#which is quite a loss imo

[iliketodecompose]

kiki's pedantic gripe w t8s english subs

to preface: i don't mean this in bad faith at all. it is not not my intention to insult anyone who worked on subtitles for t8s, as it's very hard, often thankless work and i think the fact subtitles exist at all is brilliant. it makes the show a hell of a lot more accessible, even if they have their inaccuracies. if anything, i made this post more so as a vehicle to explain korean. everything else just stems from my love for this language, and my criticisms are secondary to that for me... so i hope at least this is slightly informative !!

the pattern i have noticed is the subs will.. mostly communicate the same sentiment? but not just. translate what's being said.??? ..

FOR EXAMPLE

jaewon asks if he can get a cigarette off of jihyun and jihyun replies (i believe, it's a little hard to make out) "저 연 언피워요" = "I don't smoke tobacco."

the '연' here i believe is short for '연초' which is a word for 'tobacco' and as the person in this thread explains (the person who asked the initial question was actually querying the line jihyun says that i am currently talking abt lmfao) people who don't smoke at all say, for example "담배를 안 피워요" = "i don't smoke cigarettes" (including e-cigarettes/vapes), the key word here being '담배' which means 'cigarette'. as the same person goes on to explain, people who vape would tend to specify that they don't smoke tobacco, as they do smoke cigarettes, just not tobacco ones. this would lead us to imply that jihyun vapes, even when translated into english as "I don't smoke tobacco" right?

the way the viki team chose to subtitle this is "I only vape". which i feel illustrates my point quite well. the point is gotten across!! yay!! but it's not what.. he says... like .. in terms of the vocabulary... and to me this choice, as representative of many like it, does a bit of a disservice to korean as a language and to the people that aren't familiar with it. conveying the same sentiment, in my opinion, is not the same as an honest translation, and it frustrates me a little that these subtitles are many peoples' only access to the show.

pls let me know if u have some knowledge I don't or if im incorrect in any capacity!!!!!!

@fierrochase-falafel u might find this interesting :-3

#the eighth sense #kim jihyun #seo jaewon #gay healing #tbh #this has been frustrating me for a while. #from what i have found there are no korean subs for the show #which is quite a loss imo #(and it makes me rely more on my word processing than reading skills so i am sometimes not entirely sure i'm accurately hearing words right #(which is more of a personal thing lmao) #(to confirm either mistranslation or correct translation) #oh juntaek #lim jisub #korean bl #여덟번째 감각

[mommyhorror]

😞thinking about Elliot page & Amanda bynes & Britney Spears & Shelley duvall & Jennette McCurdy

#sad that two of my favs from childhood / adolescence are dealing with major mental health issues #Amanda bynes #elliot page #like damn .. I’m just glad they’re alive you know #I’ll fight against transgender ideology but I’m not trying to fight e. page herself #Suffering through “Hollywood” (even saying it feels like Hollywood is the glamour #Like it’s the good thing when it’s not) Anyways it ruins u if ur tortured through it mentally #Which is obvious #Unfortunately much more obvious with famous women #How many have we semi-lost? How many were on the edge? #Self harm. Eating disorders. Loss of sanity. Inability to take care of themselves (conservatorships)loss of control #Idk it disturbs me a lot #Those were my girlies you know #Jennette is doing fine bc she QUIT #she quit early and will be ok imo. But it ate her alive too

[taylortruther]

I actually agree with you 100% on all long-term relationship breakups being pretty much the same. When you've loved someone for so long, it means they're also part of your routines, part of your comfort, part of your home and part of your family. Their family becomes your family, their friends become your friends, their hopes and aspirations become things you care about as well as their struggles. The reasons why the rs starts falling apart aren't as simple as one or both parties no longer "being in love", but rather a combination of issues: career ambitions intolerable to the relationship for various reasons, incompatibility of personalities or of extended families, growth at different paces, the goals and wishes agreed at the start of the rs changing with time, loss of trust and connection, etc. I thought of this the other day when an anon mentioned the movie Blue Valentine, and I think the reason why that film feels so realistic (and devastating) is because all long term relationships slowly desintegrate in similar manners to what happens to the couple in the movie. And piggybacking off the discourse we had on The Alcott, it's quite desperating and frustrating to slowly realize that things that once were profoundly sacred have come to feel like a curse; you no longer feel like you're choosing everyday to be with this person out of love, but rather that you're emprisioned to them.

What we know about TTPD department so far makes me think this will be explored but not in the way many fans seem to be expecting (not you guys lol but I have seen ppl that expect the songs to be sassy, petty, and accusatory). Instead, I think we will see her show and deconstruct all the ways she fought for it to work, compromising, committing, twisting herself into a pretzel, and making herself smaller, not because he was "forcing her" like some fans think but rather from her own decision bc that's just how much she loved him. Which is even more devasting if you think of it: she locked herself away, tried to dim her shine, beared emotional burdens alone because of her own conviction and desire to make things work, not as a result of him "making her" do all of that. So imo one of the reasons this album will be particularly devastating is bc we will learn in a very raw manner just how much she loved this man and how much she was willing to give up for him, and how much regret she probably has about things she did for him that at the time felt like a no-brainer but in hindsight seem ridiculous (which is a very common thing for everyone bc that's simply what you do when you love someone; love isn't usually rational). And this will undoubtedly be very relatable for ppl who have been in ltrs that ended bc, as you say, most of them end in the same way and most of us realize how much we actually sacrificed for it only after the fact.

i agree!!! also, we know taylor never does anything by halves. we know love is basically a religion of drug to her. we know she felt that he believed in her and loved her for her at a time when she felt she was distinctly unlovable. we know she fought hard to deal with her baggage. we know she was reflecting on fame, how fickle it is, and why she wanted it so badly (miss americana doc, mirrorball, midnight rain, to name a few.) we can look at midnights to see the things that were haunting her and they were things like: dealing with fame, choosing the hard way, reckoning with loss of self, wanting to protect love that felt fragile, blocking out noise, the empowerment and loneliness of relying on oneself. midnights feels like a very honest and logical progression past folkmore, which discussed those topics as well as infidelity, taking up space, confronting depression and pain and other sticky human desires. ttpd feels like it will further touch on these complicated and sticky and dark topics, with the added "bonus" of the specter of a breakup, and the breakup itself, haunting them. anyone whose ever lost a part of themselves to try and save a relationship of any kind will understand, i think. love is a beast that way.

#a black dog you might even say #predictions #ttpd

[yanderes-galore]

Ugh, Panther I don't know what exact time you'll be getting this ask but as if now it is not the 2nd in my time zone. But I don't have any time tomorrow so I hope its okay to send something earlier. If not, please feel free to ignore!

I just need *sucks in breath and clenched fist* Yandere Gojo from JJK with the prompts 14. , 34. and possibly 35.

with someone who has sorcerer powers but has grown outside of the jujutsu society? They fight because they genuinely wanna help people and Gojo introduced them to the school to be a teacher too - in hopes to get another strong ally but uh oh he got obsessed. Like, he does not want to lose you like he lost Geto and maybe you'll grow to understand him too. so imo the prompts work well. Can either be platonic or romantic I think he can be both!

Thank you!

Sure, friend! I hope this is to your taste :) I really hope he isn't too OOC or anything. There was no plot structure here 😮‍💨... I just followed the direction my mind guided me.

He's a subtle yandere here Ig.

Yandere! Satoru Gojo Prompts 14, 34, 35

"It's too dangerous in the world. You need me, you should know that!"

"No one else understands me except you!"

"Don't push me away, dear... I only want to be closer to you!"

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Fear of attachment/loss, Trauma implied, Clingy behavior, Overprotective behavior, Controlling behavior, Soft yandere, Threats near the end, Dubious companionship/relationship.

It had been a long while since Gojo had found someone he could relate to in some way. The companionship wasn't quite what Gojo had with Geto long before... but it was close. You were strong... yet so isolated from the rest.

A familiar feeling to him.

Gojo could tell you were a strong Sorcerer when you entered the school for a job. As expected... Gojo wanted to test you to see if you were right for the job. By the end of your examination... you were approved.

Leaving Gojo curious and excited.

In Gojo's eyes, strong allies were important in the field. It's what he strives to find and teach. Strength has always been important to protect the weak.

Gojo at first hated how interested he was in you. Yet you were so mysterious... according to you, you never went to Jujutsu High to learn your craft. Which leaves Gojo baffled on your strength.

You aren't stronger than him, far from it, but you are certainly strong and full of potential. During your job, Gojo often checked in with you. Many students never really saw Gojo away from you for long.

He was always playful and laid-back with you. Safe to say you both get along well as teachers. Perhaps even too well...

Gojo realizes he's too attached when the worry starts to settle deep within him.

The bond you share reminds him a lot of Geto. Too much, actually. Such a thought makes him pained.

Gojo's concern grows, even as he offers to train you. You're a teacher skilled in your craft. Gojo really shouldn't be worried.

But... are you handling the new environment well? You seemed like you lived an isolated lifestyle. Does the city bother you?

Gojo despises the worries he has. All leftover emotions from when he was a teen. He... just can't help himself, however.

You always care so much for others. As a teacher and Jujutsu Sorcerer, you end up sacrificing whatever you can to see students and friends safe. It's honorable...

But Gojo doesn't wish to lose another he's close to... not when he finally feels he has someone who gets him.

Such behavior makes Gojo stick around more often. To the point you even begin to wish he left you alone. Despite being a strong Sorcerer similar to him, Gojo also seemed to treat you like you couldn't defend yourself.

You didn't respect him babying you... it was an insult to your skills.

"Don't push me away, dear... I only want to be closer to you!" Gojo whines, a frown on his face as you sit in your empty classroom. You snort, amused that he acts like a child while treating you like one. You have no idea what's gotten into your friend and ally as of late.

"Gojo, I don't wish to speak with you." You state in a stern tone.

"Why?" Gojo replies, walking over to lean on your desk. He's as casual as ever it seems.

"You've been awfully... suffocating." You admit bluntly. "I am an adult who can handle themselves."

"... not in this world." Gojo sighs, gaze never once leaving yours behind his glasses. He notices your unamused look and straightens his posture.

"It's too dangerous in the world. You need me, you should know that." Gojo frowns. "The city has way more curses running around than where you came from."

"I can handle them." You retort.

"And if you can't?" Gojo responds, staring you down. Something about his staring unnerves you. You're silent, Gojo oddly going back to smiling after you stop arguing.

"I'm the strongest, you should really just let me take care of things for you. It would be much... safer." Gojo's tone is oddly relieved and gleeful.

"... Gojo... you can't be there for me all the time." You try to reason.

"Says who?" Gojo frowns. "No one else understands me except you! Am I just supposed to sit back and lose you?"

His words and lack of composure surprise you. Gojo's quick to fix his sudden outburst, however, sitting beside you and holding your hand. It's an action of comfort...

But you can tell there's a pained expression in his usually playful eyes.

"... just listen to me, okay?" Gojo whispers, looking back at you as his grip tightens. "You'll be safe if you just... keep me close."

"Gojo-" You try to speak, but Gojo covers your mouth.

"I don't care how strong you are... I'm stronger. If you don't let me protect you..."

Gojo's grin turns... unsettling. A twisted show of teeth that makes it look like he'll snap. You swore he even chuckled. Your heart beats faster when he leans closer.

"I may just have to keep you all to myself no matter the cost... that way you'd be safe and I can't lose you. How's that sound?"

#yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere satoru gojo #yandere gojo

[wistfulcynic]

just finished a full rewatch of OFMD season one, which i'd not done for a while, and am now deep in the shrimp emotions. Why is this show so good.

specifically i'm thinking about the beginning of 1x07 when Ed says he's thinking about leaving. On to the next adventure, etc. He says it so casually, like it's no thing at all, and it makes me wonder how that scenario might have played out.

There was a meta i read shortly after the season aired (sorry, can't remember who wrote it) which said basically the plan to leave is Ed's way of protecting himself. By that point Ed knows he's falling for Stede, they've had their almost-kiss in the moonlight, their tender bathtub moment. Ed knows, even if it's only subconsciously, that if he stays he'll just fall deeper and harder and that will leave him vulnerable in a way he's not quite ready for.

so i wonder what would've happened if he had left then. Not with Calico Jack in all the heat of fraught emotions but on his own terms before his feelings for Stede grew beyond his ability to control them. i wonder how he'd have coped with losing Stede then.

because at that point, he's got no real reason to think his feelings are reciprocated. Stede clearly likes him, says flat out that he's Ed's friend, but nothing he's said or done would lead Ed to believe it's anything more than that. And Ed, as we know, is convinced he's unlovable so of course in his mind Stede could never love him.

which means that if he'd left then he wouldn't actually have lost anything. Stede and the Revenge could be kept as a lovely memory of a brief good time in his life. He might pine a bit, maybe give himself the luxury now and then to think about what if, but i don't believe it would ever reach the point of painting cake toppers or even crying in a dressing gown. i think, honestly, that had he left then Ed would've been okay, or at least not significantly worse than he was before. Still bored, still wanting to get out of piracy, still feeling sad and lonely and unloved but at least he'd have the memory of his friend.

what eventually renders that scenario impossible--what makes him leaving on his own plausible while he could never truly have left with Calico Jack ("never left")--is that by the end of episode 7 Ed has started to have hope. He's started to think that maybe his feelings aren't one-sided. Maybe he can actually have Stede. Maybe he can actually be happy.

i've often thought (as ofc have others) that it wasn't the loss of Stede as such that brought on the kraken era. If OFMD had ended with a successful talent show and Ed and the crew deciding to be a sailing theatre troupe instead of pirates, even without Stede, Ed would've been okay. Broken hearts mend. What tipped Ed over the edge was the loss of his hope, and the better life he thought he'd found a way to have.

not quite sure where i'm going with this if i'm going anywhere, just... it's an interesting contrast and imo a quiet turning point that neatly underlines just how important this is happening really was.

#also it's the hope that kills you but ted lasso is a whole other meta #ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd meta #our flag means death meta #edward teach #ed teach #blackbeard #ofmd blackbeard #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #ofmd 1x07 #this is happening

[gaiusgoose]

I don’t think we’re seeing Smirke’s 14.5

First, I would like to point out that a lot of the point of season 4&5’s “mechanics” was that the fears are not really 14, or 15 but fingers and toes and eyes and teeth of Fear, the singular entity.

For a time it is helpful, understanding how these things function, like Jon’s smiting or how The Web does The Web things, but that’s like understanding that the nose smells and the brain thinks. Really, it’s a singular thing that humans have tried to understand and simplify, abstract and restrict. It’s wholly possible that in tmagp

Now notice how the current few statements have manifested:

First episode we have some more, fairly usual statements:

- the resurrection one, which I think we can all agree would fall into Stranger + Terminus

- Canary, who is definitely, solidly, Beholding focused.

Yet notice that the resurrection one has a blending of fear subtypes, without any distinct dominant type emerging (imo). See how Canary is a subtlety different interpretation of Beholding then we got before, focusing on a fear of the possibility of being seen and ridiculed and all that, while more classic ones are actually about being watched, the action is done. Overall, these points are stretches, and could fit within tma easily, but I think these subtleties are indicative of what is to come

Because next episode, about the artist, is really confusing from a tma perspective. We start with The Eye, focusing on self image then being streamed to the world, yet moving onto a Flesh esque mania of self reformation, but if they’re becoming something of an avatar (generating that fear in others such as their roommate, not themselves, I have another post on this) then they’re probably closer to becoming a part of the stranger. Essentially, the paints are muddled and we can’t just look at it and say “blue”.

Then with about the same level of muddling is episode 3. He’s clearly spiraling the entire time, delusional and fearful. I won’t chalk up his fear of being caught to the eye, that’s probably not strong enough nor supernatural enough to count imo. But as the statement progresses, he becomes more and more corruption + flesh. Corruption and flesh are often packaged together, even Jane Prentiss was the Flesh Hive, it’s honestly quite hard to escape The Flesh, but again like the resurrection from episode 1 it’s muddled to the point where no fear is dominant.

Finally notice the state of Chester and Norris. While I’m hesitant to jump to any conclusions about them, because we know next to nothing, but I suspect they’re some of the first cases of the stated theme of the show “what makes someone a person.” They’re clearly sentient, but they’re also clearly not wholly human anymore. Are they still people? Dunno.

I suggest that in tmagp we might be seeing emergence of a different categorization. I suspect they’re going to focus much more on identity and the loss of it, like tree man and the artist losing themselves.

So uh yeah

#tmagp #tmagp spoilers #tma spoilers #tma #the magnus protocol spoilers #the magnus archives #the magnus protocol

[alphabetboyluvr]

THROTTLE - JJK | EIGHT

one/ two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven

warnings - welcome one and all to the chapters that made some of my wattpad girlies stop reading throttle, you have been warned! mentions of drugs. jungkook wears a key around his neck and it ain't for a door! solo masturbation (m). enter stage left: cc @ yoongi's door. infidelity (boo), dry humping (yay), yoongi has a choking kink (?), he cums in his pants <3 back for round two! not all that explicit, oral (f), he's so talkative <3, protected sex, incredibly sombre aftermath!! v satisfying end to the chapter IMO!!

word count - 16.5k

minors dni // series masterlist

It surprises everyone when Jungkook is the first to speak. He stands, shoulders broadening like a fallen angel unfolding its wings, and then he's back.

The man you once knew? It's undeniably him. He's still just as powerful in his stature as he always was, just as handsome, just as life-threateningly attractive.

For a second - only a moment, barely even a millisecond - you let yourself indulge in the chime your stomach has been subduing.

It's just the same as it always has been.

He's different now, though. So vastly different, you question whether or not you would have recognised him in the street.

His hair is dark, and it doesn't frame his face in the way it used to. Shame. You used to love getting your fingers tangled in it. It's pushed back now, the fury in his dark brows as clear as day. They're missing a piercing, which you'll admit is a bitter loss, but the lip ring is still there, at least.

You don't let yourself think about the one on his tongue. Haven't thought about it for weeks. Months.

Only because every time you do, you force yourself to think about roadkill instead. It's the only way you can get it out of your head. Does now mean that when you see roadkill, you think about him. Fitting, really, given the tragedy of your time spent together.

Instead of letting him know just how fucked up he still gets you, you simply raise a brow in his direction. Your back sinks into the chair you've poised yourself on, and you cross your arms, imploring him to speak the fuck up.

Part of him doesn't want to, just as 'fuck you' to your prissy rich bitch attitude. He'd forgotten about this; how much a little cunt you'd been when the pair of you had first met. Back then, it had gotten his interest piqued. Kept him coming back for more. Was the thing that got him cumming, full stop.

But now, it just feels vindictive.

And so he decides to be just as much of a vindictive swine back.

"No one's been looking for you," he says as his eyes burn into you - and yet you remain perfectly cool. Calm. Unaffected.

There was a time, a few moons ago, when a look like this from Jungkook would have surely killed you. Now, it's just all very laughable.

"Eunhee's never been much of a liar, Jungkook," you smile, glad to have checked in with her before heading to the boxing club. Maybe he did stop showing up at your door two months ago, but it was enough of a weapon to use against him.

"That senile old bat?" He laughs, and you remember just how mean he could be. It's a trait that you'd pushed to the side in your memories, all rose-tinted and sweet. The reality makes those memories a lot easier to swallow, the salt from his words diluting the sugar. "Wouldn't take her as a credible source."

The air around the pair of you is stale; unpleasant. It reeks of desperation. Desperate for what? It's debatable. Nothing good, that's for sure.

Quite literally everyone in the room is uncomfortable.

Everyone except for the pair of you.

See, this is a back and forth you've perfected. The way you bicker - the way you taunt one another - used to be foreplay. He'd rile you up just ruin you.

It's electric. Jungkook wonders what has more volts - your shared energy, or the taser he's pretty sure you've got hidden in your bag. You're too smart to come somewhere like this completely defenceless.

He's just as smart as you, though. Reads your moves, and knows exactly what to predict. Maybe it's not a form of intelligence that will do any good, but he's spent so long studying you that it would be impossible for him to not be an expert by this point.

He could write an encyclopedia about you; a dictionary based on your vocabulary.

He'd file himself under 'asshole', and would hope you'd reassign him to 'inamorato'. You wouldn't. If anything, you'd place him in a pile of discards; words unused by you for so long that you've forgotten their significance in your life.

If he were to have his own dictionary, he'd file you under cocotte. CC for short. But he'd draw fucking hearts in the margins, and crack the spine from just how often he looked at your page. Might just rip it out and keep it in his wallet like a passport photo.

"Credible source?" You smirk, ruby red lips pouting in a way that feels new to him. They're slightly different, he thinks. The shape is the same, but they seem poutier. The product of fillers, maybe. He never thought you'd be one to go down that route, but he's questioning everything he knew about you as the lights of the club reflect in the diamond on your finger. He's blinded by it; blindsided by you. "Surely this isn't Jeon Jungkook talking about credibility? About trust? That'd be a first."

"Watch your fuckin' mouth," he snaps, and it's clear you've hit a nerve. Good. "Got shit to say? Say it, then get fuckin' gone, C."

And, oh, it's painful. So gloriously painful.

The way you don't falter is the worst part. The name given to you in the sanctuary of his car lingers on his tongue, his lips ajar. There's no crease between his brow, eyes just as round and inviting as they always had been.

You think he's baiting you. Think he's trying to get your defences down. You don't realise that his defences actually are - not until he knocks his head to the side, flicking a switch as his glare returns.

"I think what Jungkook is trying to say," Jin speaks up, knowing that there'll be no resolution without a mediator. He can feel the energy between the pair of you. The vibrations run deep and jagged, stained in red and echoing regret. "Is that we aren't aware there was business to discuss?"

You turn to face Jin, but let your eyes linger on Jungkook for just a second longer before you address his friend. Handsome, you think. Incredibly handsome, in fact.

You've always thought Jungkook was the most beautiful thing about Daegu, but you might change your mind. All you need is this new guy - the one with plump lips and shoulders that eclipse Jungkook's - to glare at you. See if it gets you searing under the collar, hot between your legs, like Jungkook's glare does.

Many men before have looked at you with suspended disbelief, agitation curving around their brow bones. It's nothing new. The way that Jungkook's glare could have gotten you on your knees? That was new to you.

"Nor was I - or at least, I wasn't. Not until Jungkook told me about that little plan of yours a few months ago," you say as you smile at Jin, all pleasant and performative."But I'm very selective about who I invest my time in."

You don't have to look at Jungkook for him to know that he should take your next statement personally.

"I've no time for little boys running around playing cops and robbers. I conduct my business exactly like that; like a business. I make negotiations, I make deals. Sign contracts - and I'd never hire someone without running a background check. Can get yourself into a whole world of trouble if you don't know who someone really is."

"You're planning on employing us?" Namjoon pipes up, the prospect of a hefty payday sounding like music to his ears.

"Not employing," you say. There's more you could divulge. So much more. But it's time for baby steps, now. No use in getting ahead of yourselves. "Think of it more like... entering a partnership. A mutually beneficial agreement."

"Your appearance on TV today," Jin says, the most analytical of the bunch, trying to figure you out. "How would that help to aid your negotiations?"

You smile. It's quite simple, really.

"That was to stop you from thinking you could ever fucking touch me."

There's more venom than you intend there to be behind your words, but you haven't quite healed from the last invasion of your autonomy. You're still disgusted but how easily you were manipulated into thinking that Jungkook ever gave a fuck about you. If they think they're ever getting the chance of getting that close again, they're sorely mistaken.

"The world is watching boys," You continue. "One wrong move, and the world will be asking: what happened to her? It's my way to keep you in check. Anyways, let's not get ahead of ourselves. Who do you work for?"

"Who do you work for?" Jungkook spits back.

"Myself. Answer my question."

Jin takes the reins from Jungkook. "We're not at liberty to say."

"Fine," you shrug, getting to your feet. You're here to talk with men, not boys. If they can't make decisions for themselves, then what's the point? "I'll be on my way then. Time is money boys, and if you aren't willing to give me a dime, then it's not worth it for me. I don't need you."

"Yeah, well, if you don't need us, then why the fuck are you here?"

The way Jungkook's nostrils flare amuses you. Let's you know the real question he's asking: If you don't need me, why did you come back? Back here, specifically?

It's a good question. One you wish you had a solid answer for.

"There are rats all over this city," you tell them, thinking that it'd be best to choose at least a half-truth. "I don't know many of them, not well. Not personally. Don't know you fuckers personally, either - very rude of you, by the way, to break into my apartment like that. I'm sure Jungkook could have just told you the code - but anyways, I digress. I know how you operate, to a certain degree."

"Oh, yeah?" Jungkook questions, doubting that very much. "How do we operate?"

"Like fucking idiots," you say with a voice as flat as his tyres after a few too many burnouts. "You send in unprepared fuckers who think with their dicks instead of their brains."

Jungkook scoffs, but the rest of them wave their heads a little, contemplating the fact that you're entirely correct.

"I know your weak spots," you say, but choose not to elaborate on the fact that you were once Jungkook's. You sit back down; an act of defiance for the fact that Jungkook quite clearly doesn't want you there. "And I know some of your strengths. I also know that we have a mutual interest in the downfall of my father. Might not trust you fuckers as far as I can throw you, but I trust that your feelings towards him won't have changed all that much in three months."

"Yours seem to have changed," Jungkook notes all rather bitterly, and it makes you laugh.

You lean forward in your seat, elbow resting on your knee, chin in your palm. Your ring glistens in the light, but Jungkook ignores it. Wishes he could ignore you, full-stop, but he can't take his eyes off you. Deprived for so long, he doesn't know when he'll get this luxury again.

The fact that you're in the boxing club alone - unprotected, despite it all - should be indication enough that your feelings towards your father haven't changed. Why risk it? Why put yourself in a circumstance where you could be used against him if you weren't willing for that to happen?

"Look at you," you smile, but it's laced in contempt. "Finally making assumptions of your own. I'm proud. You got a little way to go, though, baby. You're missing the mark. Give it some time and you'll be able to make assumptions that check out."

The pet name is delivered with such ease that Jungkook almost doesn't notice it. It's the look in your eyes that really delivers it, the chaos and confusion you're conveying in one simple smirk.

"Like yours did when we first met?" He says with a raised brow, thinking you've never made an accurate assumption in the whole entire time he's known you.

"I assumed you were a cunt. Ding, ding, ding. Always right."

This earns a snicker from Namjoon, who can admittedly see why Jungkook liked you so much. There's something about you that gets the heart rate going; gets people interested in what you have to say.

Jungkook says nothing. Rolls his eyes, and grates his jaw. Doesn't see any point in conversing if you're just gonna be a bitch. He always knew you were like this, but he'd managed to chip away at your softer side and had somehow forgotten just how hard your exterior is.

You've fortified it, now though. Built your defences up. It's been three months, and you've not wasted a day. Naive of him to think you would have. You're your father's daughter after all.

"Look," you turn to Jin, still pretty and poised, but this time there's an air of sincerity to your words. "I'm waving a white flag here. You fuckers are lucky I came to your first. Might not trust anyone else in the city, but I don't trust you either. Thing is, boys, I'm traceable. If you try and do anything to me now, you fuckers'll get caught."

"So why would we want to do business with you?" He questions, incredibly curious. He thought after everything with Jungkook, that'd be the last you would see of him.

"Cause I was always traceable, you silly cunts. Do you think just cause I wasn't on speaking terms with my dad, that that was it? The moment you did the raid, I was back on his radar. I'm your connection. I'm your way in," you say, gesturing to yourself to really drive it home how important you could be for them. "If you want to bring him down - if you want to take him for all that he's worth - then you need someone on the inside. You need me. Honestly, the fact you thought a ransom situation would work is laughable, but it just shows you're lucky to have brains now to go with your brawn."

"We haven't agreed to anything," Jin reminds you. There's a warmth to his voice that contrasts the atmosphere within the room.

"No, but you will."

"Why?" Jungkook interrupts, eyes narrow, voice scornful. He's picking at the sides of his fingers, chipping away at hangnails.

"Cause what more do you have to lose, huh?" You shrug. "You're Kang's bitches, now. Wouldn't you rather be mine? I give great employee perks."

The way your eyes dance around the room, from man to man, and eventually land on Jungkook's is deliberate. He knows this, and he lets it get to him.

"What would they be?" Namjoon scoffs, unaware of your innuendo. It's kind of sweet, how naive he is.

And so naturally, you shatter all illusion of innocence.

"Ask Jungkook."

There's silence. No one quite knows how to reply.

No one except Jungkook.

"Ring on your finger be happy with you saying that?"

And for the first time, you're rattled. You hadn't expected him to mention it.

"That's of none of your concern," you shrug. Now's not the time to let him get to you - but the way you rabbit on afterwards is evidence enough that he has. "I'm not here to be interrogated. I'm extending an olive branch; giving you the chance to earn the money you were so desperately trying to make from me. You get your money, I get my father's downfall on a silver platter."

The way you look at Jungkook is unfamiliar. It's as cold and frigid as the winter nights you used to stow away with him in his car; breath clouding in the freezing temperatures despite the warmth in your heart.

A few months ago, such a look from you would have destroyed him. Absolutely decimated his entire sense of belonging. Life wouldn't have been worth living.

Now? It feels like a luxury. A sinful indulgence. He's been deprived for so long he'll take even the smallest hit of whatever you'll give him - and even when it's fleeting, your attention is like crack fucking cocaine.

It's not just your hair or your gaze that has changed. In fact, a lot about you has. There's a hollowness to your cheeks now that there wasn't before; a slight gauntness.

Without the convenience store snacks to keep you going, you actually had to eat decently. Having someone to go home to also meant that your junk diet had to be replaced with something more... appropriate for a woman in her twenties. No more eating like a teenager.

Your loss of appetite in the aftermath of Jungkook's revelation had certainly helped with this, and if anything, you've gained weight over the last few weeks - but you're still not as soft as you once were. He can see it in your cheeks. Saddens him, a little.

Has him thinking about what you could look like beneath those clothes of yours. Wonders if his hands will still fit your waist perfectly, or if your tits will still overspill in his palms just how he liked it. Considers that maybe they won't. Maybe he'll never get the chance to find out.

You think Jungkook looks colder. It's funny, cause the weather has heated up quite considerably, but it's never been frostier between the pair of you.

Getting to your feet, you brush down the tops of your thighs to straighten any creases. You've still got a persona to keep up, even when it's dark outside.

"You can discuss it amongst yourselves," You sigh as begin to head for the door, heels clicking as beneath your feet. There's something about the sound that you just adore. Maybe it's the repetition. Maybe it's the way it drowns out the chime in your stomach as you walk past the man you once thought you... No, you think. That's not right. The man you used to fuck. Much better. "I don't care, either way. I need an answer by the end of the week, or I'll find someone else. You aren't special. Plenty of other fuckers in the city who want to make a quick buck. Plenty of others who hate my father for one reason or another. You just had the balls to try it first."

"How do we know we can trust you?" Jungkook calls after you.

He's disappointed when you simply call back, "you don't."

There's more to be said, he thinks. More to discuss.

So he follows you to the parking lot. None of the other boys do. They already know they aren't welcome, and quite honestly, none of them wants to third-wheel such an awkward encounter. They'd already filled their quota for the day.

As he enters the dreary parking lot, he notices a car that's unfamiliar. It's a Merc. Black. Matte. Not too standard around these parts. Fuckin nice, though. He's impressed. Makes a mental note to ask you about the spec some other time.

"Hey, honey." You speak pleasantly into your phone as you pace around, not realising Jungkook's presence yet. He doesn't speak up. Too curious about who this honey could be. "Yeah, Just heading to Jieun's now. I'll be a couple of hours. Okay, okay. Love you, too."

Jungkook pretends like he didn't hear that bit. Does a terrible job of it - but at least he tries.

When you clock him, you couldn't be less bothered if you tried. So what if he heard you on the phone? It's up to him if he reads into it or not.

"You wanna know you can trust me?" You raise a brow, reading his suspicions of you.

Jungkook remains silent. He'll pretend it's to preserve his hard exterior, but in reality, it's to save himself from admitting the truth: he'd trust you with his life.

"I just lied," you continue. "I'm not going to Jieun's. I'm going to Yoongi's. Can follow me if you like. We both know it wouldn't be the first time. I'll be transparent with you - but don't think for a second that I trust you back."

"Yoongi's", Jungkook nods. Remembers the way Yoongi used to look at you. Remembers how he once thought that he was competition. More fool him for ever thinking you actually cared. You've a ring on your finger, now. Neither of you were ever competing, apparently. And if you were? Fell at the first hurdle. "What's that then? A little extra marital fun?

You smile insincerely. "Not married yet."

"So?"

"So even if it was, Jungkook, you're not the one who put this ring on my finger. You've no right to an opinion."

"And I never would have given you a ring," he says, as if he thinks his lack of interest in you could hurt you any more than it already had.

"Never would have wanted you to," you shrug, both of you as good at feigning disinterest as one another.

There's something about him though that has you curious. Has you feeling like you're being challenged. It's just like it was when you first met. The words you speak are laced with disgust, but the burning in your eyes can only be described as desire. He hates how easy it is for him to get like this around you. Hates that you know exactly what you can do to him.

He's realising now that you're far more in control of your feelings than he ever thought you were. He only ever saw you so vulnerable because you chose that. You let him. He's shut out now, and he doesn't like it.

But he does like the smile resting on your pretty lips as you walk towards him.

The way you encroach on his physical space has him hitching his breath in his throat, as if he's terrified to breathe around you. It's fitting, given the way you make him feel like he's drowning.

It's more than that, though.

What he truly fears is inhaling your perfume. smelling your shampoo. He's terrified of what it will do to him if he learns your hair still smells like gasoline. Even more petrified of how he'll feel if he learns that you don't smell like it anymore, mind you.

It's when you extend your index finger and hook it beneath his necklace that he really begins to lose his mind.

"Yanno," you say so quietly he has no choice but to edge just a tiny bit closer. Raising the key to be level with your eyes, you study it, watching the way the tiny crystals almost sparkle in the moonlight. You know they don't. It's just an illusion. If you had to guess - had to assume - you'd say coke. It's the only thing you can imagine him doing. His eyes are focused down on you, lashes long, gaze stern. "You should have told me you like coke."

Jungkook stays silent as you look up towards him, your lips laced in seduction. He knows better than to let you succeed, but - fuck - it's so hard not to. Whatever you're doing has an ulterior motive. It has to.

"Bumping coke's gonna ruin that pretty little nose of yours," you note.

"The fuck would you know about it?" he scoffs, but doesn't pull away. Can't bring himself to. All he can think about is the way your lips look. The difference in them is minimal, but they're definitely plumper. Have to be. Or maybe he just wants to kiss you more than he ever has done.

Your lips part as you lay your tongue flat and press the key to it.

Jungkook swallows, the lump in his throat swollen and intrusive. You wait a second. Wait for two. Then twist the key and dab the other side against your tongue.

"Takes longer if you swallow it," he whispers. "Snorting is much more cost-effective."

"Maybe so," you shrug, releasing the key from your mouth before pressing it against his chest with a slight push. "But you can't go around wearing Class A evidence like that, you silly prick. I meant what I said," you trail off to a whisper, stepping even closer towards him. He doesn't back away. Quite the opposite. He edges a little closer too. He knows he shouldn't - knows you're just baiting him - but god what a temptress you are. "I need to know I can trust the men I work with. I can't have you getting thrown into jail just for the fun of it. I need you clean."

There's something different about that last command. A softness. A plead. Your eyes linger on his, and then you pull away from the magnetism of his being.

"Stay off the drugs, Kook. A deviated septum looks sexy on no one."

And you're right.

But it doesn't really matter. The coke was just a pass time until his favourite drug came back to town. He's one hit down, and thinks the high will last him all fucking week.

The buzz perseveres. He's so consumed by it that he can't recall the conversation he had with the boys before he left. Can barely fucking remember the drive home.

But as he strips himself bare in the quiet comfort of his apartment, he can remember you.

Can remember your eyes, and the way they engulfed him with the heat of your fury - but also the way they simmered. Lashes low, lids half closed, you'd looked at him like a fucking siren, and the memory of it had his tattooed hand stroking at his firm cock. He hadn't been able to get like this since you'd left. Had tried on more than one occasion. Never managed to see it through. Would feel sick after a pump or two.

It's different now. His wrist flicks and his hand works his shaft, head thrown back into his pillows. His hips pulse, desperate for more friction, his own palm a shitty compromise after the luxury of your pussy.

It's when he's thinking of you that he gets breathless. Starts to moan. Wanks himself even faster. Harder. "Shit, C."

The term of endearment sounds so fucking sweet on his tongue. Has his torso tensing. Ass too. The wave of an orgasm threatening to crash.

Driven by instinct, his strong fingers wrap tightly around his hardened length, stroking gently. Tilting his head back, eyes firmly closed, he lets pleasure wave over him as he rolls his hips up into his palm. A guttural moan escapes his wet mouth, his teeth finding their home on his bottom lip.

More. He needs more of you. Needs your hair in his face, the scent of gasoline suffocating him. Needs his lips around your nipples, hands grappling with your ass. He needs you here.

All he's got - the only thing he's got - are his memories. His body writhes beneath him, the chain around his neck slipping from its position. There's little thought that goes into the way he moves the chain and holds the key tight between his teeth to keep it in place; nothing except the knowledge of your tongue licking against it earlier.

And then his lips close around it. His teeth ease, and the key sinks onto his tongue, the chain taut on his chin. He slows the movement of his wrist for a second. Rolls it once. Twice. Tries his best to work out if he can taste you or not.

He can't, but he can't taste the coke either, which means you did exactly as you intended. He moans, vibrating around the small key, devouring the idea that he'd exchanging spit with you once again, in a way. He knows the truth of the matter couldn't be further away from that, but it feels so fucking forbidden.

Just like you always have been. You'll remain that way.

But as his torso grows damp with the release of his orgasm onto his abs, ropes of sperm that he wishes he could have fucked into you going to waste on his skin, he can help but let his mind run wild.

Can't help but wish for more.

And so it comes as no surprise when Jungkook arrives at the boxing club, bright and early the next morning and says, "I'm in."

────────────

There's a sheen to Yoongi's skin as he opens up his apartment door, damp from the shower that was shut off just a few moments prior. Hair wet and sticking to his forehead, you're surprised to find you're the one choking on your words.

And then he smiles.

Smiles as if he's just beaten the high score of an arcade game, smiles as if he's managed to reach the peak of Apsan just in time for sunset. He smiles, and it feels like he's fixing you up with gold; seeping into the cracks that Jungkook left in you.

"If you wanted me to cover your shifts, you could have just asked," he beams. It's the first time he's seen you in three months. "You didn't have to be all dramatic and quit on me like that."

His teeth are showing, and they only show more when you give him a light tap on the shoulder with a closed first. His body jolts back slowly, eyes eating you up like a souffle pancake after a month-long fast. He bites down on his bottom lip with those pretty pearly whites, and pushes his door a little further back to invite you inside.

"You know you like a girl who keeps you on your toes," you grin back at him.

"Coffee? Tea?" He asks as you cross the threshold. You both know he won't have any at home, and that he'll need to order it in, but the gesture is kind. He's kind. "On my toes, yes. Sprinting marathons just to keep up with her? Less so much."

"Wine? And you'll thank me for the cardio in later life," you assure him, and toy with a joke about other forms of cardio you could do together. It dances on the tip of your tongue, and you know that if you spoke it aloud, goosebumps would form on his bare arms - so you say nothing, instead. 

He'd be the perfect distraction, you think, nothing like the boy you're trying to forget. Kind, and handsome, and someone who actually gives a shit about you. 

Forget distraction. He'd be the perfect man. Or at least he would be if he wasn't so helplessly infatuated with you.

That's thing about Yoongi; he sees all the good in you, and ignores the bad.

He'll take your witty banter, but neglect to factor in how mean it can sometimes be. He'll watch you yawn at work, half-bored to death, but refuse to acknowledge the fact you could cure said boredom with the tasks on your to-do list, that you instead leave for the next shift worker. He revels in the beauty of your laugh, but apparently is deaf when he hears you bitching about customers who have done very little wrong.

You aren't a saint. Perhaps not a sinner, either, but you sure do feel a lot closer to one than you think you should.

For all his wrongdoings, Jungkook never once treated you like you were a saint. There was no pedestal beneath your feet when you kissed him; he'd stoop to your level.

He saw you exactly as you were, which is why it hurt so much when you realised you'd only ever seen a facade that he'd cooked up in the shitty back room of a boxing club.

Thoughts of him are dissolved with mindless chatter, Yoongi always so good at taking your mind elsewhere. He knows you in such a way that talking is easy. It never feels calculated, never feeling like you need to think about what you say. He'd never judge you for a single thing.

Perhaps he should. Perhaps if he'd have held his guard up a little higher, stood his ground a little firmer, then he wouldn't be so weak to the way you batter your lashes and give him coy looks in dull-lit rooms.

There's talk of the garage; the usual customers, your old boss, how late shifts drag without you there. He's quiet when you ask about Jieun. Just tells you she's all good. He changes the subject. Asks about your dad, and how the fuck you managed to keep that one quiet. 

You're surprised to find that honesty feels nice. 

Until, inevitably, it doesn't.

"You gonna tell me about the ring?" he eventually asks after you've both had a little wine to ease the tension of three months you've been away.

You don't drop your eyes from him, not even for a second. His damp hair is nearly fully dry, and he looks so comfortable in a pair of grey sweats and a white shirt, reclined on his sofa. Simplicity looks good on him.

You're still in business casual, tight dress hiked around the top of your thighs as you sit on his floor. It was always your default when you came to his place, for some reason always opting for the floor instead of next to him on the sofa. Always been concerned about keeping a little distance. Funny, how the one time the distance would be apt, you find yourself wanting to sit next to him instead. You don't, though. Not yet, at least.

"What of it?"

Yoongi looks at you like you're a little bit mad. He kind of thinks you are.

"It's on your ring finger."

"Oh?" you say with a small laugh. "Is it?"

His eyes narrow on yours, before they glance back down to the ring. The stone is clear, and if he were to guess, he'd assume it was diamond - but he'd never struck you to be the kind of girl who ever wanted diamonds. Opals, maybe. Emerald, topaz. Stones with a bit about them. Something interesting. Not a diamond. Of all things.

But perhaps he didn't know you as well as he thought he had done. Perhaps you really weren't the girl he had dreamt up in his head; the one that he spent hours upon hours daydreaming about after you left.

Funny, how both he and Jungkook would get lost for lifetimes thinking about you, but they were both so vastly different.

In Yoongi's you'd come back home, show up at the garage like no time at all had passed, and tell him that you were wrong all along. He's the one you want. He's the one you've been going crazy thinking about. He's the one you came back for.

Sometimes he thinks about that week you went to Busan. Thinks about what it could have been like if he'd been the one to take you. Thinks about how fucking good it could have been to experience life outside of the confines of work and your apartments together. He thinks and he thinks and he thinks. Occasionally he acts on those thoughts too, but he tries not to.

It all feels a little wrong.

But that's what he likes about it. The fact he knows he shouldn't be thinking about you when he's turned on just turns him on even more; so he finds himself thinking of you far more often than he should. Thinks of you when he's alone; his bedroom lights switched off, duvet pushed midway down his thighs, hands roaming down his body. He grazes his skin with the tips of his nails. Pretends it's you.

"What about you," you shrug, nodding towards the scrunchie that's looped around the neck of a wine bottle on the counter. "Don't think your hair's long enough for that."

"You'd be surprised," he grins, pleased to find you grinning back.

"Prove it," you flirt, getting to your feet to retrieve it.

Yoongi watches as you retrieve the scrunchie, and knows that he should tell you no.

He should say 'actually, that's my girlfriend's.'

But she's only ever been a distraction to stop him from thinking about you - and how can he think of anyone else when you're in his space, heels off, dark hair draped over your shoulders like fine silk?

In your heart of hearts, you know that the scrunchie means he has someone. The hair grips by the sink, the takeout containers for two next to the recycling, the fact his apartment is actually clean and tidy, too.

"Prove it?" He grins as you return to his sofa, but you don't sit. You stand in front of him. Keep your eyes on him. Wait as he adjusts a little, his leg unhooking from beneath the other so that his lap makes the perfect seat for you to sit upon.

And so you do. You hike your dress up. One of your knees rests down next to his thigh. You're tentative. Slow.

His hand strokes up the back of your thigh. He nods. Encourages you further onto his lap. When your second knee finds its home next to his other thigh, he nods again.

You're smiling as you lower your weight, ass perched on the tops of his thighs. There's a little distance between the pair of you. You're not as close as you could be. Proceeding with caution. His lips pouty, eyes pure. A paradox.

"Prove it," you nod, and your hands start to toy with his hair. He's smiling right back at you, enthralled with the flirt almost as much as he's enthralled with the way it feels to have your nails scratching against his scalp. "Gonna make your hair look so pretty."

It's unfair, he thinks, that you get to have your hands in his hair, but his aren't allowed in yours. Doesn't realise that you wouldn't object.

"Don't think you will," he simpers back, the hand of his that was on the back of your thigh now resting on top of it, stroking ever so gently. The touch is so gentle, so minimal, and yet it has you pulsing beneath the lace of your underwear.

There's a ring on your finger, and someone waiting for you at home, but no one's had you in a position this provocative since you jumped town. See, you're 'waiting'. 'Want it to be special'. Don't want to make the same mistakes you did last time the ring had been on your finger.

Or at least that's what you tell yourself, and your fiance seems to believe it - why else would he get down on one knee again?

"I definitely will," you banter as you wrap his hair up with the scrunchie. His hair sticks on end, like a tiny sprout, and he looks adorable. "Gonna make you look sooo pretty."

He frowns, but with a sparkle in his eyes that let you know he's just joking. "Done?"

"Done," you beam, giving it one final adjustment. There's a slight movement to your hips, too. Getting cosy. His hand sinks a little further up your thigh. You pretend not to notice it. "Prettiest sprout in the whole of Daegu."

"Only Daegu? There are prettier sprouts outside of Daegu?"

You shrug. "Maybe. We should enter you into the national pretty sprout competition."

He adjusts his hips, sitting up a little straighter. He moves you into a more comfortable position as he does so. You're closer now. So much closer.

"Think I could win?"

"Best in show, baby," you grin. "I'd win for best sprout stylist, though."

Laughter echoes around you, his smile so sweet, so saccharine that you think he must surely be made of sugarcane.

The way Yoongi looks at you is devastating. Eyes soft and round, they're glossy and wet. Earnest.

They drop to your lips, then return to your eyes. Repeat. His lashes flutter whenever he does so, and there's a reflection from his floor lamp that looks like a pretty little love heart in them.

So devastating. It's the kind of look people would write films about, all for that one shot of his eyes after the confession scene. The one that will go viral, the one that will be cited for years as 'the look', the one that would earn Min Yoongi a place in the heart of every young woman who watches it. Young men, too. Fuck it, anyone with a pair of working eyes.

He's got a look in them that makes you want to believe in love; but the fact you even have to think about it just proves that this could never be that.

"I'm using you," you tell him, knowing that honesty is all you can really give him. He deserves that much, at the very least. Deserves more, you think, so much more than you can ever be - but he doesn't want more. He just wants you.

He tries a little banter. "To win the competition? I know."

But you don't feel like bantering. You want him to know how much of a piece of shit you are. How much you only ever think of yourself. How selfish you can be.

There's a look on your face that is unfamiliar to him. A warning. I'm a hurricane; I will destroy you. It's one that he ignores.

"I know," he whispers back, seriously this time, his index finger tucking away strands of your hair that are hanging loose. Eyes focused on the movements of his fingers, he's too scared to look into yours. Shy, almost. Timid, and sweet, and everything that Jungkook's not. "And I'm letting you. I'm using you, too."

It's funny, because he really thinks he is. He thinks he's got control over the situation, that all this is happening because he chose for it to happen - as if you haven't been holding the cards this whole entire time. He's only winning because you're letting him win.

Part of you feels bad. You know that his feelings for you run deeper than your simple want to be wanted, and yet you don't try and rectify the situation. He's a grown man. He can make his own decisions. He can make his own mistakes.

The tentative tips of his fingers trail down your cheek, your neck. He pushes your hair over your shoulder, and presses a kiss against it.

His lips trail a little further up, ghosting your neck, occasionally pressing down. He's slow. Takes his time. Savours this; savours you.

You're surprised by the way it feels when Yoongi finally kisses you.

His lips are just as they should be, firm and soft, and when his tongue begins to trail across your bottom lip, you accept it into your mouth. There's silence in your sternum. You had expected that bell to chime like it so often did, but instead, there's just a small fizzle and pop, like a sparkler being dunked in a water cup. You can feel the fizzle, mind you, working its way down until you find yourself clenching.

This is good, you tell yourself. What you need.

Yoongi's tongue is slow as it licks into your mouth. He's working you out. Seeing how you taste, how it feels when your moans vibrate against him.

His hands tentatively begin to roam; hips pulsing beneath you. The weight of your body on top of his feels like a fucking crime. His fingers trail up your back. Tickle at your spine. Curve round your ribs and ghost the underside of your tits.

Your breath hitches, and all you can think about is him.

Your fingers clasp around Yoongi's, holding them in place, stopping them from moving further. He looks at you, head tilting when he realises yours is shaking. He's scared he's fucked it already.

"Just," you say quickly, noticing the panic in his eyes. "These," you gesture to your chest, not wanting to be specific but needing him to know. "Off limits. If that's okay?"

He nods. "Sure, of course. I'm sorry."

"No," you smile. "It's okay."

You could clarify. Could explain. Could make up some lie about how you don't like it, or how you're insecure, but Yoongi accepts your boundaries without question.

"Sure?" He asks, a little scared to venture further. He doesn't want to do the wrong thing. Doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, or make you feel like regretting your choices. He knows that he's probably only ever gonna get one shot at this, but he's gonna treat it like an audition for a permanent position. If he does well, maybe you'll want him again.

His hesitancy is sweet, you think. Endearing. Perhaps a little bit of a turn-off, but you don't seem to mind. You like that you can take of him just as much as he wants to take care of you.

The pace of his hips increases beneath you, your clothes aiding and abetting your crimes. It's not technically cheating if nothing happens. Or at least, that's what you tell yourself.

Sure, his cock is fucking solid beneath his sweats, trapped in the confines of his underwear, and - fuck it, fine - maybe you are so wet that you're leaving a small mark on his crotch from where it's seeped through - but it's nothing.

It's not like you're actually touching his dick. Your hands are exclusively in his hair, his pretty sprout long gone, the scrunchie now around your wrist.

And it's not like he's inside you, either - although he wishes he was. In fact, he's thinking about it when he begins whining into your mouth. Your hips are working against him, the friction getting you closer and closer an-

"God, you're gonna make- fuck, I'm gonna-" he rasps, but he doesn't slow his movements. His hands are on your waist, dictating the speed at which you're moving on top of him. He's using you just as much as you're using him.

"Cum?" You finish his sentence with a sinful smirk against him. Your tongue flicks against his, and he's whining again. You're so direct, so blasé, that he doesn't know how to control himself. "Don't pretend like it's the first time, Yoongi."

See, Yoongi doesn't fuck like Jungkook.

Yoongi fucks nice girls. Girls who fuck for love. Girls who rarely fuck. Girls who do as they should; sit pretty, let the man have his way with them, and ask for nothing in return. Girls who are prudish, and refuse to discuss sex unless they're about to have it.

More often than not, Yoongi goes for girls who love him.

And it's probably why he's so fixated on you; because he knows you never will.

You're unattainable. Good girl gone bad. Sultry and seductive in a way that he's never seen before.

He ruts up against you, chest heaving as his grip on your waist forces you to angle a little further away from him. He shakes his head ever so slightly, lips hanging ajar. "Not the first time. Course it fucking isn't. Look at you."

And now you're fucking whining. He likes the reciprocation. Makes him feel like you want this just as much as he does - and you do. There's nothing you want more at that moment than to have Yoongi twitching in his underwear, unloading himself all because of you. You want the control. The power. The satisfaction.

You want a man weak for you, to make up for how weak a man had made you feel. You want confirmation that Jungkook was nothing special. That you can have the same impact on any man.

And here Yoongi is, hard beneath the weight of your body, your pussy hot against his stiff crotch; body clammy as he pretends like the scrunchie around your wrist doesn't belong to a girl who bakes him homemade tangerine tarts, just because. He isn't thinking about her. He's utterly consumed by you. He'll feel bad about it after you leave, but for now, he's just thinking of ways he can make you stay.

"Slow," you tell him, placing your hand against his chest, just below his ribs. You both ignore your ring just like you both ignore the scrunchie. He's just as corrupt as you are. Maybe you're a good match. Maybe you can be each other's favourite mistakes.

You shuffle back a little; ass perched on his knees, eyes looking at his crotch as your palm follows your gaze. It's not hard to get a read on his size beneath his sweats. They're a pale grey, but there's a telling dark stain where you've been sitting.

"Shit," he hisses. "We can't- I can't. I want to - fucking hell, I really do - but I can't."

"I know," you nod. "That's not what I'm after."

The way you smile as you say it has Yoongi thinking he might just cum right there and then. You're fucking with his head - but what bothers him the most is how much he likes it.

"What are you after, then?" he asks as he feels your hand squeeze around his length. He groans, head tipping back against the top of his sofa. The way his hips pulse is involuntary, and it has sin lacing your smile.

"Just wanna adjust you slightly," you shrug. You want his cock laying flat against his body. It's kind of at an angle now, and while it feels great to grind down on, you know it will be even better if you can work up and down his shaft a little easier. Better for you both.

He bites down on his lip to hold back another moan and nods when you release the pressure of your palm.

"You wanna move it, or shall I?" you ask, not wanting to overstep a boundary.

"I'll do it," he says, hand dipping beneath his waistband without hesitation. It's not cheating if he does it, he rationalises. It is cheating if you do it. He's decided, that's his limit. As long as you don't actually touch his cock, then it's fine. He hasn't given the kissing much thought because he doesn't want to stop doing it.

He looks at you as he strokes his cock, just a couple of times. Just enough to make you wish it was your lips around it, not his hand. You can't see anything - it's still hidden by his sweats - but the adjustment just makes the outline so much clearer. So much bigger.

"This okay?" he asks, almost nervously. Eyes darting around your face to get a read.

You nod. "Perfect."

His hands find your waist again, and he pulls you further up his lap. He holds you in place as he slowly pushes up against you. Your hand snakes behind his neck, the other clasping one of his wrists. Your nails dig in; a moan stuttering from your pouty lips.

"That feel better?" he checks, but your reaction was all he needed to confirm it.

Still, you're notoriously the worst - and so you smirk. Lean forward. Subtly move your hips as you do so. Press a chaste kiss against his neck. Whisper, "I'm not sure. You'll have to try again."

He's even slower this time. Deeper. You shouldn't be doing this, Yoongi.

And yet he does it again. Groans. Curses. "You make me so hard."

You can't help but laugh. He's sweet. Nice to be with. "You're welcome."

It's the giggle that gets him.

Sweet? Nice? Yeah, fuck that.

His hips get erratic. The speed, the pace. Jesus H. Christ. It's a good job you aren't fucking because you think he'd actually break you. You know he'd kiss it better, so it's okay - but now you're thinking of his tongue and how badly you want his head between your legs.

"Wait for me," you whine into his lips, as your hand dips towards your clothed cunt. It's so warm and wet that it's a miracle Yoongi hasn't stripped you bare just to have the luxury of experiencing it.

You both know this is a one-and-done kind of thing. One time can be classed as a mistake. A lapse in judgement. Forgiveness will be far easier. Repeat offences? Well, they're a pattern. Guaranteed to reoccur. It'd be an affair, for lack of a better term.

Yoongi was raised better. You weren't, but that's neither here nor there.

With your dress hiked up around your hips, it's almost cruel how easily Yoongi could access your pussy if he really wanted to. Has been resisting the temptation. The lace of your underwear - black and barely there - leaves little to the imagination. He's salivating at the sheer thought of how you could taste. He can smell your arousal, and thinks you must be some kind of delicacy.

His brain is playing tricks on him. Making him feel like he hasn't eaten for weeks. What he wouldn't give to have you in his mouth right now.

It's out of bounds, though. He can't.

But he can match the rhythm of his hips to the pace you're rubbing languid circles against your clothed cunt, right above the hood of your clit.

And again, he wants it in his mouth.

He needs a distraction. Something. Anything. Feels your grip on the back of his neck and decides that's it.

"Throat," he husks. "Put your hand around my throat."

The sound Yoongi makes when you do as he's asked, nails digging into his skin ever so slightly, is unlike anything you've ever heard before. It's desperate, unrestrained. Pathetic. So fucking hot.

But you're both mewling now, bodies clammy beneath your clothes.

It hits you first; the wave of an orgasm crashing down over you, taking Yoongi with it. Your body shakes on top of his, teeth biting down into his shoulder as hands squeeze your ass so tightly you think it might bruise.

Good. Would be nice to have the mark of someone else on your skin for once.

He folds almost as fast as you do. He's quiet as he cums, not minding that your grip on his throat had dropped. There's no announcement, no prewarning, he just lets his body fall into the familiar notion of what it feels like to experience euphoria because of you. Breath hitched, cock spurting into his underwear, Yoongi's head lolls. His eyes are half-mooned, lips resting ajar, looking directly at you as he cums.

It's sordid. Dirty. Forbidden. Your favourite kind of sexual exploit - but Yoongi is a willing participant. Wanting.

His hair is a little ruffled from your hands, body limp and docile from his release. He makes no objection as your frill his hair with a smile. He does eye you a little curiously as you begin to tie his hair back up with that damn scrunchie again. He's glad it's off your wrist. Felt guilty looking at it.

You tilt your head, eyes expansive and inquisitive as a smile prevails. "Prettiest sprout in Daegu."

And he really is; honey skin all pink and clammy, eyes glossy, a smile forming on his pouty lips. But he's also not stupid. He knows you're just trying to pretend like what just happened never did.

It's the sensible thing to do - but fuck, he's been thinking about that (or at least some variation of it) for months. Years, even. Against his better judgement, he steals a chaste kiss from your lips. "Prettiest sprout maker in Daegu."

The bashful shake of your head, the way your cheeks apple, the sound of your fucking giggle, all confirm it for him.

"Shut up."

"Don't think I can," he grins, satisfied to have finally gotten you like this. And then he kisses you again, because he knows full well that very soon he won't be able to. "Why the fuck did we never do that before?"

You wrap your arms around his neck and simper into his kiss. It's nice to be wanted. Nice to have someone want you just for the sake of wanting you. Nice to use someone instead of being used. There's no ulterior motive with Yoongi; just bad timing. That's all.

"'Cause we'd have never got any work done at the garage if we knew how good it felt," you hum, voice light and airy. He's missed you in the months you've been away. "Would have spent all our time in the stock room."

"You did that anyways," he laughs, pressing kisses down your neck. "Fucking slacker."

His lips stop beneath your collarbones, just shy of your chest, mindful of the boundary you set earlier.

"You never complained," you remind him. "You loved it."

He shakes his head. Doesn't deny it. Just grins.

And that's when the guilt starts to creep in for you, too.

Yoongi's one of the good ones. Hair tied up all cute and silly just because you wanted to do it. There's safety to be found when you're sitting in his lap. He'd never fuck you over. Never.

But you've twisted his arm, and made him fuck over some other poor girl. You know it's gonna eat at him - because he's a good person. Far better than you are.

"Hey," you say quietly. "I should get going."

"It's late," he replies, his deep voice a similar dulcet volume to yours. He's mirroring you. It's cute. "You can take my bed. I'll sleep on the couch again. Like last time."

The way he tacks that last sentence on is so delicate. So pure. Proof that you can trust him. It's tried and tested. Customer approved. Trip Advisor recommended.

In your heart of hearts, you know you don't deserve another minute of his company. You look down. Choke on your words a little. Shake your head. "Wouldn't wanna put you out."

You've a home to get to.

"It's no bother," he smiles.

You know leaving will hurt him, but fear staying will do more damage.

And again, you've a home to get to.

"Stay," he says.

"I can't," you whisper. Nudge your nose against his. Let your lips linger a little too close. Don't press down until he does. And then you kiss him like you really mean it. You think you do. "I'm sorry."

The worst thing about Yoongi is the way he smiles. It's innocent, even if what you just did wasn't. Sincere. Compassionate. You know he's only thinking about you - but there are other people in this equation. You reach for the scrunchie. It pulls from his hair with ease - a testament to how he feels about his short-lived romance. It doesn't matter though, as you pick up his wrist and place the scrunchie around it.

He looks at it; at your nails and how they clasp his hand so delicately. He squeezes them. Nods. Purses his lips, takes in the shine of your ring, then looks at you. "I'm sorry, too."

You're not sure what for. For not acting sooner? For not asking you on a date all those months ago? For the fact he moved on when you moved away?

"It's cool," you say and try a sincere smile back. He sees right through it. "We're cool."

"We are?"

"We are."

Yoongi calls you a cab. You've had too much wine to risk getting pulled over. The scandal your father would face as the result of you getting a DUI isn't worth it at this point. You've a role to play. A home to get to before the sun rises.

And despite it all, he kisses you goodbye.

"Better not go rogue again," he tells you.

All you can do is smile. "No promises."

────────────

When your fiancé calls through to the master bathroom - letting you know he's off to work - you pretend you can't hear him. There's a shuffle by the door as he waits for a reply, but when he doesn't get one, he assumes you're beneath the water.

Easy enough mistake.

You've been too busy staring at your reflection for upwards of ten minutes, trying to assess who the fuck is staring back at you. The marble countertops are cold beneath your hands, the shower running freely, 'cause you're not the one footing the bill. Your fiancé is.

You don't feel bad about the fact you're quite literally pouring his cash down the drain. There's enough money to cover it - but of course there is. Despite his well-to-do salary man image, his main income comes under the table. It's illicit, but so is everything in the world you'd left behind all those years ago.

The man who put a ring on your finger is on your father's payroll. Has been since he turned eighteen. Is following in his own father's footsteps.

It's all very sweet, when you come to think about it - what kid doesn't look up to their father? You sure had.

You, the daughter of a political figurehead; he, the son of the Chief of Police.

It's what made you such a great couple from the get-go.

Was kind of like the fairytales your mother would read to you before bed. You wonder now if she was trying to ingrain the idea of such a suitor from your early childhood. Get her ideal man embedded in your brain before it even had a chance to fully develop.

Your fiancé is a little older than you are, so they had to buy time. Make sure no relationship between the pair of you could be scandalised.

Once you were of age, it seemed to be a match made in heaven. The stuff of Shakespeare plays.

It was only natural that you would end up together. Set in stone. You'd marry and become an unstoppable force for your parents. The city would remain theirs.

Thing is, you never wanted to be a character in a Shakespeare romance. You always thought it'd be fruitless. They all end up the victims of great tragedies, anyways.

What you had wanted was to be the muse of a sonnet. Have a man dote on you; write you poetry under the glare of sweltering summer heat. Someone who'd make metaphors out of the condensation on cans of chilsung, consumed together down by your favourite spot along the river. He'd mumble nonsense about the smell of your hair and how he'd long to touch you with his ink-stained fingertips.

As you grew, you began to favour motor oil over ink. Hardly a surprise that you'd been suckered by a motor-loving swine with ink etched into his knuckles. You tend not to think about how gentle those hands of his could be. He'd been everything you had ever wanted wrapped into one. Tied with a pretty red bow.

Now, you think you'll be lucky if you make it to the footnotes of a political history book.

You shower. Take a little longer than normal to rinse the grimey feeling of betrayal from your skin. It'll never leave. Not really. Lodged beneath too many layers of skin.

It's not like you had gone to Yoongi's with the intention of letting things get that far. A little flirt, sure, something harmless - but it was just so lovely to have choices. So nice to be able to choose someone who is also choosing you, even if just for a moment. A lapse in time; in judgement.

Your fiancé never chose you. He chose the path of least resistance from his parents, and you just so happened to be crossing the same road as him.

He's tall. The full cliche - dark, handsome. Had been your first 'love' before you knew what love actually was. First everything. First boy to cheat on you, too, but you mother just told you all men were cheaters. Nothing to get your knickers in a twist about. Your father was leading by example.

So even though you're in his apartment, wearing clothes washed in his detergent, helping yourself to snacks he bought, you know not to be too comfortable. Not to convince yourself he actually wants this relationship for anything other than his own political gain.

He's banking on a promotion. Not within his career, but within your father's corruption. You're an asset.

And him? Well, to state it plainly, he's an ass.

He's also definitely fucking his secretary, but it's not like he's getting lucky with you so you don't care all that much. She was in the picture before you. Or at least, while you were away. It's been a few years since you were last here. Enough time for something to blossom. Poor thing probably actually loves him. You doubt it's reciprocated.

The ring on your finger is nothing more than a political move; a safety net for the man who had held had refused to pawn it after you left the first time. You'd been a diamond girl, back then. Had been a different person entirely.

You're sat on his sofa, twiddling at your ring, garbage reality shows play on his obnoxiously large television screen, when he pops home towards the end of his lunch break.

He seems agitated. Doesn't really greet you. Is looking for a casefile he'd left at home this morning.

"Think they're by the bed," you hum, vaguely aware of flicking through them this morning after he'd left.

Petty convenience store robbery, nothing really to write home about. You scoff at the cases he's been assigned, as if he were still a rookie. He's been on the force for years. He should be investigating major crimes. Murders. Narcotics. Corruption.

Then again, he'd end up investigating all of his friends if he did those cases. Must be better for him to stay away.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he dismisses as he rushes on through.

There's a slight waft of perfume as he passes you. It becomes clear why he decided to cram the document retrieval into the last ten minutes of his lunch break. You find yourself wondering if you had smelt like Yoongi when you'd arrived home the night before.

"You picking up the car this afternoon?"

Shit. The car.

"Yeah." Your capability of making lies sound like bible truth is commendable. A skill. Talent. "Was just about to go."

"Okay, good. You gonna be near Kang's? I need some more oil."

You're silent for a moment. Think of which lovely little lie to tell. Settle on, "Jieun lives not too far from it. I can pop by."

He hums something in response. You think it might be a thank you but he doesn't care to articulate it properly. It's not till he walks back to the living area that you realise he's still talking. "-actually be good for you to get out of the house. You can't mope around here all day."

You scowl. Look at him with genuine disdain. "Sorry?"

"I'm just saying," he shrugs, a look on his face as if he genuinely thinks he's not being a dick. "You can't be out all hours at night - and before you say it, I don't care if it's just at Jieun's, I have a work schedule I have to sleep for - and then spend all day doing nothing."

This time, you stay silent.

You don't think he's wrong, but he's also the one who had given you terms and conditions when he put that ring back on your finger. No GS25 was one of them. No university either, which is what you'd really wanted to do; actually educate yourself on business affairs, so that it wasn't all bullshit when you were dealing with the hooligans from Kang's.

But no. To be welcomed back into the fold was to be restricted; prevented from doing things that would garner you any further independence.

"While I'm at Kang's, I'll see if they've got any jobs going," you say. The garage in front of the boxing club would actually be the perfect place for you to work while you figured out your next move. You also know there's no way in hell it would ever be given the green light.

"Working for your father's political rival?" he scoffs, not taking you seriously for a second.

"Says the man who wants me to buy oil from there," you scoff right back. "But fine, I can go back to GS2-"

"No. Your father said-"

"You think I give a rat's arse what my father said?"

"Your father said to keep a low profile until he can justify another job opening in the mayoral office."

"Joy. Can't wait," you say as he walks to the door. He's out of it without even so much as a goodbye when you mumble, "You might be his bitch, Hoseok, but I'm not."

Realistically, the conversation had been done as soon as you mentioned getting a job.

It's on the list of 'No Can Do' activities, set in place by your father to keep his political appearance clean. No job, no school, no clubs, nothing worthy of a scandal. Nothing that could be used against him. He might have won the last election, but Kang came pretty fucking close to stealing it from him. He needs to gain back the favour of his people.

It takes well over an hour to get to Kang's by foot from the city center apartment you're in, so you head to the nearest bus station. Figure you'll just hop on the 503. Will try not to think about Jungkook when you do so.

You're dressed down, a slouchy jumper over a pair of jeans fading you into obscurity. Nothing special. You know you should really make more of an effort to keep up appearances, but you're tired. Exhausted. Not physically, but mentally.

Your old life is draining you.

There had been method to your madness: you'd returned 'home' for a reason.

Part of you wishes you hadn't. Wishes you'd have gone straight to Kangs.

But you needed an 'in', and to be honest, you needed protection. You play a mean game of poker, and your bluff has been perfected, but behind the poker face, you're scared. Of your reality. Of your father. Of the men who dwell in Kang's boxing club.

And so you'd needed to get your ducks in a row before you stepped foot into Kang's. Couple of months was all it had taken for your family to be convinced that your reckless youth had been outgrown; for a ring to be back on your finger.

You find yourself thinking about Jungkook; what it could have been like if you'd have met him before... well, before everything.

You think about your life as a teenager - privileged, affluent. Think about his hardships, and how you could have tried to help. Your father never would have listened to you, but you could have a least appealed to his sense of humanity. Could have tried to stop the funding cuts. Probably could have extorted your father; used his mistakes against him.

Instead, you'd distanced yourself. Changed your legal name as soon as you could because you knew that, eventually, you'd want to run. Would want to remove yourself from any position of influence.

It's why you never could have helped Jungkook. You had been running from the very thing he needed: power, influence, money. At the time, they'd been meaningless to you. Not meant for you, you thought - though you're doing rather well cosplaying as Daddy's little princess again.

As you make your way across town, you notice how bad the air quality is once more - heavy in your lungs, drying your eyes out.

You make your way to Yoongi's, and for a moment, it feels like nothing has changed. Like you're just going to hang out on a day off. You'll gossip about the boss, maybe make theories on why Jieun had called in sick the week before.

But when Yoongi opens his apartment door, he wants to look like he's ambivalent about your arrival. Indifferent. Unphased. Can't help but smile, though.

"Twice in twelve hours?" he says. "Really making up for lost time, aren't you?"

You roll your eyes, because there's an innuendo lacing his words and you're not sure what to make of it. Both of you are sober, now, not a drop of wine left in your systems and yet... you kind of feel like you are a little tipsy.

Your skin is clammy, heart beating a little faster than it should be. Just the air quality, you tell yourself. Harder to breathe. Yeah, just the air. Just the pollution, baby.

Funny, how it's Jungkook's voice in your head again.

But Yoongi's heart is doing the just same. Can't blame it on the air.

He knows last night was wrong, but the adrenaline rush that had come with giving himself up for you made him feel like he'd digested enough uppers to kill a man. Swallowed them whole. Chased a high he'd never reached before. Nirvana. Purgatory disguised as paradise.

"Look, Yoongi I-" You begin, but he interrupts you. Knows the tone of voice you're using. Doesn't want to hear it.

"Don't," he says, opening his door a little wider to invite you in.

You hesitate, but when he knocks his head back, eyes half-mooned as they drink you in, you can't refuse. He nods to the sofa, where you take a seat, shoes off, feet up, legs crossed.

He stands by the wall opposite you, keeping a little distance. Looks down - but then right back up and into your eyes as he says, "You've only just got here. Don't treat me like I was a mistake already."

There's silence as you look at one another. Your lips rest ajar, a million thoughts fighting it out to be spoken first.

"You weren't."

You're not sure you believe it, but you want him to. Don't want him feeling like you regret him.

"No?" He says, dark but deliriously honest; not only how they drink you in, but how they also pour out for you. The windows to his soul are open, curtains wafting in the breeze. He's inviting you in. Offering you a home. "Why does it feel like you were about to say that it was?"

Because you were.

Not because you thought it was a mistake for you; but because it was a mistake for him. The scrunchie has been hidden away, and his take-out for two containers have been left out for the recycling collection. He's testing out what it could be like, you think. What it could be like to have you in his space.

"I can't give you what you need," you say quietly, avoiding eye contact. You'd expected a little more small talk before jumping to the hard hitters, but Yoongi's been striking out for years. He's making the most of your defence being down.

"Can't, or won't?"

"Both," you feign a half smile. "Even if I wanted to, Yoongi, I don't think I could. I'm not made for you people like you."

"And what am I like?"

"Good," you speak so softly he can't help but smile. "Deserving of more."

He just shrugs. Doesn't hide his hurt. "What if I don't want more?"

"Yoongi-"

And then his hurt takes precedence; obscures any whispers in his mind that tell him not to do... well, do whatever the fuck this is. He's waited years for a green light from you. Instead, you'd raced through amber the night before. Looks red now. He just wants fucking green.

"I don't want more."

"Yoongi."

He looks down. Shakes his head.

When his gaze meets yours again, the windows are shut - but the curtains are still drawn open wide. It's dark inside. Lights are off, but there's somebody home. They're waiting for you to come home, too.

He walks a little closer to the sofa. "Tell me you didn't want me last night."

You're so good at lying. Have mastered it. And yet-

"That's not fair."

Why aren't you lying to him? You can be cold. You can be callous. You're perfectly capable of treating the ones you love like they mean nothing more than the shit beneath your shoes, and yet it's hard to do it with Yoongi. Hard to tell him anything he doesn't want to hear. He deserves the earth, you think, and yet all you're giving him is dirt that will get trapped beneath his nails.

"Tell me you didn't," he repeats, standing a little taller now. His shoulders are broad. Powerful. You'd be safe with Yoongi. Would want for nothing. "Tell me you didn't want me last night."

You look down. Shake your head.

Shame is a funny feeling. Fools you into thinking you should be honest.

"I can't."

Yoongi doesn't smile. Just nods. "Because you want me, too."

"Not for the right reasons, Yoongi," you stress, hoping he'll see sense.

"Who gives a fuck about the right reasons?"

"You will."

"I won't."

"When you ruin what's good for you because of something I can't give you, then you'll give a fuck," you tell him. The hairband might be hidden but there's half a tangerine tart left in his fridge and a concert ticket she bought for him taped on the door of it. His life is good. He doesn't need you storming through it like a summer typhoon. "I am nothing. I can give you nothing."

And then Yoongi does something all rather unexpected.

He smirks.

Toys at the corner of his lips with his tongue. Crosses his arms and raises his brow. "You gave me yourself last night."

"I gave you my body," you correct him, getting to your feet. Nothing good will happen from this conversation. You just need to get your keys and go. There's an urgency to your movements, heading towards the kitchen section of his open planing living space. Your keys will be on the hook where he keeps his own, you're sure. "Look, I've got-"

Your movements are halted as Yoongi reaches for your hand. Pulls you round. Walks you back until your ass is against the kitchen cupboards. You're looking up at him. The closeness of your bodies is intentional. Orchestrated by him; allowed by you. His voice is low as he says, "That's not nothing."

"But it's not enough," you stress, and you absolutely mean it. "I'm engaged to be married, Yoongi."

"And I'm already going to hell," he whispers, resting his forehead against yours. You don't stop him. "So I may as well have fun with it."

This is a side to him that you've never seen before. One that screams danger. Either he's learnt what you like in a man, or maybe he's just been hiding this part of him. He's tried being perfect, has seen it doesn't work. Maybe this is the real Min Yoongi.

"Yoongi," you say with little thought as his nose nudges against yours.

"Mhmm?" he hums back. His lips ghost yours. Your heart is beating out of your chest. One of his hands is flat against the kitchen counter as the other brushes up the curve of your waist.

You shake your head. The movement only causes the friction of your lips to tenfold. "If this happens, it doesn't mean anything."

He smiles against you. Shakes his head. Presses his lips against yours. One, two, remember to breathe. Pulls away. "It means everything."

You've always been a sucker for men who speak in definitive terms.

But you know how dangerous they can be, now. Know not to trust their words.

"We're not on the same page," you say. At least this way, you can't be accused of leading him on.

"We're not even reading the same damn book," Yoongi smiles against you. Kisses you again. Pulls away before you're ready for him to do so. "But does it really matter if they both have the same ending?"

And then you kiss him. It's soft. Tender. So sweet and gentle compared to the hardness of your heart. "It's not a happy ending."

"So close it, then," Yoongi says, pulling away from you a little. He's giving you the chance to leave. To get out. Escape. "Close your book. Stop this from happening."

But then you're kissing him again, and his tongue is in your mouth and - fuck - it's so nice to feel someone touch you with such intent. You know this is more than something casual, know that you've cared for Yoongi for too long for it not to have stemmed from nothing, but there's no permanence. It's terrifying and soothing all within the same swipe of his tongue against yours.

"One last chance," he says, lips so close to yours that he may as well be sending you telepathic messages. "Close your book if you want to."

It's shameful, the way you shake your head. Keep your eyes closed. Swallow. "But I wanna know what happens next."

Must sound like music to Yoongi's ears. He kisses you so deeply you think you may suffocate.

"What happens next is up to you," he moans into your lips, his nimble fingers pushing the button of your jeans through its fastening. "But it starts with this."

The sound of your breath is heavy. It soundtracks the murmur of your jeans zip being pushed down. Doesn't hide the way he curses against your lips.

"Yoongi," you whisper, eyes closing to stop yourself from catching his gaze.

His lips press against your throat, his dexterous fingers toying with the lace of your underwear. He knows he shouldn't. Knows that there's no taking this back. Knows he's fucking everything up - but he's played it safe for so fucking long and where has that ever gotten him before?

"Yoongi, I-" you try again, but his tongue strokes against your neck, teeth grazing it ever so scarcely. His fingers sink into your jeans. Press on your clit above your underwear. It has you gasping for air. He eases his pressure, then reapplies. Repeats. Your hips move languidly against his movements. You want this. Want him.

Want to feel like you're actually loved.

"Say the word, and I'll stop," he promises.

But you just shake your head.

"No?"

"No."

"Don't stop?"

He presses his fingers against you. Circles. Once, twice. God, it feels so fucking good to have him touch you like this. Has you mewling. "Don't stop."

"I won't. I'll make you feel so good," he husks against your neck. "You know I can do it. Know I can make you feel better than anyone else ever has."

The promise is pointed; directed at Jungkook. You hate that you're thinking about him. Hate that as you tug on Yoongi's hair, his fingers still pressing against your clothed cunt, it's Jungkook's face in your mind. His smirk, how he loved watching you come undone, how he comes undone.

And so you open them. Focus on Yoongi. Tell him how good he's already making you feel. Tell him how you've thought about this before.

It's not a lie. Admittedly, it was before Jungkook had ever come onto the scene, when you and Yoongi were still dancing that awkward line of flirting or friends. You'd settled on different sides, but, for a while, you contemplated what could happen if you chose the same side as him. Spent a couple of late nights imagining how he'd feel.

He's more delicate than you ever expected. Gentler. Softer.

"Is that what you want?" You moan as his lips yours, nails scratching up his throat, remembering how much he'd liked it the night before. He whines a little into the kiss. "Wanna make me feel good?"

He nods. "Wanna be the reason you cum."

His hands sink further into your jeans. Slip beneath your underwear. You're like fucking silk on his fingertips. Incredibly sodden silk, but silk nonetheless. Exquisite.

Yoongi presses his body into yours, and you can feel his bulge against your tummy. No matter how badly you appear to want him, he wants you more. Always has done.

What a devastating achievement this is. Yoongi finally has the girl he's wanted in the palm of his hand, lungs stuttering her chest - but it's tarnished.

All he ever wanted was to love you. Not to fuck you. Sure, it'd be an inevitable side-effect, not one he'd ever complain about, but this just... wasn't how he'd envisioned it.

He's not sure that he could classify what he feels now as love. It's something quite similar, yes, but it's tainted. The waters he's treading are murky, as if something could pull him under at any time. A little bit of seaweed, maybe, wrapping up around his ankle, seeping up his legs like the ribbons of ballet shoes, pulling him down to dance on the ocean floor.

He'd let it, he thinks, if it meant he got to dance with you.

It's when your hands creep to the top of his trousers that he knows he's won. Knows that you do want this, too. Want him.

The second your hand wraps around his length, warm and stiff in your palm, he's ready.

You'd come undone with one another the night before. Used each other. It was self-serving. Self-gratifying. But now?

He's going to be the reason you come undone. His movements. His hands. Him. All him.

The way he guides you through his apartment is sweet. Careful, and gentle; his back is to the walls just in case he knocks into them. Keeps you protected.

And that's exactly what Yoongi is; a safety net.

But as he gets you on his bed - gets you undressed, gets his lips in places he only could have dreamt of, his tongue on your skin, teeth nipping - it's easy to forget that the safety net is still suspended a few meters above ground. You're not entirely secure.

The way Yoongi cradles your jaw makes you think you are, though. He always asks permission. Never takes a chance. Is vocal not for the sake of it, but to make sure that you always have an out. He wants this, wants you, but only because he's convinced you want him too.

Let me eat your pussy, baby. Is that okay? Will you turn over for me? That's it. God, yeah like that. You're so fucking good at that. Wait, wait- no. I'll cum. Don't wanna cum yet. Sit on my face. Shut up, no, I don't care. Maybe I want you to suffocate me. God. Taste so fucking good. That's it. Grind. On my face, baby. All over it. Look at how hard you made me.

And how can you refuse his requests?

Yoongi doesn't hide what he likes. Likes you. Likes you on top. Your hand around his throat. The way your nails feel against his skin. Would really like for you to leave a mark but he always grabs onto your hand whenever he thinks that you might. It's a reminder: his body isn't yours.

His heart might be, but who cares about that?

You don't, clearly, and so nor does he. He'll take what you give him.

And what a gift it is; clammy bodies, dulcet moans, whines of his name.

Yoongi's thought about this so many times, but he's never realised how good it would feel; what it would be like to hear you giggle while he's pushing himself inside you. Had never realised that you'd kiss his temples when he bottoms out, or that you'd whisper his name like a fucking bible verse. Never considered that you'd be so tight around him that he'd spend a fair while warming his cock inside of you, kissing you slowly as you adjust to his size. Never thought you'd taste so sweet, sound so serene.

Never thought he'd get this.

But he did.

And so now he gets it. Gets why that blonde-haired prick couldn't stay away. Gets why he wanted Yoongi to know how well he'd been fucking you - because now it's the only thing Yoongi wants to do, too.

Wants you. Wants you. Wants you.

Wants you in his bed, on his floor, in his shower. Wants you in the GS25 stock room, wants you out back in one of the cars he's working on. Wants you in every way he can get you.

Wishes he hadn't taken so long to act on it.

Because he knows that he can never really have you, now.

It's why he's letting himself indulge on this occasion. He knows what he's doing is wrong, but as far as he can see it, it's a once in a lifetime. He'll never get the chance again.

Never get you sat on his cock like you are now, never get to watch the light that peaks through his half-closed blinds illuminating your features, never get your cheeks all rosy and dimpled like this ever again. Never gonna hold your bare hips as you grind against him, never gonna pull on your wrist to bring your chest flat to his, never gonna kiss you through another orgasm.

But for now, he does. Bucks his hips, whines your name, tells you he's there, tells you - oh god, like that, baby - he's gonna cum. Fuck.

And so you meet him there. Rub delicate circles on your swollen cunt, bringing yourself to release just when he does. The thin layer of latex between you protects you from becoming his, but it all feels the same. The way your heart beats. The way he kisses you. It all feels the fucking same.

His arms wrap around your back. Hold you tightly. A kiss is pressed into your shoulder; up your neck.

The guilt that you expect to arrive never comes.

It will do, eventually - but much later on. His will come in the depths of the night, when he's sleeping beside his girlfriend, too much of a coward to tell her that he's betrayed her.

You think yours will come in the cold light of day a few months from now, when you finally let your brain process everything you've been through.

He tells you he's sorry, cock still buried inside of you, and you shake your head. Tell him you're sorry, too.

"What if I don't forgive you?" He teases, trying to lighten the mood - but you almost think he means it.

"Good," you smile. "It would be good if you don't."

You trace the vein that runs down his arm, and forge some faux sense of intimacy. You're playing house, but you can't play forever. Always have to go back to reality at some point.

This point comes half an hour later; Yoongi shirtless in a pair of sweats, leaning against his door frame toying with loose strands of your hair. He wants to kiss you. "Do you regret it?"

You want to kiss him, too. "Do you?"

The way you ask is so light and airy that Yoongi still feels like he's floating. The only thing he wants to weigh him down is your body on his.

"No."

Your want is growing too large, so you look down to avoid his gaze. Yoongi notices a lash on your cheek. A wish. He should reach for it. Collect it on his thumb, tell you to blow it away.

But he already knows what you'll wish for. Who.

And so he doesn't give you the chance. Hopes the wind will steal it from you.

"Don't be a stranger," he tells you as you go. His lips are plump, annoyed with his brain at the lack of kisses stolen from you before you left.

You lie. Tell him that you won't be. Say you'll see him soon.

Both of you know that you won't.

And it's only confirmed when you get into your car - breath heavy, eyes warm, tears verging - and you spot fucking Jieun walking up the road towards Yoongi's apartment. She's carrying a punnet of tangerines. Wears her hair tied into a half ponytail like you used to do.

This. Now. Yeah, this is when the guilt comes.

It makes so much fucking sense. Of course they'd have ended up together without you in the way to fuck everything up like you're so bloody good at. You wait until she's inside his apartment complex to start the car up, and fucking pray that Yoongi's gone to freshen up, that he's hidden the condom in the trash, that his lips won't taste like you.

Oh god, it's all so fucked.

"What have I done?" You berate yourself, head resting on the top of your steering wheel.

Whatever has happened has happened. You can't take it back. Nor can Yoongi. Just a fact of life now: Min Yoongi has fucked you. And you've fucked his life up.

You dart through town, giving little to no shit about the speed limits nor the unwritten rules of the roads, and find yourself cleaning tears off your cheeks with the back of your hand. You're not crying, not really. Not intentionally. It's just kind of happening.

That's your excuse for everything these days. It just happened.

The radio is off, and the roads are smooth beneath your tyres, but everything just feels so fucking loud. The engine barely makes a rumble but it feels like it's roaring at you. Screaming.

And then you are, too.

Screaming at the world; why it had to be this way. Why you're incapable of making good decisions. Why you couldn't have just stayed in Busan with the boy who'd stained you red with the colour of his love that ended up being nothing more than a little lie.

By the time you get to Kang's, you really are sobbing. It's in the way your shoulders shake; chest tightens. That's the issue with going back to your family. You're a frightened little girl all over again. Out of your depth. No fucking clue what you're doing. Just trying to feel something. Anything. Anyone.

For a moment, it had worked. And now everything is broken again.

You twist the keys in the ignition; let the engine cool before you pull yourself together. Pull down the sun visor, check yourself in the mirror. Check for signs of weakness. Grab a little lipstick from the centre console. Your eyes aren't all that bad. There's a little blush on your face, but there's plausible deniability. If anyone questions if you've been crying, you can blame it on windburn. Or tell them to fuck off and mind their own business. One of the two.

A deep breath settles in your sternum. You're not who you were a minute ago. You can do this.

Shoulders rolled back, you hold your head high as you enter the boxing club. The TV is playing in the background, Seokjin and Namjoon sat up by the sofas. They're surprised to see you, but it's not entirely out of the blue. They knew you'd be back.

Jimin clocks you as he's grabbing a water, and nods. You don't nod back.

And despite the fact you refuse to look at him as you enter the boxing club, Jungkook knows.

He's not entirely sure of what he knows, he's just aware of the fact you aren't quite yourself. There's an elegance to how you carry yourself and now is just the same, but... there's something. He can't pinpoint it. Can't figure it out.

But of course he can't.

It's a matter of the heart, not the mind.

In the same vein, it's not a matter at all. He doesn't care about you. Not like that. Doesn't give a shit if you're hurting, or if you're upset, or if someone has been unkind but-

Oh, fuck it.

He does care. He does, he does, he does. He cares so much. So, so much. So much that it feels like his heart has been ripped from his chest just looking at you. There's blood pooling all around him. Kids fucking dance in it like puddles. You watch from afar with a smile and a shrug, holding his still beating heart in your hands. You did this, love.

Jungkook closes his eyes. Shakes the image from his head. Tells himself to stay off the hallucinogenics for awhile.

His eyes find you again as you walk towards Seokjin. Jungkook is down by the bags, unwrapping his hands after a heavy session. There's sweat gleaming on his skin, staining pretty patterns down the back of his shirt. He's pleased you'd arrived now. Knows he looks like shit, but also knows how much you liked fucking him after a workout. Would tell him not to shower. Was the pheromones. Some shit like that. Drove you fucking wild.

The pleasure he takes in your timing is forgotten about when he realises just hollow your eyes are. Finds himself actually wanting a shower - admittedly, with you. It was always where you'd find the most comfort together, and that's what he wants. Just wants to fix whatever's gone wrong for you today.

Instead, he just walks toward the sofas. Doesn't like not being a part of the discussion. There are a few nods. Slight deliberation - and then Seokjin calls the Jungkook and Jimin in to the sofas regardless.

"Taking a vote," he says. It's already been discussed in private between the boys, but no formal plans have been put in place.

You choose to stand. Jungkook sinks into the leather of the sofa in front of you. Avoids eye contact. You pretend to look at the men around you, but you don't really take any of them in. You're unfocused. Disillusioned; disassociating. Daydreaming of the beach, where the water is clear and the sand is warm.

And then, you do let your eyes fall on his. They're so wide and worried. Jungkook is certain he's never seen you like this. Something isn't aligning. Hasn't been since you left, but he thought things would fall back into place when you returned.

You okay? he says silently.

You look him up. Look him down. Part your lips - only to close them again once Seokjin starts talking.

"All those in favour of working together?"

One by one they raise their hands. Seokjin first, then Jimin. Namjoon looks around. Shuffles uncomfortably. Doesn't look at you as he raises his hand.

"Kook?" Seokjin asks.

"It's a bad fuckin' idea," he says, eyes never once dropping from yours. He's not telling the boys. He's telling you.

"Your forte," you say sweetly, but there's no smile on your lips.

And he just nods.

"Yeah. It is."

He raises his hand.

Full house.

"Alright, then," Seokjin beams. "Let's get to work."

#jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook masterlist #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook smut #bts fanfic #throttle #jungkook fluff #angst #smut #jungkook

[weebsinstash]

FINALLY SOMEONE BRINGS UP HANAHAKI WITH YANDERES, THEY'RE SUCH A GOOD COMBO THAT I NEVER SEE!

The best part of Hanahaki is just how many different variations there are to it imo.

For example for it to form does one have to actually get rejected? Or does assuming you will be, or them actually just not liking you work too?(imagine finding out your crush doesn't return your feeling by getting Hanahaki, quite literally the worst way to find out)

Is it fatal or just stay till you move on or they reciprocate? Does the surgery exist and if so what are the after effects if any(usually loss of feeling and/or memory of crush, or feelings as a whole)? Would the disease scar/ruin your lungs?

An idea I've had for Hanahaki is someone having to go back repeatedly for the same surgery because they either keep falling for or never fall out of love. Meanwhile their lungs just keep getting worse from their constant surgeries and the plants....

NO SHUT UP BECAUSE THE MOST PAINFUL HANAHAKI TROPES ARE "you can have surgery to cure it but you'll forget all your memories of the person you love" OR "you're dying BECAUSE they don't return your feelings and there's no way to save you even if you confess you're just dying knowing they don't love you back" and now that I think about it it was specifically the ultra sad fics that kind of drove me away from the trope, but.... it has its uses....

A yandere begging you to have the surgery to forget about how much you love them so you can live, and you'd rather die than forget all the time you've spent with them, what they mean to you, especially if they're your only friend or someone you've had all your life. Your yandere knocking you out and having you operated on against your consent, taking your love away, so you can live, even if it breaks their own heart, crying as they know you LOVED them but, soon won't even remember their name...

A yandere who, very happily actually, forces you to have the forgetting surgery because it's SOMEONE ELSE you love, not them, and once that person is out of the picture, well, your savior has a greater chance at truly wooing you, don't they?

A yandere who develops hanahaki and HAS to have the surgery to live, they can't protect you if they're dead, but they circumvent the amnesia by recording tons of videos first, talking all about you, about your times together, their memories of you, how much they love you, which things, why, and once they've forgotten you, they watch those tapes and their passion is ignited all over again

IMAGINE A DANGEROUS YANDERE FINALLY FORCED INTO HAVING THE SURGERY AND YOU THINK YOU'RE SAFE BECAUSE THEY SHOULDN'T LOVE OR EVEN REMEMBER YOU ANYMORE BUT NO IT WAS PART OF THE PLAN TO LOWER YOUR GUARD AND TAKE YOU--

Yandere who use their knowledge of you previously loving them to lovingly recreate events in the past that caused you to fall for them, lowkey manipulating you into loving them again by tweaking little behaviors or doing specific things, being genuine but, measured, practiced, calculating

Yandere who are like "you know what? Watching you nearly kill yourself with this totally preventable disease that couldve been cured by an immediate 'i love you' which i obviously would've accepted has actually completely cemented my own delusions about you absolutely 100% literally needing me to survive and you're gonna live under my roof and my constant supervision now :)"

Honestly just the potential like... plot and obsessive potential from the yandere from you almost dying. Like. What obsessed manic possessive lover wouldn't absolutely dial up their behavior and devotion after almost losing you? What kind of self proclaimed hero wouldn't bend over backwards to cater to your every need when they see you so weak and wheezing and needing medicines and special care and maybe even mobility aids now? Can you imagine something horrible like, the hanahaki damaging your lungs to the point you temporarily or permanantly get winded with prolonged exercise and need a wheelchair for longer walks? Or it weakens your body so much you develop allergies or autoimmune issues?

There's just so much GUILT POTENTIAL too. Here's your stalker thinking they knew every little nook and cranny of your mind, obsessively collecting every last detail of your life, and they didn't know you loved them? Loved them so much you got sick for them? AND you were so scared and assured they would reject you, they wouldnt love you, the thought of which hurt you so much, you would rather die than hear them turn you away? Certain yanderes would CRY, they're like, begging for forgiveness at their secret closet altar of you, saying they WRONGED YOU, they PROMISE THEY'RE DEVOTED TO YOU, they'll spend the rest of their life proving it with every ounce of their heart, PLEASE let them prove it--

Of course I also can't help but think. You confess to cure your hanahaki and your yandere accepts you, but then once you're in their house and getting to REALLY know them, you're INSTANTLY "um actually this is. Gross. I'm not attracted to you at all anymore and actually now our entire friendship all these years feels fucking tainted and creepy because I was looking at you with love and you were like. Taking photos of me sleeping and stealing bristles from my toothbrush the entire time"

Finally, because we are so dramatic. We've discussed fandoms on here before where the series can delve into multiverse shit like Spiderverse or Justice League stuff. Imagine a version of your yandere from another universe coming after you because they watched their version of you wither up and die from refusing to confess but the yandere found out their feelings afterwards anyways and it drove them to their breaking point 💀like maybe your universe's version of this person is actually totally normal for you, but, in the acts of defeating this new threat, they realize how easy it would be for someone to hurt you, TAKE YOU AWAY, and one day after the battle to defeat the doppelganger is over, you're looking over at your friend and smiling, and they wait for you to turn your back until *cough* a few little petals fall to the floor....

#yandere stuff #yancore #yandere x reader #sinprompts

[buichiroushirase]

Understanding Shirase is all about understanding the raw meat thing. Because the point, I think, is that he's someone who's always operating on the need to get ahead of what might leave him starving. Quite literally because he's been an orphan in the slums without any power or influence outside of what he can leech off of other since he was seven. He's easy to take at face value, because he's presented predominantly as a comedic character in storm bringer (and IMO one of the funniest parts of that novel), but you don't get a seven year old who was hiding under a bridge to get drunk, living in the sewer with a network of kids protecting each other from trafficking without a little tragedy.

I see a lot of people take him as just an annoying blowhard, which is of course anyone's prerogative, but I think all of his boasting and posturing actually reveals so much about him as a character.

For all of his grandiosity, "I'm the next king''-ing, and claims that he's the smartest and strongest in the Sheep, I don't think he actually believes any of it. To me, he comes across as someone who has constructed their personality around justifying to himself (and to anyone he meets) that he has a right to exist. He has to do this or he wouldn't survive under the conditions he grew up in. I think what's behind the mask is very apparent in these moments:

He's self conscious. Terrified. Deeply aware of exactly how vulnerable and useless he is in the world he inhabits. So he has to put on a show either be overstating his own importance, or throwing a tantrum and shoving indebtedness back in everyone's face. The moment that brings this best into focus is of course the little bit of his POV we get in Storm Bringer.

I think his whole worldview is kind of put on display here. He believes he became so useless that he was left behind and abandoned. He would after all. We know that because that was essentially his approach to Chuuya. And I must emphasize, not because of callousness but because that was the way of the world he grew up in: eating the raw meat before the person sitting next to you can get to it first.

He basically says it himself. That's the only way he survived so long:

I don't think any of that excuses his actions or his mistreatment of Chuuya, but I think it puts his character into perspective and adds depth to him. He's not your toxic friend who cheated off your math homework in middle school, he's a deeply traumatized child desperately trying to survive.

Tangential note to tack onto the end to this, just because I'm probably not gonna write a separate analysis on him, but I often see people interpreting his "I'm the next king" shit in Storm Bringer as evidence that he always thought that, but I'm not so sure of that.

I interpret it more in that he genuinely felt betrayed by Chuuya. In 15, even though he flies off the handle in the arcade scene, he's generally a little bit more composed. I think he genuinely took a big hit from the loss of the sheep. That line when we first meet him again in the factory and he thinks "no one visits me anymore. no one." honestly breaks my heart a little bit. He lost his whole family, and while at that stage we the readers know that he sewed the seeds of his own destruction, it looks to him as though he was just right to be suspicious of and turn on Chuuya. In 15 he acknowledges the Sheep's council structure, and seems to respect it, so I think this line is very genuine. His rational isn't "I was always king" it's more "you were our king and I feel like you failed us so I'm going to be better" however misguided that may be.

#this isn't good analysis I don't think I just wanted to ramble about my pookie #bungou stray dogs #chuuya nakahara #buichirou shirase #shirase bsd #anyway he has so much narcissistic personality disorder

[fannyyann]

Hey, hope you're doing okay. I hope you don't mind me asking, but I am rather new to the mattdrai fandom and I couldn't help but wonder:

Was Matthew really as bad as a lot of fic lead to believe in his earlier hockey years in Calgary? And was he really disliked in the room - where there rumours like that? So many fics build on this premise, and seeing him now in Florida and hearing all the nice things his teammates say about him and seeing the things he does himself and the insane good hockey he plays... it's hard to believe.

It's so strange also that it's so rarely mentioned that Leon was the one to be sent down to the minors, not Matthew.

Plus what I don't get: matthew is a lot hotter than Leon? why is it always told like Leon is the hottest dude on earth while Matthew is nothing? comparing early pics and pics from now... it's just not true? Leon looks good, a bit bland IMO, but Matthew is and was just hot in a very unique and special way. maybe because he isn't that bland generic good looking Leon is? But good looking in a special way? so that got a lot longer than I thought it would, hope you don't mind the ask.

i don't mind you asking at all! this is basically my roman empire so MY apologies if this gets unwieldy but i have FEELINGS about matthew's early fic portrayal lmao

in his six years on the flames, matthew was always one of the top five scorers.

his rookie year, he was sixth in rookie scoring

the season he was picked for his first ASG, the flames were 16th in the league at the time all star rosters were announced and matthew was their top scorer.

so it's not like he was the best player from a bottom of the league team or going because he was the home town boy, he was a playoff team's best player (both at the asg break and when the season was eventually suspended because of covid).

and even in his career worst year (2020-2022), he ended the year as their third best scorer and only six points behind johnny (the leader). and as one of calgary's beat reporters said in his end of the year review, Matthew was "good, but not quite as good as the Flames needed him to be."

so i've never really understood why people were portraying him like that either and still haven't figure out if most of it was unreliable narrator kind of stuff or if some authors actually thought he was bad before he had his breakout season, but it doesn't reflect reality.

as for him being disliked in calgary, that all stems from jake muzzin flipping the puck at him, and the subsequent players only meeting that took place after it, in which matthew allegedly told the team he was upset they didn't join him in the scrum after and he was then told him it can't be a riot every night.

before that there were never any rumors that i'm aware of that he was unliked in the room, and in 2019 gio, who most people tend to think is the one who told matthew to tone it down, said this about another players only meeting:

so while the 2021 players only meeting was a story because matthew wasn't playing like his usual self afterward, i've never thought it was indicative of him not being liked by his teammates. and honestly, you have to take it all with a grain of salt anyway because while guys obviously bullshit the media, at the practice after the players only meeting guys talked about how there was a general lack of emotion, and how they came out there trying to have fun with each other and put it behind them, and in the postgame the next night, gio specifically sites getting into scrums and mixing it up when asked how much more emotion they played with in that win compared to earlier losses, so if mixing it up was good the very next night, the math doesn't quite add up, yk?

but johnny did confirm in his spittin chiclets appearance about two weeks after the muzzin incident that matthew was pissed after they left him out to dry that night, and when asked about matthew's struggles that season darryl sutter said matthew needed to, and would, get back to playing to his identity, so the whole cause and effect of the muzzin incident on matthew's play that season isn't completely unfounded, but i do think multiple guys saying the team needed to play with more emotion, johnny saying in the chiclets episode that the guys skating off didn't find out about the puck flip until they saw it on sportsnet and saying he felt bad about it, and the new coach coming in and getting matthew to play back to his style shows that it wasn't as personal as it was made out to be.

anyway, the flames may not have be as tight knit as the panthers are, but matthew had his people there. he's bffs with hanifin and his friendship with sam bennett is part of what drew him to florida. johnny always says great things about him, blake coleman called him the heartbeat of the team, and was such an important voice in the room that the flames suffered when he and gudbranson were no longer around to tell sutter to chill the fuck out when he was being too hard on guys in the room.

he probably wasn't close with every teammate, most people aren't friends with all their coworkers, but he wasn't some sort of loner in that locker room.

as for the looks, that's all down to personal preference. leon is definitely very conventionally attractive and while matthew has definitely glowed up in the last few seasons, he was by no means ugly. i wouldn't even say he's really unconventionally attractive either. he's got a good face and was a cute teen and people who are like "oh no i find matthew tkachuk attractive now" have literally never made sense to me. but again! personal preference and all that.

again, my apologies if you weren't looking for THIS MUCH of an answer to your question but this isn't even all the sources i pulled up when i first got this ask so i did TRY to keep it short lol

#matthew ask

[bthump]

What are your thoughts or analyses on the phallic imagery in berserk? Less so the more obvious ones like seen in Casca’s nightmares which are obviously pointing to her sexual trauma, but like we see with the vagina-esque monsters and how Guts’ sword is alluded to being like a penis in some cases. Sorry if it’s a weird question lol

Sorry for the wait on this lol, I was on vacation for a while, and it's also a topic I wanted to spend some time on because I love it and I wanted to be relatively thorough. Thanks for the ask!

So yeah, disclaimers out of the way, Freudian analytical theory is very silly, very gender essentialist in ways that can often be transphobic and misogynist, and as far as I'm aware pretty much wholly unrelated to real psychology. Back in the 70s and 80s you had film theorists who took it seriously as a genuine glimpse into the subconsciousness of humanity or whatever, but now it's pretty much just a readily available source of sex and gender related symbolism that's easy to understand.

And in Berserk I do genuinely think it's a valid lens to view the story through because Miura is often quite heavy handed in utilizing it as symbolism. I mean, Guts literally gives someone an orgasm by stabbing her at one point. Some of this can definitely be a stretch, taking established symbols and running with them, but some of it is also almost certainly purposeful. I'll leave it to you to decide what you see as legit and what you see as stretching believability here.

This is very long lol

So yeah, it starts off strong in Berserk with Guts' oversized sword. Swords are dicks, ie sources of masculine power, especially in Berserk

and in the context of the story the dragonslayer is Guts overcompensating imo. And it's not compensating for a small dick lol, which would be more the purview of comedy, but for a loss of masculinity, ie Guts' childhood abuse from Gambino, and rape trauma. It's about his need to prove himself because he was made to feel like he had to, imo.

And it's not just the size of his sword, his obsession with it is also a major factor. He has a grandiose speech about how his sword is like a part of his body (hmm) and that it's been at his side through everything and he's always relied on it. The dream he lands on is to be the best and strongest sword fighter ever. He's currently having a breakdown over not being able to hit someone with his sword. He has a recurring tendency to break other guy's swords lol. At one point Casca screams at him that he essentially cares about his sword more than her. etc etc.

In the story dreams are at odds with emotionally healing human relationships, and dreams are represented by swords (Guts' sword obviously, Casca becoming Griffith's sword, Griffith calling the throne a sword while taunting the king in the dungeon as well as his vision of himself throwing him a sword and pointing to the castle in chapter 72).

So through a Freudian lens, Guts' sword can also be said to represent emotional isolation, positioning masculinity as emotionally isolating. Which, yk, fits with Griffith also equating dreams and masculinity in his Promrose Hall speech (a man must achieve a dream before he can have a family or lover) and, I suppose lol, Casca getting "softer" and more feminine as she falls for Guts, as femininity is therefore the opposite: emotional reliance on and support of others.

So if swords are dicks, then it follows that wounds are vaginas, ie yonic symbols. Also pretty obvious when you read some of the lines during the Guts and Casca sex scene lol. "I too want a wound I can say you gave me." These can represent weakness and victimization (I did warn for misogyny lol) and/or (often sexual) relationships and emotional openness.

So you have the relationships - "licking wounds" with Casca; Guts letting Casca stab him when he thinks about abandoning Griffith; the Beast of Darkness calling Casca the wound Griffith left so Guts can keep feeling the pain Griffith caused; Griffith scratching his own shoulder where Guts' sword pointedly didn't wound him; Griffith being out of reach of Guts' sword post-Eclipse; "let's give him a heap of raw iron;" and Farnese grinding on Guts' sword while possessed and Slan directly treating being stabbed as sexual penetration for the most obvious examples...

Also I'd argue that any time Guts gets his ass kicked in a fight it functions as an echo of his rape trauma symbolically and subconsciously to Guts. Both kinda obviously at times, like eg when Slan overpowers him and tears off his shirt while wounding his chest, and kisses him after the stabbing, causing Guts to feel a burst of fear

or when Rosine stabs Guts through the mouth as another enemy who flirts with Guts mid-fight. And of course the first duel with Griffith in which Guts unilaterally sets the stakes to sex slavery because he's projecting.

But also a little more subtlely, such as when Zodd is given the same position as Nightmare Donovan in Guts' concussion nightmare after he kills Adonis, or all this consistent imagery that rapists and apostles tend to get.

Or, interestingly, the way the Berserk armour functions as self-harm as Guts fights by penetrating Guts to "heal" him.

Something that solidifies its hold over Guts and makes him lose more and more of his positive humanity to his urge to kill.

So yeah, from a Freudian angle I'd suggest that Guts is driven to fight to reclaim the sense of masculine power he was stripped of when he was raped, and every fight can be said to be a repetition of his rape trauma in which he (usually) successfully fights back, but also continuously retraumatizes himself rather than healing.

I'm going to delve a little deeper into how phallic and yonic symbols intersect with the characters' relationships now that we've outlined some of the preliminary symbolism, starting from the Golden Age.

The first duel between Guts and Griffith is rife with Freudian symbolism, very overtly. Griffith stabs Guts and then Guts proceeds to have a nightmare about his rape trauma. Then he projects that trauma onto Griffith when he assumes Griffith wants to fuck him and adds sexual stakes to their duel. Then, yk, he takes Griffith's sword into his mouth lol.

Griffith winning by dislocating Guts' arm can be easily taken as a symbolic unmanning/castration, nicely introducing us into Guts' three years of growth towards prioritizing relationships instead of aimless sword-swinging to prove himself. It's also suggestive of penetration when you're primed to look for sexual symbolism (and if Guts offering Griffith his ass and then biting a sword doesn't prime you for it, what does?):

And the two of them losing their swords in the course of the fight and resorting to unarmed combat can also be taken as a telling symbol of the conflict between dreams and their relationship with each other. They lose the symbols of their dreams and contend only with each other, in a more positive contrast to the second duel that ends their relationship, in which they fight only with swords and never touch each other.

Wounds come into it when Griffith nearly gets killed rushing in against Zodd to save Guts, leading to the most impactful moment of their relationship, where Griffith admits he did it solely for Guts' sake and had no other reason. Griffith also points out how wounded Guts is after that fight, in what I'd call a nearly flirtatious way:

And if you follow these symbols completely strictly this scene suggests Guts retreating into his defensive masculinity in his sword exercises after being defeated/emasculated by Zodd and accused of not valuing his personal relationships by Casca, and finally finding a new, more constructive purpose for his sword after Griffith essentially confesses his devotion to him.

Dedicating his sword to Griffith in return for the wounds Griffith suffered for his sake, with, it has to be noted when the topic is freudian symbolism, his sword held at exactly crotch level.

In the second duel Guts destroys Griffith's sword before leaving, a symbolic castration which is most likely intended to represent and foreshadow Griffith's subsequent loss of power when he throws his life away and ends up tortured in a dungeon for a year. More interestingly imo, is Griffith tracing scratch-markes on his shoulder after sleeping with Charlotte and while crying over Guts - the same shoulder Guts' sword didn't quite hit when he won the duel, drawing attention to the lack of a wound by Guts' hand, a wound he created himself and traces in his devastation.

You have a nice... I don't know what the comic terminology is lol so I'm just going to call it a match-cut here, with Griffith and Casca both getting penetrated by the same number of arrows/skewers, to signify Griffith and the Hawks' fall from power, in contrast to Guts' growing phallic power as he pursues his sword swinging. Power which he demonstrates when he returns and saves the Hawks and Casca and Griffith by swinging his sword a lot and defeating a lot of powerful enemies and, if I'm gonna be crass, healing Casca's suicidal despair with his dick lol.

Interestingly though, before he does that he lets Casca stab him while experiencing the guilt of having driven Griffith into a torture chamber by leaving. It's a wound that highlights his emotional connection to Griffith and vulnerability to those emotions, even as he tries to deny them. He then manages to successfully deny them for a little while longer after having sex with Casca.

In this Freudian context, Guts and Casca's sex scene is an affirmation of a relationship, but one which is emotionally uneven, with Casca ready and willing to emotionally rely on and support Guts, but Guts still dedicated to his sword-swinging dream, inviting Casca with him but only as long as she doesn't get in the way of what he wants to do. This does fit with phallic symbols being associated with emotional distance and yonic symbols being associated with emotional closeness lol. (Also fittingly, the one way he does open up to her is about his rape trauma after a flashback.)

It's worth noting that in this disconnect Casca erroneously assumes Guts fought the hundred men and "bled" for her, making her want "a wound" from him in return. Guts fighting those hundred men is much more reminiscent of his fights against apostles, the fights that revolve around replaying his rape trauma to make himself feel better. Casca assumes they already have an emotional bond due to Guts' wounds, but she's wrong - Guts specifically thinks to himself during the hundred man fight that he's not doing it for Casca.

This is reflected in the Wyald fight when Guts insists on fighting Wyald, again as part of the whole reaffirmation of masculinity thing I outlined at the start of this, when Casca just wants him to run away. The Wyald fight is pretty overt about being about Guts' rape trauma imo, moreso than most fights in the story. Wyald's rapiness is made a point of from Guts' point of view when he sees him wielding the torso of a woman sexually impaled on a pike and gets extra angry, and when he literally cuts off Wyald's dick when he's about to rape Casca, and then has his pointed line about needing to "settle the score with him... with them... by his own sword."

SO ESSENTIALLY to sum up this subsection, I think you can argue that what prevents Guts and Casca from being an equal relationship is Guts stlil being hung up over needing to prove his masculine power through sword-swinging, rather than embracing his emasculation (which, remember, tends to signify positive relationships in this context) and coming to terms with it ("immersing himself in sorrow" as Godo says much later.)

Like, to return to Griffith, it's fitting that after Guts destroys his sword and he goes through a year of torture and is thoroughly emasculated, he's able to recognize his feelings for Guts and understand that Guts is more important to him than the dream, the "sword called the throne."

But he doesn't quite come to terms with his emasculation either. This symbolism is one explanation for the wagon scene where he propositions Casca - a desperate bid for some form of power. Not the strongest explanation imo, but since we're currently in the business of actively looking for this symbolism, it definitely fits. Casca's rejection and pity reinforce Griffith's emasculation, and overhearing her tell Guts to leave again is the final straw. Relationships are a bust, swords are now his only recourse, as we see when he has a vision of himself throwing him a sword and pointing to the castle.

You could take the nightmarish vision he has of a life with Casca as Griffith rejecting emasculation, but an alternate way of taking it is Griffith regaining a form of phallic power, and the emotional isolation that goes with it. After all, it's implied that he has a child with Casca, while totally withdrawn and emotionally isolated.

I once said in a different silly essay that Griffith choosing the dream is, in a way, Griffith choosing another version that nightmare, and that take also fits here.

And hey, it's another reason for Femto to rape Casca lol, if we want to ascribe meaning there, and of course we must in this kind of analysis. In the wagon Griffith essentially offers sex to Casca for the faint vestige of masculine power it could give him (emotional isolation and a child); in his nightmare he imagines that life and it drives him to suicide; and after becoming Femto he forces sex onto Casca and then continues on to embody emotional distance and masculine power.

This power is painfully demonstrated through the rape of Casca, but also subsequently through his pure untouchability (often in pointedly sexualized contexts); through his phony relationship with Charlotte and ascending to the ultimate patriarchal role of king/emperor and taking that sword called the throne; and I guess also through his actual sword lol which he still uses.

An example of sexualized untouchability - check out the positioning of that third thought bubble, in this scene where Griffith lords his invulnerability over Ganishka.

And look at all those pillars, I'm js.

And I'd be remiss not to point out the most recent confrontation with Guts where Guts tries many times to hit his naked body with his giant sword, completely fails, and then Griffith kidnaps Casca. More very on-point emasculation symbolism, it might as well be Guts trying to fuck him but unable to get hard lol. His breakdown afterwards doesn't do much to disabuse you of that notion either.

Anyway, back to post-Eclipse Guts. There's not much else to add that I didn't cover at the start, but in brief:

Guts has lost his arm during the Eclipse, which is an emasculation - he loses it while watching Femto rape ~his woman~ so it's like the most traditional symbolic castration there is lol. And of course he replaces it with a bigger, better, and more overt phallic symbol: a canon. And like the first thing we see him do with it is shove it into the mouth of a monster he's banging and blow her head off. So yk, there's that.

And there's Puck, who exists to help bridge Guts' emotional distance and essentially serves as the feminine counterpart to Guts' masculinity for a while. From his magical empathy, to his tiny size, to his lack of genitalia (note that in Freudian theory the lack of a penis is an indicator of femininity rather than specifically the presence of a vagina), to his connections with female characters Theresia and Jill, even arguably to his introduction where Guts saves him from a bunch of men throwing phallic knives at him by skewering them with his own (bigger) projectiles, this is consistent during the Black Swordsman/Conviction arc era.

Chestnut Puck is a lot more boyish, with his particular humour, his cameraderie with an annoying teenage boy, and now having his own feminine counterpart in Ivalera, but that's fine because his thematic job as a feminine influence on Guts is over after Guts starts collecting more friends.

And as far as the RPG group goes, there are a few notable instances of phallic symbolism for them too. Farnese and Serpico are an obvious example, with Farnese sexualizing the wounds Serpico voluntarily suffers for her, when she demands he duel for her honour a bunch of times.

Farnese brandishing the end of her whip at him doesn't hurt the freudian power dynamic symbolism either lol.

In the Conviction arc Farnese wielded a sword she was incapable of using, suggestive of her true femininity under a brash masculine surface, and when she softens in the Millenium Falcon arc she becomes a caretaker with only a small dagger for self-defense. That said, she does get that epic moment of stabbing a tiger in the eye with a long silver pole (candlestick) when she rejoins Guts' crew rather than becoming a housewife, so she still gets some badass phallic weapon imagery lol.

Serpico wields a thin rapier in the Conviction Arc, which Guts easily grabs in his hand, and in the Millenium Falcon arc he switches to a... limp feather duster lol. Serpico is very feminized compared to Guts and his weapons fit as part of that, but they're still effective weapons. You could maybe argue, within this Freudian lens, that this is indicative of Serpico's healthier relationship with masculinity. He's not compensating for anything, he's at peace with himself.

And god I gotta say something about Guts and Serpico's duels. In the first one you have Serpico delaying Guts while Farnese steals Casca from him, and part of that delay is to force Guts into a fight where he can't wield his sword, a parallel emasculation to Casca being kidnapped.

Then you have their confrontation after Farnese's no good very bad night, which is just incredibly suggestive lol.

You cannot tell me this isn't Guts getting blueballed when Serpico leaves after one quick exchange. Particularly coming in the same chapter featuring possessed Farnese grinding on Guts' sword (which Guts was much less interested in, incidentally). Also: wounds as sexual imagery again. Guts licking the blood off his cheek? Come on.

And finally you have their fight in Farnese's basement, in which Serpico attempts to hinder Guts by surrounding him with giant pillars, which Guts smashes through as he dodges around them. Another neat illustration of Guts' pure phallic power and Serpico's much more effeminate style.

One final note to address part of your ask, which didn't naturally fit into the rest of this lol: I would interpret vaginal imagery in monsters as mainly castration anxiety, yk, vagina dentata vibes, the fear of sticking your dick in a hole you can't see into. There's actually a lot of interesting stuff to consider in terms of the feminine as the unknowable other when it comes to Freudian theory, but that's like, not something I would expect Miura to lean into first of all, and also it would take another essay of explanation. If you're interested in that kind of Freudian analysis though I'd recommend the books Men, Women, and Chainsaws by Carol J. Clover and The Dread of Difference, edited by Barry Keith Grant. I took a course on women and horror films ages ago and read chunks of those, and it was very fun, and iirc both address Freudian imagery in horror.

Okay! So that's the rundown of like, all the examples of Freudian imagery that interest me at least lol. This isn't exhaustive ofc, Berserk is long and not stingy with this stuff, but this response is already so long and meandering lol, so I'm going to wrap it up here.

To sum up, phallic imagery often represents masculine power as well as masculine flaws (like emotional isolation) in Berserk, while yonic/vaginal imagery tends to represent feminine weakness as well as feminine virtues (like emotional connection and vulnerability). As a general rule, the more phallic imagery someone violently swings around, the more fucked up they are. Phallic violence is used to compensate for past trauma, but it only continues the cycle of violence. The way to break that violence is to accept one's wounds and focus on them, to heal, rather than trying to distract from them.

I don't think this is always the best way to interpret Berserk lol, but it adds another dimension that very often complements the surface meaning and thematic resonance of the story, sometimes purposefully, sometimes likely incidental. And either way it's a lot of fun to read into!

#genuinely thank you for asking lmao this was so much fun to write #sorry it took forever though i had a lot of shit going on the last couple months plus a bunch of other asks that didn't require #as much effort lol so i only worked on this intermittently #ask #anonymous #a #b #theme: symbolism #theme: revenge #theme: relationships as personal growth #theme: isolation #theme: trauma #character: guts #character: griffith #arc: ga #arc: mf #arc: bs #(just a note: i've used image descriptions on a few of these images but not all. that's deliberate - i've described the ones that aren't #naturally described by what i've written in the post itself. generally i try to word my posts so image descriptions are unnecessary but #there are a few here that would be clunky without descriptioins)

[ro-rogue]

i have very mixed feelings about the new bostin confrontation that got john expelled.

it is portrayed as the worst of john's actions in new bostin, his lowest, most violent moment. and while that last part is not untrue, i feel like the confrontation is a lot more complicated than just john going insane.

by that point, john had already been king for a little while, and he was absolutely terrible at it. (i've written before on why i think that is, and even his objectively horrible actions here were not excusable but understandable.) claire decided he needed to be stopped, and she gathered a bunch of their schoolmates to confront him, as her vision had shown. then, instead of trying to talk it out, zirian (one of the people she had gathered, for some reason) immediately attacked john, and everything devolved from there.

now, a few things stick out to me here:

first of all, claire took zirian with her to confront john. the question is: why? john and zirian had already fought on multiple occassions, and last time they fought, john had beaten zirian. did claire think seeing someone john defeated in a fair fight would make him realize he was a horrible person? did she think that if people saw zirian, they too would be willing to confront john? but wouldn't those people then think they were going to beat john up? did she not realize that if people believed her lie enough to follow her, they would be prepared to act on it too? i really struggle with her thought process here.

next, zirian thought that they could beat john if they all worked together. this supports my theory that the kids in new bostin had absolutely no idea how powerful a god-tier was. the wellston kids would never try to gang up like that on pre-ability loss seraphina - they knew she was too strong.

however, they did gang up on john at least sixteen-to-one (in episode 185, the shot with the most classmates shows sixteen people). when claire was telling the story to seraphina, she made it sound like it was completely unreasonable that john assumed that a group of people who all hated him, at least some of whom he had fought before, including the former king, would want to attack and overthrow him. "he refused to listen" is true, and something john has struggled with a lot both before and after the ambush, but to be honest, in his shoes, i also wouldn't have believed claire.

moreover, he is criticized for going too far in beating them up, but imo that mostly applies to claire and adrion, who weren't actually attacking him. the other fifteen kids were very clearly willing to hurt him just as much as he ended up hurting them. besides, they were attacking him fifteen-to-one, with claire standing to the side - what was john supposed to do? hold back?

the answer, of course, is yes: he should've. it was absolutely not right for him to go that far. but we must understand that john was sixteen, stressed, hurt, and facing people who were likely his former bullies, in the sense that everyone used to bully him.

(plus claire, who gathered everyone there, and how was he supposed to know that she didn't mean for it to turn out like that? and plus adrion, who called the authorities on him, which was objectively a good decision, but it can be hard to see it that way when you're the one who the cops are being called on)

in addition to that, if seraphina or even arlo had been ganged up on like that, no one would be surprised if they, too, fucked up their opponents. (remember that turf war back in episode 17/18/something? where arlo clearly wasn't just going to stop hurting rein, not until seraphina physically stopped him?) john was out of control and very much Not Okay, but his handling of the ambush actually seems to be quite typical for a god-tier.

so to conclude, the new bostin ambush/confrontation was more complex than simply john going crazy, and while both he and claire definitely think that he is the only one at fault there and he acted completely irrationally, that isn't actually the case, and uno readers should be aware that we are viewing the story from the perspectives of biased and thus unreliable narrators.

#ofc this doesnt mean that john wasnt in the wrong here. he was. but its more complex than just that #it has been bugging me for a while how little uno readers seem to try to understand his actions #not just excuse them or make him into a better person #here i am again w my john doe analysis #john doe #uno #unordinary #john doe unordinary

[genericpuff]

Just to add to the speculation: Rachel was on Twitter and instagram over the last week being really excited over how she's talking to Webtoon about LO's return date and seemed to be in good spirits, but now that we have confirmation of LO ending and her and Webtoon are now being really quiet about it, I get the impression she was expecting that meeting to be a renewal discussion but instead was greeted by Webtoon asking when she was wrapping things up with no offer of another season. I think WT was considering it since none of the S3 ads mentioned it was the last season, but they must be seeing the internal numbers and with the potential of the TV show not happening and less and less book sales, they must have seen no financial or business reason of renew it. The obfuscation both her and Webtoon are doing right now implies Rachel was blindsided by this IMO.

fucking OOF BRO

That was definitely an angle I hadn't considered, obviously it's still just speculation/tinfoil but from what I've heard about how cagey WT can be about communicating with their creators, it could very well be a possibility. That said, while it would SUCK for Rachel if that was the case, I feel like it's also something she shouldn't have been pressing her luck with for so long. TBH there's a lot of evidence to support the fact that LO has been getting "special treatment" for years now and I think a lot of that was based on the good will of how well the series performed in 2019/2020. When the series started going downhill, WT would have likely been willing to give her benefit of the doubt, but now with things going the way they are where people are clearly DONE with LO and Rachel isn't making any attempts to actually get her shit together, it would make sense if WT is just finally deciding to cut their losses.

Of course that's, again, HEAVY speculation. But I've seen series that weren't controversial or regularly criticized like LO get suddenly dropped without much warning for the creator (see: Yuna & Kawachan). The fact that LO has been going on this downward spiral for so long without any intervention or attempts to improve things just goes to show how much WT was banking on this series to succeed, especially after all of the time and money and advertising they had sunk into it. Even look at the awards that LO won this year, including the Eisner, which isn't an award traditionally won twice, lending credence to the fact that WT is buying her these awards to try and save their golden goose. It's too late to save it. It's barely managing to stay alive on life support.

If anything I hope this is a harsh but necessary lesson to WT to not undercut their other creators and series just to shove all their eggs in one basket. There are so many series on the platform that could be massive hits if WT would just extend them the olive branch and give them the same royal treatment they gave LO for so many years. There's no reason all of their resources need to go into one series, it's not a pie, everyone should be able to get the opportunity to be seen within their library. Otherwise, if for some reason WT can't allocate those resources due to the sheer number of series on the site, then that should be a wake up call to lessen the amount of titles that are being churned out into the Originals catalogue every week. To be fair, the launch weeks have lessened over the past year, they're not quite as overstuffed with launch titles as they used to be, but it's still a lot compared to what it used to be back in the day.

The reality is that LO was released at a time when the site wasn't nearly as oversaturated as it is today so it was created at the right place, right time - if it was released today, it would likely be another buried series with little to no advertising. It was a product of its time and that time is very much long gone.

#lore olympus critical #lo critical #anti lore olympus #antiloreolympus #ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything

[ready-for-take-off]

Responsible Adult (NCT Jisung)

(Crossposted to AO3 here)

Request: Maybe Jisung sick with stomach pain but he hides it from the members because he thinks that not being the maknae he needs to behave like a responsible adult. But in the end his pain is very intense and he gets sick in his room and on himself, so his hyungs take care of him and pamper him, especially Taeyong and Chenle.

Summary: Jisung wakes up feeling off. When his stomach starts to hurt during a full-group dance practice, he tries his best to hide how he’s feeling from the members, afraid that he’s going to get coddled. He ends up getting sick at home, but Chenle comes to his rescue and even calls Taeyong for backup. The day ends with lots of comfort and an important lesson learned.

A/N: I couldn’t quite bring myself to write the part where he gets sick on himself—emeto is chill to me until it gets to the loss of control part. Nevertheless, hope you enjoy! Jisung and Taeyong are definitely the best sickie and caretaker in NCT respectively imo. SIDE NOTE—check out NCT Dream’s new comeback Dream()Scape, Jisung stands out so much in it!

Jisung was an adult.

No matter how much his members, his fans, heck , even his family liked to treat him like he’d exited the womb two second ago, he was a full-grown adult, dammit. It was harmless fun most of the time, until he realized that he couldn’t mention feeling even the slightest bit unwell out of fear that his members would start coddling him again. Last time he’d been injured, his members treated him like he was made of glass even months after he’d recovered. He shuddered just thinking about it. Never again, especially now that there were even younger members who looked up to him as a seasoned idol and not a cute baby.

But today, he had a small dilemma. He’d woken up the slightest bit groggy—no big deal, he could handle it. Though, come to think of it, he hadn’t felt very hungry at breakfast, but he hadn’t thought anything of that either. It didn’t matter if he would have to go the whole day feeling dizzy and weak—it wasn’t like he had anything important to do, aside from a brief dance run-through. It was hardly a practice, and not to brag, but he’d nailed the choreography ages ago. It was no big deal, right? He’d just act okay for half an hour and then resign to his room for the rest of the day. He was a responsible adult, the least he could do was show up.

Jisung regretted that decision when he entered the practice room and was immediately reminded that oh , this was nineteen other guys in the same practice room. Nineteen extremely loud guys. He could hardly keep his thoughts in order when there were at least five different conversations going on at any given time, punctuated by hysterical laughter and occasional screeches (whatever that was for, he didn’t really want to know), and suddenly he felt like the most mature person in the room.

“Jisungie, you okay?” Chenle asked casually, patting Jisung on the back. He’d somehow snuck up behind Jisung and he hadn’t heard it because of the sheer noise echoing in the room.

Truth was, he didn’t feel particularly great. On top of general malaise, his stomach was beginning to hurt, and he couldn’t quite pinpoint if it was due to hunger, stress, or sickness. The latter of which he pushed to the back of his mind—if he didn’t think he was sick, he couldn’t really be sick, right?

“Uh. I’m fine, I guess?” Jisung replied hesitantly, stiffening a little. He didn’t want anyone to find out he wasn’t feeling well, no, not when everyone was there.

“If you say so,” Chenle shrugged. Jisung was taken aback when the older boy squinted and made the “I’m watching you” motion with his hands as he walked to his position. What could he possibly have meant by that? Honestly, his members showed concern in the weirdest of ways sometimes.

Jisung didn’t utter a single word for the rest of that dance practice, channeling his energy into staying upright and passing off as okay. It was a hard job as the small ache in his stomach slowly turned into a full-blown fire.

When the run-through was finally over, Jisung begged his legs to keep him standing upright as he wanted nothing more than to just collapse on the floor (and writhe around, but maybe that was a bit dramatic). It wasn’t unusual for the members to sit down after an intense dance practice, but he couldn’t afford to do so today, not when it would provoke even more concern. Well, it seemed that he was provoking concern either way.

“You feeling alright, maknae?” Taeyong had approached him almost the exact same way Chenle had earlier, only with a bit more formality, and Jisung almost jumped as the leader’s firm hand landed on his shoulder. It was beginning to grow scary at this point—either his members had incredible intuition or he was terrible at hiding how he felt. Probably a mix of the two.

“…yes?” Jisung responded, voice coming out much smaller than he intended. He cleared his throat and responded properly. “Yes, hyung.”

Taeyong smiled, patting the younger’s shoulder. “Great, but I just wanted to check because you seemed a little down today,” he explained. “How’s life been treating you lately? I know we’ve all been so busy.”

“It’s been fine, I guess,” Jisung mumbled behind his mask. “Thank you, hyung. By the way. For asking,” he added out of respect, stuttering slightly.

“You don’t have to thank me, Jisungie. And that’s great to hear,” Taeyong chuckled. “Just tell me or one of the Dreamies if something is wrong, okay?” He held up his hand for a fistbump of agreement, which Jisung accepted.

“Oh, and if Mark and Haechan bother you too much, let me know,” Taeyong added, winking and poking Jisung’s shoulder playfully.

As Jisung smiled and turned away to grab his bag, he nearly keeled over as his stomach made itself known once again with a harsh cramp. He bent over, disguising it as reaching for his bag, and let his face scrunch up in pain for a second as he breathed through it. This was certainly something not to be ignored.

By the time he reached home, Jisung was hardly functioning. He felt like he could drift off any second but was kept awake by the agonizing twisting of his stomach, and the conflicting signals only served to make him feel sicker.

Deciding to take charge for himself, Jisung gathered what energy he had to grab himself a glass of water which he brought to his room and promptly forgot about as he curled up in bed. Tears threatened to spill out of his eyes as he gritted his teeth and clutched his stomach tightly. It hurt so much, and he just wanted someone to be there, to know that he wasn’t feeling well, and for a second he regretted keeping quiet.

Jisung almost gave in and reached for his phone to text someone to come over, until he reminded himself that the whole reason he was alone was because he wasn’t a baby. Oh well. Most grown adults could handle a little stomach ache on their own anyways.

This was hardly a little stomach ache, though. He could physically feel the pain twisting deep in his core, and it hurt like nothing else he’d ever felt before. Curling up with his knees to his chest seemed to be the only thing that relieved some of the pressure, along with keeping both hands wrapped around his middle. An intense cramp finally sent Jisung over the edge, and he had to reach up and wipe away the tears that had slid across his face.

A ding resounded from Jisung’s phone and he hesitantly picked it up, sniffling. The text gracing the top of the screen was from Chenle, notifying Jisung that he would be coming over in a minute for “no particular reason”. At that moment, it turned out that Chenle’s weird habit of always being strangely available for strange reasons came in luck, and Jisung took a moment to mentally thank the elder for being his savior. Sure, it meant he would get babied, but if it didn’t happen by his own volition then it practically didn’t count.

Jisung almost wanted to relax because the notification settled his mind so much, but there was another problem. His stomach now felt like it was in his throat, and he couldn’t move out of fear it would end badly. But he knew it would also end badly if he didn’t move, now .

He propped himself up as slowly as he could, hand sinking into his bed as his elbow straightened shakily. His other hand, which was starting to shake too, was pressed tightly against his mouth as his mind raced, saying no, it won’t happen when it definitely would.

He gagged slightly into his palm and immediately his eyes widened— this really was happening. His legs, trained by a lifetime of dancing, propelled him across the room so he could fling open the bathroom door just in time to cough and retch up what little he had eaten into the toilet. “ Help,” he choked out between retches, to no one in particular, as he cried from both the pain and the fear that this was really happening to him, that he was losing control of himself just like that.

The timing proved itself even more impeccable as Jisung’s ears were met with the squeal of a door and a certain hyung’s screeching voice, which was the sound of an angel descended from heaven to Jisung right now.

“Jisungie, you seemed really off earlier today and wouldn’t tell me what was wrong so I came ‘cause why not,“ Chenle blabbered as his footsteps approached Jisung’s room, pattering around to search for the maknae. Jisung groaned to signify his location, which Chenle heard and promptly found.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Chenle gasped, kneeling down beside the younger and rubbing circles on his back. “What happened?”

“M’ stomach hurts so much,” Jisung cried, hiccuping and sniffling, which only served to set off his stomach more as more liquid was sent surging up his throat. “H-help me, hyung , m-make it stop!” he sobbed futilely.

“Shhh, you’re okay, I’m here,” Chenle cooed into Jisung’s ear, breath warm against his neck. “Breathe for me, baby.” It was a sweet gesture, but Jisung could hardly focus on the words over the sobs shaking his body and the stabbing pain assaulting his stomach.

Jisung thought he heard the sound of a phone making a call, and he made out snippets of Chenle’s voice over his own crying— “ Jisungie’s sick… come over… okay, see you soon.��”

“Wh-who’s that?” Jisung stuttered between breath hitches.

“Taeyong-hyung is coming to help you, baby,” Chenle reassured. “You aren’t stuck with just me,” he added, chuckling. “I know I’m not much help.”

There was a knock on the door, and Chenle scampered off to answer it. He returned with a very concerned-looking Taeyong in tow.

“Jisungie, baby, how are you feeling?” Taeyong asked sympathetically, kneeling on the floor without hesitation and rubbing the boy’s shoulders gently. “Turns out you really aren’t alright, huh,” he sighed. “I should’ve noticed.”

Jisung tried to respond, but his body didn’t seem capable of forming words at the moment and he only gave a pitiful moan before he was sent back into a fit of sickness.

“Whoa, Jisungie. You’re really sick,” Taeyong grimaced, rubbing the poor maknae’s back as he threw up again. He did so until Jisung’s stomach finally stopped rebelling and he let his head drop, panting.

“Is it just an upset tummy, baby?” Taeyong asked gently, patting the younger’s tight stomach and eliciting a brief wince from Jisung, who nodded shyly in response. He was getting babied again, but he couldn’t deny that it felt good to have someone care from him. Especially if it was the most reliable person he knew.

“My guess is that your body is just trying to get rid of something icky you ate earlier,” Taeyong sighed, standing up with a grunt. “Alright, Jisungie. You feeling ready to get up?”

Jisung hesitantly took the elder’s hand and pulled himself up in a way that took the least effort from his abdominal muscles. He curled up in his bed, whimpering in pain, as Taeyong slipped into the kitchen in search of anything useful.

“Wellll…” Chenle piped up, dragging out the syllable. “I knew I’d be useless at actually taking care of you, so it’s great that Taeyong-hyung could come by,” he laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “But I can keep you company,” he added, more softly. “How are you feeling?”

“Tummy hurts,” Jisung murmured quietly, fully aware of how pitiful he looked, curled up in bed with tears streaking his face. “I hate being sick so much.”

“You should’ve said something before it got this bad,” Chenle sighed, plopping down on the bed and stroking Jisung’s stomach gently.

“But you guys would have fussed over me,” Jisung countered defensively. “ Ah - what are you doing-“

Chenle released his fingers from the playful pinch he had on Jisung’s abdomen, snickering shamelessly. “Jisungie, you’re a lot worse at acting fine than you think you are. We would have fussed over you anyways.”

“Fair,” Jisung sighed. “But it just feels weird for me to ask for help now. I mean, I’m supposed to be a responsible adult and I’m technically not even the maknae anymore.”

“Jisungie, asking for help is a part of life. Why do you think I called Taeyong-hyung just now? Because I knew I couldn’t take care of a sick person myself— heck, I don’t even know what he’s looking for in the kitchen. It’s okay to admit that you can’t do something yourself. It doesn’t make you any less of an adult.”

Jisung’s eyes stung at the sound of his hyung’s wise words. “R-really?” he sniffled.

“Yes, baby,” Chenle cooed. “And for the record, you’ll always be the maknae to us. Now come here, you,” he added playfully as he cozied up next to the younger. Jisung couldn’t hold back the soft smile that crept up his face as Chenle ruffled his hair incessantly. Maybe being babied wasn’t so bad after all.

The whole time, Taeyong just stood watching in the doorway, using the hand that wasn’t holding various medications and home remedies to wipe his teary eyes. His kids really had grown up so well.

#kpop sickfic #nct #nct dream #nct fanfic #nct fluff #nct sickfic #nct jisung #nct chenle #nct taeyong #sick park jisung #emeto #kpop emeto #sickfic #nct hurt/comfort

[discordantwords]

20 questions for fic writers

I was tagged by @khorazir and @raina-at. Thanks so much for tagging me!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 47 (how is it that many?!) 29 for BBC Sherlock 18 for The X-Files

2. What's your total A03 word count? 897,533

3. What fandoms do you write for? Currently only BBC Sherlock

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

(Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea

White Knight

Incidents with Dogs, Curious and Otherwise

Another Auld Lang Syne

The Dead Detective

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I try to! I'm not always the best at keeping up, especially lately as my schedule has been erratic and I can only steal a few minutes here and there for fandom activities. But even when I don't have a chance to reply, I do read and treasure each and every comment.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I guess maybe The Pillar upon which England Rests has the saddest ending of anything that I've ever written, but I don't really consider it a sad story. It's set immediately post Reichenbach, told mostly through flashbacks as Mrs Hudson shares the story of how she met Sherlock with John. Sherlock is still "dead" when the story comes to a close, and John and Mrs Hudson are both grieving, though we as the reader know their loss is temporary.

I have a few shorter fics with ambiguous endings that lean in the angsty direction:

Nothing Happened in Belarus deals with accidental time travel, with grief-stricken S4 Sherlock finding himself briefly in the care of S1 John. Alas, the reprieve is a short one, as neither Sherlock nor John become aware of what is happening in time to take advantage of the opportunity.

At the end of Leaves Sherlock and John have either triumphed over the hallucinogenic vines that have invaded 221B… or they haven't. (I have my own theory, but you are free to interpret the ending however you choose.)

In EXECUTE John inadvertently deletes Mary from existence. He gets his happy ending, but has to live with the uncomfortable knowledge of the choices he's made.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Most of my fics have happy or at least hopeful endings. I like leaving the boys in a good place. I guess it depends on the flavor of happy you're looking for. But I'd say that these are probably the happiest:

(Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea

Inscrutable to the Last

White Knight

Another Auld Lang Syne

Whirlwind

8. Do you get hate on fics? Thankfully, no. A few weird comments here and there, but nothing too bad. The vast majority of my interaction with others in the fandom has been absolutely wonderful.

9. Do you write smut? Most of my sex scenes stay in R rated territory. But I tend to roll with whatever the plot demands of me.

10. Do you write crossovers? I've done quite a few fusion fics, but not crossovers. Crossovers aren't usually my cup of tea.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Once, sort of, but I don't believe it was done maliciously and I don't wish to call attention to it.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes! I'm always flattered by requests to translate my writing.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? A friend and I used to write together quite a bit in high school, but nothing that has made it out into the world.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship? Sherlock & John and Mulder & Scully.

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Crime Writer is a Sherlock/Knight Rider fusion that ran out of steam a while back (although it was intended to be episodic and IMO doesn't feel too horribly unresolved where it ends, so don't let the unfinished nature of it put you off if you're inclined to read it).

I'm still optimistic about most of the WIPs in my WIP folder, heh. I guess we'll see what next year brings.

16. What are your writing strengths? I like to think I'm good at writing complicated people with complicated feelings that don't always resolve neatly.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I don't think my smut is particularly inspired. And I have a very hard time writing fluff or domestic situations without having some angst to drive the plot.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I personally wouldn't attempt it. I'm not fluent in any other languages and there's far too much nuance to leave in the hands of Google Translate. :)

19. First fandom you wrote for? X-Files! (Unless you count unrefined and unposted scribblings from my younger years, I definitely went through a phase where I was trying to fix the Terminator time loop in a way that allowed Sarah Connor and Kyle Reese to live happily ever after.)

20. Favourite fic you've ever written? Oh, this is always such a hard question to answer. The Pillar upon Which England Rests is the first fic I wrote for the Sherlock fandom, so it has a special place in my heart. I'm really proud of the cases and complex plot in Out There. (Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea is the one that seems to resonate with the most people. And White Knight is the fic I'd most like to see turned into an episode of the show. :D

I'll tag @thetimemoves @insistentbass @lololollywrites @arwamachine @naefelldaurk @clueless-mp4 @totallysilvergirl and anyone else who would like to play along!

#fic writer questions #sherlock #johnlock

[rye-kin]

I know writing this is gonna upset me because I’m going to snowball into a few other thoughts and headcanon I have that I haven’t quite been able to articulate yet/in a way I would like!

But recently, I had a convo w a friend on how I believe Hyde functions in relationships, particularly with JEKYLLS loved ones… and in the case of this convo, while I’ve talked about victor in my AU (which is a complex paternal sort of relationship between the two), I want to focus on S/O. I’m gonna try to do this, again without snowballing too much about other ideas, like how I think of Jekyll in relationships, or about how Hyde might process emotions (or lack there of).

I think people tend to place mr. Hyde in the “hyper sexual” category, with being more expressive of his desires than Jekyll is. But in my interpretation he’s pretty sterile. Robert Louis Stevenson expressed that Hyde was not a sexual being, and I have never read him as such. Sexuality and romantic desires are not inherently evil, and in all honestly I don’t think Hyde expresses them at all! Making him basically aroace in practice.

There is a more loose way of expressing this I feel, where the only reason Hyde would appear to “desire” anybody is out of greed. He just has to have somebody for the sake of having them. But again, I don’t think there’s any desire there of any kind. The only people he would have this response to, I feel, are people Jekyll is in a relationship with. Jealousy, betrayal and frustration are emotions he can def feel imo, but again, very loosely applied to any relationship he might have w someone as Jekyll.

I’m a bit lazy to look it up verbatim, but there is a quote in jnh where Jekyll expresses “hyde would not be aware of all he had lost”. The only reason Hyde would have this response is because he was already with them as Jekyll, and he only feels the betrayal of them leaving him. Not the loss?

I’m pretty sure I yapped a bit, but I wanted to write ts out lalz

#ronnie chats #tagging so I can find later whoops #might rb w my interpretation of Jekyll and Hyde’s relationship #PS I #upset because I KNOW I will forget something then be mad I didn’t include it UGHH #workshop latrrrrr