagine you’d have your own little office with a desk and a private window to look out at the world. So high up near the clouds, a god of civilization. 

You’d been a god once. It hadn’t worked out so well. 

A group of Yong members pour out of the door of the Jade Dragon and onto the sidewalk. It draws your attention away from the shining, ever-golden Civ District to the flickering neon sign above a banged-up metal door. It looks like the lock is busted again and you make a note to tell Burro. Not that he’ll get it fixed. It’s not worth the nil to fix anything in the Jade Dragon, including the mangrove rat infestation brought in with one of the liquor shipments from the Salt District.

Inside the bar is no better. Sticky floors, wobbling tables with chipped wood and scratched lacquer coating, a single bar with broken stools pulled up to the edge. There are a few holoscreens flickering above the colorful bottles that line the bar, sometimes interrupted by Jungkook’s tattooed hand reaching for bottles.  

The Jade Dragon is rarely busy. It’s a new acquisition fronted by the Yong organization, though the building isn’t new and neither is the bar. It had been closed for almost fifteen years, a rotted hole of a used-to-be-bar until Jimin opened it up again. He doesn’t intend for it to be a popular place to drink as much as he needs it for Yong operations, but he fixed it up a bit. 

As you round the bar to throw your shit in the office, a mangrove rat scurries by your feet, making you screech and jump. Jungkook lifts his head, round eyes sweeping back and forth for danger, hands cocked and fists half-clenched. He catches sight of the rat scurrying into one of the holes in the side of the wall and scowls before nodding in greeting.

So maybe Jimin hadn’t fixed up the bar that much. 

Entering the manager’s office, you’re just as pleased as you are displeased to discover that Burro isn’t in the bar at all. You suspect your manager is down the block wasted in the Green Garter and throwing nil at women dancing on the bar tops.

After leaving your belongings in the manager's office - might as well be your office -  you start helping Jungkook maintain the system behind the bar, which is mostly cleaning vigorously at all times to fight the grime that seems to inch up on the place every hour and finding things to do to pass time.

Working with Jungkook is your favorite. He’s a quiet kid with a guarded expression and soft eyes. You don’t ask him much about how he got here or why. Jimin seems to show him the same reverence as when he first found you, so it’s safe to assume that Jungkook is a stray, and most of all useful.

Useful is important to Jimin. He doesn’t bring people into the Yong fold unless they’re of some use to him, no matter how much it might seem like he’s doing them a favor. There are no such things as favors in this world, and you know that better than anyone. 

Even without jewels, Jungkook is a threat. He’s tall and broad, his arms thick and strong enough to lift kegs one-armed over his shoulder. You’ve seen him go from quiet and unassuming behind the bar to throwing a jeweled Radiant across the street. 

Jungkook’s energy vibrates somewhere on the light colors, maybe opal or selenite. It’s hard to tell because he never wears jewels - you’ve never even seen him use jewels. You don’t know if he ever has, just that he has the potential to, his frequency buzzing somewhere on the light end of the Jewel Caste. 

“Where’s Burro?” you ask Jungkook, tossing glasses into the dishwasher and slamming the front shut with your hip. 

“Who knows. Haven’t seen him since I got here.”

“Was the bar just… empty when you came in?”

“Yep.”

Gritting your teeth, you remain silent. Jungkook already knows you hate the manager - so does Jimin. There isn’t a customer who frequents the Jade Dragon who doesn’t know your distaste for the drunkard idiot who runs this place under Jimin’s banner, except perhaps the drunken idiot himself. 

How Burro manages to carry fluorite is beyond you. He shouldn’t even be able to radiate with the colors on the light end of the Jewel Caste, much less the mid colors. You suspect it’s the only reason Jimin lets him pretend to manage the bar at all. That, and because Burro’s father is someone important to the Yong organizational structure. 

Not like you. You’re a nobody among nobodies right beside Jungkook, two Radiants who don’t carry jewels working in a shitty bar and serving the Radiants who wear their jewels proudly.

The Radiants of the Yong organization don’t know that, naturally.

As far as a majority of them are aware, you and Jungkook are two Nulls - people who can’t radiate with any of the gems on the Jewel Caste. Only a few of the elite members at the top are sensitive enough to frequency to pick up that either of you register on the Radiant-scale, and those members of the Yong organization don’t come to places like the Green Dragon. 

A group of lower level members swing through the door. They’re already drunk on low grain wash, an alcohol that’s so unfiltered it makes some people go blind. You smell it on them as they stumble over to the bar, laughing about some Jiangshi they fucked over at the card table across the street. 

You eye them as Jungkook nudges you out of the way to deal with them, his instinct to put himself between you and any group of men. It’s sweet. Jungkook hasn’t the slightest idea that you could kill the group of five without blinking, even without jewels. 

Fingering the charm on your bracelet, you let Jungkook take their order and start pulling out cups. You wander over to the corner under the guise of cleaning bottles, eyeing the group. You recognize three of them as regulars. 

Loro isn’t so bad, but he has a habit of chatting your ear off. He sits down closest to you, focused on telling the others a story, his crooked teeth visible every time he opens his mouth. He has a crooked nose, beak-like and prone to honking when he laughs at his own jokes. He waves his hand for effect as he tells his story, red spinel rings catching the light. 

Chanda sits next to him, his total opposite. In the year she’s been coming to the Jade Dragon, you don’t think you’ve heard Chanda speak. She ignores Loro’s story telling, staring straight forward, her jade eyes unfocused. You know she’s not as unaware as she seems, the pulse of her rubies reaching you from where she sits. 

Among the familiar faces, it’s Daniil you don’t like. He stands a head taller than Jungkook but is just as wide. His flint eyes glare at Jungkook as he slams down the cup he just emptied in a few gulps, asking for another. Jungkook is already filling it with wash before Daniil can finish the question, which pleases Daniil, his crooked smile slashing across his face. You see the flash of sapphire in his teeth, drilled in and hard to steal, a common practice among brutes belonging to the families that make up the Armory. 

Daniil doesn’t deserve sapphire. Jewels are powerful things, especially the darker they are on the Jewel Caste. Even the most practiced Radiants can’t wield dark colors well or with precision, and Daniil is far from skilled or efficient. Seeing him with a sapphire irks you, the gem in his tooth calling to you every time enters the bar. 

Take me. Use me. Take me. Use me. 

The other two men with him, you don’t recognize. You can sense the shorter one radiating at jasper and the taller one at peridot, making them the least powerful Radiants in the room. It’s always like that around Daniil, Radiants on the lighter side of the Caste following around in his shadow, making him feel big and powerful. 

Daniil is never around anyone who has a darker color. 

“Stupid fucking Jiangshi don’t know how to play cards,” Daniil laughs, throwing back another glass of wash. He doesn’t look like he needs more, eyes red and posture swaying with drink. Being a Radiant will burn away at the alcohol faster, but it seems he’s had plenty. “No wonder those stupid fucks are losing territory to the Kaiju.” 

The mention of the Kaiju organization strikes a nerve. You remain reactionless on the surface, but you feel yourself inwardly flinch. No matter how many times you hear them mentioned, you can’t get rid of that internal cringe, that instinct to react. 

What Daniil says about the Kaiju eating up more Jiangshi territory is true, but it has nothing to do with the way people under the black and white banner of the Salib family play cards. Kim Juwon, the head of the Kaiju organization, is entirely the reason for his family’s growth and prosperity. You can think of no one more ruthless and singularly focused on city domination than Kim Juwon.

Except his son, perhaps. 

The Kim family had been wealthy before the Armory was even a thought. They’d long been one of the most powerful Radiant families in Diade, and the most resistant to the construction of the Armory to balance the radical powers in the city. Of the five families making up the city’s governing body, they are by far the strongest, especially since the collapse of the Haechi organization over a dozen years ago. 

Jimin’s family are powerful as well, the leaders of the Yong organization. The Parks aren’t as strong as the Kims in jewel distribution, but they’re nearly as wealthy. Wealth matters just as much as having strong Radiants under your control, opening up access to exert their influence over the city by purchasing high grade jewels and businesses. 

The Jade Dragon is not one of those businesses used to impress the powers that be in the city. It is a place for you to sit and watch the Salib family across the street, and serve as a lowkey meeting space when Jimin feels like using it, which is almost never. 

And, you suppose, to entertain the lowest level of the Yong organization's goons, some of which are now loudly yelling at Jungkook who’s reminded them to pay their tab. 

“The fuck you mean pay the tab?” Daniil asks, slurring over his words. “We don’t have a tab.”

Jungkook is unfettered. “You do, and it’s unpaid for the last month. Mr. Park has reminded me to collect your payment at your earliest convenience.” 

“Where the fuck is Burro? We don’t have a tab, you fucking Null.”

Sighing, you throw down the rag in your hand. A pulse of energy ripples from Daniil. Jungkook glares at the man, his eyes darkening. You know he feels Daniil’s power too, and if the Radiants sitting at the bar weren’t piss drunk or useless, they might notice that Jungkook can feel their energy surging as they get annoyed with him. 

“Sit down,” you snap at Daniil, walking behind Jungkook and glaring at the others. “I’ll get Burro.” 

The door swings open at the front, causing everyone to swivel. At first, you think it might be Burro finally arriving to manage the bar. Instead, you see a man dressed in the black and white of the Jiangshi. The markings on his arms confirm it, skin covered in the monstrous creature the organization is named after. If his enraged expression didn’t put you on edge, the hidden sapphires on him would, the jewels throbbing as he seethes, staring at the group in front of you. 

Trepidation tingles on your skin. You reach out and grab Jungkook by the arm, tugging him lightly. He lets you move him, taking a few steps back to stand next to you and not behind you like you originally intended. He doesn’t seem to understand the danger of an angry Radiant with sapphires. 

“Ay,” Daniil grunts. “Come to piss your money away at more card games?” 

Ah. 

“Call Jimin,” you mutter to Jungkook, shoving him toward the backroom.

“You call Jimin. I’m not leaving you alone.” 

“I will be fine, kid. Do what I say.” 

Jungkook looks like he wants to argue, but the Jiangshi man takes a firm step into the room, jabbing a finger at the group of Yong sitting at the bar. “You cheated.” 

“He’s wearing sapphire,” you whisper to Jungkook, nudging him. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook agrees, turning quickly. “I’ll call Jimin.”

As Jungkook vanishes into the back, a ripple of energy goes through the room. The group of Yong members stand up, all of them swaying with drink/ They begin to radiate, the jewels on their persons making you itch. You shiver under the feeling, fingers twitching as you circle the edge of the bar to put some distance between you and them.

You don’t know who the Jiangshi man is. You’ve never seen him among the few of his organization that come into the Jade Dragon. He seems to be sound of mind, unlike the Yong members, and despite being outnumbered, the Jiangshi man carries one of the darkest jewels on the Caste, capable of destructive, severe psychic attacks, and shadow manipulation if he’s strong enough. 

Daniil uses sapphire too, but you know based on observation he only knows how to use it for brute force, incapable of developing his skillset to the finer uses of the jewel. And he’s piss drunk, wavering as he stares down at his opponent as though he can intimidate him, his sapphire power flickering in comparison to the Jianghi’s pulsing.

“We didn’t do anything,” Loro practically whines. “You’re just useless at cards. Why don’t you go back to your side of the street, ghoul.” 

“I want the money you stole from me.”

The stranger takes a few more steps into the bar and you feel him take a deep breath. You react faster than any of the other Radiants in the bar, dropping to the floor as a blast of energy erupts from him. Wood cracks and furniture goes flying, blown out in every direction. You hear the shriek and shatter of glass as someone tumbles over the top of the bar behind you. 

You turn to see Loro groaning on the floor, covered in glass and alcohol. His arm is at an odd angle as he attempts to roll and remove the weight from it. As someone who uses a red jewel, you know he’ll be fine. Radiants who use red jewels can heal faster as well as move faster, but not only is Loro’s reaction time affected by how drunk he is, his spinel jewel is significantly lighter on the Jewel Caste in comparison to sapphire. 

More energy slams into the bar, making it rattle and splinter. You’re not in the Jiangshi’s line of sight, so whatever wave of destruction is pouring from him misses you. Chanda lets out a feral scream, hot anger licking through the room like flame. Like Loro, her jewel sits on the red spectrum, her ruby making her stronger and faster but also feral in battle, a warlord in her own right. 

It doesn’t matter, though. Ruby is still a medium color on the Jewel Caste, too light to take on a sapphire Radiant in their right mind. She joins Loro in being tossed over the counter, landing half on top of him and making him yell out as his wounded arm snaps again. You grimace. 

You don’t dare look around the corner, ducking further and covering your head when something takes a chunk out of the bar just above you. Water sprays you, the handle of a soda gun hitting your shoulder as it goes flying. Liquid pools around your feet alongside glass and wood chips. 

“Fuckers,” you hiss. “Stop destroying my bar!” 

It isn’t technically your bar, but you’re the only one who cares enough to oversee it. Now, you let it get torn apart as the Jiangshii and Daniil go at it, their sapphire energy slamming into everything around you. You feel their jewels throw with power, begging you to take them, to rip them off the men’s bodies and make them your own.

Take me. Use me. Take me. Use me. 

There’s a guttural yell followed by something wet spraying over the bar. It hits your skin, warm. You don’t need to look to know it’s blood, frowning as the room falls into utter silence.

There’s only one sapphire signature pulsing in the bar now a few yards away from you - not Daniil, you surmise. You don’t sense either of the stranger’s that had been with Daniil in his friends, their light colors stomped out on the first blast of energy from the Jiangshi. 

Heavy boots thud against concrete, moving in your direction. Fuck. Sapphire energy makes the air quiver as he moves closer, rounding the bar in front of you. You uncover your head and look up. The Jiangshi is covered in blood and the fleshy remains of someone - you don’t know who. His pupils are dilated, hungry, wild as the power of his jewels race through him, making him feel like a god. 

Take me. Use me. Take me. Use me. 

The man lifts a hand and you feel the energy shiver around him for his killing blow. You click the charm on your bracelet and the world shatters. 

A high-pitched screech erupts in the Jade Dragon. The man yells, dropping to his knees, hands clapped over his ears. It won’t help him drown out the sound of the high-frequency screaming coming from your bracelet, interrupting his ability to radiate. 

You feel nausea roll through your stomach and your world spins. The noise is unbearable, your eyes watering and your blood screaming. It feels like you’re being torn apart, your natural frequency being shredded as the bracelet continues to scream.

Your vision is blurry but you reach for a broken shard of glass. It cuts into your palm, the sting far outweighed by the pain of your wailing bracelet. The Jiangshi man tries to reach for you, the veins in his neck bulging, eyes wide and blood red as his frequency scatters, energy frantic and unsure where to go. 

Pain is the one thing most Radiants can’t stand. The world is handed to them on a silver platter, wealth and opportunities given to them simply because they can access a power that most people in the world can’t. They cannot fathom a world full of suffering and agony, because they’ve never had to endure to survive. 

It is their greatest weakness and your biggest strength. 

Gripping the shard of glass tight, you drive it through the man’s neck. It’s messy, the artery exploding under the sharp edge of the weapon. You cringe, letting it go as the blood floods his neck. He gurgles, wavering under the onslaught of the sound coming from your bracelet as he tries to grip the piece of glass and remove it. 

He doesn’t, choking until he loses the strength to remain on his knees, falling backwards and collapsing onto the floor. You watch, shivering as your mind nearly splits at the sound before his fingers twitch a final time. Only then do you press the charm on your bracelet again.

Silence sweeps over the bar. You fall backward, panting and dizzy from the sound. Your entire body shakes. It feels like a knife has carved its way through your skull, rendering you useless and half alive. Everything hurts, the pain throbbing with every breath you take. 

But you work is not done.

You nearly vomit when you roll over. The after effects of having a shatterwave used on you are worse than a hangover or drug withdrawal. Your hands are clammy and slippery with blood when you manage to get on all fours, nearly falling with the fresh wave of pain that slams you.

The sapphires on the Jiangshi’s body call to you like a drug. You feel their pulse, a siren song that you cannot resist as you crawl toward him, hands sliding against the wet concrete. Alcohol mixes with blood, turning the ground pink as you near him. 

Take me. Use me. Take me. Use me. 

Hands shaking, you defile the Jiangshi’s body by ripping his shirt open to reveal the necklace hanging against his sweaty, bloody body, a single pendant with a sapphire set into a cushion of smaller, false sapphires. It is soaked in blood but it doesn’t matter. A jewel is a jewel, and by law, any jewel on his body is yours to take now, so you yank it, popping the chain as you do.  

Power fills you. It immediately overcomes you, knocking you sideways as the world vanishes and there’s nothing but sapphire. Blood rushes through you faster, stronger. A tremor of elation and terror goes through you, leaving you twitching and panting against the dead body of the man whose sapphire you just stole. 

Gritting your teeth, you tamp down on the power. It takes all of your effort, breathing in deeply through your nose and out with your mouth. You taste iron and salt, blood blooming in your mouth as you bite your tongue. You don’t even feel it, the power of the sapphire masking your pain. 

Stomach roiling, you slip and stumble up to your feet. Darkness pulses at the edge of your vision, the room tilting as you lose your balance and stumble against the bartop. Glass bites into your hands, sinking deep into your palm as you fight the sapphire for control as it threatens to overwhelm you and eat you up from the inside out. 

Finally, you gain control. The trembling starts to peter out and the sickness starts to fade as you acclimate to the sapphire, finally calm after a terrifying moment of raging storm. 

Placated, you turn to face the two remaining members of the Jade Dragon twitching on the floor as they try to recover from the shatterwave. They’re both staring at you, eyes bulging both as a result of having suffered from the shatterwave and at seeing you hold and resonate with sapphire without immediately being scored with power. 

They can’t know. 

Chanda tries to react as you sigh. You feel her gather the energy of her rubies but you’re already acting, radiating with the sapphire and striking out toward her with a sharp and precise blow. You don’t even lift your hand to do it, feeling the shape and the size of your slice of energy as it cuts through the air and hits them both.

It is far messier than you intend. You’d wanted a clean slice through them both - efficient, easy to deal with, not gruesome. But you haven’t used jewels in years, and the blow lands on them like an explosive, blasting the two of them backward the same way the Jiangshi killed Daniil. 

You blanch as parts of them both go flying. It’s gory and wet, the perfect picture of what an untrained Radiant can do with a dark jewel. You’re not untrained but you’re certainly out of practice, splattering the two of them the same way a child might paint on a canvas. 

Gore decorates the room, bits of organs and bone covering the walls with blood. A lot of blood. 

It gets the job done, despite not being what you wanted. With extreme effort, you turn around and chuck the sapphire back toward the dead Jiangshi. You immediately feel the need to crawl after it, your skin itching, nervous system turning in on itself as it craves the energy. 

Take me. Use me. Take me. Use me. 

Fighting nausea, you lean on the bar, pulling the bottom of your shirt up to wipe your face. Your fingers are slick with blood, bits of glass embedded in your skin. Small annoyances, in comparison to the way the sapphire screams at you to pick it back up, calls to you, begs you, sings to you-

“What the fuck?” Jungkook’s voice makes you look up at him. He’s standing in the doorway, watching you with wide eyes. 

You have no idea how long he’s been standing there. Under the influence of sapphire, you’d become totally unaware of him, which shames you to no end. You used to be better - needed to be better. Had your old master known you’d barely managed to use sapphire and forgotten about Jungkook, you’d have been punished with being stripped of your jewels and shut in a room for a week with them just out of reach, just enough to make you go through withdrawal while they were right there. 

Jungkook takes a step away from you and you see it. The fear, the trepidation. You shake your head, itching at your arm - the need to itch isn’t real, but the withdrawal from the sapphire is already there, gnawing at you. 

“Not gonna kill you,” your words are a little slurred. “Don’t tell anyone.” 

“You’re a Radiant.”

“You are too.”

He opens and closes his mouth. He hadn’t expected that. “You can use sapphire,” he points out, as though that makes you worse, somehow. Maybe it does. 

“Yeah, well. Shut your mouth about it. Don’t tell Jimin you know.”

“Jimin knows?”

“‘Course he does.” You push off the bar. “Tell him you don’t know what happened out here because of the shatterwave. He’ll know it was me.” 

“I…” Jungkook hesitates. “Alright.” He surveys the bodies - lack there of - face paling. “What now?” 

Outside, a car door shuts. Almost no one drives a car down to this part of the Lower District, and only one person would be doing it directly to the door of the Jade Dragon. 

You turn to Jungkook, pointing at the backroom. “Go in the office,” you whisper. “Tell him the shatterwave kept you incapacitated. Whatever you do, do not tell him you know I can radiate, Jungkook.” 

As Jungkook vanishes to the back, you step in front of the swinging door, breaking the line of vision from the front just as the entrance opens. Jimin steps into the bar, the air turning heavy with his emerald energy as he does. 

Park Jimin looks out of place. He always looks out of place in the dingy light and crooked setting of the Jade Dragon, but now with furniture fractured and strewn across the room, painted in blood and various bits of sinew, the contrast is severe.

Jimin is dressed in a crisp, white suit, not a spec of dirt or dust on him. His blonde hair is slicked back and pristine as his attire. Emerald earrings glitter in his hair, matching the emerald brooch in the shape of a dragon on his suit pocket and the emerald rings on four of his fingers. 

He is the epitome of Armory families, his jewels on display without fear of someone taking them, flexing his wealth and access to the fingest gems in his city. He’s also painfully beautiful, with full lips that usually require cosmetic alteration to achieve and high, rounded cheekbones. His eyes are sharp and intense with unending darkness, a siren gaze, some say. 

Jimin embodies the Yong organization perfectly: regal, proud and elegant as the dragon. Just as deadly. 

Taking a single step into the bar, Jimin’s gaze sweeps the room, taking in the carnage before landing on you standing in the middle of it. You do and say nothing, waiting under the pressure of his emerald aura. The emerald screams at you less than the sapphire, more of an annoyance than it is a demand to take it. 

“Well,” Jimin announces, his voice soft as silk. “This is going to be expensive.”

“Just buy more shitty furniture. It wasn’t pretty before.” 

He gives you a warning glare before walking further into the room, picking his way through the carnage. “Your handy work?”

“Not at first.” 

“I see, let me rephrase the question - what’s yours?” 

“Behind the bar.” 

“Hmm.” 

The sound of his boots clicking feels like he’s loading a gun, each step a bullet sliding into place as he decides whether or not he’s going to fire it. You watch as he drifts toward the bar, stopping when he gets to the dead Jiangshi first. He hums as though he’s impressed, eyes following the blood trail until he gets to the pièce de résistance behind you.

“Explain.”

“They saw.” 

“So you exploded them?”

You wince. “I’m not used to sapphire.” 

He pinches the bridge of his nose, breathing in deeply and letting it out. You can feel his emerald energy like a waterfall, all roaring power but contained. “You have fucked up.”

“No,” you correct. “I am not the manager of this bar.” 

Jimin considers this and then shrugs. “Well you’re not wrong. Where is that jackass?”

“Probably face deep in tits.” Jimin crosses his arms over his chest, jeweled fingers tapping his elbow. Then he points at the dead Jiangshi. “Said Daniil and the others cheated him out of cards. He decided killing them wasn’t enough, so I used a shatterwave.” 

“Ah.” He flickers his eyes toward the entrance where you hear the door open behind you. “Ah, Agust, I forgot we had an appointment. As you can see, I’m a bit indisposed at the moment.” 

Strange, crackling energy radiates behind you. Frowning, you look over your shoulder and freeze. 

Standing in the doorway is the man from Market Town that stole a tangerine from Margot’s fruit cart. He’s dressed in the same scuffed and ripped jeans and white t-shirt under a floral shirt. His cat eyes are glittering when they settle on you, his mouth curving wickedly.

I see you, this smile seems to say, making you squirm.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” the tangerine thief - Agust - answers. “It was a bit dull in here.” His dark eyes trail to where Loro and Chanda paint the wall. “That work of art is particularly interesting.” 

“Yes, we’re certainly good at redecorating.” Jimin’s gaze is hard when he looks at you before he turns back to Agust and softens. “Do you mind rescheduling our appointment? It seems I need to get some things in order.” 

Agust looks at Jimin directly in the eyes, like an equal. There is no air of superiority between the two of them, making you wonder where exactly this smug man falls on the spectrum of city authority. Jimin also doesn’t hide the fact that the mess belongs to you. Interesting, considering he’s so adamant on hiding your Radiant. 

Each face of the Armory is familiar to you: the Parks, the Viboras, the Salibs, the Achilleos and the Kims. This man belongs to none of them and yet he has an appointment with Jimin, who is one of the highest running members of the Yong organization.

The respect that Jimin shows the tangerine thief leads to a few possibilities of who he could be. Under the rule of the Armory, there are other smaller and less organized gangs. Circles are not particularly powerful and still concede to the Armory, but they range from loose bands of idiots and thieves to highly organized factions. There are dozens of Circles in the city, but only a few are powerful enough to earn respect, especially from Jimin.

Chewing your lip, your mind runs through a list of possible Circles this man could rank high enough in to matter. White Fang has always worked with the Yong’s well. Their members can sometimes be found hanging out in the Jade Dragon with tight, if not overly polite smiles while they conduct business. While White Fang answers to all of the families of the Armory as is law, they are particularly fond of the Park family. 

But no, you’ve never seen him with White Fang, so it can’t be them.

There is little chance that the tangerine thief belongs to the Midnight Sun. As the largest and most powerful Circle, they are only allied to the Kim family. Though it’s technically illegal for any Circle to declare allyship to only a single governing body, the Kim family sits at the top of the food chain, and being protected by Juwon and his son Seokjin have its strengths.  

You shove the thought of Kim Seokjin away violently.

“Of course.” Agust finally says, eyes flickering from Jimin to you, dark and knowing. “Just give me a call whenever. I’m eager to do business with the Yong organization.” 

Turning to leave, you watch Agust with predatory stillness. You still can’t get a read on him for where he belongs on the Jewel Caste and that doesn’t sit well with you. He opens the door and exits, turning over his shoulder to shoot you a wink like before and then he’s gone.

For some reason, Len’s warning from earlier comes back to you: The world will end in midnight and obsidian.

THE JEWEL CASTE

*IN ORDER FROM TOP TO BOTTOM THEN LEFT TO RIGHT OF POWER.

Lights

Opal → Selenite → Diamond Rose Quartz → Morganite → Kunzite

Mids

Jade → Peridot → Flourite Jasper → Spinel →Ruby

Darks

Turquoise → Azurite → SapphireTourmaline → Jet → Onyx

Corrosives

Emerald→Garnet →Midnight →Obsidian

JEWEL ATTRIBUTES

*A non-exhaustive list of skills associated with specific gem colors.

White Gems: Useful for basic tasks like illumination, minor telekinesis, or small barriers and warding etc. Pink Gems: Generate light-based energy, minor protection, some elemental influence, and weak energy attacks. Green Gems: Medium protection and warding, decent energy attacks, influence healing, and elemental control. Red Gems: Destructive energy and weapons/fighting mastery, manipulation over emotions and give superior senses.  Blue: Powers include destructive energy, shadow manipulation, and mental influence. Black Gems: Capable of bending reality, manipulating snatches of time, strong mental influence, creation and destruction of energy.

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[fancyfeathers]

Always Prey But Never A Bird

Based on the Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling series

Previous Chapter <- Chapter Four -> Next Chapter

You woke up with a groan, your chest feeling so much heavier than before, your head felt as if you had just slammed it against a brick wall. It felt hard to breathe and your right arm and leg felt numb. You shifted on the bed you laid on, opening your eyes and you were blinded by the light above you which drew another grown from you.

“No, no, no, don’t move.” You heard a voice that you could not fully process as a hand came onto your upper chest, pushing you back onto your back, it was probably Dick’s voice you think, or maybe it was Tim. “You’re pretty badly injured from the crash, the old man is pretty upset right now, probably best to not to push anymore buttons tonight.”

You slowly came to, your vision clearing up and you would have felt sick if you did not feel terrible already. You laid on a very comfortable bed, your old bed, your current bed was rough, something you could just barely afford after saving expenses for other things. There was an IV in your left arm and bandages on your right arm, leg as well if you had to guess but your lower body was covered with a blanket. Your clothes had been changed, a pair of pajamas you remember having just got a day before you left. You turned your head to see Dick sitting there, a chair pulled up to your bedside, he had changed his clothing, black sweatpants and a dark blue shirt.

“What happened-“

“You skinned the right side of your body on one of the bridge wires, tore right through your suit, along with a bruised lung.” Another voice added on, Tim Drake, he was sitting on the other side of your bed, opposite side of Dick. “You could have died if it wasn’t for Dick.”

“At least I wouldn’t be here.”

“Someone tried to kill you and that’s what you have to say? God…” You heard Tim sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can’t even be grateful for having your life saved.”

“They weren’t trying to kill her, someone who was trying to kill her like that would have just tried to take a shot at her.” Dick spoke to Tim, speaking as if you were not even lying between them. “They wanted her alive, but they failed their mission cause she went flying off the bridge and would have died.”

“Can you two just shut the hell up, I already have a headache.” You threw your head back on your pillow, closing your eyes, but you were certainly aware enough to grab Tim by the wrist when he tried to brush the hair out of your face. “Don’t talk to me… just get out.”

“Nah, Bruce said not to leave you alone.” Dick responded, his fingers prying yours off of Tim’s wrist. You groaned at hearing his words, keeping your eyes screwed shut while trying to drown out the throbbing pain in your limbs. “You should try to eat or drink something, I think Alfred made you something in-“

“I’m not hungry, pass.” You felt a creak in your bones as you turned your body around onto your non injured side. The moment the side of your body shifted onto the bed you felt Tim’s hands on your skin, shifting your body and his body to bring your head to rest on his lap as if you were some small kitten who needed to be held. “Where are my things?”

“Why do you need them?” You heard Tim ask from above you, his fingers coming to run through your hair, scratching at your scalp. “You’re not going back out there like this.”

“My friends… they could be in danger-“

“They don’t matter right now-“

“They matter to me, Dick!” You cut your oldest brother off when he cut off your answer to Tim’s question. “If anything happened to them I would never be able to forgive myself.”

There was a thick silence in the room after your words, you heard the chair Dick sat in shift against the wooden floor of your room as he stood up.

“Bruce has your gear right now, he’s reviewing the footage from it to see who did this to you. I’ll see if he’ll let you use it.” You heard the door to your bedroom open and close after Dick’s words in response to your shout.

“…What happened to you?” You heard Tim ask, his fingers pausing in your hair. “You used to be so sweet.”

“I was only like that because if I acted up I would be punished.” You sat up, pushing his hands off of you and your right hand pulled out the IV out of your left arm, and you could hear the sharp intake of breath from Tim beside you. “Don’t think I never knew you put cameras in this room or that I never realized that when I misbehaved at all or pushed any of you away that you would spike my meals with a sedative and call my teachers at school and just tell them I was sick.”

“You never listened to us!”

“I shouldn’t have to! I should have grown up with just my mom because that is what she wanted to do!” You stood up, slipping out from the bed, you glanced at Tim and he had shifted as if to catch you as if you were going to fall. You were in slight discomfort but you had built an extremely good pain tolerance over the years so you were fine, but clearly they would never recognize your current strength. You scoffed at Tim’s worried reaction to you standing up on your own, shaking your head. “You still think I am weak… oh my god fuck you.”

“You know you’re not supposed to say things like that.” Tim scolded you at your usage of foul language. He stood up from your bed, reaching out for you, his hands coming to grip both of your shoulders. “Just stop-“

You leaned back, shifting your weight so you fell back, dragging Tim back with you. You extended your left leg up so it kicked him right in the gut, knocking the air from his lungs and sending him flying and crashing into your bedroom mirror, shattering it and digging into his skin.

“I will say the good thing about being seen as weak by you all is that I am always able to take you all by surprise, especially now, like I said that to Dick to get him out of the room.” You spoke simply before grabbing the chair Dick was sitting in just moments ago and hurling it at your bedroom window, breaking it with an extremely loud shattering sound that echoed through the room, probably the manor. You saw out of the corner of your eye, Tim slowly getting up so you did not waste a second, you went running to the window, jumping out.

You heard Tim shout your name, your birth name as you landed on the ground, but you did not stop running. You ran straight to the back of the garden, you knew that behind a bush, against the tall iron fence that surrounded the manor, there was a divot under the fence that you dug when you were bored as a child. It was perfectly hidden from view so that no one else could see it or find it, even now it was still there, water and rainfall over the years only making it deeper so you could crawl out of it still.

By the time you were on the other side of the fender you could hear shouting from back at the manor, at least Tim told Dick by now if not the whole house if they did not hear the shattering of the mirror and window. You did not look back, just kept running and running…

_______________________

“Hey, stop squirming so much!” Nettle scolded you as he pressed a disinfectant covered cloth against one of your broken window induced wounds on your arm. You had made it back to the warehouse in one piece due to running into Clove by chance when she was looking for you as her civilian self. “I’m almost done, ‘kay?”

“…fine…”

You sat on the dining room table while Nettle cleaned your wounds from the jump from the window, the others were all near, Foxglove digging into a pear for her breakfast as she leaned against the kitchen counter, Clove laying across one of the couches and Henbane’s lap as the two of the scrolled on their phones. Nettle snipped off a bit of bandage after he wrapped it over your wound on your arm before setting the roll of bandages and scissors down in the medical kit.

“There, all done, that wasn’t so bad was it?” Nettle asked you as he held his hand out to you to help you down from the table, you just mumbled out a response in thanks, far too tired to form actual words. “Let’s get you to bed-“

“My room is too far.” You whined, glancing up at the metal staircase on the back wall that led to the rooms which were old storage rooms that you renovated into your bedrooms. You let Nettle lead you to one of the couches instead, helping you lay down on it and pulling a thick weighted blanket over your shivering body. Your whole body was in pain now, you were barefoot when you slipped away from Wayne Manor which resulted in your feet ending up being fifty shades of messed up, bruised and bloodied. “Thanks, Nettle.”

“Anytime.” Nettle sat down on the ground next to your couch. He glanced up at you with a smile. “You’re off patrol for the next week.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.” You groaned, throwing your head back which drew laughs from Clove and Henbane on the opposite couch.

“Look Mr. Austen needs to make a new suit for you and the tech is custom made because your old one is back… ya you get my point.” Foxglove chimed in, her voice trailing off. “But hey, you could take some time off for yourself, go get drinks, maybe have that boyfriend of yours over that you visited the other night.”

“H-how… how do you know about that?” You shot up, groaning in slight pain as you moved too quickly and your response drew laughter from everyone. “H-how- I turned off my comm line…”

“No you didn’t.” Foxglove spoke, her voice full of laughter. “No, you see you turned your camera in your mask on, looks like the rush of the moment got to you both.”

“…you… you all heard us have sex…” You lay there on the couch, wide eyed in the realization.

“Heard it… and saw some of it.” Clove answered and your face turned the brightest shade of red. “But hey he is really cute, definitely a keeper.”

“…my best friends saw me have sex with my boyfriend I haven't seen in four years.” You stared up at the ceiling and buried your face in your hands. “I wish I fell off that bridge.”

“Hmm well if you want you can have him over tonight, show him around while everyone else is on patrol and Foxglove is working the comm lines, have a nice stay at home date.” Clove suggested as she sat up from Henbane’s lap. “I think I picked up a really good red wine if you two want to split that.”

“Clove, thank you for your idea, but his idea of a stay at home date is getting food from a five star restaurant and watching a movie in his home theater. Or sometimes he’d order chocolate covered strawberries and we would hide in his mother’s office when one of my siblings, normally Tim, came looking for me.” You explained and there was a long silence from your friends as the reality of your old life set in. “And that red wine you bought cost fifteen dollars, the stuff his family bought cost five hundred dollars at the very least. I just- look I don’t know about him coming here, I mean we live in a warehouse, a nice warehouse but still, he is rich, like one of the oldest families in Gotham rich.”

“Well then… I’m sorry for what’s about to happen.” Clove said in an awkward silence taking hold of the room. “I messaged him on one of his social media accounts and asked him to come over and surprise you since you are sort of stuck here… I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine… he probably never saw it anyway, he’s busy-“

“Not too busy for you.” You made the mistake of looking away from Foxglove, not seeing her get up to go get the door with her crutches and letting in the guest that came knocking. You all turned your heads to see the familiar blond boy you spent that night with just the other day. Gabriel was let in through the back door, carrying something that you assumed to be a gift basket, all dressed up in his thick wool coat and scarf along with those Italian leather gloves he always wore. He smiled at the sight of you laying down on the couch, he set the gift basket down beside the couch and bent down to press a kiss to your lips as you opened your arms to him in your tired state. “Hi angel.”

“Hi love.” You responded, before gesturing to Gabriel and looking at all of your friends. “His is my boyfriend, Gabriel Christel. We met back in middle school when I first moved to Gotham after my mom married my father and then we started dating in high school and well you all know the rest.”

“It’s lovely to meet you all, thank you for looking after her.” He looked around at all of them before his eyes fell over to Clove and a look of recognition came across her face at the sight of her. “You’re Clove, right? Thank you for reaching out to me, I think we are going to be very good friends.”

“I hope so.” Clove smiled as she stood up from the couch, glancing around at everyone else in the room. “We… we should go, we got patrol and… ya… you two have fun.”

“We will.” You replied to Clove as she pulled Henbane up from the couch and Nettle quickly followed behind her as well, going to get changed and prepared before patrol. You looked back up to Gabriel who was standing over you and as soon as he saw your eyes were on him, he kneeled down onto the carpet, on eye level with you so you could press a kiss to his cheek, just under his eye. “Hello handsome.”

“Hello beautiful-“

Gabriel was cut off by the sound of someone clearing their throat and you both turned your heads to look at Foxglove standing just a few feet away with her crutches due to her injury on her foot that she was recovering from. She smiles at Gabriel, looking him dead in the eye.

“I like you a lot, but hurt her at all and we will destroy you.” She spoke those words with a smile, but there was a certain chill about them that would probably even make your father shudder. “Do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good boy.”

_______________________

“My bedroom is the last one on the left.” You spoke as your boyfriend carried you on his back, one hand reaching back and holding your thigh and the other carrying that gift basket, your arms wrapped around his neck. He pushed open the door and stopped for a moment, before walking forward and setting you down on the bed. “Thank you, lovey.”

He looked around your bedroom as he came to sit down beside you. Old floorboards creaked beneath his weight, the walls were brick with white pants covering them, slowly chipping away from the top down. The ceiling was high with all sorts of pvc pipes and air vents, the windows were tall but the glass was thin. The bed was an iron bed frame, polished and then painted over black and then the dressers and nightstand were all sorts of different pieces you found and painted over the years.

“Foxglove is downstairs on the comm lines tonight.” You said as you laid down on the right side of the bed, propping yourself to sit up against your pillows. “So it’s just me and you until patrol is over.”

“Ya… I suppose it is.” He set the basket at the foot of the bed and reached in and pulled out a bottle of red wine and a glass, you watched as he filled up the glass halfway and handed it to you. “Here you go, dove.”

“I love you.”

“Mmm, are you saying that to me or the wine?”

“Both.” Small laughs escaped from both your lips and he wrapped his arm around you as you took a sip of the red wine from the glass. You sighed and leaned your head on his shoulder. “I missed this… I missed this a lot.”

“So did I.” He replied to you, there was a palpitate pause in the air and he took a deep breath in and out. “Angel… how long are you going to be doing this?”

“Doing this?”

“Living in a warehouse, being a vigilante, hiding away from everything? I mean look at you, your body is so fucked up and I don’t even know what caused most of it.” His voice took on a heavy tone of concern which felt like a large weight on both of your shoulders. “I want to settle down and have a life with you, I don’t want to worry about where you are.”

“I… what are you saying?” The air left your lungs as you watched Gabriel stand up from the bed and walked over to your side of the bed, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling over a small navy blue velvet box and getting down on his knee.

“Marry me.” You just stared down at him and a bit of a bashful smile came across his face as a small chuckle slipped from his lips, shaking his head slightly. “It was my great grandmother’s ring and I know I couldn’t ask your mother or father for their blessing but no one hardly sees your mother anymore and your father… well he doesn’t like me and well I don’t know if they know you’re around anymore and-“

“I… I don’t know…”

[corazondebeskar-reads]

how to break a girl in ten easy steps - part three

dark!Joel Miller x f!reader

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

words: 762

summary: joel catches you.

chapter warnings: dark, dead dove do not eat, non-con, captivity, brute force, kicking, predator/prey, capture, use of a snare, broken bones, use of the honorific "master", sadist!Joel, punishment, makeshift gag, non-linear storytelling

dividers by @saradika-graphics

NOTE: please read and heed the series and chapter warnings. this is very dark. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. please read responsibly.

Step Four Once you’ve shown her that there’s no escape, you have to make sure it sticks. For a more effective lesson, we recommend a punishment that fits the crime. The severity of the punishment should be more than a typical infraction. 

He had let you stumble blindly through the woods for a day and a half. No food, no water, just you in your bare feet and terror. 

When he got tired of waiting and watching, he started to tease you. Let you hear him cough from across a clearing. Let you hear him take out a doe not far from your hiding place. Waited until you risked stopping to take a piss to step out from behind a tree and drawl, “Hey there, sweetheart.”

Let you run to the soundtrack of his raucous laughter. 

Let you run right into a snare, strolling lazily up to where the fishing wire had you caught by the ankle. It was twisted, for sure, and there were tears in your eyes. 

He scoffed. “Oh, baby, crying over that?” He rolls his eyes. “That’s gonna feel like a paper cut in about, oh… two seconds.”

And he swings the bat. 

He nestles ear plugs in snugly before cutting the wire and hauling your screaming, writhing body over his shoulder. 

When he tires of your blabbering, he shoves a dirty rag in your mouth and ties a bandana around your head, cinching it tight. You still bawl and whimper, but it’s quieter now, so he can keep an ear out for danger.

As if he isn’t the most dangerous thing in this forest. 

It’s almost embarrassing, how little time it takes to get back to the cabin. How little distance you’d managed to cover.

Or it would be, if you could think about things like being embarrassed. Your shattered ankle takes up most of your headspace, though, That, and the nauseating terror as he speaks casually of your impending lesson.

“Told ya,” he says with a shit-eating grin, “you shoulda prayed I didn’t find ya. Don’t worry your dumb little head ‘bout it, though. You’ll learn. You’ll never want to try and run from me again.”

His tone says he’s going to take you home and wrap you in fluffy blankets, serve you hot cocoa with marshmallows, and win your heart.

His eyes say you’re going to wish for death instead of freedom.

He was tired of your screaming and struggling by the time he’d carted you back. “Toughen up, baby, ‘cause I’m just getting started. I gave you a chance to be good and learn. Now we’re gonna do things my way.” 

He plopped you on your feet just inside the house, laughing as you tried to cling to the only thing nearby—him—to avoid putting weight on your rapidly swelling ankle. Your little fingers didn’t stand a chance as he peeled them from his shoulder, giving you a little shove in the process so you fell flat on your ass. 

“Stand up,” he barks. “Now.”

You shake your head, sobbing in renewed agony. 

“No?” he says incredulously. “Ya think you can tell me no? Stand the fuck up.”

He doesn’t wait, grabbing you by the arm and yanking you to your feet. He rolls his eyes when you fall again.

“Fuckin’ pathetic. You gonna do what I say, or do you need a lesson?” 

“I can’t,” you gasp, yanking the bandana down and the rag from your mouth. “It—”

“Did I say you could talk? Shut up, or I’ll give you something to really cry about,” he says out of habit, and then thinks. “Well. Something extra to cry about, anyway.”

He tries to pull you to stand again, a smirk on his face as you predictably hit the ground once more. “Tell you what. You beg me right, and I’ll let you stay off that ankle.”

“Please,” you choke out, and he gives your ankle the lightest tap with the tip of his boot, sending you howling in pain.

“Please what, you ungrateful brat?”

“P-please, sir…”

“Better, but you know what? I think I wanna hear you call me somethin’ else. Try that again, baby, but this time, say, ‘please let me crawl, master.’” There’s a strange look on his face, but you haven’t the state of mind to contemplate it. 

His words make your stomach churn. 

He takes your hesitation as disobedience and yanks you to your feet again.

“Please! P-please, let me c-crawl…” you stammer with a quivering lip. 

He raises an eyebrow.

“Please let me crawl, master,” you whisper. 

He drops you to the ground. “Mmm, yeah. I like the sound of that. Sure, baby, you can crawl for me. What a good little pet you’re being. I almost wanna reward you for that… but you’ve got some more lessons to learn first.”

next chapter

[crownofgildedlilies]

ORBIT - 1, the phone call

wc: 2.9k

[full series] - [next]

It’s raining when you first move back to Japan. 

Maybe it’s an omen. It’s definitely an echo of all the melancholy of your previous, forgotten, abandoned, life. You didn’t think everything would go so horribly wrong when you chose to study abroad for your final year at Jujutsu High, but part of you is glad you got the hell out of dodge before everything fell apart. 

A bigger part of you is wracked with guilt for even thinking that. 

It’s raining when you first move back to Japan, and it’s still drizzling three days later when you’re coaxed out to some bar you’d never even heard of in all your time living in Tokyo. And maybe it was the guilt that seemed to always ache so heavily in your bones that made you agree to a night out you didn't want, but you’d let yourself think you only showed up with the promise of free booze and gossip. 

Of course, Shoko had neglected to mention that the free booze came at the price of leering stares from the middle aged men that frequented the establishment, but you had assumed as much. Free booze, so long as you let them think they had a chance if they bought your drink. 

And you were just broke enough to not mind it. 

You don’t really know what to say when you first see her, leaning back against the bar’s brick walls, close enough to the entrance that each time someone wanders into the dive she’s blasted with the sound and heat from inside. And she’s tucked underneath the awning to hide from the rain, a lit cigarette on its last life resting between her fingers. In the months you’ve been apart, you’d almost forgotten how tall she was—or how smug.

“Look who decided to show her face,” Shoko teases, and you know she couldn’t possibly understand the weight of the guilt you’re crushed under by those careless words. She doesn’t mean anything by her comment, but it means something to you. 

Look who skipped town when everyone fell apart, you heard her say. Shoving your pessimistic thoughts into the cramped corner of your mind you stored all the stuff you didn’t want to think too closely about, you purse your lips and find shelter under the awning beside her, crushing into her arms for a hug that meant too much. The sound of pattering rain was soothing, but the smoke of her cigarette was clogging your nostrils, and the buzzing in your chest was hard to ignore. 

“Someone miss me that badly?” You fire back, tilting your head just as teasingly to the side. At first, the words felt awkward on your tongue. Forced. Shoko was the first person from your old life you’d seen since you’d moved back, save for a handful of clipped phone calls with Principal Yaga about picking up a few missions from the school. 

It’s only been days since you slipped back into the worn shoes of your old life, and already people are calling in favors. So is the life of a jujutsu sorcerer, you suppose. Your life never really belongs to you. 

“Oh, speaking of someone who missed you,” Shoko perks up like she had just remembered something, then drops her spent cigarette to the ground and ashes it with the toe of her boot. You want to chastise her about the effects of littering, but you know she’ll pick it up before you head inside the bar, and you’re too confused by the way she pulls out her phone and aims it at you, like she’s taking a picture. And she’s snickering when she explains herself, a smug grin back on her lips. “Smile for Gojo!”

It’s decidedly not forced or awkward when you extend both middle fingers and roll your eyes for the camera.

The sound of the shutter is briefly heard over the rain and the din of noise trickling out from the bar, and you know you can drop your pose. 

“Cute, like usual.” Shoko is still laughing to herself as she types a quick message before hitting send, and you know you’ll be hearing from him before the night is over. 

Satoru Gojo. 

You have a lot of mixed feelings about Gojo. Undoubtedly, he was arrogant. And, yeah okay, maybe he earned the right to be a little overconfident in his abilities, but it didn’t stop with just jujutsu with him. No, he had to be the best at everything, and it frustrated you beyond belief that despite how desperately he needed an ego check, he really was the best of the best. 

Not to mention, you’d heard rumors about girls in the younger years at school titling him the most handsome man in all of Japan. Back then, you wanted to grab them by the shoulders and shake some sense into them. You knew they would never listen. 

“I’m sick of waiting out here, c’mon.” Shoko nods her head in the direction of the entrance as she ducks down to pick up her spent cigarette, and though you know you’ll regret whatever you’re about to encounter in the packed bar, you follow her inside anyway. It would probably be better than standing in the rain with your thoughts spiralling like the water pooling in the gutter. 

As soon as you cross through the threshold, you’re hit with a wall of sweat and cheap alcohol. If Shoko is good for anything, it’s knowing the places that will get you drunk and do it fast. And you’re okay with it, because you can’t ignore the elephant in the room much longer. 

The elephant in the room, sitting on your chest, crushing your very soul with the weight of the emotions it held.

It’s not long before someone is buying your drink, and you entertain him just long enough for him to buy you a second. It’s when he’s suggesting a third and a change of venue that you feign confusion and mention that you don’t think your—nonexistent—boyfriend would appreciate it very much that he finally leaves, a few expletives rolling off his tongue in your direction and sounding his departure. In another light, you would have cursed him out right back, but he bought you your promised free booze and you’re just dizzy enough not to care. 

You and Shoko giggle at the dramatic exit of your patron for the evening, but when the laughter wears off, you’re reminded of the elephant. 

“Gojo…” You start and then let your voice fade out, expression pinched in confusion as you try to piece together the rest of your sentence. You know what you want to say, but admitting you don’t know the answer is like a knife to the chest. As the only ones in your year at Jujutsu High, it was always, always, you, Shoko, Gojo, and Geto. But now? Now you haven’t spoken to anyone in months and Geto is— “How’s Gojo doing?”

The question is as stupid as it is lame. It causes you to frown, mostly at yourself, fractionally at the topic of conversation. How could Satoru Gojo be doing anything other than just… surviving? Even just knowing the pieces of what happened that you managed to scratch together an ocean away made you sick to your stomach. What could Gojo possibly be feeling after having lived it?

“I think… as good as he can, you know?” Shoko takes a sip of the liquor she’d gotten some poor hopeful to buy for her. She’s not done with her sentence, and you’re glad for it, because you haven’t figured out how to respond yet. You don’t know, but admitting that seems too close to the truth of how you feel. “It was always those two together. I still can’t believe it turned as bad as it did.”

Satoru Gojo. And Suguru Geto.

Shoko was right. It had always been the two of them together, no matter what. They were two halves of the same crazy coin, and though you rolled your eyes and called them annoying, they were your friends. You and Shoko. Gojo and Geto. More often than not, you formed a quartet of crazy that gave Principal Yaga a run for his money. 

And then you left for a year on a promise to return after studying with a sorcerer that had a similar cursed technique, and now everything is shit. 

The weight of the elephant has been lifted, but you still feel like you’re being crushed. It’s guilt, you know, but you have a feeling the tide of the conversation has turned, whether by nature or by Shoko’s force, so you leave it lodged firmly in the center of your chest. It’s hard to breathe around the clog, but the pain serves as a reminder that you’re not yet lost to the world. 

It’s harsh. You think you might deserve it. 

You swallow the rest of your second drink in one go, head going light, and swivel on the stool you’re perched on to find someone else to pay for your method of self destruction of the evening.

You think you deserve that, too. 

It’s still goddamn raining the next afternoon when you’re shifting through the unpacked boxes in your apartment. 

A mixture of your own procrastination and Yaga already having you run errands for the school has led to the natural consequence of nothing being where it belonged. You have one pair of shoes, because the rest are packed in a box you haven’t looked through, and you really need to either do your laundry or find where the rest of your socks ended up. 

You have the window open so you can hear the splatter of rain on the sidewalk below as you work. You’d play music, but you can’t remember which box has your radio, and there’s something soothing about putting in the roots of your new life to the sounds of nature. 

You’re halfway through folding your sweaters and tucking them into their new home—a shabby, short wooden dresser you’d bought with the place—when the shrill ring of your phone echoes through the apartment. You’re not exactly sure where it is, having ditched the device after a particularly boring phone call with Principal Yaga about paperwork you had mishandled earlier that morning. 

Considering you had only been back in Japan for a handful of days, you’re pretty sure Yaga should be grateful you did any paperwork, at all. 

But now your phone is ringing, and you’re regretting your decision to take half of everything out of the boxes and spread it all on the floor to be organized in the most chaotic way possible. (Maybe you left your radio when you stayed abroad? You hadn’t seen it in the mess of your belongings.) You’re navigating a maze towards the couch, where you see your phone somehow already wedged into the cushions of a piece of furniture you hadn’t even sat on yet. 

You have about three seconds to look at the caller ID before it’s sent to voicemail, but it’s long enough for you to panic at the name you see displayed on the screen. 

Satoru Gojo. 

You’re answering the call before it goes to voicemail despite not wanting to, because it would be worse having to call him back. And even though you’ve told him many times that the world does not orbit around him, you can’t help but feel that though the world may not, somehow your life keeps orbiting back to him. 

And oh how you have tried to rid yourself of him. 

“Gojo?” It comes out like a question. You hadn’t meant for it to. You wanted to sound distant, cool. Normal. Like you weren’t freaking out at the prospect of what he had to say. It was probably something entirely Satoru Gojo-like—maybe about the photo Shoko sent him of you so sweetly gesturing or that he wanted you to try something new his favorite bakery had added to their menu. Things he had called you about before. 

The thought makes you sick, but maybe he wanted to talk about what happened with Geto, too. You haven’t said a word to him since you left Japan, save for the few times Shoko put your phone calls on speaker so he could bother you from afar. And you want to know what happened with Suguru, how it all fell apart so horribly that your most level-headed friend turned from sorcerer to curse user, but the idea of actually having the conversation makes your throat close up. 

You have three seconds to panic about all of this, and you manage to fit it all in before he speaks. 

When his voice echoes through the line, you remember that you never should be surprised when it comes to Satoru Gojo.

“I have two kids.” 

You don’t know what to make of his words, so your thumb presses the end call button and you stare at the dark screen of your phone in puzzlement. After a year abroad, after everything he went through with Suguru, that was the first thing he had to say to you? 

Huffing, you contemplate calling Shoko and telling her off for leaving out such a massive development. Since when did Gojo have—

Your phone is ringing again in your palm in only seconds. It’s not the least bit surprising when you see Gojo’s name displayed once more, but you are a little confused by your own actions. 

Against all odds, you answer his call. 

“Did you not hear me?” Gojo asks, voice light and airy and like nothing had gone so completely wrong the past several months. You’ve known him long enough to know he’s just faking being okay, deflecting with a joke and oh god do you hope him having two children is a joke. 

“I wish I didn’t hear you,” The retort comes easily, like no time at all had passed since the last time you’d bickered back and forth with Gojo. Flirting, Suguru had once called it, and you and Gojo had both immediately pretended to retch. 

You would sell your left arm for the chance to make more memories like that again. 

“Listen, I can’t talk long. I was supposed to meet Yaga fifteen minutes ago.” Gojo trails ahead, like he hadn’t been the one to call you. Twice. Rolling your eyes, you want to tell him to look at the picture Shoko sent just so he would know the exact expression on your face. “But remember the bounty hunter that killed the Star Plasma Vessel that Suguru and I were told to protect?”

The catalyst for everything that went down.

Shoko had given you a run down of everything that had happened that led to where everyone currently stood. You, shivering in your shitty apartment. Shoko, drunk at some dive. Geto, running a cult, last you’d heard. And Gojo… well, you were still trying to figure out where Gojo stood. 

“Yeah,” You remember bits and pieces about the bounty hunter. A professional, a pain in the ass. And you know Gojo well enough to realize that he wouldn’t bring up such a wretched memory without purpose. You shiver again, and the arm that isn’t holding the phone to your ear wraps around yourself. You're not cold, but your body is desperate to do something while it waits for Gojo to explain himself, though your apartment is unnavigable and you don’t trust yourself not to trip. 

“Well, I have his kids.” You make a noise as if you’re being choked, and you hear Gojo kiss his teeth in contemplation through the line.  “Legally. I guess I’m their guardian now?” 

You pinch the bridge of your nose to try and alleviate the headache you already feel forming after only a few short minutes on the phone with him. 

“You guess.” You repeat, though you heard him the first time. For a moment, you contemplate the success rate of arguing with him that he should definitely know more than an estimate whether or not he had custody of a hitman’s kids, but then you remember who you’re talking to. 

Satoru goddamn Gojo. 

“Can you just meet me tomorrow so I can explain?” He asks with a huff, almost whiny, though you can hear in his tone that he already knows you’ll agree. He’s known you just as long as you’ve known him, and the cocky bastard does have the blessing of the Six Eyes. “I’ll text you the address of a park near my house.” 

You’re sighing by the end of his plea, and you don’t care if he can hear you. You’re too young to be so weary, but if Gojo really does suddenly have custody over two children from one hell of a family lineage, he’ll need all the help he could get. 

“Fine,” Your reply is as enthusiastic as you can muster, which is to say not very much at all. And it’s not because you don’t love kids, because you do, but you’ve long since lost count of all the insane situations you’d found yourself in at the hands of Satoru Gojo. 

“Great!” He perks up, and you can only just imagine the grin on his face after getting his way. It makes you roll your eyes again. He promises to send you the address and hangs up soon after. You toss a few empty cardboard boxes onto the scattered mess of your apartment floor and flop down onto your couch. You’re pretty sure there’s a spring poking through at your back, but you figure you deserve the discomfort. 

You think about finally seeing Gojo again and suddenly it’s hard to breathe. 

taglist status: open

[puppy-phum]

edits i made in 2024 ✨

thanks for tagging me krish @i-got-the-feels [x] ♥ am also trying to incorporate the tumblr top ten posts into this bc i don't want to do that as it is, so thank you for tagging me into that antania @riggerbison [x] and zey @fadelsburger [x] ♥

Post your most popular and/or favorite edit/gifset for each month (it’s okay to skip months!)

tagging: @forcebook @thamepo @chezlalune @ruanbaijie @luna-lina @srnileforme @wanderlust-in-my-soul no pressure and if you've done this or something like this already, please send it my way or tag me into the post's replies! i'd love to look at everybody's creations and give them some love :')

JANUARY: morkday + holding hands [x]

the most popular and tbh my personal favorite was this morkday edit i made based on a quote that is from the damn city of bones (2007) by cassandra clare. i didn't know that back when this quote punched me in the face and made me think about it for a couple of days but i honestly laughed when i finally googled it... worked out very well tho! i love hand symbolism, especially in last twilight, and the golden colors are lovely for them ♥ i also ended up loving the last image in this set even if i first struggled with the composition.

this was my number 1 post on my tumblr top ten.

(also gotta add that it still feels insane that last twilight was still going on in 2024... it feels like it was ages ago. i barely remember most of it anymore, probably bc of the heartbreak and trauma. i'm a changed person in january 2025)

rest of the months under the cut bc i ramble!

FEBRUARY: valentine's day vice versa rewatch [x]

my best decision for last year was to rewatch both my school president and vice versa during the time before valentine's day. it healed me, held me gently, filled me with love and warmth. am happy that the set i made after that to show love, once again, for the romance show and soulmates couple of all time was both my most popular and personal fave ♥ i love how the set turned out and how the colors work in this. i will forever be thankful to vice versa for its colors and overall brilliance.

this was my number 8 post on my tumblr top ten.

MARCH: 23.5 episode 3 [x]

it's a close call between several of my 23.5 episode edits but this happens to be the most popular one during this month. i never finished 23.5 which somehow saddens me, but towards the end, i just lost interest, and so this edit series was also left unfinished. i liked the concept tho and loved playing with the colors each week!

tribute to mork methas [x]

personal favorite cannot be any other edit than this bc i put all my heart into creating it. i am still so angry about what last twilight did to mork as a character; how all his trauma and pain was pushed aside, how the story never gave him the space and time he needed, how on top of all else they managed to butcher this amazing man. i don't even want to look at him in episode 12 bc i cannot recognize mork there. he is no that person, at least not to me. mork my beloved, i wish the writers didn't hate you so much </3

(btw i have this whole explanation/essay written under this post in my drafts. it's mostly me sharing in detail the thought process behind me making this edit and going through the several elements in it. if anyone is curious, i can post it, just holler haha)

APRIL: us / thamepo pilot crossover [x] [x]

the most popular edit for this month deserves to be the edit i made for the us pilot that was revealed during gmmtv 2024 part 2. i am still very excited to see the show itself and follow their filming journey occasionally on twt. i am just soooo ready to break my heart over the tragic lesbians woven together with strings of comfort, self-discovery, and heart ache.

this was my number 2 post on my tumblr top ten.

i picked the thamepo sister set as my personal fave bc i cannot separate these two. it was fun to connect them together and switch around the dialogues we hear in these pilots bc they just worked. they had very similar vibes and both talked about somewhat forbidden love. no wonder am currently so into thamepo (i hope it stays that way, am done with all the disappointment i've experienced with shows lately).

this was my number 4 post on my tumblr top ten.

MAY: 23.5 episode 9 [x]

the most popular set of the month. not much else to comment. i love the shot of ciize in this one, she's so cute :(

puentalay k-i-s-s-i-n-g [x]

my favorite for this month! a very impulsive edit that happened solely bc this ear worm of a song (that puen would def listen to) wouldn't leave me alone. it's silly, it's fun, it's cute, it's sexy, it's passionate. it's everything i could ask for! i honestly had a ton of fun with this edit despite having to edit a bazillion (26) separate images for this. the fact that those images are mostly of puentalay kisses makes it worth it.

JUNE: we are episode 12 [x] / 11 [x]

during summer, i was deep in my we are era. i honestly loved each set i made for the series bc for the longest time, i've wanted to make sets like this. i had my struggles with some of them but they all worked out in the end! episode 12 was the most popular one and episode 11 is just my personal favorite bc i love the purple + hints of yellow/golden -combo.

JULY: we are final episode [x]

to honor this show and all its relationships, from romantic to platonic, i decided on a rainbow set. it worked super well and i am happy it was so popular ^^ i miss this whole bunch and the amazing summer we had together. (sorry about the quality of this screenshot, the set is too long to fit it on my screen hhh)

this was my number 10 post on my tumblr top ten.

morkday + pvris songs [x]

probably my favorite set i've made this year overall. my whole year was defined by pvris's music (my spotify top artist) and it felt appropriate to link it together with morkday (and puentalay). i love the layout of this set, the colors, the noise. getting into the lyrics and choosing fitting parts for each image was the best part. my favorite image in the set is the last one that i started from while creating this set. i love the background image for that so much. another one i like is the green one for anywhere but here, bc of the image itself but also bc of the song and its message.

AUGUST: we are couples [x]

due to traveling around a lot in august and being exhausted from that, i didn't create much. but i am extremely happy with this set that is both the most popular and my personal favorite! everything about this one just worked out. i feel like it really summarizes all of these couples and shows their different sides.

as a fun fact, i have to say that i never put too much thought into choosing the animals for each couple, other than picking the bird for chainpun (for obvious reasons). cat for phumpeem came through peem more than phum who is very dog coded to me. instead, dog (or wolf?) ended up with tanfang bc of tan's puppy-like nature. qtoey getting the bunny feels like a stroke of genius given to me during the making of this set bc looking at it now, it's perfect. they have that sweetness and energy in them i connect with rabbits.

SEPTEMBER: sanvee + moon phases [x]

ok i might have lied in the july part bc this might be my overall favorite edit i made in 2024. creating it was a battle tho, and i felt like screaming for the best part of the process bc nothing felt like it was working out and i had a ton of problems while figuring out the aesthetic and the typo and the texts. but it all came together better than i ever expected and i just love this set now. i was happy to see ppl liked this too, so this is the most popular edit of this month.

(oab)plawan + hurt by sleeping at last [x]

it's hard to pick a favorite for this month – despite the sanvee edit already being my obvious FavoriteTM – bc i also love my set for miss mhon (day's mother) [x] that let me went my frustration towards her and my puen x phum parallels set [x] that makes me feel wrong in the head. but i loved this love doesn't have long beans a crazy amount compared to how short and silly that show was. there's just something about oab and plawan - about sailub and pon. they dragged me deep into places with this show and this edit is my ode to that. it was fun to make in its simplicity, i love the colors in it, and pon as plawan is just too pretty (especially when he cries).

OCTOBER: pluto episode 1 [x]

considering how popular pluto has been and how desperate we all are for gls, am not surprised this set is the most popular one for this month. tbh all my pluto edits have been doing quite well in my standards. i love making these so am just happy you guys like looking at them ♥

pit babe pairs + cartomancy [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]

never thought 2024 had a sudden pit babe obsession in its sleeve for me but i decided to embrace it. they've talked that the second season would start airing in april, after boys' journey s2 has ended most likely, and i am so very normal about all thi. i've fallen in love with all these boys, both the characters (more than i already was) and the actors, and this edit series only made everything worse. i haven't spent this much time researching things for an edit in a while and i just loved all the analysis i got to do. the process had its ups and downs but overall, i have to say i had a blast.

(picture chosen purely bc i vibed with this kim picture today, tho the kentakim edit might also be my favorite in the set bc the yellow is so good)

NOVEMBER: pluto episode 4 [x]

absolutely deserves to be the most popular set of this month! it's also my personal favorite out of all the edits i've made for pluto. the colors for this one just worked super well and the scenes are perfect, too. let's see how the series ends in two days, i hope i manage to find some fitting colors for the last episode, too :'D

this was my number 6 post on my tumblr top ten.

DECEMBER: yuanyi + you can love him, but you can't keep him [x]

the most popular set and also my favorite of this month, all bc i've gone down the rabbit hole with fangs of fortune. i spent an embarrassing amount of time making this set with all its details; starting from screenshotting the whole damn show and then picking the pictures for this edit from the over 400 images i got, to drawing the golden lines by myself on my drawing tablet so i got them just like i wanted. i shall be making so many more edits for this show, be warned.

this was my number 7 post on my tumblr top ten.

top 10 posts of 2024 then are:

morkday + hands (381 notes)

us pilot (295 notes)

last twilight episode 11 (285 notes)

thamepo pilot (283 notes)

jimmysea for starry magazine (271 notes)

pluto episode 4 (252 notes)

yuanyi + you can love him (231 notes)

vice versa rewatch 2024 (222 notes)

last twilight episode 10 (211 notes)

we are final episode (207 notes)

(you can check your top ten posts here)

it was fun to look back into my year in edits like this and see how i've gone through so many phases in 12 months. i cannot even recognize the person i was in around, let's say, last february. or during summer. it's insane how the night changes or however that thing goes.

thank you if you read this far, and if you've liked my creations or left nice tags under them, i thank you even more! it's an honor to be creating to everybody here and i am grateful that others keep enabling me even when i usually create for myself and maybe two other ppl. it is very important to me tho that i get to be part of this amazing community and don't need to just yell into the void by myself ♥

[bookwyrminspiration]

it DOES matter and DON'T you DARE take the easy way out you MOTHERFU—

[bonefall]

post/734733274896809984/do-you-ever-worry-your-own-writing-might-come-off that makes sense. i was asking because i'm afraid of accidentally writing misogyny myself and i kind of admire what you do

Hmm... I wish I had better advice to give you on this front, but honestly, the only thing I can tell you is to consider the perspective of your female characters.

Women are people. They have thoughts and feelings of their own, so like... just let them have their own arcs. A lot of the worst misogyny in WC comes from the way that the writers just don't care about their girls (or, in the case of tall shadow, actually get undermined and forced to rewrite entire chapters), so they're not curious about their lives, or WHY they feel the way they do or what they want, or any direction for their character arcs.

Turtle Tail as an example. She'll often just end up feeling whatever Gray Wing's plot demands. She's gotta leave when Storm dumps him to make him feel lonely. She shows up again to love him in the next book. Lets her best friend Bumble get dragged back to Tom the Wifebeater, but is sad enough about her death to be "unreasonably angry" with Clear Sky, and then calms down and accept Gray Wing is right all along.

And then she dies, so he can have his very own fridge wife.

In this way, Turtle Tail's just being used to tell Gray Wing's story. They're not interested in why she would turn on Bumble, or god forbid any lingering negative feelings for how she didn't help her, or even resentment towards Clear Sky for killing her or Gray Wing for jumping to his defense. She isn't really going through her own character arc.

She does have personality traits of her own, don't misunderstand my criticism, but as a character she revolves around Gray Wing.

So, zoom out every now and then, and just ask yourself; "Whose story is being told by what I wrote? Do my female characters have goals, wants, and agency, or are they just supporting men? How do their choices impact the narrative?"

But that's already kinda assuming that you already have characters like Turtle Tail who DO have personalities and potential of their own. Here's some super simple and practical advice that helped me;

Tally the genders in your cast. How many are boys, how many are girls, how many are others?

And take stock of how many of those characters are just in the supporting cast, and compare that to the amount you have in the main cast.

If you have a significant imbalance, ESPECIALLY in the main cast, fire the Woman Beam.

It's a really simple trick to just write a male character, and then change its gender while keeping it the same. I promise women are really not fundamentally different from men lmao. You can consider how your in-universe gender roles affect them later, if you'd like, but when you're just starting to wean yourself off a "boy bias" this trick works like a charm.

Also you're not allowed to change the body type of any girl you Woman Beam because I said so. PLEASE allow your girls to have muscles, or be fat, or be old, or have lots of scars. Do NOT do what a cowardly Triple A studio does, where the women all have the same cute or sexy face and curvy body while they're standing next to dwarves, robots, and a gorilla.

Or this shit,

If you do this I will GET you. If you're ever possessed by the dark urge, you will see my face appear in the clouds like Mufasa himself to guide you away from the path of evil.

Anyway, you get better at just making characters girls to begin with as time goes on and you practice it. It's really not as big of a deal as your brain might think it is.

Take a legitimate interest in female characters and try not to disproportionately hit them with parental/romance plots as opposed to the male cast, and you'll be fine. Don't think of them as "SPECIAL WOMEN CHARACTERS" just make a character and then let her be a girl, occasionally checking your tally and doing some critical thinking about their use in the story.

(Also remember I'm not a professional or anything, I'm just trying to give advice)

[floorpancakes]

smth kinda fucked up about watching doumeki go from whole assedly making life or death decisions for watanuki as a desperate but firm love language every other tuesday to fucking sitting in quiet anguish with a pained look on his face with his eyebrows fucking tweaking out, still able to make life or death protective decisions sometimes but being fucking paralysed with indecision most times that don't involve immediate physical actions to the point it's clearly ripping his head and heart in two even if he still retains that refusal to give up

[prettyboykatsuki]

bnha is so overhated bro boooo

[july-19th-club]

one thing that is so genius on a craft level with the broken earth books is that the derogatory for 'orogene' is - That Way - on 100% purpose. you're supposed to feel like it's not a word to say out loud, it's supposed to be uncomfortably similar to words you've already heard and know as cruel slurs in the real world. it's a direct fucking parallel designed to deliberately give the reader that crawling feeling and it works so well i dont even feel right typing it up for a post

[quietlyblooms]

gimme a minute to cook over this bnha verse and then i'll get cracking on some starters B))

[stormyoceans]

If Sea says that as a homework assignment he has watched "Scent of a Woman" with Al Pacino hundreds of times, I will cry ugly tears and no one will stop me, because this is literally the best representation of a blind man in a movie that I have ever seen😭😭😭

Monica, tell me that you saw today's workshop!? I'm literally climbing on the ceiling from what I saw! Sea trusts Jimmy 1000% and follows him without a shadow of a doubt. I'm ready to tear my hair out from THIS!!!!!!😭😭😭😭

THE WAY THIS IS THE FIRST THING I SAW WHEN I OPENED TUMBLR AFTER AN ENTIRE DAY OF DOING CHORES AND I ALMOST BROKE MY FINGERS TO GO CHECK THE OFFICIAL LAST TWILIGHT ACCOUNT AT THE SPEED OF LIGHT AND THEN ALMOST BROKE MY PHONE AS WELL WHILE REFRESHING TWITTER 93648537 TIMES BECAUSE GOD KNOWS WHAT ELON MUSK DID TO FUCK IT UP THIS TIME AND NOW IM JUST SHAKING OUT OF MY SKIN YELLING AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS THROWING UP BLOOD WHILE IN A DEAD FAINT ON THE FLOOR EXPERIENCING THE ENTIRE RANGE OF HUMAN EMOTIONS BECAUSE IT'S HAPPENING IT'S REALLY HAPPENING THEY'RE COMING TO US!!!!!!!!!!

i honestly have no words to express how happy i am to know that they actually had someone with a visual impairment talk about their experience and help during workshop. i know this is like.. the bare minimum but again, if we can't have any actors with visual impairments to play in the show, im at least glad they're trying to educate themselves and consulting people from the community so they can represent this story on screen in a way that's as respectful and realistic as possible

ALSO NOT TO BE THAT PERSON BUT JIMMYSEA REALLY BE POWER WALKING AROUND THAT ROOM LIKE IT'S NOTHING AND I FEEL SUICIDAL ABOUT IT. jimmy looks so confident while leading sea but also so careful as he glances back from time to time to check on him, but the thing that frankly is making me want to throw myself off a fifteen story building and is probably gonna lend me in a psych ward sooner rather than later is that you are sooo right, sea is just following jimmy along with no sign of hesitation in his steps, matching jimmy's pace so easily and walking so close to him TRULY THE TRUST THE FAITH THE BOND!!!!!!!!!

tbh i wouldn't be surprised if p'aof gave scent of a woman as an assignment to both jimmy and sea since the focus of the movie is the relationship between a man with visual impairment and a student in need of money who takes a job as his caregiver, so it can be an interesting point of view for both of them!!!! also this reminds me that gmmtv better give me a two hours long special where the entire cast shares what they watched and read and did to prepare for their roles I JUST WANT TO KNOW EVERY SINGLE THING ABOUT THIS SHOW I ALREADY SUFFERED ENOUGH WITH THE WAY GMMTV MISTREATED VICE VERSA THEY OWE ME ONE

[flythesail]

I think a lot of what people were saying happened "too early" in s2 of shadow & bone was really the writers saying s3 is unlikely, so this is our chance to give everyone some of what would be to come :(

[oveliagirlhaditright]

-randomly sees a screenshot of jamie and lily from the city of bones movie, where they seem to embody jace and clary, and am once again sad that we didn't get a city of ashes movie-