#the complete lack of empathy. the lack of curiosity even. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jungk0oksthighs · 2 years

Text

Pi Gasu | The New World

Pairing - jungkook x reader

Genre - smut, angst, E2L, vampire!jungkook

Word Count - 7.7k

A surprise visitor makes a shocking confession that prompts you to visit Euphoria. Warnings: swearing, mentions of blood, terminal illness, violence, light smutty undertones, threatened suicide

SERIES MASTERLIST

“Your neighbour still reeks of the undead.” Hoseok shrugs nonchalantly into his shiny purple flask, heart-shaped lips tainted by his drink of choice. Donor number 101018. The donor is female, maybe a woman around her early thirties. The disappointing aftertaste of stale blood trickles down his oesophagus and dissipates into his body that died almost eighty years ago.

Across the neglected living space Yoongi’s icy glare sticks to his unconventional choice of roommate. The pair have co-habited for almost four years and yet Hoseok’s lack of empathy, lack of humanity, still manages to get under Yoongi’s skin.

It’s no secret that vampires lack basic communicational skills, empathy even more so, in a way Yoongi knows he shouldn’t let Hoseok’s offhand bitchy comments bother him. Usually they do go unnoticed, but when you’re the centrepiece of said comments he finds it difficult to see past them.

“Looks like Jungkook didn’t entertain your warning after all.” Hoseok’s white teeth bare in a sinister grin, one that spreads from ear to ear and would make any other human uncomfortable in it’s presence.

“Yeah but why would he?” Yoongi scoffs, brushing the long brunette hairs away from his forehead, legs bouncing anxiously where he sits, “I’m not a hunter. I’m not even remotely a threat to somebody like him.”

“Somebody like him?” Hoseok parrots, brow quirking curiously, “Do elaborate.”

“I don’t have time for this shit.” Yoongi rushes to his feet, a drawn-out exasperated sigh escaping him. “You know full-well what I mean.”

“A vampire?” His roommate’s tone oozes mockery when he swills the contents of his flask round and round with slender, veiny hands. “You can say the word vampire Yoongi, it’s not a slur. It’s simply what Jungkook and I are. What we’ll always be.”

At this Yoongi bites back the urge to roll his eyes, knowing how much it infuriates his best friend. Truthfully he doesn’t have the energy to argue with him right now, nor does he particularly want to draw a sword in a battle he’ll ultimately lose. “I’m not a threat to Jungkook, of course he didn’t take my threat seriously. Clearly there’s more going on between him and Y/N than she’s letting on.”

The sea of possibilities is endless enough for your neighbour to drown and struggle to breathe. What is going on between you and Jungkook? Everybody knows humans fornicating with vampires is heavily, heavily frowned upon – in some cases completely illegal. But who is he to judge? He lives with the undead, his only real ‘friend’ being a certified corpse of almost eighty years.

Yoongi met Hoseok while working as a paramedic, when he was called to the scene of a house fire where everybody trapped inside was announced dead on the scene, their souls claimed by the roaring flames heating the night sky. Save for one man. One ghoulish looking, freakishly well preserved and eccentrically dressed man.

Yoongi knew straight away he was a vampire, he’d heard all about them and how you can spot them from a mile away. The warm sunset glow beneath their skin, their flawless features, and of course – their wine coloured eyes. Did he expect to find a friend within the monster who survived a house fire without so much as a scratch? No, he did not. But he did take an interest in him, having heard all about what a drop of his blood could do for someone in need.

At first Hoseok was hesitant to befriend the human, understandably so, until Yoongi confirmed the foundation of their ‘friendship’ was solely curiosity. Hoseok would provide the paramedic with blood samples to help save his patients in near-death conditions. Yoongi had a spare room in a judgement free space. It wasn’t ideal for either party involved, but it worked. It still works, mostly. Despite the fact Yoongi was caught medicating patients with vampire blood and fired on the spot, the two still remain friends.

“You can deny it all you want but I know you like her…” Hoseok calls out from the lounge while the other man walks away, even with his roommate’s back turned to him he can sense the annoyance and disgust, “You don’t play nurse for just anybody.”

Yoongi stills, taking a deep inhale. He doesn’t bother to glance back at the loudest dead man he’s ever had the displeasure of meeting, “I don’t want her to die, that’s all.”

That’s not all, not by a long shot. Yoongi has secretly admired you from afar since you moved into the building, taking an interest in your daily routine and what colour outfit you wear each day. He likes the little smile you give him when you wave, he even enjoys hearing the sound of that ridiculous early 2000’s pop punk playlist that seeps through your walls whenever you’re having a bad day.

It wasn’t until he saw Jungkook enter your apartment that he took it upon himself to be more present in your life. According to Hoseok, Jungkook is a very bad man. Dead man. Vampire. Whatever you want to call him, he’s evil. Though Hoseok has never delved into the specifics of how the two creatures of the night know each other. Hoseok doesn’t share anything personal about his past, and truthfully Yoongi has never cared. Up until now.

“Who says he’ll kill her?” In the blink of an eye Hoseok is standing in front of Yoongi, his masculine features eerily tugged up, amused, “Maybe he’ll change her.”

“That’s illegal.” Yoongi scoffs, “There’s no way she’d let him do that—”

“I’m sure she lets him do all kinds of illegal stuff to her…” Hoseok’s chuckle echoes like a sadistic villain in a movie, his grin widening, “If you want to be romantically involved with her you should—”

“Wanting somebody to stay alive is not romantic.” His retort laced with poison, veiny fists balling either side of his denim-clad thighs. There’s a stand off happening between the two friends, both parties exchanging heated eye contact before Hoseok’s nostrils flare, head snapping to the direction of the front door shockingly fast.

“Seems like your neighbour has a visitor…” His tone lowers, smile fading, “One of Jungkook’s creations.”

A series of loud knocks on your front door wins you to jump, cursing under your breath when you accidentally smudge the white varnish you’re painting your toenails with. Begrudgingly getting up from the sofa you drag yourself to the front door, praying to every higher power it’s not Jungkook standing at the other side of the wood.

‘If I had a soul it would already be yours.’

Jungkook’s heart-breaking confession plays clear as day in your mind, winning you to swallow. You haven’t seen him since, nor have you replied to his messages about making donations. Truthfully you can’t wrap your head around the events that transpired in his basement last week. Jungkook kissed you. What’s worse is how much you liked it, and how much it’s haunted your thoughts ever since. His lips on yours, the taste of his blood, the way your toes curled when he pinned you to a wall so hard that it crumbled around you.

And the way his fangs scraped the skin of your neck, almost biting you.

It’s with a lot of hesitance and mental preparation that you finally swing the door open, equal parts confused and relieved when you catch sight of Jimin standing before you. Every hair on your body stands to attention, guarding your suddenly cold shivering skin.

“Hi?” You’re frowning, as is he when his stern gaze flickers over your pink striped Hello Kitty pyjamas. “What do you want?”

You didn’t intend to sound bitchy and rude, it’s just that the only time you’ve seen Jimin out and about he physically shoved you into his car and took you to Jungkook. You’re not particularly dressed for such occasion tonight. Nor do you really want to see the owner of Euphoria either, not until you figure out what the hell it is he wants from you. And what you want from him.

Jimin smirks, taking it upon himself to lean against your doorframe, “Can I come in?” His crimson coloured eyes zone in on his fingernails and plentiful aged silver rings. It’s when he tucks the stray shiny silver hairs behind his ear that he glances to you again, seemingly growing impatient. “Please?” He grins, and your stomach churns.

“Why?”

He rolls his eyes, pushing himself off the doorframe with an audible huff, “I'd like to talk to you.”

“About what?” You cross your arms over your chest, standing your ground. If you let him inside he’ll have an open invitation for as long as your name is on the tenancy agreement. But as you watch his snake print Doc Marten tap the ground somewhat restlessly, your curiosity blossoms. “Is… Is this about Jungkook?”

At this Jimin’s smile darkens into something… sinister. Much like the setting of a cliché Halloween movie, the lightbulb in the hallway flickers behind him and his shadow grows in size. Sighing again, more exasperatedly this time, he buries his fists into the pockets of his black fitted suit trousers, visibly tensing his shoulders. There’s a mutual understanding between you, his crescent-like eyes already answering all your questions.

This is definitely about Jungkook.

“So. Can I come in?”

Much to the disappointment of your better judgement you find yourself nodding, lips pursing into a flat line before you pluck up the courage to speak. “Uh-, yeah come in.” You stand to one side, watching determined footsteps bring the first vampire you ever encountered into your home.

Despite the fact you weren’t expecting company tonight you still feel underdressed. Currently dressed in comfy pyjamas that drown your figure half-way through a selfcare evening, while Jimin’s wearing a snakeskin patterned shirt tucked into his slacks, perfectly matching his choice of footwear. His shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, revealing tattoos you didn’t realise he had before. Much like Jungkook almost all his skin is littered with artwork, you catch yourself staring before he edges closer to your sofa. Sitting down.

“You know there’s a long term solution for remaining young and beautiful...” Jimin hums, taking your skincare products from the coffee table between his fingers with a scoff, “Does any of this actually work?” His eyes find yours, brows raised expectantly.

You bite back a laugh, not having expected such a normal conversation with the blood sucking demon currently wedged between two fluffy pink cushions on your sofa. “Umm. I think so, I mean I hope they do some of that stuff is expensive…” Your tongue awkwardly rolls over your teeth, “So… Is this about what happened when I visited—”

“Jungkook’s drinking your blood.” Jimin looks at you, through you, waiting for any kind of reaction.

“…What?” You whisper, heart hammering inside your chest strong enough to mistake the beat for palpitations. Palms sweaty, mouth dry. “What do you mean Jungkook’s drinking my blood?!”

At this Jimin audibly pops his tongue to the roof of his mouth, a distraction from the fact he’s rolling his eyes into the back of his skull again. Bored looking, unphased. “The vials of your blood you’ve been giving to him.” A single brow quirks, “He’s been drinking them.”

“H-how did-, how do you know about—”

“I found the empty vials.” He shrugs, chuckling softly to himself while adjusting his position, until his ankle rests on his knee, leaning back with a grin, “I could smell your blood in a blind line up without trying.”

“You’ve got it wrong,” You’re shaking your head, jumping to Jungkook’s defence a lot faster than you should, “He’s not drinking them, he’s running tests on them to see why my blood is… Different.”

Jimin loses it, throwing his head back in a fit of loud menacing laughter that makes you uneasy. He’s laughing so hard that he’s struggling to breathe properly, slapping his palm to his forehead. “The curse of humanity never fails to amuse me.” He snorts, too busy judging you to look your way. He continues, “Humans… So naïve. So painfully, obnoxiously ignorant to the world around them. Life isn’t a fucking fairy tale sweetheart.”

It's with a heavy heart and a sour taste in your mouth akin to battery acid that the penny finally drops, “There… There are no tests, are there?”

“Jungkook is many things, but a scientist?” Jimin’s still laughing, borderline hysterical at your naivety, “He’s no saint either, don’t act so surprised. He doesn’t have a soul much less a conscience.”

Anger floods your body like a roaring fire, prompting you to shift your weight between your legs, physically unable to hold still. “Why are you telling me this?” You snap, eyes glued to the man, the monster making a mockery of you in your own damn apartment. Pushing down your own emotions; the betrayal, the fury, the confusion. You try to keep your head blank of any incriminating thoughts about kissing Jungkook, knowing they’d be violated instantly.

The giggles stop, and Jimin’s voice deepens into something much more frightening.

He cranes his neck, hunching his muscular body forward on the sofa as if to get a better look at you. A look is an understatement. The way his icy glare drags up your pyjama clad body forces you to look away, until he’s standing before you faster than you can process. His nose is a hair away from your own, winning you to stumble back a few steps into the coat stand, knocking it over in a hurry.

“Sometimes it’s fun to play with your food.” A bloodthirsty smirk tugs the corners of his plump lips, “Nice seeing you Y/N.” A dreamy, satisfied sigh slips from him before he disappears.

That liar. That evil bastard.

You feel violated, disgusted and scared. Why would Jungkook lie to you about testing your donations? Why would he? Why would he ask you to you touch yourself? In his presence none the less.

‘Arousal makes the blood… sweeter.’

His words torment you like a painful mantra, like a sad song from your past. It all makes sense. The need, the urgency, the demand for you to keep donating. You feel like a fool for not connecting the dots sooner, but why would Jimin come directly to you with this information?

Unless he really is just a bored, ancient demon hellbent on causing trouble...

Sleep doesn’t come easy to you that night, you’re tossing and turning, back damp from equal parts sweat and blind hatred. You simultaneously want to confront Jungkook about this and never wish to see him again. But what’s bothering you more is the fact that… Had he simply told you the truth about drinking your blood, you genuinely don’t think you would’ve cared.

But he didn’t.

You’re sitting in the campus library revising for a big exam you have coming up, it’s nearly Christmas break and you’re almost done with college for a whole three weeks. That’s the only thing that makes sitting here for hours on end with your nose buried in five textbooks at once remotely worth it. You need a break. The plan is to go and visit Eddie and spend Christmas in your nightmarish childhood home. Frankly it’s better than being here, the prospect of seeing Jungkook equally as daunting as your mother. Maybe more so.

It's been all of twenty eight hours since Jimin showed up to your apartment unannounced and uninvited. Though technically the silver haired vampire is eternally invited into your home now. But it’s not like you gave him a spare key and orange juice on arrival, no, all you did was invite him inside. A mistake in itself.

Maybe you should move away after graduation? It’s not for another two years but it beats staying here in a spooky city riddled with crime and vampires. Two of which can stop by your place any time they’d like. Let’s be honest, it’s not like a simple lock and key would be able to stop them from getting inside.

“You’re Y/N, right?” The female voice drags you from your daydream. Peeling your stare from the book in hand, you turn to the owner of said voice.

A wave of recognition washes over you, it’s Betty. You’d met her at your first ever night at Euphoria, the same night Jungkook had sent you home for being ‘too good’ for his vampire customers. In reality he probably just wanted to control the situation, control you, keep you to himself. Keep your blood to himself. Swallowing, you physically shake the intrusive thoughts from your mind and offer the girl a small smile.

“Hey, yeah… It’s Betty, isn’t it?” You gesture to the empty green fabric seat ahead of you, and she slips into the space effortlessly despite her very big clunky black boots and oversized knitted dress.

“Yeah!” Her teeth are pearly white, contrasting against the red lipstick she’s showcasing. She really is beautiful, the epitome of lust even when dressed casually. If you had to describe her you would use the term ‘poster girl for pornography’. She’s a woman written for people who love women, who want to fuck women and repopulate the earth with them. Spend their lives with them, celebrate them.

Or to put it simply: she’s a hottie with the best damn body you’ve ever seen.

“I haven’t seen you since my first day at the club!” She whispers, briefly glancing round the busy library in search of nosey students, “You… You quit, right? That’s what Jungkook said.”

At this you fight the urge to scoff, she doesn’t deserve your venom after all, “Mmm. Well don’t believe everything Jungkook says.” You mumble, pawing at the stack of books between as a distraction.

Her pretty features tug with something quizzical, brows pinched, “Oh? Did something happen between you guys?”

“Nope.” You emphasise the ‘p’ with a loud popping noise, offering her a fake grin that she can clearly see right through, judging from the way she sits back in her chair and watches you even closer.

“I didn’t think he was like that…” Betty admits hastily, tapping manicured fingers to the table edge seemingly deep in thought, “I mean-, he’s hot! He’s sooooo hot. Like S tier hot, yknow? But I didn’t think humans were his—”

“Nothing happened. Honestly.” You lie, the truth being far worse.

It’s not about the morally grey fact you gave him your blood willingly. You’d met Betty at Euphoria – she’s doing the exact same thing every single weekend, as she was hired to do. Of course her donations were a little more intimate than anything you’d done with her boss but- well. Almost more intimate.

It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. It didn’t mean anything to either of you.

‘If I had a soul, it would already be yours.’

“You should come to the party tonight!” Betty gasps as though she’s just had the eureka moment of the century, leaning forward, “There’s a huge party at Euphoria tonight for Taehyung’s birthday! You met Tae Tae, right? The blonde guy… Always sucking a lollipop. Or someone’s neck.” She giggles, adjusting the turtle collar on her dress. Telling you everything you need to know.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You say cautiously, though you appreciate the invitation none the less, “Thanks though, I’m sure you’ll all have a great time.”

Betty waggles her slender index finger, flaunting a small dark snake tattoo that looks freshly done on the digit, “No no no no, you should definitely come. I know things didn’t work out work wise but it’d be nice to hang out with you!” She smiles, a single dimple piercing her left cheek, “Please? I only moved here recently and I don’t have any girl friends… Girls are usually intimidated by me.”

Maybe it’s the genuine desperation weighing her eyelids, or maybe it’s the idea of blindsiding Jungkook and confronting him about your donations. Whatever the reason, you find yourself crumbling and nodding along with her words, sighing. Quickly exchanging phone numbers and planning the night ahead.

Truthfully you don’t have many friends here either, and while your intentions may not be entirely genuine Betty does seem like a good person.

It’s almost 10PM later that night when you arrive at Euphoria via a very expensive Uber. It’ll be worth it, you mentally justify the money spent. It will be worth it. As will the goose bumps gifted by the cold winter air scraping your exposed skin. You’ve opted for a very revealing dress for maximum damage. The strapless black velvet dress plunges at the middle of your cleavage, leaving very little if nothing at all to the imagination. The swell of your ass is barely concealed, legs appearing a whole lot longer than they actually are with some assistance from your stiletto heels.

Is this what self-sabotage looks like? Jungkook could crush you like a grape juice box in hand, as any of his immortal staff members could. You know it’s a bad idea, but like you’ve told him before – it’s not like you have much to live for. You’ve nothing to lose at this point.

The security guard checks your ID and allows you to slip inside, you promised Betty you would meet her here at ten which makes you right on time. You’re surprised yet relieved when your purse goes unsearched, giving that you’ve brought a little insurance to keep you safe.

Truthfully ever since Betty invited you here tonight you've had one hell of a realisation. Jungkook could very well be the cure for your brother's rapidly approaching demise... You just need to keep your mind blank of any thoughts of your plans beyond the threshold of the club. They can read minds, and you won't fall into that trap again. While your chest bubbles and squeezes with something strange whenever you think about the last time you saw Jungkook... You push that down, deep, deep down until it's almost forgotten about. You're here for one reason and one reason only.

Euphoria is in full swing when you make it inside, the sexy bass-dominant song vibrating your bones, it’s deafeningly loud in your ears and you ponder if wearing a high ponytail was the right move to make. The fifty shades of red strobe lights are blinding, almost painful to look at and you can't quite make out the faces in the crowd. But you’re here. Full of adrenaline and a desire to piss off Jungkook. Another terrible, terrible idea.

It's when you make your way through the busy floor, ignoring the intense stares bruising your body, that you find Taehyung sitting on what can only be described as a throne in front of the main stage. You swallow a chuckle, vampires really know how to party.

“Hey, Taehyung?” You call out a little louder than you intended, winning every pair of fire-engine red eyes to snap towards you, like a vengeful moth to a vulnerable flame. “Have you seen Betty?” You feign confidence, feeling smaller than small when you catch sight of the birthday boy grinning wickedly. Removing a cherry lollipop from his plump lips with an audible pop.

Taehyung stands, adjusting his shirt with long fingers before his thick brows raise with something akin to genuine, human surprise. “Y/N? To what do I owe the pleasure?” He’s making his way over, lazy footsteps carrying his leather-clad legs your way.

“I’m looking for Betty, she said she’d be here…” You reiterate, swallowing your nerves. Useless really, giving that Taehyung and every other creature of the night can sense your inner turmoil from a mile away. “Have you seen her?”

“No, I haven’t.” His voice is deep, slightly croaky and albeit a little endearing to listen to, “Aren’t you going to wish me a happy birthday?” His smile broadens, his pink tongue rolling over his teeth salaciously. As if he’s staring at his next meal, feline eyes flickering to your exposed neck before settling back to your face.

It’s the shiny gold crown atop of his hair that you focus on, perfectly matching the long gold chain sitting behind the collar of his black silky dress shirt. “Happy birthday,” You offer him a closed smile, “How old are you?”

“Twenty nine if anyone else asks. I'm technically one hundred and seventy nine.” He hums with pride, returning the sticked candy to his mouth, crossing his muscular arms over his strong chest, “You know Jungkook won’t be happy that you’re crashing my party little one.”

“Betty invited me.” You mirror his movements, accidentally pushing the swell of your breasts up by doing do. The ancient yet well-preserved vampire notices, his not-so-subtle stare lands on your cleavage and stays there. He’s smirking.

“Betty’s not here right now.” He wets his lips, heavy eyes slowly trailing back to your face.

Right. Betty isn’t here right now when she said she would be. Less than ideal, giving that you’re in a vampire nightclub and know full-well how much everybody in here wants to kill you.

You nod, attempting to act indifferent, “She’ll be here soon…”

“And in the meantime,” He edges closer, until he’s less than arms-distance away from your body, “What do you say we have a little fun?” He grins, looking like the epitome of sin when he sizes up the pulsing vein on your neck.

That’s when your knight in shining armour swoops onto the scene, knocking Taehyung to the ground and keeping him there with a foot firmly pressed to his throat. The atmosphere shifts immediately. It’s intense, dark and frightening. But that doesn’t deter Taehyung, not in the slightest. In the blink of an eye Taehyung rushes to his feet, pinning up the other vampire to a nearby wall, vice-like grip crushing his throat. Jungkook doesn’t do as much as blink, nor does he fold.

Maybe knight in shining armour is an overstatement. More like your favourite blood thirsty enemy showing up and making a scene. Winning you more attention than you'd ever expected. Or wanted.

You’re standing there wide-eyed and frozen in place, like stunned frostbite has enveloped your senses. It’s a moment later when Taehyung is thrown to the other side of the club, his back slamming against the silver edge of the main stage – prompting the dancers to stop what they’re doing. Had Taehyung been human his spine would’ve shattered like a mirror, this being a brutally strong reminder he’s not. Nor is the creature responsible for such violence.

“What are you doing here?” Jungkook’s tone oozes wrath when his dark eyes snap to yours, teeth bared in an angry snarl that has you regretting the decision to come here immediately. He’s going to kill you.

You blink at him, astonished by his strength and burly behaviour, “I-, Betty invited me—”

“Now is that any way to treat the birthday boy?” Taehyung taunts as he jumps back over, scoffing when he’s squaring up to Jungkook right in front of you, “Maybe if you kept your pet on a tighter leash she wouldn’t be here.”

That’s when Jungkook loses what little remaining self-restraint he had left, delivering an uppercut punch to Tae’s sharp jawline so strong that he flies up to the ceiling, crashing into a luxurious chandelier. Sparkles fall from the impact, like beautiful glimmering raindrops scattering over the crowd. It’s like everything happens in slow motion, it’s gorgeous, until the screams of the customers remind you that the shimmers are nothing more than broken glass.

Jungkook’s inked fingers grip your wrist tight enough to snap bones, and quicker than you’re physically and mentally capable of processing you’re standing in a secluded room you’ve not seen previously. It’s a luxurious VIP room of sorts. There’s a bed adorned with plentiful red velvet pillows and an aged, steel medieval-looking pair of shackles tightly connected to a strong hook on the wall above the wooden headboard. Much like the rest of Euphoria this room has the undertone of seduction. Causing your heart to stutter twice as hard as it had just moments before.

It's dark in here, the only other person in the room barely visible under the dim burgundy lights that scream sex.

“I’ll ask you again,” Jungkook locks the door behind him, turning to face you with sharp features contorted with thunder, “Why are you here?”

“I was invited.” You bite between clenched teeth, ignoring the way his muscles flex beneath the very sheer black shirt he wears with every angry breath he takes. There's an almost floral-like pattern weaved into the mesh material, but it's very much the visibility of his tattoos and beefy body that you're looking at.

It seems as though everybody has dressed in all black today, something you’ve only just registered looking at Jungkook’s fitted black slacks and smart shoes of the same colour. Perhaps it’s a cynical joke within the vampire community. While they treat birthdays as a cause for celebration, maybe they’re all secretly mourning their stolen humanity.

Tousled hair frames Jungkook's jarringly handsome features, drawing attention to the way his expression drips with equal parts disgust and fury. “How many times do I need to tell you? You don’t belong here.” He takes a small step closer, cold stare burning a hole in your skull, “You shouldn’t have come here.”

“Yeah well I shouldn’t have done a lot of things.” You bark, trying to steady your shaky breaths. “Why are you so pissed that I came?”

The raw intent behind Jungkook’s eyes deepens with something indescribable, he’s slowly closing in on you like a lion would its prey, “When are you going to stop being so reckless with your mortality? You could’ve been killed—”

“If you wanted me dead I would be by now.” You mirror his previous words against him, fighting the urge to think of anything Jimin told you in private. Burying the real reason you came deep within the walls of you mind. He’s not going to find out you know by invading your mind, no, nor is he going to know why you're here until you want him to. You’re doing this on your terms.

“That’s beyond the point.” He scoffs, dragging his heels across the glossy tiled floor, it's shiny enough to mirror the reflection of his body, “Had I not been here to protect you Taehyung would’ve ripped your heart out without hesitation.”

“Protect me?” You chuckle humourlessly, holding strong eye contact and a proud spine when he’s no more than ten inches away from you, “Why do you want to keep me alive? Why don’t you want me dead Jungkook? Hm?” You frown, feigning confusion, “Is there something I don’t know? A reason my life is so damn important to you?”

Before you can spare a thought for Betty's whereabouts, for Jimin's confession, for anything beyond this moment, Jungkook’s heavy arms are around you. His tattooed hand gently tugging your ponytail back until your bare neck is exposed to the demon. He swallows, darting his tongue over his pierced lips to wet them.

"There's a reason I haven't killed you, the only reason I don't snap your neck where you stand." He hisses.

"Enlighten me then."

"It's selfish."

"I expected nothing less." You scoff, line of sight flickering to his lips on it's own accord. As much as you want to hate him, as much as you want to never see him again... You're drawn to him. You always have been.

Jungkook pauses, smirking slightly when he notices where you're looking, "Why are you here?"

You deadpan, "Why am I still alive?"

"Because it's in my best interest that your heart keeps beating." You're lost in his eyes, unwillingly, but they're so intense and haunting that you can't bring yourself to look away.

"...Why?"

“Because you make me feel like the man I never had the chance to become.” He lowers his face down, until his lips are brushing the skin of your cheek, barely a touch but it still earns shivers to run down your spine, your whole body trembling with anticipation, “The years I’ve spent thinking my soul was lost forever were nothing but a journey to find its other half…” His lips glide to the shell of your ear, his words barely audible when they fall from his mouth, “Right here, inside you.”

They’re just words. They’re nothing but words.

There’s an uncomfortable lump of yearning deep inside your throat that you’re struggling to swallow. The anger, the betrayal, the blood-curdling disgust at his lies is dissipating into your veins. Replaced by tingles and butterflies, a feeling so intense it’s as if every nerve in your body is aflame, every line of defence melting from the unmistakable fire of passion.

His lips are a hair away from yours, the soft bend of his nose resting on your cheek, face slanted, his eyes fluttered shut.

“To lose you, is my only fear.”

“You can’t lose something you never had.” You whisper back, and Jungkook’s heavy eyelids open just enough for him to analyse your reaction.

His breath is warm on your lips, contrasting against the coolness of his silver lip ring that’s somehow even closer now, “Having you would be an extraordinary honour, but my intention isn’t to seduce you.”

“Then what is your intention…?” You gasp quietly, thrown off-balance by the unexpected heat of this moment. Without realising it Jungkook has walked you back to the bed, allowing you to fall onto the mattress before he’s caging you in. His immortal being on top of yours, holding himself in place with one hand as the other trails the naked skin of your collarbone.

His eyes are stuck on you from above, messy hair tickling your cheeks when a gentle smile creases his supple skin. “Over the centuries I’ve seduced countless women, but now I’m forced to accept that you’re the only one to seduce me. My only intention is to finally submit to that feeling.”

Overwhelmed by this moment of forever, the white hot disgust in him long forgotten - you kiss him.

Your bodies mould against each other's, fitting together with a stunning perfection you’ve never felt before. His pouted lips are soft against your own but desperate, moving so quickly that the air is knocked from your lungs. Your tongue slips into his mouth and is messily greeted with his own, the two muscles working in perfect sync when a blissful sigh fills the otherwise silent room.

“But... What if I want you to seduce me?” You pant between a string of kisses so hungry your whole body feels starved of touch. The mutual greed for each other is unsatisfiable, your fingertips are buried in his long raven locks, his free hand exploring your curves with so much pressure that you know you’ll be bruised.

But you don’t care.

Jungkook pulls back with long fangs, a heaving chest and a voice so horse and thickened by lust that it sends a pang of heat straight to your core, “I’ll have you in every way I can get you.”

He kisses you again, and this time there’s a familiarity of his lips brushed against yours that consumes you. Like two halves of one whole finally shredding their pride and submitting to their fate. He takes you by the waist and flips your bodies atop of the mattress, until your legs are straddling his thick thighs and he’s laid flat on his back.

Leaning down you crush your lips to his, physically incapable of breaking the bond between you. Jungkook’s hands fly up to the headboard so strongly that he breaks the wood, it’s crumbling between his fingertips but he never stops kissing you back. Not once. Not even to stop you from pushing the thin material of his shirt up his body, until every bump and crevice of his taught abdomen is hit with cold air.

Busying his hands with tearing the throw pillows apart he deepens the kiss into something more. Something that has your body screaming for him to be closer, something that ignites your body from your scalp to your toes.

“Even in death, I’ve never felt so alive.” He heaves against your mouth, distracting himself from the desire to feed by gripping your hips and pulling you closer to his noticeably growing anticipation.

“Ah.” You hiss, wincing in pain when the hold of your bones is harsh enough to crush them, “Jungkook…” You whisper, breaking away from his mouth, “You’re hurting me.”

With no hesitation spared Jungkook removes his hands, snaking one up to his fangs where he plunges them deep into his wrist. The eternal crimson liquid stains his lips before they find yours again, the taste of his blood providing you with a rush of euphoria. The ache in your hips seemingly never existing to begin with.

All you can think about is his nearness, the fact your bodies are writhing around so fearlessly swept up in each-other’s presence. Nothing else matters. He’s addicting. His body, his lips, and dare you say it even his blood.

Reality wins you to pause, take a beat away from him to catch your breath. This is the same vampire that lied to you about your blood donations, the same vampire who has been slugging back shots of your DNA as if it were the most normal, mundane thing on earth.

“I want you,” Jungkook pants, showcasing his inhumane strength when he’s flipped your bodies until you’re the one pinned down. There’s a loud snap from beneath you and you’re almost rolling off the mattress before he catches you, adjusting your positions until you’re at the other end of the bed. The wood crumbles beneath your weight, feathers exploding in the air when he takes a fistful of pillow beside you.

“All of you. Your mind, your body… Your soul.” He pants, lips trailing down your neck in a string of wet kisses that make your head spin, “My deepest desire is to conquer everything you have, everything you are. Until you’re mine.”

But his list is one detail short. Your blood.

A surge of arrogance rushes through you, prompting you to push him back and climb on top of him. To your equal parts surprise and relief he allows this, his body shuddering with something you feel too. Unmistakable, undeniable, uncontrollable lust. You distract him with your kiss, not missing the way a low moan slips into your mouth along with his tongue. Your body is desperate for more, as is your heart. But much to the disappointment of your libido you listen to your brain and restrain him. Binding his hands with the shackles you spotted on arrival.

As soon as they click into place you find the strength to peel away from Jungkook, after one final kiss. A kiss you’re certain will be your last, so you make it count. You kiss him again and again, until the remains of his blood is smeared across both your lips. Until you’re gasping for air. Until he registers where his hands are placed and what you’ve just done.

“Don’t be scared,” He coos, leaning forward where his tongue meets the structure of your jawline, licking the skin so sinfully you have to bite back a groan, “Untie me, I want to feel your body writhe beneath mine when I annihilate you.”

Despite the overwhelming urge to see his words through, you stop. You muster the strength to get off the now very broken bed and stand before him. Adjusting your dress that apparently was pushed up to reveal your underwear merely moments before. Glancing round the room in search for your purse you find it, holding it between your fingers when Jungkook’s deep voice catches your attention.

“Did I hurt you?” The guilt in his voice is enough to tug at your heartstrings, and you have to remind yourself of the lies he’s told you. Where your donations were really going all this time. You swallow, finally looking his way.

He’s a mess. A heavy breathing, pornographic looking mess. Raven wayward hairs tickle the bridge of his nose, but it’s his blood-stained lips and prominent fangs that remind you that ending this here was the right decision. No matter how badly you want him, how much you crave his touch, his body, his heart. He’s a monster. A vampire. A liar.

“No, you didn’t.” You mumble, swallowing.

It’s now or never, you’ve managed to keep these thoughts at bay this entire night. The whole reason you came here to begin with. You never intended for it to go this far, you didn’t plan on anything like this happening at all. But once again you found yourself caught in the sticky web of the most handsome demonic spider you've ever encountered.

“What’re you doing? What’s in the bag?” His angled chin tips to your purse, noticing that your anxious gaze keeps flickering between him and the accessory.

“Insurance.” You whisper.

“Insurance for what?”

The sexual tension has shifted into something much, much darker. Now that your breaths are steady and your mind de-clouded from the spell of Jungkook’s lips you know what you have to do. You think about Eddie, his condition, how much pain your twin brother is in every single day.

And how you can stop it.

“I need a vial of your blood.” Your eyes snap to his, and he looks hurt. The calmest expression haunts his handsome features, but in spite of the fact he doesn’t visibly seem angry – you’ve never been more terrified of him. “My-, my brother is terminally ill. I need—”

“Untie me.” He growls, the chains clanging against the steel hook on the wall. You recognise the scripting of the shackles, they're identical to the ones in his basement, you know that for whatever reason he’s bound by them until you say otherwise. “So that’s why you came here tonight, hm? For my blood.”

“It’s the least you can do for me.” You sniff. To bring up the lies, or to leave them in the dark? Now that is the question.

“I’m not giving your sick brother my blood. I don’t give anybody my blood, it’s mine.”

“You gave it to me.” You remind him, reaching into your purse for your ‘insurance’ that he will do as you say. One way or another you’re going to use him exactly how he used you, and hopefully save your brother’s life in the process.

Jungkook’s features drop until no emotion remains, “That’s different. You're different. You can take me in every way imaginable.”

“I won’t ask you nicely again.”

“I implore that you don’t.” He scoffs, “It’s never going to happen. You’re the only exception.”

With a pounding heart and sweaty palms you peel the gun from your purse, clicking the safety off before you aim it toward the one thing standing in the way of Eddie’s recovery. Jungkook is amused to say the least, a sinister grin tugging the corners of his blood-stained, pierced lips when a light-hearted sigh escapes him.

“Do you know anything about vampires? That won’t kill me.” He chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief, “Either stop talking nonsense and untie me, or get over here so we can finish what we started. I’m willing to overlook your little outburst just this once.”

Ignoring his pleas you nod, slowly, calculatedly, “I might not know much about your kind but I do know one or two things about you…” You whisper, flexing your wrist until the barrel of the gun is pressed tightly against the hollow of your temple. The temperature of the cold weapon shocks you enough to drown out the sounds of Jungkook battling with his restraints, snarling and swearing that you release him immediately.

“I have no reason to live, yet every reason to die.” Your eyes well up with tears, you’ve ingested vampire blood. Jungkook’s blood. If he doesn’t give into your commands you’ll be one of his kind for eternity… It wasn’t the plan, but it’ll have to suffice, you know you won’t get this chance again.

“Give me your blood Jungkook. Or you’ll lose your pet blood bag forever.”

#jungkook #jungkook ff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #jungkook fic #jungkook writers #jungkook writing #vampre!jungkook #vamp!jk #jungkook vampire au #jungkook fantasy au #vampire ff #vampre lore #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook series #jungkook bts

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mamasuellen-blog · 2 months

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Aziraphale's Diary in Crowley's hands

Aziraphale keeps a personal diary, in which he recounts his experiences, ideas, adventures, feelings and desires that he wants to fulfill with Crowley. A diary that also narrates her deepest pains, her questions, her religious guilt and, above all, her fear of losing Crowley to hell or heaven because of her love. This diary is a testament to how much Aziraphale loves Crowley and wants to protect him at all costs.

Aziraphale needs to write, he needs to remove the weight from his shoulders through writing. This is beneficial for him, as he is able to maintain emotional control, which helps him understand and organize his thoughts in relation to the events he has experienced.

I'm not saying that this is the only way Aziraphale expresses his emotions. Aziraphale is always expressing his emotions and this is quite extensive in the series. Aziraphale understands and consoles Crowley's pain, understands and accepts other opinions. He questions himself about what it means to be an angel, he shows concern for others, he is confident in what he believes, he has love for others, he has empathy, hope and he feels such an intense love for Crowley that it is impossible to control. That's why he narrates in his diary about his feelings, his love, as a way of dealing with it, as a way of calming him down.

Crowley knows that Aziraphale loves him, that he likes him, but sometimes I wonder if Crowley has doubts about this, about the strong love that Aziraphale has for him, because even Crowley has his fluctuations and this is due to his traumas, which prevent him from seeing things clearly, he has doubts whether he is worthy of love or not. There are examples of this in the series, such as in 1862, when Aziraphale is afraid of losing Crowley's existence because of holy water. Crowley, with his anxiety, ends up misinterpreting things and thinks it's all about heaven and not about Aziraphale being afraid of losing him. Furthermore, their conversation is not so clear, but the point is that Crowley did not realize Aziraphale's fear twice. Nina talked about them, which led Crowley to question about Aziraphale's love, about their love. Later, Nina and Maggie talked about it again, which motivated him to feel encouraged and speak out. Crowley and Aziraphale know that they talked about almost everything during their existence on earth, even if in codes due to a lack of adequate security for good communication, but they never spoke openly about their traumas and especially about their feelings, in a way that would make each other feel the other, in a visceral and organic way.

Aziraphale's diary has already appeared in the series and I have no doubt that it will return in season 3. I have a great interest in this diary being in Crowley's hands, but I'm not sure how that could happen in the series. Perhaps Crowley returns to the bookstore to look for something relevant that he forgot there and sees the diary on Aziraphale's bedside, arousing his curiosity.

Crowley misses Aziraphale and, therefore, will not resist the temptation to read the diary. Crowley will discover that Aziraphale is going through the same heartbreaking anguish as him, the fear that this love will bring them danger. I can imagine Crowley reading Aziraphale's pains, Azirpahle's desire to touch him, hug him and kiss him. The desire that, if he could, he would alleviate all of Crowley's pain and trauma.

I can imagine Crowley reading from Aziraphale's diary...

7 May 1967

Dear Diary, yesterday, I found Crowley in Soho. The reason for looking for him was an urgent situation, which threatened his existence. I discovered that he intended to steal holy water from a church. Even though so much time has passed, I'm still afraid of losing him to something that could completely destroy him, but I can't allow him to take risks alone, I never will. So I handed him an unopened bottle with the purest holy water in existence. After so many years, my opinion has not changed, but I trust him completely and am confident that he will not open the bottle. I won't forgive myself if something terrible happens to you, especially because of me. As thanks, Crowley offered me a ride, an escape to somewhere. I would have accepted immediately if we had security for it, a place where we could be together without fear. However, as much as my heart cried out for this connection, my mind was flooded with worries and fears from the past. I know that my feeling could put us in danger again, and the weight of the consequences is too overwhelming. Every time I see Crowley, it's like a constant reminder of an internal battle that seems to have no end. The objective of my desire, an unattainable mirage that torments me day and night throughout my existence. I'm afraid I'll lose Crowley forever if I dare express my feelings. The mere idea of losing the love of my life is enough to freeze my heart in a state of pure agony... It's so unbearably unbearable... It's like a cruel paradox, wanting something with all your strength and at the same time fear the consequences. It hurt me to see that Crowley had a sad smile on his lips because I hadn't accepted his ride. I felt a stab of pain deep in my chest. I knew I had made the right choice, but that didn't make the goodbye any less painful. As I write these words, I carry the weight of a decision that could have changed the course of our lives. But I also hope that, one day, when time and circumstances allow, we will be able to meet again and perhaps go to the Ritz like we always did. Sometimes I wonder if Crowley feels love for me, I mean, I know he likes me, but I wonder if he wants me as much as I do, if he wants to kiss me, hug me. Oh, Crowley, my love, I want this so much, but I'm afraid. I am plunged into a self-destructive maze, where every step towards that love is overshadowed by fears and insecurities. Oh God, I just wish I had the freedom to live something so pure with my love. I know that one day I won't be able to hold it anymore, I feel that sooner or later I might lose him again, and just the thought tears me up inside..., but I won't run away from the fight, even if I have to suffer . I promised myself to protect you forever, even if I have to sacrifice my existence, even if I have to fight against hell and heaven together.

11 April 2021

Dear diary, Today, finally, after a few years, I visited our Chalet again. When I opened the door, I was enveloped by a love that I can't even explain where it came from. A soft light came through the left window, welcoming me, hugging me warmly, almost as if you were there, I thought with a laugh. Whenever I go to the Chalet it's an indescribable emotion, realizing that that place, that wooden and stone Chalet, is much more than just a property; It's the home I always dreamed of for us. The place is quite dusty, but nothing that a miracle can't solve. As I watched the light dance across the floor, I felt such hope, I felt like I was witnessing destiny itself unfold before me. I vividly imagined the two of us dancing in the middle of the room, twirling and laughing like there was no tomorrow. The soft sound of birds in the garden will be our soundtrack as we lose ourselves in each other's arms. Ah, Crowley, I long for the day when I can tell you about the acquisition of that beautiful Cottage on the South Downs, and I hope that one day we can live there together. I may not have told you yet, but I imagined you being surprised by the news, but then immediately accepting it with a beautiful smile. I imagined you offering me a ride and I accepted with great satisfaction, because, on this day, we will be going home. I imagined the two of us in the kitchen preparing dumplings, I imagined you and me in our garden drinking wine in the moonlight. I imagined you in our bed, waking up to birdsong, in fact, I imagined you with messy hair and you looked beautiful. I hope all this imagination becomes our reality one day. I have faith in this, I have faith in you Crowley, in us.

#goodomensseason3 #aziraphale #crowley #good omens #goodomensseason2 #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffablehusbands #neil gaiman #Dear Diary

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mbti-notes · 7 months

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You wrote once, something I interpreted that when choosing partners/friends we can look for confirmation of ourselves by choosing personality types that are very similar or opposites, so that they complement us Ok, I'm an ENTJ and I try to make a good connection with every personality type, thanks to this blog I'm able to appreciate something in everyone However, I have noticed that I am by far the most fond of ENTP, ENFP, INTJ, INFJ, INTP. With the rest, it is rather difficult for them to really like me Assuming we are trying to win the favour of each personality type, what does it say about us which types like us and which don't? Are there cognitive functions which are crucial?

What is motivating your question? Why do you think it's important to try and make a good connection with every personality type? What are you hoping to achieve exactly? It is necessary to ask because some people are obsessed about being liked by everyone, some people can't handle being disliked, some people get a kick out of being able to "conquer" others, etc. I'm not saying any of these apply to you; I'm only making the point that it's important to be completely transparent about your motivation. If it's coming from a less than wholesome place, it might lead you in the wrong direction, developmentally.

Perhaps you hope to improve your ability to connect with people because you genuinely care about forming healthy relationships with them. If that's the case:

There are qualities and virtues you can nurture to make yourself a better friend, companion, or helper. For example: loyalty, trustworthiness, reliability, warmth, kindness, supportiveness, agreeableness, cooperativeness, patience, compassion, tolerance, acceptance, inclusivity, authenticity, integrity, sincerity, openness, curiosity, adaptability, humor.

There are skills you can build to facilitate the formation of meaningful relationships such as: listening, conversation, communication, conflict resolution, emotional intelligence, empathy or perspective taking, problem solving.

By working on these things, you generally become a more attractive friend or companion, and people will naturally be more drawn to you. In a nutshell, no matter the type, if people feel at ease and even feel good about being in your presence, they'll want to be around you more.

The list of types you are fond of is fairly predictable. They include all your fellow NTs (same temperament). They are all N types, which speaks to a disconnect with Sensing and Sensors. Among them, only two are Fs, but it is no coincidence that they are the very two F types that most closely resemble NTs. This speaks to a disconnect with Feeling and Feelers.

These patterns seem to suggest that lack of development of your lower two functions sometimes impedes your ability to get along better with the types that didn't make your list. As your type development progresses, assuming it progresses well, you should get a better and better idea of how to appeal to Sensors and Feelers. It is not a matter of me telling/teaching you what to do. It is a matter of you being able to truly identify with them. Appreciating things about people, as though they are an object of art, isn't the same as really understanding and deeply relating with them.

Perhaps you want to know if there is anything about your ENTJness that is repelling certain types. From the feedback I've heard about ENTJs in general, one of the issues at the heart of their relationship conflicts is a lack of understanding. People feel as though the ENTJ doesn't really know them, either because the ENTJ simply can't or they won't make the effort. This is not entirely the fault of ENTJs. With inferior Fi, it is genuinely difficult for them to understand people sometimes. Maybe it helps to think of the inferior function as a kind of "disability", which means we all have this disability. You have to learn to accept it and find ways to compensate as necessary.

Your question also seems to be about the mysterious idea of relationship "chemistry". It is a complicated concept because there are numerous factors that play into it, some of which are beyond awareness and control. Yes, function compatibility plays a role as mentioned, but sometimes it is a small role compared to more pressing factors such as attachment style or very specific personal/psychological needs that remain hidden from public view.

If you've put in a reasonable effort to reduce function misuse and mitigate the negative characteristics of your type, then you ought to feel good about the positive aspects of your ENTJness and wear them proudly. However, remember that some people will be put off not only by your negative ENTJ characteristics, but also the positive ones, because they are suffering personality development issues that distort positives into negatives. For example, some people see "kindness" and call it "weakness", because they have some deeper issue of fearing exploitation. These psychological issues create a wall in relationships and there's not much you can do about them because you aren't the right person to change their mind. The existence of these psychological walls means some people just aren't relationship-ready, unable to meet you halfway no matter how much effort you put in.

An important aspect of being good at relationships is understanding when a relationship isn't meant to be. You can't compel people to like you. With inferior Fi, it might be difficult for you to fully grasp, but some people like what they like and they just don't like you. There may be no rhyme or reason other than it is just their preference and you don't meet it. If someone just loves apples, you shouldn't blame yourself for not being an apple. There's nothing you can do about such cases because it's really not about you on any personal level. When there is a lack of chemistry and it doesn't appear to be anyone's fault or doing, it's best to accept the fact and move on.

#entj #entj relationships #compatibility #chemistry #attraction #relationships #ask

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sequinsmile-x · 1 year

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Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Twenty One

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

-x-

Hi friends!!

Thank you so much for the love on this fic, it means so much!! I hope you still are enjoying it and would love to know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 2.8k

A full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List and will be updated as we go along. Please note that more warnings have been added.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

April 2009

She’s grateful that it’s a relatively short flight.

She sits staring out the window, her thumbnail between her teeth as she looks out into the inky darkness, the world around her swallowed up by the night. Cases with kids were hard, they always had been, but this one had struck a chord, the thought of a young boy murdering his little brother for nothing more than breaking one of his toys enough to turn her stomach. The complete lack of emotion, of empathy, on Danny’s face as he casually explained what he did to his brother something she knows she’ll think about for weeks to come.

“Are you ok?”

She turns and offers Aaron a tight smile as she looks at him. He has two paper cups in his hands, steam rising from both of them, and he looks concerned about her. She’s looking forward to when they get back home, whether it’s her place or his is unimportant, the countdown to when they moved in together slowly ticking away now his place was listed, because it means she can seek the comfort she knows she wants and needs from him. The team were spread out around the jet, a few of them napping before they arrive back in DC, and the others reading their books or listening to music.

They were alone as they were going to be for a little while.

She nods, and he takes it as she intended him to - a silent confirmation he can join her, that her not-so-subtle attitude that she wanted to be alone when they boarded the jet didn’t include him.

“I’m ok,” she says, smiling gratefully when he slides the drink he made for her towards her. It’s chamomile tea, a favourite of hers if she struggled to relax or sleep. Aaron hated the smell, and would always scrunch his nose up whenever she made it before laughing when she made a point of kissing him when the taste of it was still on her lips. She knows the kitchenette on the jet doesn’t stock it, meaning Aaron must have had some in his go-bag specifically for her. She places her hand on his thigh and squeezes, grateful when his hand immediately seeks hers out, linking their fingers together, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he says, watching her carefully as she sips her tea before she turns her head to look out of the window again. He hadn’t missed the shake to her voice when she told the Murphys that Danny and shoved plane parts down Kyle’s throat. A brief crack in the facade she prided herself in when it came to their work. The armour she wore every day because she had to, because she’d always had to, chinked by the thought of a family broken apart so suddenly and the things they had done to try and cover it.

He knows her well enough not to push her, and certainly not to do it around their friends. Even though they were only a handful of months away from it being a year since the team found out about them, an accidentally shared cup of coffee giving away what they’d only successfully hidden for a month, he knew they were still an item of curiosity for the team. He and Emily were both fiercely private people, and they both treasured their relationship, so moments when the team saw them as they were at home, were few and far between, fuelled either by alcohol on a night out or too close a call on a case.

“What would you do?”

Her voice is so quiet, so unlike how she usually sounds, that it takes a moment for him to register that she’s spoken at all. He squeezes her hand and she turns to look at him, her lips pursed together as she’s deep in thought.

“What would I do with what, Em?” He asks, running his thumb back and forth on the heel of her hand, desperately trying to press some comfort into her skin.

“If you were the Murphys, and you knew what Danny did. What would you do?”

It’s not a question he expected, and it makes him falter, the breath briefly catching in his lungs as his thumb stops tracing patterns on her skin. He frowns, his eyebrows furrowing, his tongue poking out to wet his bottom lip as he tries to come up with an answer.

“I-”

“Shit, I’m sorry honey,” she says, sighing as her brain catches up with her, the awful nature of the question only becoming clear to her when she sees the look on his face, “I didn’t mean to…” she shakes her head, closing her eyes for a second as she tries to gather herself, “You don’t have to answer that.”

He feels her try to remove her hand from his grasp, as if she was trying to curl in on herself, and he stops her, holding her hand impossibly tighter. She looks up at him, her wide eyes shining with tears they both know she won’t shed.

“I’ve spent my entire life believing in justice,” he says softly, “I’ve been hurt because of it, almost died too. I blew up my marriage to Haley because it’s something I value so much,” he says, smiling softly at her as she frowns, ready to jump in and defend him, even from himself, “So, if it was me I’d do what I consider to be the right thing and tell the authorities,” he adds, “And I’d get my son any help I could get him.”

She nods, “That’s…a very you answer.”

He laughs, her response unexpected, and she smiles too, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It was intended as one,” she replies, her smile genuine. He looks around the jet, a cursory glance to make sure no one was looking at them, and then he kisses her temple.

“Are you ok?” He asks again when he pulls back, and she nods.

“I will be,” she answers honestly this time, and she rests her head against his shoulder taking as much comfort from him as she can before they land.

“Good,” he replies, “Now drink your disgusting tea.”

___

They were, so far, getting away with keeping it a secret.

Emily was sure Penelope had never suggested quite so many girl's nights as she had in the four weeks since Emily found out she was pregnant, but thanks to work and a few white lies she’d managed to dodge them all so far.

If the team found it odd Emily was no longer doing anything other than victimology or interviews from the safety of the precinct, they hadn’t mentioned it. It was how she found herself standing in a New Jersey police station looking back and forth between two interview rooms. The mother of one victim in one, and the husband of the other in a separate room. The only thing even remotely similar about the victims was how they were found, both dressed up like dolls, almost picture-perfect.

Aaron had assigned her, and on this occasion, Derek, to interview them. His insistence that she didn’t go in the field was a little more restrictive than she’d like it to be, but she didn’t have the energy to argue with Aaron about it yet. She was still exhausted and felt nauseous most of the time. That, combined with the random nose bleeds she’d occasionally get, a fun little symptom of pregnancy she hadn’t been expecting, meant she had shelved talking him into letting her do a little more until the first trimester was behind her.

There were just two weeks until the second trimester left, her next ultrasound, the first one with her regular doctor, already booked for the twelve-week mark. She was excited for the next stage, for her symptoms to hopefully ease off a little.

Mostly, she was just excited to share the news with people who would be happy for them. With the team and with Jack, who still didn’t know he was going to be a big brother. Haley’s reaction still stung if she thought about it for too long. Haley had since apologised to Emily directly, and she’d accepted it, but there was a part of herself that she didn’t like very much that resented that this would always be a part of their lives.

“You want to talk to the mother?”

Emily turns to look at him, raising her eyebrow at Derek as she crosses her arms over her chest, “Why?”

“Well…because you’re a woman,” Derek says, losing confidence in his sentence as it goes along.

She narrows her eyes at him, “Thanks for pointing that out, I hadn’t noticed” she grumbles, turning back to look at the interview rooms the victim's family members had been taken into. She sighs and hands Derek the case file she had in her hands, “Together?” She offers as a compromise and he nods.

“Together,” he agrees and they walk the short distance to the first interview room. Derek opens the door and lets Emily walk in first, the victim’s mother looking up at them from her seat, a mix of shock and devastation on her face, “Mrs Jackson, I’m Agent Morgan, and this is my colleague Agent Prentiss. We wanted to ask a few questions if thats ok?”

She nods and clears her throat, her hands tight around the strap of her purse, “Yes of course,” she says and they walk over, taking seats opposite her at the table, “Anything if it will help catch the monster who killed Staci.”

“I am very sorry for your loss, Mrs Jackson-”

“Please call me Linda,” she says, cutting over Emily, “Mrs Jackson seems so formal,” she laughs humourlessly, her lower lip trembling, “Staci always made fun of me for that.”

“Of course, Linda,” Emily replies, smiling at her softly, “My name is Emily if that makes you feel more comfortable.”

Derek clears his throat and Emily looks at him and nods, a silent agreement that they needed to get on with the questioning, the clock ticking for the woman who was currently missing.

“Linda-”

“Do you have any children, Emily?” Linda says, cutting over Derek, her voice shaking as she speaks.

Emily is grateful that she doesn’t react physically, that she’s able to stop herself from faltering. She grasps her hands a little tighter on the table to prevent herself from placing her hand over her still-flat stomach. This certainly wasn’t how she wanted anyone on the team to find out she was pregnant, and she saw no benefit in the whole truth at this moment.

“No,” she says, the lie tasting bitter on her tongue, as if she was in some way betraying her unborn child, “Not of my own, my fiance has a son and we share custody with his mother.”

“It never gets any easier,” Linda says, clearing her throat as she looks down at the table, “you always want the best for them…”

She drifts off and Emily looks at Derek, both of them exchanging a sad look before he tries again, “It would help if we could ask some questions. It could lead us to who did this to Staci, and help prevent it from happening to someone else,” he says and Linda nods, and he smiles gratefully, “Would you say your daughter paid special attention to her appearance?”

Emily listens intently as Linda answers their questions, all too aware of the fact they had changed her entire life today. That this woman had become one of many people they had delivered the worst news possible to. A name and a face that would slowly fade for them over time, not through lack of care but through the sheer volume of cases they worked. But they’d always be a part of her story. The people who spoke to her just after she lost her daughter. Faces and names she’d always associate with the worst day of her life.

___

Emily yawns as they enter their apartment. She drops her go-bag onto the floor and just about gets her coat off and hung up before walking to the couch, flopping down onto it. She hears Aaron chuckle as he closes the door and she sits up just enough to glare at him.

“I don’t know what you’re laughing at,” she grumbles, laying back down, “It’s your kid making me feel like shit all the time.”

“My kid?” He asks, placing his bag on the ground next to hers before he takes off his coat, “Why is the baby always my kid when you feel terrible?”

“Those are the rules,” she replies, pressing her face into the couch cushion, “I’m the one who gets sick, you’re the one who gets the blame,” she yawns again, her exhaustion bone-deep, “And at the end, we’ll get an adorable baby that makes us both tired.” He laughs again, and he’s much closer this time. She lifts her head just enough to see him sitting on the coffee table about to reach out for one of her shoes, “What are you doing?”

“Taking your shoes off,” he says, smiling when she looks at him like he’s lost his mind, “Come on, it will give me practice for when you can’t reach them yourself.”

The thought of it makes her smile and she nods, relenting silently before he grabs her foot and starts to unzip her boots, “That case was…” she drifts off, unsure how to phrase it as she blows out a breath, “Something.”

He nods, placing her boots on the ground next to the couch, “It’s definitely one I’ll think about for while.” He stands and she sits up, grimacing as her stomach turns at the movement. He sits next to her and she leans against him, “Can I get you anything?”

She shakes her head, swallowing thickly against the nausea, “Maybe some mint tea in a little while,” she says, looping both of her arms around one of his, holding him close as if he’d get up if she didn’t want him to, “I just want to sit here.”

“We can do whatever you want, sweetheart,” he says, placing his hand on her stomach, his thumb rubbing circles just below her belly button. They lapse into a comfortable silence, content to just be in each other's company. He’s sure she’s fallen asleep, but then he hears the familiar clicking noise of Sergio’s claws against the hardwood floor and Emily laughs.

“Here comes trouble,” she says, chuckling as Sergio jumps onto the couch, immediately meowing at them both, as if complaining they’d left him alone a little too long in the company of their neighbour who checked in on him when they were gone, “Hey, Sergio. How are you?” She asks, scratching behind his ears. The cat climbs into her lap, curling up with his head on her stomach.

“I remember when I was the favourite,” Aaron jokes, reaching out and scratching Sergio’s chin.

She chuckles, thinking of how ever since they rescued Sergio he’d always been all about Aaron. Sleeping curled up on his chest, or resting in his lap as they watched TV in the evenings. She’d even come home once to find Aaron walking around the apartment with Sergio laying around his neck, the cat’s head on his shoulder.

“If it makes you feel better,” she says, looking up at her fiance, “I have a feeling it’s everything to do with the fact he’s somehow figured out I’m pregnant and likes the mini you currently growing in my uterus,” she smiles, “And nothing to do with the fact he’s realised he likes me.”

Aaron laughs and leans down to kiss her, “He loves you,” he says, kissing her again, “It’s impossible not to.”

She rolls her eyes at him, but instead of the usual chastisement she’d respond with, calling him ridiculous for being so cheesy, she feels the back of her throat burning and her vision goes blurry.

Damn hormones.

“You can’t say that kind of shit to a pregnant woman,” she says, lightly slapping his shoulder before she wipes a stray tear from her cheek.

“Sorry,” he replies, clearing his throat to stop himself from laughing, knowing full well that she wouldn’t take kindly to it. He kisses her once more and she settles into his side, yawning again and he knows he has to get her to eat dinner before she falls asleep.

“Aaron?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” He asks, smiling as Sergio purrs as he scratches behind his ears, the cat settling down even more as he curls into a ball on Emily’s stomach.

“We’re never going to buy the baby any dolls, right?”

He chuckles and kisses the side of her head, his palm on her cheek as he encourages her to look at him before he stamps a kiss to her lips, “Absolutely not.”

-x-

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@ssa-sparks, @lukeclvez, @lyds102, @glockleveledatyourcrotch, @hotchnissenthusiast, @danadeservesadrink, @ssamorganhotchner, @emilyprentissisgod, @notagentprentiss, @freesiasandfics, @emilyshotchniss, @thecharmingart, @paulitalblond, @hancydrewfan, @camille093, @whitecrossgirl, @moonlight-2-6, @rawr-jess, @florenceremingtonthethird, @jareauswife, @ms-black-a, @beebeelank, @aubreyprc, @zipzapboingg, @psychopath-at-heart, @criminalmindsgonewrong, @fionaloover, @kinqslcys, @prentissinred, @ccmattis-22, @denvivale317, @thrindis, @hotchsguccitie, @cmfouatslota77, @alexblakegf, @aliensaurusrex, @prentissxhotch, @emobabeyy, @victoiregranger, @stormyweatherth, @wanderingdreamer009, @ssablackbird, @luhwithah, @lex13cm, @prentiss-theorem, @dont-emily-me, @mrs-ssa-hotch, @jocyycreation, @itsmytimetoodream, @hotchnissgroupie, @controversialpooh, @capsshinyshield, @canuck-eh

Join my tag list here!

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfic #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron x emily #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotch x prentiss #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction

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ryuichirou · 6 months

Note

Hey Ryu! \ (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)/

Hope ur having a great day/night!

I rlly enjoy the head cannons and angst ships! Tho I recently read ur past VilxRook angst post and thought I'd give it a little shot for myself but with Azul x Idia and Idia x Ortho. It took a bit of courage for me to create this scenario bc it's a bit sensitive to me (not bc it happened to me or anything I just think it's horrible and dark) but this didn't leave my mind so I wanted to share it with u.

I was wondering what if Azul made Idia a victim of human trafficking? I see Azul as a person that would do anything for money. Idia is one easy resource, especially bc of their marriage now. I imagine after they got married by signing the papers, Azul at the time was probably think of how he could milk Idia from his wealth. Not completely ofc, but to the point where he is in control of it. Idia can provide for him in many ways (business wise), but Idia can also provide for him in bed. Tho what Idia does for him is enough, he probably thought "Why not kick it up a notch?~". He sumhow tricked Idia into agreeing with it since he is a master manipulator then made a business out of Idia. Idk if Idia would have enjoyed it or not but let's say he didn't to keep the dark side of this going. Ik Ortho would have noticed the bruises and forced hickeys/bites on Idia's body at sum point. Idia would just brush it off and say it's just from the others. Ortho would have brushed it off too since he knows Idia's relationships. If only Idia didn't act so off, he would have agreed. Ortho would catch on to the situation, stalking, watching, and realizing what's going on. He would probably confront Idia Abt it and force him to respond out of concern. Idia would break down and confess to what's going on, even exposing the fact that Azul made him do it. Or Ortho would probably connect the dots in his own and figure out that this was Azul's doing. What would Ortho do then? Now that he knows all of this information. What will he do with it?

Ofc the Leech brothers have a part in this. I wonder if they would think of this as a way to have fun or they genuinely feel guilty but can't do anything bc whatever Azul says goes? (Sort of funny how taller and more athletic they r compared to Azul- They could rip Azul to shreds if they wanted to but they won't for obvious reasons.)

That's all I had in mind. Hope this is sumwhat entertaining for u to read and replay to! (⁠ㆁ⁠ω⁠ㆁ⁠)

(Also I don't mind waiting for ur reply. I just care that u enjoy my ask with ur own opinions and have fun with whatever u have in mind. No need to apologize all the time. After all, for me, it's an honor to get a reply from u! Plus, waiting for u just adds to the curiosity of what u will say! It's fun for me! (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡)

Have fun with this however u like! I'll wait for however long to hear ur fun thoughts. Have a great night/day! ♡

Anon! First of all, thank you so much for sharing your thoughts despite the topic being sensitive, and thank you for being patient with us. We really appreciate it!

And damn this was a fun read, it has pretty much everything that we enjoy: Idia is suffering in the worst and the sexiest and the most cruel way possible, Azul is being a powerful manipulative money-grubbing asshole, Ortho being a concerned protective little brother that would stalk Idia for Idia’s best interest (obviously!) and the Tweels are also there lol

Speaking of tweels, I agree that it is funny just how easy it would be for them to rip Azul to shreds if they wanted. That being said, I think their main motivation would still be their own fun – what Azul is doing is fucked up and unfair to Idia, but also quite amusing, so they’ll play along. Their lack of empathy is a fun asset to their characters, in my opinion!

I also think that Idia is pretty smart, but also quite self-sabotaging and prone to accepting horrible treatment, so even though he is smart enough to see through Azul’s manipulations, he could also easily go along with his plans. Maybe it was to make Azul happy, maybe it was to make himself more miserable (out of guilt for any reason), maybe the isolation did its thing. Or maybe it tickles a kink he didn’t know he had~ Whatever it is, he is definitely a victim of Azul’s wonderful ideas

To answer your question, god I wouldn’t want to be in Azul’s shoes when Ortho finds out what’s going on. I think this entire situation is enough for him to want to fry Azul with lasers until he is reduced to dust. Ortho would need his precious Idia actually begging him not to kill Azul for him to calm down just enough to stop and think for a moment.

But, unfortunately for Azul, this is a “I won’t kill him, but I’ll make him suffer” type of situation for Ortho, because there is no bigger sin than forcing Idia to do something that he doesn’t want to.

The question is, is Azul smart and cunning enough to manipulate Ortho into thinking (or manipulate Idia into making Ortho think) that Idia is actually quite happy with the situation and that he wants to stay with his husband? The chances are slim (Ortho has a lie detector in him for fuck’s sake lol), but not completely zero. If Azul plays his cards right, the situation could continue for quite some time…

#replies #azuide #shroudcest

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bi-bard · 2 years

Text

Mr. Verger and the Silver Platter - Hannibal Lecter Imagine (Hannibal)

Title: Mr. Verger and the Silver Platter

Pairing: Hannibal Lecter X Reader

Word Count: 647 words

Warning(s): veiled threats (it's Mason, they're barely veiled), mentions of murder/cannibalism

Summary: (Season 2, Episode 11) Hannibal welcomes a new client, the heir of the Verger family fortune, Mason Verger. The man leaves an unbelievably bitter taste in the doctor's mouth.

Author's Note: Y'all. Reader isn't even in this one. It's just Mason and Hannibal (It's important). But it's protective Hannibal, which I have a feeling some of you like.

MORE OF THIS OC HERE!

--------------------------

Hannibal had a sense of what he should've expected when he allowed Mason Verger in his office.

Mason was cocky, rude, violent, impulsive.

A lack of empathy seemed to follow the heir around like bad body odor.

Hannibal had prepared for that. He anticipated the selfish behavior. The rude statements. The condescending description of his sister. This inflated sense of self. He couldn't even say he was surprised when Mason stabbed his knife into the arm of one of Hannibal's chairs.

And then, there was a moment.

One sentence that fueled a fire that Hannibal believed he had complete control over.

"Tell me about (Y/n), Dr. Lecter."

It was like the room went cold. Down the blood running through Hannibal's veins.

"We're here to discuss you, Mason," Hannibal said, remaining calm.

Mason impatiently tapped his hands on the arms of the chair. "But I don't want to."

Hannibal didn't get to respond before Mason leaned forward with a smirk.

"I want to talk about (Y/n)."

Hannibal wondered if this was some poor attempt at a warning. It was no mystery to Mason who Margot was seeing for therapy. Maybe this was an attempt to make Hannibal steer Margot in Mason's favor. Making sure that Hannibal knew that Mason knew about (Y/n) would've been a good approach if it wasn't such an unbelievably idiotic idea.

Hannibal saw his pointless threat as rude. And looking rude in Hannibal's eyes was almost like placing a target on your back.

"Bit of a loner, right," Mason asked. "Don't know how. They're very charming. How did they find you?"

"It was a chance meeting."

That's all Hannibal would say to Mason about the event. He refused to give this man more information than what was completely necessary to get through the event.

"Very sweet," Mason continued. He was trying to make Hannibal angry, worried, scared. "Generous, excitable. Almost like a puppy. I understand why you seem so infatuated."

Hannibal knew these were all things that could be learned by asking the right people the right questions. It didn't indicate that Mason had any personal interaction with (Y/n).

"Again, Mason, this is not about me or my relationships," Hannibal tried to steer the conversation. It didn't seem to work.

"Overly trusting, yes?"

Hannibal didn't even dignify the comment with a reply. He just raised his eyebrow slightly and tilted his head.

"I don't mean to pry, doctor," Mason said. "But can you blame me for being curious?"

"No one can blame you for curiosity," Hannibal replied. "But no one is required to entertain such curiosity."

"But you would agree that they were overly trusting?"

Again, no response.

"Wonder how'd they see me," he acted like he was doing nothing more than speaking his thoughts, but Hannibal knew better. "Would they trust me?"

"I could not tell you."

"Probably would," Mason pulled the knife out of the arm of the chair, turning it around in his hand. "Probably too much. Poor thing would trust the devil if he had a kind enough smile."

"Shall we discuss you now?"

"I would much rather focus on your partner. Very fragile thing, aren't they?"

Hannibal had to fight the urge to clench his jaw.

"People like that are so... breakable. In so many ways-"

"I think our session has come to an end," Hannibal stood up abruptly.

Mason joined him.

He held out a hand for Hannibal to shake. Hannibal accepted, holding on just a bit tighter than necessary.

"I hope I get to meet that partner of yours, Dr. Lecter," Mason said. "We'd have such interesting conversations."

Hannibal allowed a small grin to pull at the corner of his lips. He could envision the meals he would make with Mason's body if he hadn't decided to leave the Verger's life in Margot's hands.

And Hannibal could envision serving such meals to (Y/n) on a silver platter.

--------------------------

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#hannibal lecter fanfiction #hannibal lecter imagine #hannibal lecter x reader #fanfiction #imagine #x reader #hannibal imagine #hannibal x reader #hannibal fanfiction

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coinshotmisting · 2 months

Text

I SWEAR TO GOD EMILY AXFORD I CANT

(Fantasy High Junior Year ep 6 spoilers)

watching fantasy high and writing this before I even continue watching cause it makes me so mad nothing after will make up for it

I get it. Emily plays low empathy characters who always act before thinking, and that's certainly a choice. it annoys me, especially how those characters constantly skirt by with comedy justifying their treatment of others, but whatever.

Honestly, part of the reason I put off watching Junior Year was Fig. I can't articulate what it is, but the way she interacts with the world forces me to have to pick between either entirely losing immersion, or feeling so deeply sick at the way she acts that I have to stop and collect myself.

I kept trying to convince myself I was overreacting but. I can't even bring myself to click back on the episode.

Context: it's the party at Fabian's house. they've decided to hate the 'Rat Grinders' because??? (it's genuinely unclear to me if this was an order the cast got off camera from Brennan/writers or what cause it seems excessive)

they find out the party got a new member over the summer. IMMEDIATE chance to recollect how you feel about them. it opens up questions that a sane person might ask with empathy or whatever.

Kristen and Fig do the creepy but understandable thing, and look up to see if the party had a previous cleric. they did. ok.

So, at this point, the pieces are all laid out, right? party had a cleric, they don't anymore. they got a new cleric over the summer.

And then, if you actually thought about it for 5 seconds: their identity is centered around low risk jobs, and we know they started with a cheerful, positive party name instead. one of the party members we *just met* got physically much stronger stronger over the summer (when the new cleric was recruited)

it's obvious right? like, I'm not insane, the implication is clear as day?

SO TELL ME

WHY

Emily's first thought is "Oh, let me disguise myself as the 'missing' party member and lurk in their peripheral vision."

I cannot articulate the reaction I had. theres no way Brennan can spin this where it's ok?!?!? like. genuinely, either you have to fundamentally hate other people or completely lack any curiosity and empathy to act that way.

just imagining this, I get so fucking pissed.

I dont care if they didn't actually die, this behavior from a PC based on what they know right now is unacceptable. im

I can't. I try to imagine someone pulling this in a game i ran, showing so little investment in the world that they what I'm doing simply doesn't matter to them, save the stat blocs I put inhetween them and 'winning'. ugh

I can't. I really can't. sorry for the long post ig but. this has always been a problem and it feels like it's the one thing from Fantasy High being a comfort piece of media for me. instead I have to wrestle with this stupid fucking character, and the ethical implications of her behavior.

#fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #figeroth faeth #im a little drunk so sorry #but oh my fucking god #AND THE THING IS #Ally Beardsly plays this so well!!!!#Kristen and Cassandra's relationship is so well done #cause its toxic and messy but Ally *understands* that #Emily Axford just blows past other characters as if they dont exist #farming their emotions for comedy instead of growth and drama

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bluelockednyx · 1 year

Note

do you have any hcs for rin and nagi? i can only imagine they would just quietly co-exist with each other

Nagi and Rin are an interesting pair, and actually have a bit of competitive rivalry going on between them as well, though it's not as obvious as the ones they have with Isagi, or Rin with Shidou and Nagi with Barou. It's not as fierce because ultimately their individual play styles and personalities gel pretty well together thus far, though who knows with the changes coming in the NEL arc.

On the low down they'd probably be more on the quiet side together, as you said. Number one and two at being horrible communicators in Blue Lock, per the official guide, though of very different variants (Rin's rude and dismissive of others, Nagi's lazy, with both of them having a severe lack of strong emotional connections and empathy to a degree).

Headcanons wise: they can be good for each other. Rin's ambition and single-minded drive is something Nagi should learn from, while Nagi's openness and natural curiosity to try and experiment with others is something Rin should learn from too. I do think they would step on each other's toes a bit (more Nagi unintentionally stepping on Rin's, because Rin seems to be fussier), but ultimately it won't be as antagonistic as say, Shidou with Rin and Barou with Nagi, because of their temperaments.

They're both fond of games, and they could bond over playing multi-player horror games like Phasmophobia or Dead by Daylight (where's my Blue Lock streams multiplayer video gaming together fics, fandom). For PvP teams, Nagi would likely take the lead and be better at it overall until Rin figures out the mechanics and strategies, then they're the ultimate menaces together, probably get to the top of the leaderboards because Rin doesn't seem to do thing by halves and Nagi likes coasting along at the top

Probably the pair that would go watch a horror/gore movie together, completely straight-faced, then would come out to discuss a lot of the movie and plot mechanics, deep dive into movie themes etc. Nagi would coax Rin into watching fluffier, cuter shows with him, though how much Rin would enjoy that is up in the air lol. They'd both be disasters in the kitchen, though Rin's probably slightly better at housekeeping stuff. Nagi would probably be the one to come across more random, interesting things to try out and tell it to Rin (new cafes, new items, pop-up events), and then Rin winds up prepping for everything only for Nagi to tell him that it was just talk. It pisses Rin off, but Nagi will get ready in like five minutes then they go together lol.

Little fluff headcanon: If they're watching a movie at home, I think they'd be cuddly with each other. Rin makes the popcorn while Nagi sets up the screen and player. Nagi also probably makes the first move in leaning close to Rin, and if Rin's holding onto the popcorn, pesters Rin into feeding him. Rin feeds him because it's even more annoying if he doesn't (lolll)

Other minor thing: Rin seems to own some owl plushies. Would not be surprised if Nagi visits his house and asks Rin if Rin talks to the plushies the way Nagi talks to Choki. Rin says no (he's lying)

#niki answers asks #i wish they had more screen time/interactions together #nagirin?#also would not be surprised if they're surprisingly clingy with each other as a romantic ship because neither have much friends #they could form a gaming trio with hiori and crush everyone methinks

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disco-elysium-via-polls · 2 months

Text

🎵 Disco Elysium, pt. 1

6. "I don't need much. This sounds just fine."

WASHERWOMAN - "An uncomplicated man," she nods approvingly. "I take it that means you're interested?"

"You got yourself a tenant!" (Get keys to your new home.)

"No, I don't want a free room, it's not proper." (Stay at Whirling-in-Rags.)

WASHERWOMAN - "Don't make an old woman regret opening her house to the police." A key appears from under her apron. She hands it to you.

Item gained: Key to the shack on the coast

KIM KITSURAGI - "Well, if you're not in the hostel in the morning, I'll know where to find you." He looks around and adds: "Here. In a shack."

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - He's a little relieved you're no longer in that room.

VOLITION [Easy: Success] - Should he? This environment encourages one thing and one thing only -- drinking.

HORRIFIC NECKTIE - Finally you have those *lamos* of Martinaise off your back, bratan. This looks like a great place to bring chicks.

More importantly, we no longer have to scrounge up the money for lodging every night.

"What is in this fishing village?"

"What's further down the coast?"

"Tell me about yourself. Who exactly are you here?"

"Goodbye, I'm off." [Leave.]

WASHERWOMAN - "Just us." She sounds tired. "It's barely a village anymore. We... *almost* don't exist."

"What do you mean?"

WASHERWOMAN - "This is pretty much a non-place." She grins. "A gap. A blank spot on the map, just a cluster of nameless shacks on a nameless street."

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Medium: Success] - The place is so pornographically poor it's not even funny.

"This place is pornographically poor."

"There's got to be *something* here. Tell me."

"Who else lives in this... village?"

"Is there a way to make a little money around here?"

"Alright, there's another topic I'd like to address."

WASHERWOMAN - "The lack of wealth is the one thing we've got in abundance." The woman smiles cryptically.

COMPOSURE [Medium: Success] - It's a cold, cynical smile.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Riddles," the lieutenant marks dryly and looks around. "Fits with the general *ambience* here."

WASHERWOMAN - "Aye." Her eyes grow wide with glee. "Sometimes it's as though I've also gotten lost inside this nameless nothing."

"I'm lost too."

"I'd really rather go back to talking about the village."

WASHERWOMAN - "Oh?" Her expression betrays curiosity. "It seems to be a common theme these days."

"I think I'm in the process of finding myself again."

"Maybe I should stay lost. Just move here and... disappear completely."

"I'd really rather go back to talking about the village."

WASHERWOMAN - "Isn't that what people always think when they're lost?" A fleeting smirk runs across her lips. "Something *I* can do to help you find your way, officer?"

"There's got to be *something* here. Tell me."

WASHERWOMAN - She waves her hand southwest. "Over there you can find... more of the same. Shacks and trees growing wild. That's the Pox."

"The Pox? What's that?"

WASHERWOMAN - "An old military hospital and its surroundings." She looks toward the buildings to the south. "Or it used to be, during the time of the Suzerain."

"After the war it was turned into a goodwill hospital for shell-shocked veterans and folks looking for some quiet in the old sanatorium gardens."

"Now the area is criss-crossed with nameless streets and makeshift cinderblock houses. Shacks as far as the eye can see."

"What happened to the hospital?"

WASHERWOMAN - "The good will ran out." She tightens the scarf around her neck. "The staff left and the place was shut down. It's long gone by now."

3. "Who else lives in this... village?"

WASHERWOMAN - "Well, there's Lilienne and her kids. A few new folks live in the house to the east." She nods her head across the courtyard. "But they're away right now."

"And then there's the drunks..." She sighs. "Not a pretty sight, but there's little we can do about it. Home is home, even for them."

"Who, what drunks?"

"I'm not really interested in town drunks, thanks."

WASHERWOMAN - "Sooner or later you'll see for yourself." She slowly shakes her head. "Don't have to look long to find these guys."

4. "Is there a way to make a little money around here?"

WASHERWOMAN - "Here? For you?" She lets out a dry chortle. "No, officer. The only money we have here is some coins the drunks tried hiding from their women -- and then forgot about."

SAVOIR FAIRE [Easy: Success] - Under carts, boats, in little boxes. It's not hard to find.

5. "Alright, there's another topic I'd like to address."

WASHERWOMAN - She nods, rinsing another piece of cloth.

2. "What's further down the coast?"

WASHERWOMAN - "Not much..." She replies and wipes her forehead. "There's the abandoned church -- the Dolorian Church of Humanity. It's been there since before my time even."

"Why is it abandoned?"

WASHERWOMAN - "Some things just don't *fly*, officer." She smiles a gap-toothed smile and smells the air. "Look around. Who'd go to church here? They built it three hundred years ago, must have been nicer then..."

KIM KITSURAGI - "So they don't hold services there anymore? The Ecclesiastes?"

WASHERWOMAN - "No. They've tried, but things just keep happening. Crime. *Accidents*. Other things. The place never stays open." She frowns. "It's a pity. It used to be such a nice church."

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - She's not telling you all she knows. Keep her talking.

"I get the feeling you're leaving stuff out. What else is going on?"

"What else is on down coast?"

"Okay, thanks, I've heard enough."

WASHERWOMAN - "Well, there's that music. Music from across the sea." She scoffs. "It started a few days ago and now it's blasting, even through the nights."

"And now *suspicious*-looking people are sneaking around the church. I don't like that."

LOGIC [Medium: Success] - Interesting. You could look into this *ruckus*, if you have the time.

INLAND EMPIRE [Medium: Success] - Perhaps the mysterious music is somehow connected to the case? A rusálka, or a half-demonic *apsara*, singing...

"What else is on down coast?"

WASHERWOMAN - "Before you get to the church, there's some ruins -- an apartment complex, or some kind of electrical plant... Run down bunch of houses, empty."

"Which is it then? Apartments or electrical plant?"

"Anything else of note?"

WASHERWOMAN - "I don't know exactly. A pre-war place. It used to be something." She shrugs. "Before the war. I wasn't here then, you know. Was born in Samara."

"Anything else of note?"

WASHERWOMAN - "Of note? The old fishmarket up on the boardwalk. But it's closed."

"Who'd want to come to a fishmarket here?"

"That's it? There's got to be more along the coast."

"Alright. Got it."

WASHERWOMAN - "No one, that's why it's closed." After a long pause, she adds, "It was once a bustling place, back when I was young and so was everyone else..."

"Now what catch we *do* bring in goes straight into a lorry for the Delta or somewhere else."

"That's it? There's got to be more along the coast."

WASHERWOMAN - "What, you're one of those real-estate people with big plans? If you want a development opportunity, you can check out the abandoned building over at Land's End."

"Used to be a supply depot… we think. Sending goods and ammo across the bay. It's jammed shut, though. We tried to get in, see if there was anything to sell or scavenge, but it's impossible."

"And now you know everything there is to know about this coast." She drops a bar of soap into the bucket with a splash.

3. "Tell me about yourself. Who exactly are you here?"

WASHERWOMAN - "Me? No one. Just an old washerwoman. Mother called me Isobel, if that's what you're asking. And my married name is Sadie."

"Now it's your turn, mister…?"

#disco elysium #harrier du bois #isobel sadie #kim kitsuragi #you... can't make text yellow any more???

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wikkerwisp · 9 months

Note

Heyyyy so...whos your favorite character from atlantis

Honestly; All the *OG* crew who helped Milo in the end are bits of my favorites— I loved Vinny's depressive but witty humor and love of fire. I love Mole's quirky dirt keeping and clearly particular essence. Audrey was a gd sweetie but also strong, right minded, and clever. Packard was the embodiment of (who she was), a goddamn chain smoking gossiping communicator who acted as a (clearly) witty bourbon grandma to the others. Sweets is just fucking iconic as hell and the only one other than Milo and Kida with gumption to protect life (and is thoroughly the dad of the group actually)— but also— goddamn as a 'anti-hero' or even adversary, *Helga* was goddamn epic, sly, smart as hell and could've done better than Rourke.. However.

Kida, there's always her too, always I was inspired by her empathy, courage, curiosity, and even innocence to rely on the first outsider to plead for her people at large—even with the risks attached.

However, furthermore.

Bold faced truth—

My biggest favorite is obviously, because as a very malnutritioned bean pole nerd ass historian and being fascinated by linguistics and ancient cultures of *all* types— Milo fucking Thatch.

His obvious and outright interest and love (let alone mastery) of the many ancient languages, history, social norms, and his ***willingness to learn***—

I aspired to be an 'ally' /guy like him, even being born as an AFAB because as much as this movie (inherently as it is a white savior trope)— *Milo isn't going to talk over Kida, nor the king*- he sadly, let's Mr. Jughead Mercenary Commander do all the talking (I always hated Rourke, I could tell even as a kid at the beginning of the movie how much of a shady shithead capitalist he was).

Milo. For lack of better terms, is what I aspired to be as a kid— from the moment I saw him?

Kind, curious, factual, strong willed (albeit an awkward ass lonely guy with no friends initially and only his cat)— and above all— Willing to try, learn, and understand— let alone with the utmost empathy to Kida, and his fellow crew members.

The third to last finale scene— (the truck scene where they are hauling Kida away for profit and Rourke punches Milo)—

Was such a powerful scene- of bystanders who were powerless seeing this white bean pole of a man be socked in the nose by this giant Jughead bitch- only for his crewmates to realize.... Milo was not only right, but catering to their truths. As people. And the *adversity* all of the other crew had likely faced before.. and reflected the shitty things they did.

Milo standing up for not just Kida, but the late-Atlantian king— as well as the people themselves— as a complete outsider— against (arguably) "his own people"— to show their ignorance and sheer greed ... let alone what they were truly committing to— genocide of an entire race/ancient culture/entire lineage of families who were already dying out.

My biggest note to take from Atlantis, was not just Milo's defense and argue for an entire race, but seeing the same kindof hopelessness to feel he could change anything that Vinny, Mole, Packard, Cookie, Sweets, or even — FUCKIN FIRST OF THEM TO ACT WAS THE CLEARLY LATIN CODED GIRL, OUR HOMELASS AUDREY.

Audrey's scene, Milo's pleas, and the whole gd scene of her glaring at everyone and *each of them* knowing full fucking well where Milo is right, and not only that— but them realizing three main things then and there:

1. Rourke would likely also betray them the same, and realizing how Milo truly considered them friends.

2. Not only what they were doing is wrong, but *Vinny* of all people making the case that (paraphrased) "(other times) Someone got hurt, but not someone we knew." Detailing that he considered not just Milo a friend, but that they had only *lived* because of Milo's guidance and help. And that Rourke was abandoning him.

3. Notice, other than fuckin Packard and Milo, (including Sweets, but he was busy back at the palace)— all the main crew was either non-white or POC, or Mole (who is French).

Meaning, they *knew* intrinsically what it was like to be almost eradicated, loss of their livelyhood/cultures, hell— taken advantage of by not just imperialism, at large— but now Rourke.

And Milo stood not just with the Atlantian people, Kida, and her father— but because he was (albeit white)— used and maltreatment and not taken seriously as a person too— he understood not just the facts, but the deep deep guttural empathy of even his crew mates.

Pleading their hearts, to make the right choice— because he knew they had too, taken him in, albeit fucking with him.. and that they had meant something to him— whether they cared or not.

And the moment Audrey, Mole, Vinny, Packard and Cookie (sans Sweets)— all realized (with Rourke punching Milo and fucking him up/over personally breaking the photo + damning him to rot along with the Atlantian people—

As soon as they realized #1-#3— Specifically Audrey (we see the buildup of her looking at Milo in the mirror and trying to keep her mouth shut—

The others followed, seeing not just the fact that Rourke was fucking up an entire civilization— but now too— one of their own.

And despite their prior attitudes, proved that they were guilt ridden to some degree- and only stayed because they considered eachother ' a broken family'— much like what Milo also went through, losing his (both?) parents and then Thaddeus (his grandfather).

...

I rambled.

But yeah, Milo inspired me a lot, and his sheer willingness to try new food, new religion, mystical nonsense and even using ancient knowledge to save a civilization knowing damn well he might fail?

And not just doing it for only Kida and *her* people, but stood up (again, even after being hurt, and fighting) because it was ***right***.

#wisp answers #ask #milo thatch #atlantis the lost empire #// Thank you for coming to my bs ted talk about how neat Milo is.

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thvnderr · 1 year

Text

@pcisxnivys Continuing from here...

It was more about testing the grounds and curiosity rather than an endorsement for a more saintly life. His own persona resting back on the chair with a fingertip tracing over the edge of the porcelain cup. His response was not much of a surprise knowing the bluntness that the tattooist used to carry himself; a hard life stones someone's soul and moral compass until they are nothing but old souvenirs stored in the chest — he could understand that — it had taken Sky some good time to break through and polish the practiced kindness into an actual personality trait of his. "Some would argue that the preservation of others helps with the preservation of oneself if said person lives in a community".

"I see", he briefly commented as Atticus explained the situation of his childhood, and so, he understood how such an upbringing could cause lack of empathy for others' problems. "Your community failed you, I apologize for my previous words, I did not have idea", he commented in the same calm and melodic tone before bringing the cup to his lips, tasting the flowery scents that the bronze liquid permeated into his tongue. He took the moment afterwards to take a look at the rest of the place, quite lavish and clean, opposite to most of the places where people would gather here in Anchorage. Sky wondered what it was that made the few fortunate ones want to stay in this hellish freezer instead of migrating to literal greener pastures. Were they all too acknowledge with the purple fingers and the dull colors? He had a mission there, friends even that helped to make of his stay something more amicable, but he guessed that with the lack of any of these, he would have fled at the first notice of a killer on the loose. Why bother dealing with safety when he could be getting dizzy at after parties and snobby cocktail events? "So you and your brother do not get along much? I understand you both run very opposite types of lives", Sky said, "I always wished for siblings, but never had the fortune of one", he hummed. A little smile toyed with the corner of his lips at the statement about him and Micah. Oh, he had lived his own days of misery, the program being able to leave their employees to their own to test their resilience, but truth was, he was far too accustomed to the faultless lifestyle he ran with now. "It is impossible for the human being to completely understand the position of the other, be animal, plant or person; but I do appreciate all kinds of tales in case you want to share more; I may not empathize entirely, but I think I have heart enough to listen intently without condescendence. What kind of jobs have you had in the past, if you do not mind me asking? The conversation can head some other way if I am being too nosy", he declared with a brighter smile.

Sky had been fiddling lightly with the tea cup, but as his company proceed to ask questions, the second more piercing than the other, he laid the porcelain down with a very quiet ring of the material; the words clearing any other kind of thought he could be having and he did not fight to make it less obvious. "The world up where Micah and I grew up has its own horrors, its own dogs devouring each other merciless just as where you grew up; but these fights look different, more about backstabbing and venom, but just as visceral and deathly—", a soft chuckle dragged half of his lips up, "— I'm sure your wife has talked to you about it", he added while his fingers intertwined on the table in a proper posture, leaning his own body forward. "What I mean is, we are not allowed for much of a guilty conscience if we want to survive either. In fact, I already receive a lot of well-derserved scorn for my affinity to the arts and nature. My faulty curiosity has made me develop sympathy for those around me, but I am very well capable of shutting it down when necessary. Very few instances have required it, though, and I intend to keep it that way. Living with bitterness in my heart has proved to cause more wrinkles", Sky laughed, but it was soft and sweet as if not admitting hard cruelty also rested in his bones. Still, the smile vanished a little at the thought of his ex-fiancée. "It would be futile to pretend I was not affected by her departure. Her safety was priority and I always got sure to establish that with her. Hansa's parents were also rather concerned and for the sake of all, she left", he explained, although could he really know? Even if he felt everything was real for the first time, there was no point on denying he felt insecure about it; like she had played back the same card he slammed on the table months ago; and with very good reason. Sky had no right to feel bad at all, so whatever had been her decision, she had to respect it. "I did promise I would take care of myself while investigating everything and if you allow me to go back to my first point, I find out that taking care of others is usually the easiest way I can take care of myself. Healthy relationships have been more fruitful and resourceful to me rather that dry ones", he made a pause, sipped from his tea and nodded, "yes, maybe my short time with Hansa did soften my heart a little bit", he concluded. "But what about you and Micah? How did you guys meet each other?"

#sky: atticus #sky.interactions #this got unnecessary long as always so no need to match whatsoever ofc

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funkymbtifiction · 2 years

Text

Sorry to bother, can you give me your thoughts on my MBTI type?

Regarding the enneagram, I self-typed as social-blind, and later through a typing service (mainly for fun and curiosity, on the enneagrammer community) I was typed as a sx/sp. I am mostly positive to be a 9, to my misfortune.

To know my own's heart and live accordingly is my absolute aim through my life. Who I am, who I am not, what I like, how can I reflect my internal landscape through what I do, how I live, how I love. Every detail — even minuscule in size, is observed and intended to leak my heart to the external. I dedicate a lot of my time to ponder about this matter because to un-feel myself is worse than death. <- this seems like Fi-dom

I am not a very hands-on person. I dislike crafts, manual tasks, and so on. I can do it, but it doesn't feel correct. However, I do love to be on someone's space, my lover at that time to be more precise. I can't control myself. I nuzzle, hug, cuddle, long for caresses, find comfort on their arms... Physical touch is, for me, primitive, yes, but the most real form of communicating love. <- sx in an intuitive

In a similar manner, I have a specific preference for a type of ambiance which I love to be immersed in. It is really concreted — space, time, circumstances, light, sound... and it is not easily replicated. So, when I find myself in that environment is out of pure chance, but I swallow every drop of it, like being one with it. It doesn't happen often, just under those particular circumstances and because it does resonates within me deeply. <- sx 'merging'

I am really emotionally sensitive. I cried easily. I tend to be on the sad spectrum (the sadboy/sadgirl archetype) for the most part, but I enjoy to dissect and understand my feelings to the very core. I enjoy expressing myself through poetry and movement (some free-form of dance). I prefer to feel, even to the point of despair, to remain blocked emotionally and numb. <- more Fi / some 9

However, I am known to be quite self-absorbed in relation to others. I can sense their emotions emanating, specially their anger, my body immediately tensed up in response (9-ness, I believe), but I don't get imprisoned by it, nor it gets mingled with mine. I can understand their reasons, if they explain it to me thoughtfully (if not, I know something's off but I can't pinpoint why), but that doesn't mean I inmediately share it. If I don't, I don't. In consequence, I feel a very emotional person, but I've been accused of lacking empathy. <- IFP, yes

I am unable to convey my feelings into words (written is better) easily and, when I do, the result is lacking or fragmented, leaving me unsatisfied and misunderstood. I don't talk much about myself, or my problems. I can give a short speech, for the other to know where I am at, but it is done for their knowledge, not because it provides me any kind of help. The 'you feel better if you talk about it!' is the biggest lie ever told. <- more IFP / Fi-dom

Through my life, I had these few absolute certainties about what my life is going to be, especially around romantic partners. When I meet my last partner, for years up until we actually started dating, I was completely sure he was meant to be on my life, in a way I have never experienced before. Up until we got together, I would experimentally flirted with other people, but without any physical contact, because I wanted his and his only. For years, through our relationship, the certainty never fade, leaving me on a permanent honey-moon-phase. <- sx-dom

I am easily sensory over-estimulated. The tingling keys on that man's pocket, the engines from the very few cars that are passing by, some distant chatting... it's all too much. Also, I am quite clumsy. I frequently bump onto things. <- this can be low S, but it can also relate to being a highly sensitive person

I experience some sort-of synesthesia through intense physical experiences (music, being touched, art that resonates within me) and symbolic imagery that's entirely personal to me. For instance, I am listening to a current song of mine, and I get this perfectly picture in my head that connect my love for ice skating as a kid and the spiraling movement of the figure skater, to a sudden urge to learn pole dance, to the unresolved need that I held for weeks to explore more options to express through movement. But I rarely acted on it, because I am quite indecisive. <- Ne?

I am obsessed with symbols and imagery. Dreams are a constant interest of mine, such as other forms of unconsciousness.

Is this enough to go? I hope so, and thank you so much.

I assume INFP.

#question #mbti

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anarglitch · 1 year

Text

about twitter (or how I learned to get back to worrying and stop loving the bomb)

Maybe a global 'public square' doesn't lead to worldwide empathy, but to a planet-sized arena of miscommunication where a 15 y/o english student with ADHD fights a 53 y/o cuban programmer over the ethics of self-diagnosis with both sides throwing personal anectodes at the other.

I don't wanna think that's the case, I wanna believe in the promise of the internet, but I'm not sure I can point to the algorithm filter bubbles or even the low character limit and state that that's the cause of all our problems.

It makes things *worse* though, don't get me wrong.

Wait, no, my whole point is that you *will* probably get me wrong, cause we probably don't share the same (or are even cognizant of each other's) cultural background, experience, neurodivergences or even mother tongue, twitter is a final fantasy boss designed by Wittgenstein.

All these barriers *can* be crossed if we come from a place of curiosity rather than judgement and take the time to learn about each other, but we're not gonna (and can't) do that to 500 strangers every day, and that sucks, I love the lack of structure in twitter .. in theory.

But maybe tumblr (and even reddit) work a bit better *because* they're more atomized (tumblr isn't as organized, but you're still far less exposed to random stuff from completely outside your circles), the dream of the mega-agora is appealing, and maybe someone somewhere will make a version of it that really will nail it, that will lead to people understanding and valuing their differences, but the versions of it we've had so far just remove all context from everyone we meet, which lead to more and more generalizations, cause that's how we came to think about each other.

My primarily experience with "popular tweets" was seeing broad sweeping statements about "men" or "women", or "incel cryptobros" or "leftist sjws", even sillier labels like "swfties" or "k-pop stans", the average interaction there is trying to figure out which boxes someone fits to speedrun human interaction, and that's... how an algorithm thinks.

I don't even think it's wrong, I did my best to communicate I fit the boxes "anarchist", "adhd", "non-binary", "artist", "retro sci-fi anime fan", I block alt-right weirdos on sight and make fun of checkmarks, I have practically pre-written replies to some kinds of people, but every now and then I feel the slight existential dread of realizing I could program a bot to do *the exact same thing*.

That's not what I wanna use my brain for, I've read big threads of different people fighting in different years play out virtually the exact same way, we're responding to decontextualization by adopting the same generalized signals, and I don't wanna become a bot, man.

What I mean is that neural networks trained to "sound human" are fed countless tweets by random people from all walks of life to try to mimic this amorphous idea of a vague human who doesn't have any of the individual qualities of a person.

And that's what I was doing, too.

I had a tumblr before, ages ago. I was still checking boxes then, mainly about fandoms, and every version of living online will involve some of that. But I believe that there's a healthy version to be achieved, communicating shorthands for who you are and what you like so you can find potentially likeminded people. Maybe I can achieve that here, again.

I think I did once, when I was too young to even realize it, and then I left it all and swam towards the social media event horizon.

See, the thing about working from home, online, is that I never really stopped spending the majority of my time in a computer, more than most of my IRL friends, most of whom have real world jobs and are sure as hell a lot closer to a balance than I am.

I kept thinking of the internet like entertainment, not too different from TV or video-games, so I kept looking to what drew my attention more effectively, just go where the current takes me, why would I put rules on fun? But it hasn't been fun. It hasn't been fun for a while, now. Because I didn't give myself rules, and the "current" metaphor doesn't work when there's an actual poseidon made of code controlling the direction of the currents.

Sometimes, you have to consciously chase the fun.

So, you know, hi.

#twitter #tumblr #leaving twitter #social media #elon musk #extremely online #online life

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wineninconsistentices · 4 months

Text

𝙰𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚈 𝙼𝙰𝚁𝙸𝙴 𝙳𝚄𝙽𝙽𝚂

── 🫀:: 𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌 ☠︵ . .

┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄╮

▸ 关于我 . . . ❀︵︵ ↴

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒 ▸

"I would prefer if you left your weapons outside and took your shoes off before stepping inside my home, it's already enough that you're unclean. You'll need to wash off near the lake if you decide to stay for a bit, just understand my boundaries please and you're welcome to stay."

「 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 」

Avery Marie Dunns

Goes by her middle name mainly, so usually Marie but she doesn't mind what people refer to her as.

「 𝐀𝐆𝐄 」

22, June 5th, 2001.

「 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 」

Female

「 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐒 」

She/Her

「 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐒 」

A shovel and kitchen knife.

┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄╮

▸ 关于我 . . . ❀︵︵ ↴

𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 「 𝐎𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 」 ▸

Marie's appearance is captivating, with her long brown hair reaching her shoulders, complemented by her warm brown eyes and fair skin. A scattering of freckles adds a touch of charm to her face, while a mole next to her lips and a birthmark on her left cheek give her a unique and memorable look. She has a petite, pear-shaped body that adds to her allure.

In her everyday style, she opts for flowy dresses paired with stockings or other garments that provide coverage for her arms and legs. When she's focused on work or exploring, you'll often find her wearing a cozy turtleneck, practical trousers, and sturdy boots. To add a touch of protection, she completes her outfit with a leather jacket and brown leather gloves.

「 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 」

Marie is a soft-spoken and sweet-natured individual who exudes a gentle and caring presence. She approaches people and situations with kindness and compassion, always seeking to offer support and understanding. Having been sheltered for most of her life, Marie possesses a childlike innocence and a genuine curiosity about the world around her.

Due to her limited exposure to the outside world, Marie often finds herself confused by the new realities and changes brought about by the apocalypse. She struggles to grasp modern slang, social cues, and common topics of conversation. As a result, she frequently asks questions, seeking clarification and sincerely attempting to understand the nuances of post-apocalyptic society.

Marie's love for nature, animals, art, and even death is a significant part of her identity. She finds solace and harmony in the natural world, marveling at its beauty and intricacies. Animals hold a special place in her heart, and she feels a deep connection to them, often preferring their company to that of humans.

In her artistic pursuits, Marie finds an outlet for her creativity and self-expression. Whether it's painting, sketching, or engaging in other forms of artistic expression, she immerses herself in the process, finding joy and tranquility in the act of creation.

Surprisingly, Marie possesses a contrasting belief system when it comes to taking lives. While she values and cherishes life on a general level, she holds a firm conviction that if it is necessary for her survival or if it aligns with what she perceives as God's plan, she is not hesitant to take another person's life. She believes that God will forgive her actions, viewing them as part of a higher purpose or divine intervention.

When faced with situations that require her to kill, Marie exhibits a surprising lack of remorse or regret. However, this does not mean she is devoid of empathy. In her own unique way, she shows understanding and empathy towards others, striving to provide comfort or solace even in difficult circumstances.

「 𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 」

5'8

「 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐒 」

Marie has a café au lait birthmark, a light brown patch of pigmented skin, on her left cheek.

「 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐒 」

None

「 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐒 」

Two, one on her wrist and thigh. While her parents believed such would taint her skin, her older sister thought other wise. After her parents proposed her arranged marriage, she decided to act out, her sister supporting it and even helping her with picking out the tattoos. She now regrets it, but finds them to be undeniably pretty.

┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄╮

▸ 关于我 . . . ❀︵︵ ↴

𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀 「 𝐎𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 」 ▸

「 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐊 」

Just gonna put some basic stuff, can't decide on a bag this time.

- A can of peaches and pineapple, three packets of oatmeal, a glass jar she stores filtered water in.

- Rope, Flashlight, a plastic bag full of batteries, her mini journal, a map of the forest and it's trails, and lastly a multi-tool.

「 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 」

Marie grew up in a deeply religious and conservative family. From a young age, she was sheltered and closely monitored, living a secluded life within the confines of her family's home. Her family's religious beliefs were strongly ingrained in her upbringing, leaving little room for exploration or self-expression.

Despite her limited exposure to the outside world, Marie harbored a passion for the arts. She dreamed of becoming a painter or pursuing a career in photography, finding solace and freedom in creative expression. However, her family had other plans for her, seeing her artistic aspirations as frivolous and inconsequential. They believed that her purpose was to fulfill traditional gender roles and marry according to their choice.

At the age of twenty-one, Marie found herself on the brink of an arranged marriage to a man she had never met. While she had accepted her fate, there was a lingering sense of resignation rather than genuine enthusiasm. The impending marriage loomed over her, stifling her dreams and aspirations.

However, just as the wedding arrangements were finalizing, the apocalypse struck the world. The chaos and destruction that unfolded disrupted the plans set in motion by Marie's family. Amidst the upheaval, her marriage was indefinitely postponed, leaving Marie both relieved and uncertain about her future.

In the aftermath of the apocalypse, Marie found herself living alone in a small house near the forest. Cut off from the remnants of society, she embraced her solitude and sought solace in her faith. Blinded by her unwavering belief in Christianity, she interpreted the apocalyptic events as part of God's divine plan.

Curiously, Marie developed an unconventional fascination with the undead and death. She began capturing and tying up the infected, treating them as if they were still alive. In her isolated world, she engaged in conversations with these creatures, attempting to find meaning and connection amidst the chaos. To her, they were still part of God's creation, worthy of care and understanding despite their altered state.

Marie's fascination with the undead and death became a central aspect of her daily life. She would spend hours tending to them, feeding them, and even attempting to communicate with them. This peculiar connection provided her with a sense of purpose and a profound belief that she was carrying out God's plan, even in the face of the apocalypse.

As she navigates the challenges of her secluded existence, Marie's faith continues to guide her. She finds solace in her faith, her artistic inclinations suppressed but not forgotten. The juxtaposition of her devotion to God and her unique connection to the undead shapes her character, as she seeks to find meaning and purpose in the new world that has emerged from the ashes of the apocalypse.

「 𝐆𝐎𝐀𝐋𝐒 」

"I can't say, I believe I should just go with the wind. God has plans for me, I'm sure and those shall guide me along my path, even if it means death in the end."

「 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒 」

🫀Marie has a deep passion for baking, finding solace in the sweet art of creating delicious treats that bring joy and warmth to those around her. She also holds a profound love for nature, nurturing plants with care and finding tranquility in their gentle presence. Animals hold a special place in her heart, and she cherishes their companionship, finding comfort and connection in their company. Marie's creative spirit finds expression in various forms of art, allowing her imagination to soar. Surprisingly, she possesses a curious fascination with the undead and the mysteries of death, exploring the darker aspects of life.

🔪 On the flip side, she harbors an aversion towards rudeness and excessive noise, preferring a harmonious and serene environment. With a strong desire for order and cleanliness, she cannot stand grime, dirt, or anything that disrupts the pristine organization of her surroundings. However, Marie carries deep-seated fears within her. The dark, spiders, and tight spaces send shivers down her spine, evoking a sense of vulnerability and anxiety.

「 𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 」

Heterosexual

Marie has never thought about the idea of loving another woman while growing up, her parents always told her that same-sex relationships were wrong, and they expected her to marry an older, wealthy man. They wanted her to be a housewife, have her own children, and live a comfortable life. However, Marie doesn't actually have a problem with same-sex relationships. She believes that love is love, regardless of gender. Still, she has never felt any romantic feelings for a woman or even considered it.

「 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄 」

"What are they again? Oh, such a difficult choice! May I say all?"

──────── *ೃ ‍୨ the end. ୧ 🕯️

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