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kingsandbastardz · 17 days

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Tumblr ate the anon ask I was responding to so I'm gonna paraphrase it here:

what do mean llh gave di feisheng to fang duobing? the letter totally said something else

Yes, it did - but I didn't feel I could comment too deeply on it when it's been retranslated and people who are far more literate than I am have analyzed the contents already. -- The letter itself seems pretty straight forward.

However, what I wanted to focus on was analyzing unspoken social dynamics - so I'm gonna get in depth into my reasoning for my interpretation. And admittedly in previous posts I was playing fast and glib with my responses (they were just insomnia-fueled thoughts I typed real fast) so I wasn't really in depth or anything. Anyway~~~ That means it's time for me to get long winded.

So! First thing - this is the scene: The letter was written from Li Xiangyi and addressed in its entirety to Di Feisheng. However, when it was delivered the fisherman asked for both DFS and FDB. It was then read outloud by either the fisherman or FDB -- I assume read out loud, and loudly, because DFS never left his position by the rocks and emoted his distress at the contents. That means everyone there also was privy to the letter contents.

The letter itself is straight forward. It's addressed from LXY telling DFS that he regretfully can't make the duel and that he respects him both as a martial artist and as a person, and if he wishes, he can go to FDB who has inherited his skills and shows great promise, etc.

The thing IS - I firmly believe that this is not a message meant just for DFS.

Both LLH and DFS code switch between their non-leader selves vs Li-Menzhu and Di-Mengzhu. It's easiest to see based on what they're wearing. Li Xiangyi when he's dressed in the Sigu Sect uniform. Or the Styx flower hand-off scene where he calls him Di-mengzhu (not Lao Di or A-Fei or whatever else) likely as a reaction to his official regalia/red uniform which means DFS was showing up in an official capacity. Both of them know very well the importance of a certain.... how to say.... drama? They're both leaders and they were also very performative in their roles as leaders. They both expected that massive peanut gallery that showed up to witness the fight - the one filled with members of various sects, including Sigu Sect leadership -- because dfs was likely the one announcing it.

Imo - aside from the need to express the full weight of what he felt, part of the reason LLH was so formal in his letter is expectation that there would be other people there - influential people. The very people DFS and FDB would have to deal with in the future alone. FDB would be ok but he's largely unknown to the rest of jianghu and therefore his story is still malleable. DFS is known, but infamous and his narrative is as much of a trap as LXY's was. And now he no longer has the benefit of a sect to act as a buffer.

LLH's last act as LXY was not to save Yun Biqiu but to carve a new path open in the world for DFS and FDB:

Expresses that he bears deep emotion and the greatest and deepest respect for DFS despite a reputation of them being enemies

Informs everyone that DFS is not seeking dominion or 'the throne' but rather, is going the fighter-scholar path of studying and testing martial skill -- aka, this is message from one sect leader to all the others present. Spread the word, this man is NOT gunning for your power. None of you have reason to take him down.

Establishes FDB as his one and only successor - while also stating clearly it's entirely up to FDB to decide whether to continue down this path or not

Creates a pathway for DFS and FDB to maintain their connection with each other - and in fact lets everyone else know that there is a pre-established, legacy relationship between DFS and LLH that FDB will be inheriting.

Gently asks DFS to keep an eye on FDB's development - iterating that if dfs is the one asking, then FDB may make the decision to continue to train - aka help him see his full potential whatever his decision is.

At the same time, he silently wishes FDB to maintain connections with/keep an eye on DFS. In another reply I kinda went on about this: imagine a scenario where your friend's mom pulls both of you in front of her. And the whole time is telling your friend that they need to do, expectations, a list of goals, etc. The entire time she's only focused on your friend - but there is this silent implication that you, as the witness, is expected to act a reminder or even an enforcer if your friend isn't listening. If things go wrong, you're expected to go in there and help them to do the thing they were asked to do. This is the unspoken message I'm getting for FDB. Even though his name wasn't mentioned in the letter, it was explicitly delivered to both him and dfs. He's standing right there while an imaginary LLH talks to DFS. So if after all this, dfs disappears without another word = fdb can feel emboldened to go after him, knocking on doors until he answers. Should he decide to do so.

Entreaty - "These are LXY's (my) last wishes. Please respect my memory after my death."

Conclusion: LLH's last actions were to create a space where both DFS and FDB can make their own decision on their path in the world, without the weight of all those other people in jianghu influencing them.

Note: I also believe that on dfs' side, his clothing choices point toward his plans to publicly step down and leave the martial path with Li Lianhua. But llh sucker-punched him and left him standing on some rocks like a widow waiting for her husband who's lost at sea. They were technically on the same page, but it somehow went wrong because... well. Unfortunately that's DFS' narrative. He never quite reaches his goal without the hero either hindering or helping him. The entire drama was LLH being that karma busting fulcrum for him. But now, should he wish it, it'll be FDB's turn to step up and do the same.

#also as an aside - with all the marriage symbolism and the dead brides in every story arc - both lyx and dfs with red uniforms?#llh stealing dfs repeatedly away from marriages? sgd wanting llh to wear the red for HIM but instead llh wears it for everyone else but him #it's very much giving me sacrificial savior where the hero is for the people and not any given individual #mysterious lotus casebook #my royal ramblings #di feisheng #li lianhua #li xiangyi #fang duobing #lxy's last letter #meta

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actual-changeling · 3 months

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Aziraphale Does NOT Have Depression

or: Please Have a Look at the ICD

or: This Word Does Not Mean What You Think It Does

I cannot believe I even have to make this post, but here we are. Hi. Hello guys. Maybe I should start a series called "Alex fact-checks meta posts" because I have seen things that should have never been written.

A small excursion before we start: The way things usually work in academic circles is that the person making the claim needs to provide proof for said claim, which is then peer-reviewed by unrelated academic parties. That involves not only making sure that the results they are basing their claim on are replicable—meaning that if someone else were to do the same work, they would receive the same result—but also that their methods were ethical and functional.

If it turns out that their methods or any other part of the process are not replicable, functional, or otherwise waterproof, then the paper is marked as not being correct and that it should be disregarded.

While this is far from academic circles, these rules still apply to any kind of conversation or discussion, especially that last part:

If you make a claim, back it up, or it should be disregarded.

With that, welcome to the peer-review of "Aziraphale has depression" claims. Obligatory note that this is not about fanfiction or headcanons but people claiming that Aziraphale canonically has depression.

You may sit in front of your screen and think Alex, why do you think you can write this post? To which I happily respond that not only am I professionally diagnosed with both Dysthymia and Recurrent Depressive Disorder, I have also a) done my research offline with psychiatrists and psychologists and b) know how to read academic literature because my degree very much requires me to be able to do so.

If you want to go and fact-check what I am about to present—which you are explicitly invited to do in case you want to publicly disagree with me—you can find the entirety of the ICD 11 right here.

No paywall, completely free access.

For those who have never heard of it, ICD stands for "International Classification of Diseases", which is by now on its 11th version and written and maintained by the WHO/World Health Organization. It contains all kinds of relevant information, like diagnostic criteria, about all diseases. As you can see, this includes mental disorders and illnesses:

Let's get into it!

First things first, there is no such thing as "depression", that term is a colloquial reduction of a number of different disorders categorized under Mood Disorders -> Depressive Disorders. Said category also contains any and all diagnoses related to Bipolar Disorders.

"Depression" is nondescript, loose, and can mean a long list of things, and social media has diluted and romanticized its meaning. For the purpose of this post, we will have a look at the criteria for three diagnoses:

Dysthymic disorder (shortened here to dysthymia)

Single episode depressive disorder, mild ( // to single episode)

Recurrent depressive disorder, current episode mild ( // recurrent)

I assume people mean a crude mix of these when they say "depression". Both recurrent and single episode can be diagnosed with dysthymia, but they cannot be diagnosed with each other. Recurrent automatically excludes single episode as a diagnosis, which I think is obvious if you think about it.

Before we look at the symptoms themselves, here is something very important to keep in mind about diagnoses: There are two requirements that pretty much every listed disorder and illness in the ICD has.

The first is that the symptoms are not related to something else—whether that's another mental disorder, a physical illness, or simply a cultural influence. It needs to be clear that they are due to something outside of what is already known and not circumstantial.

The second one is that the present symptoms are causing significant distress and impair a person's functioning in at least two different areas of life.

Or, to put it bluntly, a disorder needs to be disordering or it isn't one.

Additionally, the severity of the displayed symptoms needs to be taken into account. If several of them are not causing any negative impact on someone's life, they are not symptoms and cannot be counted.

Now, I will very much reduce the information the ICD provides us with or we will be here forever, but it is all correct and not partial in its meaning. To keep everything neat and tidy, I created a nice, colour-coded table:

If you disagree with what I marked for Aziraphale, great, please provide me with textual evidence of where exactly he exhibits each criteria, that it is not related to periodical stress or something else, and cannot be attributed to exceptional circumstances (like the end of the world).

The ONLY symptom we ever see Aziraphale consistently show throughout all six thousand thousand years is the one marked in yellow: low self-worth or excessive or inappropriate guilt.

However, if you paid attention to what I explained above, you will notice why this is in no way indicative of a depressive disorder.

Not only is it one symptom out of several required ones, it can also be explained by something else, which is the emotional neglect and abuse heaven subjected and subjects every (former) angel to. The same can be said for any anxious symptoms he exhibits sometimes, emphasis on sometimes.

In conclusion, Aziraphale does not have depression, and I think making a case that he does will be almost entirely built on assumptions and subjective interpretations, not anything that is in any shape or form supported by text or subtext.

Does that mean all of his struggles are somehow invalid? No, of course not. They are simply not due to a disorder but something else, that's literally all this post proves. It makes no moral judgement.

#alex talks good omens #good omens meta #good omens season 2 #aziraphale meta #go2 #aziraphale #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens #ineffable wives #ineffable spouses #crowley

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wh0refornikolailantsov · 11 months

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Prompt: “they'll never understand how much i love you.”

For Tolya x Reader please!!

I thought to myself, I can't make this angsty can I? But hey-ho I surprise even myself.

All The Things I'll Never Say - Tolya Yul Bataar

Content Warnings: Pining, So Much Pining And Not Even In My Usual Font. No Proof/Beta Reading, We Just Die I Guess.

He couldn't tell you. He wouldn't tell you. There was no reason to. Besides honesty, and as honest as Tolya likes to believe himself to be, the honesty was outweighed with all the responsibility of his own feelings.

Tolya is a warrior, when it comes down to it, he was raised and made to fight. In another life, in another situation, with other fates and with the grace of Saints he might have been something else. A scholar. A poet. Maybe, even yours.

But Tolya chooses not to linger on all the possibilities of lives unlived. It wasn't his nature to regret who he might have been, when who he was is what brought him to you.

You.

You, who's smile brought light to even the darkest parts of him. You, who he could believe all the poems were written about. You who's words brought comfort and voice feels like home. You, who if he had never known, he doubted he would know himself as well without.

It's easy to love someone. It's a second nature that you never have to learn unless you're taught out of love. Even those taught out of love can recognise it eventually, disguised as other things, like loyalty, or duty. "That's what Zoya sees it as," you had said, watching her with Alina.

"I am unconvinced that woman has a heart," Tolya had stated in response.

"Everyone has a heart, even if it's icy, or buried, everyone is capable of love in some way," you had looked at Zoya with such softness that for a moment Tolya was able to see her as you did, someone who had gotten lost in the time between innocence and now, someone who surely once loved with her entirety, and now didn't know how, "she just needs to be willing to let it in again."

It's easy to love someone. It's especially easy to love someone so willing to love in return. It's easy to love when love is given freely. You smile at him and the love is so freely given. Tolya knows where he was built for defence you were built for welcoming, his guardship against your openness in perfect parallel. You do not let the darkness of the life around you bury the light you bring into it.

He never had to try to love you, loving you was easy, easier than almost anything he had ever experienced before.

But it's easy to love someone, it's not easy to know what to do with that love.

He can't tell you, not in the clear ways that would make everything understood and known. His love for you isn't complicated, it is the most simple thing in his life. But this life, is complicated. And things pure and honest and hopeful need space to breathe and grow and where you brought light wherever you go, you needed to do more of that.

Tolya knows if he told you, if you knew, you would not care about the war and the loyalties and duty Tolya upholds, you would not care about the fealty and the obligation. You would go where Tolya goes, you would follow him because there is no place he could go where you would not rather be with him.

He doesn't doubt even for a moment how easily you would love him in return, just like you already do, quietly, peacefully, carefully.

He doesn't doubt that there is no darkness that could overcloud the light you bring, and yet he doesn't want that for you.

He wants you to be free and not fighting, he wants you safe and seen and always with a reason to smile that smile you do when you see him across the grass in the early morning.

Eventually Tolya has to leave, and he cannot be the reason this place loses you, he cannot take you away because it will hurt him to be without you.

It's easy to love you, it's near impossible to not want that love in return.

It's easy to love you, but it's hard to know that loving you, truly loving you, means he has to be willing to let you go, and the only way he can do that, the only way you can let him, is if he doesn't tell you all the things that he wants to every time you look at him.

He cannot tell you that you have made his life inconceivably better from the moment you entered it, and every time he has heard you laughter it has filled him with love worth a life time. He cannot explain how he is eager for the sound of your voice, and hungry for your company that no amount of time will ever satiate.

He cannot tell you that he will not miss you when he leaves, but he will instead leave a part of him with you that you can never return to him without staying at his side perennially.

He has never wanted words of his own more than now, knowing that no poet he knows can give you the sentiments you need, nothing can make you understand without asking you to be beside him, to stay beside him and he wants to ask you to do that. But he knows better.

It's easy to love you, it's nearly impossible to leave you.

His name in your voice carried through the distance between you brings him back to the moment, you wave him over as you sit with more people Tolya had met but never really known before you. He is slow to follow your request, as each step that brings him closer to you makes it harder for him to take the steps away again.

Nadia gives you a smile as she leans in to your side, whispering words only you can hear. You shake them off with a chuckle and Tamar throws her brother a knowing look, but Tolya cannot help but think how little she knows at all in this moment.

“They'll never understand how much I love you.” His minds whispers like a betrayal he could not run from.

"Tolya," you say again, as he nears. You pat the space next to you, eager to have him by your side. You know he is leaving, and you're waiting for him to tell you, you're hoping he will find the words to say that will make it feel less like a desertion. You try not to take the idea of him leaving with the heaviness of the idea of being forsworn but it's hard when no one has made you feel as seen as Tolya, and you always knew he would leave, but a part of you hoped, quietly, privately, even naively that he would want you to go with him. The hope was guileless but it was honest, it was real. You were not holding it against Tolya that he had not said a word, you expected nothing in return for all you were to him, because love has never been about what you get in return, you knew that. But this large part of you was calling to him, not asking him to stay, because you knew he would not, but begging him to ask you not to stay.

"Where'd you go?" you ask. His eyes look into yours and you feel the pressure in your chest rise as you want to ask him, you want to know all the things he hasn't said. But you don't. And you won't. "It was like we lost you for a second."

"You'll always find me again," Tolya replies and takes one of the bread rolls from your hand. "I'll never go too far."

#shadow and bone #tolya #tolya x reader #tolya yul bataar #grishaverse #tolya and tamar #six of crows #fluff #tolya my darling i adore you #shadow and bone s2 #tolya yul bataar fluff

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t-w-i-l-l-e-r · 1 year

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ok so this is probably the only non-reblog tumblr post i’ll ever make in the entirety of my natural life but if the world goes on w/o knowing anything about mirai komachi I will BURST.

Mirai Komachi is this vocaloid (see below) made for the VOCALOID4 engine by Bandai Namco Studios, a Japanese video game development company that is a subsidiary of Bandai Namco Entertainment which ITSELF is a subsidiary of Bandai Namco Holdings ANYWAY

from what i can gather she was kind of an accident? the vocaloid wiki describes her as an “experimental female vocal not originally meant for commercial release” which to me implies “accident”. either way they made this vocaloid n then just. released her. No announcement, no advertising, nothing. “come get y’all orange juice”, Bandai Namco said. And, unsurprisingly, very few people did. mirai komachi is a relatively obscure vocaloid, even (from what i can tell PLZ correct me if i’m wrong) in the jp community and ESPECIALLY in the english community. Minnemi’s “Every VOCALOID Described In One Word” video give mirai komachi the word “who?”. She’s not even mentioned on her parent company’s wikipedia page. only the most completionist of the completionist vocaloid nerds (me) even rly know of her existence, much less her lore.

yeah thats right her lore. this girlie has lore!!! her origin is that this doctor guy named Hakase (yeah they have names n everything) was doing some kind of experiment that got fucked up so explosion BOOM mirai komachi appears (BTW "mirai komachi” is her name. Like, the whole thing. komachi is written in kanji while mirai is written in katakana which implies mirai is the given name and it’s just written in the western order but her website refers to her explicitly as Mirai Komachi and in an email Bandai Namco stated that mirai is neither her given or family name. Technically in most official english source material they refer to her as MiraiKomachi. weird). after she appeared in the explosion she became a researcher at Bandai Namco studios women in stem girlboss. anyway Hakase n these little robots he made r considered her sidekicks n they have a whole lil comic series of their misadventures that I CANNOT find any english translations of and it kills me.

but either way my point is considering her lack of popularity its kind of wild how much content there is of her???? she has a youtube page w/ a bunch of original songs, almost all of which have official english subtitles and are on spotify (which is pretty rare for lesser known vocaloids n if they r there they r certainly hard 2 find). the official MiraiKomachi website is super well made and has a bunch of illustrations, an official mirai komachi 3d model, and the comics i mentioned earlier. she’s been on a bunch of japanese public transport stuff (which isnt that uncommon 4 jp vocaloids) n has this absurd but cute video collaboration with Jammu like. shes there!! shes got stuff!!!

(this whole post is rly just a manifestation of the fact that vocaloid is a very international multilingual community n the nature of very international multilingual communities is every once in a while u will stumble across an aspect of this community that u r theoretically “part of” that is completely in a language that u dont speak or in a physical location that u cannot access n ur just like “huh. there are entire aspects of this thing i care about that i will never fully understand and subcommunities that i will rarely ever interact with even if i spend actual years obsessing over that thing.” this has been existential fandom hour brought to you by staring too long at the vocaloid wikis)

uhhh anyway tl;dr mirai komachi is cute n i wish i could read japanese

#vocaloid #mirai komachi #mirai komachi vocaloid #im no longer down the rabbit hole #the rabbit hole is down me #its in my intestines kicking and screaming #(about vocaloid)#JP AND EN SPEAKING VOCALOID FANS PLZ TRANSLATE MIRAI KOMACHI COMICS #I BEG OF YOU #the music videos on the yt channel r so cute they deserve recognition!!!#i'm doing the work of the capitalists by promoting a character explicitly made to advertise a video game company but...#listen shes CUTE its not my fault #i stayed up kinda late n then woke up n found this in my drafts did i even write this???? no memory

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 2 years

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Unattainable | Yandere Ouran Host Club x Reader

You were visiting Haruhi in the host club, per her request via letter. Meeting every summer you two had become the friendliest of pen-pals. As such you two would share your lives and feelings in all it's unexciting glamor; recently including her adventures in the Ouran host club. Private and selective your school integrated with Ouran academy for a time to celebrate the partnership between the school. When you informed your dearest friend that you were coming she wanted to see you and bare witness to the insanity she had been subjected you. Unfortunately you were a very driven person moved solely by your truest love: food. While other friends, your siblings, and even your parents had left you, your ability to properly socialize has diminished. Haruhi was the only one to withstand your bluntness, realizing your personality buried by your lack of communication. As such incentives for your enjoyment had to be dangled before you for you to act. This was such a typical behavior of yours that Haruhi compared it to a dog for a bone as nicely as possible. Your bone to take time from you leaving to your home was cake. Plus your bestfriend would get to spend more time with you than in between classes. Just as usual when those blue doors to the music room opened rose petals flew out and Tamaki was there with an open palm. "Welcome my-" "Where is my cake?" "……"

Everyone deadpanned at the very blank but determined face that you had. The confused gawking being broken by Haruhi skipping out of her place to glomp you uncharacteristically. Her proximity to you had you heating up in a blush that Haruhi subtley chuckled at. "I-i came because you said there'd be cake." "I did and you'll get some but you'll have to have tea with me." "Of course." As she took your hand leading you to her table the host club had time to register what just happened. "That's Haru-chan's guest?" "Apparently so, who would expect her to be such good friends with a (L/n) let alone anybody for that matter." "And the way Haruhi treats them…" "She hardly gives us anything at all." "SHE DOESNT GREET ME LIKE THAT!!!" And this was the sum of the reactions throughout the entirety of service. And as the room cleared of their guests you remained happily attached to Haruhi as you munched on your fourth piece of cake. "(L/n) if I may ask how long have you known our beloved Haruhi?" "…." Once again everyone deadpanned as you ignored Kyoya for another bite of cake. Haruhi on the otherhand snickered at you before calling your name. You jumped, realizing that you were being spoken to in the first place. Wordlessly you questioned why she called you, she nodded her head in the direction of Kyoya who was trying to save face despite your lack of response. "Did you need something, sir?" "I asked about your relationship with Haruhi."

"Oh well…" You seemed to curl into yourself as though to hide behind the plate of cake you had cleared. "She's my best friend. And I wanted to see her in the environment she's spoken so fondly of." This time it was Haruhi's turn to blush, and the club to teasingly gush. You would smile as they carried on with their typical fighting. You were happy for her.

The next time you would be baited into the host club was less anticipated. You arrived with no words uttered between you or your dearest friend instead lasering your focus on the specific directions requiring you to sit at a table standing alone and with cake on top of it. For the whole service you just sat alone eating your full cake in the corner awkwardly angled towards the guests and hosts. You weren't bothering anyone and Haruhi seemed to be in a better mood since you showed up so they didn't bother. Come to find when they questioned her she had no idea why you were here. You showed your written invitation with a mysterious alias that referred to you as milk and signed as your partner in crime. When they tried to ask you who it maybe you can only say that 'you don't commit crimes least of all with someone who isn't Haruhi.' From there they make it their mission for the week to find out who your mysterious sender is. Sure enough all through out the week this 'partner in crime' would prepare various sweets to gorge upon as they ruled out suspects every day ultimately finding that there was only one letter left but because of its stipulations you timidly asked Haruhi for them to back off. Now the letter asked that you come to the former music room earlier than the end of the day. You showed up prepared to be attacked but instead you found a blushing and fidgety Honey. "Honey, if you'd please leave I'm supposed to be meeting someone in secret." "It's me." "Your what?" "I'm the 'Partner in Crime' I'm the Honey to your milk…" "I detest that phrase, we've committed no crimes together." Your attention was wondering again. "(Y/n)." He called watch your (e/c) optica refocus on him and light up in recognition. "Honey? Are you the one giving me free sweets?" "Yes." "Oh well thank you for them they made me quite happy." "….I'm glad but-wait (Y/n) where are you going?!" He looked up from his shuffling feet to see you turned and already at the door. "Oh I thought that was all. Go ahead then." He was now fully red practically steaming as he was revving up to say what he needed. "I-i love you (Y/n)! As a lover! Would you date me?!" He shouted earnestly refusing to open his eyes as he waited for an audible reaction." "You? Wish to date me?" "Yes." He lifted his head to see your eyes looking down at him just because of your towering height over him. Because of your listless expression it looked like you were glaring at him bit you weren't. But it felt like it. "Absolutely Not." You had turned to leave but were stopped by the emotional exclamation, "WHY?!" You stopped only turning your head enough for him to see the side of your face. "I'd quite literally be arrested. Child or not I can't in good conscience see you as anything more than someone I can barely have relations to." With that you walked away headed to meet your dearest friend Haruhi who was already waiting in the hallway. You remember you told her how you were leaving early on a vacation mandated by your remaining guardian. You said you would've invited her for the long weekend but you didn't want her to miss school and the host club. But she reassured you latching herself onto you as she pulled you to your vehicle and driver. "I don't mind missing a day if it means I'm with you." You smiled back at her allowing her to playfully squeeze next to you in the backseat. Any thoughts that lingered of anything mildly nauseating dissipated at the presence of Haruhi, just like it always did.

Honey was heart-broken at first. Had you truly felt nothing of his letters endued with poetry? About how much he wanted to partake in your life even before you formally met? He had seen you while scouting out homemade (f/p) ordering the amount you wanted which was enough to make the cashier and baker gawk. He watched you aloof to the stares you walked out carrying your own three boxes to your inconspicuous truck. Then he was just shocked. You rejected him because he was too cute? Never once had this been an issue most of the girls that confessed seem to find him just their type. Perhaps it was the underlying brother-complex but nonetheless this was his ball park; one that you entirely trashed. He remembered that a little after your second-hefty shipment of (f/p) that he began following you. Of course you never caught on, how could you? After all you only left your house for menial things, avoiding security for your sweet tooth. Never had he met someone so dedicated to food and thinking on it maybe that's why he was so interested. That same dedication directed towards him, would be lovely. You were like Morinozuka, in that you weren't a great talker but you could tell that you both truly cared. And for him to see you hold such a look with Haruhi, was infuriating. Now he was mad. You have the audacity to refuse him for Haruhi. Whether this is your fault or not he blames your dearest friend as the one who has made this decision. Ignoring that the words came from your own mouth, you weren't at fault. Honey was going to save you from Haruhi's influence. "Morinozuka." He called firmly into the nearly empty room, out of the darkness Mori was readying himself to run "Yes Mitskuni." "Make them need me." And with that the karate master second to Honey himself was on your trail and with a plan in mind.

_______________________________________________

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lya-dustin · 9 months

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All is bliss

Chapter 34

Cw: mentions of depression, racism(use of a slur), severed heads

Gif by @bonniebird

Taglist: @darylandbethfanforever9 @mercedesdecorazon @aemondx @watercolorskyy @sweethoneyblossom1 @ewanmitchellcrumbs

A day after Ser Otto’s demise, Aemma received a black brocade gown made to match the famous green dress Alicent wore at Aemma’s mother’s wedding feast.

I am your humble servant; the white silk ribbon had written in an elegant Valyrian script.

The handmaiden had been instructed to press her hair with a hot comb and arrange it exactly as Queen Alicent wore it that evening twenty years ago.

Her mysterious ally had gotten the matching jewelry done in silver and rubies that matched her crown.

The Beacon of the Hightower shone green when calling its banners and during wartime.

The symbolism of the queen’s gown had given name to their faction and become her signature color.

And tonight, Aemma rubs salt in the wound by taking her glorious moment and using it as weapon against her.

“Tell your mistress I will do all I possibly can to repay her kindness, May.” Aemma whispered as May, her handmaiden, dressed her.

It was an insult to House Hightower and the Queen Mother especially. And what better way than to wear it for tonight’s feast done in honor of Ser Otto’s memory and as a show of strength on Aegon’s part.

The entirety of Otto Hightower’s household ---including his longtime mistress--- is put to the sword for their negligence.

Their heads will be displayed at tonight’s feast just as Daemon allegedly displayed Ser Otto’s head at Harrenhal yesterday.

Aegon doesn’t care about people seeing him as weak as he is brought to court in his father’s own chair, after all, the heads will distract them all.

At dawn, Daeron Targaryen, Alicent and Alicent’s two brothers were to escort the bones to Oldtown along with most members of their house leaving court ripe for the taking.

Tomorrow Aemma and Jena will begin turning the court against Alicent and turn all those cloaks from green to black while she buried her loathed father.

It would not be easy, but the journey to and from Oldtown would take at least two or three moons given all the fighting still going on in the Reach. A shame Samantha had to go; she was quite fun even Baela liked her, but her husband demanded she go and her stepson/lover as well especially now that word has gotten around about little Ellyn’s toy dragon being the only thing left by his killers.

The most credible and circulated rumor was that Daemon had known who the true killer of the bastard girl was and did not like being framed for it.

There were others, but all of them fell apart when word came that Daemon had been presented Ser Otto’s head by a ratcatcher who claims he saw who killed the little girl.

The real killer is the blood of the king, he had allegedly said.

After that all ratcatchers were arrested and put to death. Cats were to replace them, and most households will have to kill their vermin themselves if they do not have a cat or a dog.

Some had wondered what would happen to all the rat poisons the rat catchers had.

The first toast is interrupted when the ballroom’s doors are opened to her.

No one knew she was coming, and it made it all the better.

“All rise, for Queen Aemma Targaryen.”

Whoever made that dress had a death wish.

Aemma had mentioned it earlier, but seeing how perfectly it was replicated in black, silver and rubies was an entirely different beast.

The feast had yet to begin and yet when Queen Alicent gave her thanks for their condolences, her speech was interrupted by the arrival of her rival.

“If my position were not on the line, I would be the first to compliment her on this.” Jasper tries not to look proud at this scene he thinks she helped orchestrate. “Who knew the two of you would pull it off so well, darling.”

“She looks like---” someone down the table said and Jena decided to let the court know where her loyalties now lied.

“She looks like a queen.” Jena smiled as her friend passed by them and Aemma nodded in return.

Jena cannot tell who is more spellbound by the sight of Aemma, both Targaryen men cannot seem to care how insulted their maternal family is about it.

Queen Alicent had been told her gooddaughter may be attending and wisely left the chair available. It would have been doubly humiliating to be asked to move.

“I am sorry for your loss, goodmother.” Aemma says the words genuinely which makes it all even worse.

It was common knowledge that the Queen Mother had yet to give her condolences to her gooddaughter.

Jena had been amongst the first to tell her, using her status as the Master of Laws’ wife and Aegon’s mistress to see her.

It had been a shocking sight, Aemma looking so dead inside as she sat by the window contemplating gravity.

I am sorry for your loss, your mother was a good woman, those words had made the young queen turn and give her a look that was in itself a loud cry for help.

Jena was relieved to see her return to life, even if the naïve girl was long gone.

And the woman born from her ashes had come with a vengeance.

“The law says a son comes before a daughter, “Jasper reminds her.

“The law went out the window when Aegon was put on the throne, dearest.”

Aemma’s confidence lasts up until Aegon speaks and announced he would kill Daemon and his men just as he had killed those who had turned a blind eye to his grandfather’s murder.

Aemond winced at the turn of phrase, but that had not been the source of their greater discomfort.

Every single head had been put on a platter and left at every table like a centerpiece.

Alicent gets the head of Ser Otto’s mistress, Victaria Bulwer, while Aemond got Hightower’s steward and Aegon the head of his grandfather’s sworn shield.

Aemma gets the head of his housekeeper.

It was disgusting to say the least.

“I thought you might like it, Goodwife Megga loved to call you a darkie behind your back.” Aegon said as if Aemma would appreciate it.

But Jena told her that to get Aegon out of the way the moment she is made co-ruler she must be the perfect wife.

“I can feel her prejudice from her stare, thank you.” Aemma swallows her disgust and finds herself losing her appetite.

“Your lady wife should not see such things lest the babe be born stillborn” his mother warned as she tried to drink her wine while Lady Victaria’s green eyes stared at her in horror.

Death before Disgrace.

The words of House Bulwer who hoped Ser Otto would wed the young widow and give her that sought after heir to keep her cousins from taking the keep and lands.

Now that will never happen.

The woman had been disgraced before her death and even after.

“I am sorry, I did not know.” Aegon apologized and had the heads taken away making all of them breathe easier. “Let us hope little Aenys was unaffected by that fuck up.”

Why was he being nice?

“You look beautiful.” Aegon adds with a genuine smile. Aemond narrowed his eyes and hid his irritation with a sip of wine. He will need the whole pitcher if Aegon keeps this show of gentlemanliness up.

What the fuck was going on with him?

Was he giving Aemond and Criston’s advice a try still?

“How did you get your hands on such a dress, your grace?” Alicent asked with a sharp edge to her style of address.

“A gift from a merchant guild to sweeten the pot, they seem to have had trouble getting their petitions acknowledged by the late hand. Something about children being sold to rat pits and brothels.” Aemma answered and set right to work.

With a few well-placed words and a caress ---as Jena taught her yesterday--- she could get Mysaria’s list done before the quickening occurs.

#aemma velaryon #aemond targaryen x velaryon!oc #all is bliss(in the court of aemma the great) fic #all is bliss fic #aemond targayen x oc #aegon ii x oc x aemond #aegon ii x oc #ewan mitchell #tom glynn carney

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thorraborinn · 2 years

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Question regarding Freya. In one or two sections of the Prose Edda, she's referred to by a name that might mean "sea-brightener" or "the one who makes the sea swell". I was just wondering what the context for these are?

One of Freyja's names is Mardǫll. The meaning of the name is not actually known, and it's never explained in Old Icelandic literature other than Snorri telling us that this is the case. It occurs a bunch of times in Skaldic poetry, always with a connection to describing gold:

Ýtti ǫrr hilmir [...] tôrum Mardallar 'The generous prince distributed [...] Mardǫll's tears [=gold]' (Bjarkamál in fornu 5)

Mardallar var glysligr grátr 'Mardǫll's tears were glittering [=gold]' (Málsháttakvæði 8)

Nú hefr bekkjar tré bliknat brátt Mardallar gráti 'Now the tree of the bench [= 'woman'] quickly gone pale with Mardǫll's tears [=gold]' (loose verse by Saint Ólafr)

Þars Mardallar milli [...] liggr skurða [...] grátr 'There where Mardǫll's tears lie between the grooves' (Øxarflokkr 1 by Einarr Skúlason; this poem is about an axe which was inlaid with gold)

This last poem, which can be found in its entirety with translation and annotation here, is probably the single source that Snorri gets most of his information about Freyja from. It confirms that, at least in the mythological system that Einarr had for working kennings from, Freyja and Mardǫll refer to the same person, and many details about her family. One has to wonder, if Einarr hadn't been given an axe fancy enough to write a poem about it, would we know even less about Freyja? It also goes to show how much of "Norse Mythology" that we still have was selected for preservation based entirely on the social obligations of poets in an elite, aristocratic context.

Anyway, like I said the meaning of Mardǫll is not actually known, but the most common theory is that the -dǫll part is the same as the dell- in Dellingr and the -dallr in Heimdallr, and that this is related to Old English deall meaning 'bright.' This is far from certain, but is one of the better theories proposed. The first component, mar-, does mean 'sea' although technically on the face of it it could also mean 'horse' or even something else.

I don't know where the 'swell' theory comes from. Simek says it comes from reading Mardǫll as Marþǫll, which is reasonable and it's even written that way a few times in Old Icelandic texts but he doesn't explain what word that meaning is derived from. A þǫll is a fir tree (and indeed in Modern Icelandic a marþöll is a kind of evergreen tree). Apparently the word mardöll would also refer to a mermaid or similar in folklore later on.

However, all of this should be considered alongside the skaldic custom of referring to gold as '[fire] of [water]' or otherwise being contained in water. See the list of kennings for gold here; very many of them refer to gold as something that illuminates water: https://skaldic.org/m.php?p=kenning&i=134

I think that with this in mind it is reasonable to guess that Mardǫll does refer to illumination of/in the sea and that this is itself a reference to gold, and that's why that name in particular is so often invoked in association with describing gold in skaldic poetry.

#freyja #mardǫll #mardöll #ask #anon

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posi-pan · 2 years

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BaB's lionization of *Anything that Moves* is both hilarious and infuriating. On one hand, the zine and its publisher (y'know the Bay Area Bi+ and *PAN* Network) are blatantly pro-pan, and it's really weird that they think it's not. On the other hand, it seems like they've kind of succeeded in associating AtM with their movement, and it really sucks bc it's such an important piece of bi history and they stole from the large bi community *again* like they did with the armory.

controversial opinion but i don't think the bi manifesto is as important as people make it out to be.

before anyone clutches their pearls, let me explain. (this is a long rant that honestly has little to do with your message anon, so i'm sorry about that lmao)

there are bi texts from the same time and even before the bi manifesto was published that say the same thing, and even say things that are more nuanced, detailed, and explicit in inclusivity and solidarity. so why is the manifesto held to such a high regard, while literally all other bi texts are ignored?

and it's not because it became integral to bi activism or whatever. because it only became A Thing in very recent years, largely when panphobes started spreading a section of it around because they thought it supported their panphobia. (and i'm not gonna lie, the vast majority, if not the entirety of, the bi texts/quotes i see spread around a lot are because people think they "prove" something against pansexuality.)

(sometimes i think it's because someone had slapped the word "manifesto" on it and people think that makes it mean something big. but if that were the case, then other bi texts titled "bi manifesto" would be held in the same regard. and besides, it's really the magazine's manifesto more than it is bisexuality's.)

and like. i've seen so much misinformation about the bi manifesto, because people just repeat what they heard someone else say, who heard from someone else, who heard it from someone else, and so on. it's become a horrible game of mspecphobic telephone.

people who praise the bi manifesto have said: it's a book. it was written in the 70s. it states bi has always been defined as all genders or regardless of gender. it shows that bi has always included nonbinary genders. it holds The Definition of bi. it proves pan is redundant and biphobic. they act like it is and always has been widespread and universally known.

none of those things are true. and like, it does suck that there is so much hatred and lies surrounding the bi manifesto now. because the people who wrote it don't deserve it being used as a tool of vitriol against people they support. (kinda similar to how panphobes used lani ka'ahumanu as a tool for panphobia even though she supports us.)

and another big aspect is that it just really bothers me anytime people hold one single queer text above all others, and when people act like one single queer text needs to be The Most Important to every queer person. because that's utter nonsense.

there is no reason why the bi manifesto has to mean anything to anyone, even bi people, beyond being a way of learning more about bi history. the way people outright say it's biphobic to not care about it or to criticize it or anything beyond mindless praise is wild to me.

that's not why we learn queer history, that's not why queer people write texts on queerness. the bi manifesto itself says it is not representative of all bi people, not all bi people will agree with everything in the magazine.

i've read a lot of queer texts and very little of them mean something to me personally. and that's okay and actually just fucking normal??? i just. have no patience for queer people grasping onto a few queer texts to the neglect of every single other text.

people who say "read the bi manifesto" over and over.....i have, now what? do you want to have a conversation about what it says? about what it means? do you have recs for bi texts that expands on it? like what are you doing. people share a screenshot or tell someone to read it then pat themselves on the back for doing a good activism. and i just...what?

anyways. again i'm sorry my response was sparked by one tiny thing you said anon. (i'm not directing any of this annoyance at you anon). but yeah. it's both funny and annoying because the holy grail text they cite for their panphobia explicitly supports us but also doing so is blatantly misrepresenting bi history. but what else do you expect from panphobes?

#asks #anonymous #pan antagonism #mspec antagonism #long post #bi antagonism #bi manifesto #battleaxe bi #i just have a lot of thoughts about things lmfao rip me 🙈😭

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reflections-in-a-critical-eye · 2 years

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People are seriously taking the Hybe statement as 100% about gurumi lol. With YG's new statement they're saying it's proof the taennie pics are edited because "HYBE didn't mention invasion of privacy but YG did therefore all pics of tae are edited." Do they forget that there is an entire video of tae clear as day getting his hair done? Doesn't matter that jennie isn't in that picture, the leaker released a video against tae's will and therefore that would be included as an invasion of privacy. Also the picture of tae with that older woman? The article does mention "uploading unverified content or writing excessively malicious posts for defamation" which everyone is clinging to to prove they were edited, but I don't see why they wouldn't say "manipulated content" or "edited content" also it could refer to just regular written words. Anyway hopefully they find that gurumi person and take them down and that jennie and everyone who got dragged into it are safe and happy.

As I've said before, fans will focus their attention on the words and phrases that, through their own interpretation, can be seen as confirmation of what they want and not what the situation is actually about. Because they already accepted that Hybe's statement is about Tae, nothing will change their mind. They take that as fact, despite not being one, and then connect it to YG's statement that is obviously about the leaks of Jennie's personal photos (their actual words). YG has not sued Gurumi yet, they only mentioned that it's now part of a police investigation. The phrase about uploading unverified information is in the context of an action that already took place, hence the use of past tense - "sued". It is either about what they usually do, what they already did in general or about other cases of defamation regarding Jennie, BlackPink and company practices. If fans want to analyze this press release in detail, they should focus on the entirety of it and not just what they believe it suits them.

I hope Gurumi will face serious consequences for their actions and that should be the main takeaway from this. What they did was illegal and it was always about that and not about some so-called edited photos. Tae and Jennie's potential relationship is a different matter for which there have been other sources, apart from Gurumi, that lead a lot of people to realize they could be together or have been. That is their personal life which got to the center of attention because they are both well-known public figures. And as to that, some people will never believe it to be true, while others do and decided to move on, instead of showing some rage on twitter. If a significant part of the fandoms believe that ignorance is bliss, that is their issue and perhaps this will make them stop, as they have shown some very questionable behavior in the last few weeks.

In case other significant information doesn't comes to the surface, this issue is over and I don't see a reason to talk about it anymore.

#bmt asks #tae #jennie #YG statement #hybe #kpop twitter

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dailytafsirofquran · 10 months

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Tafsir Ibn Kathir: Surah Yunus Ayah 20

In the Name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful.

10:20 And they say: "How is it that not a sign is sent down on him from his Lord!''

Say: "The Unseen belongs only to Allah, so wait you, verily, I am with you among those who wait.''

The Idolators requested a Miracle

Allah tells;

And they say: "How is it that not a sign is sent down on him from his Lord!''

These stubborn, lying disbelievers said, "Why would not a sign be revealed to Muhammad from his Lord.''

They meant a sign such as given to Salih. Allah sent the she-camel to Thamud.

They wanted Allah to change the mount of As- Safa into gold or remove the mountains of Makkah and replace them with gardens and rivers. Allah is capable of doing all of that, but He is All-Wise in His actions and statements.

Allah said:

Blessed be He Who, if He wills, will assign you better than (all) that -- Gardens under which rivers flow (Paradise) and will assign you palaces (in Paradise). Nay, they deny the Hour, and for those who deny the Hour, We have prepared a flaming Fire. )25:10-11(

He also said:

And nothing stops Us from sending the Ayat but that the people of old denied them. (17:59)

Allah's way of dealing with His creatures is that He would give to them if they asked things from

Him. But if they then didn't believe He would expedite punishment for them.

When Allah's Messenger was given the choice of Allah giving the people what they requested but if they didn't believe they would be punished, or that their request would not be answered immediately, Allah's Messenger chose the latter.

Allah guided His Prophet to answer their question by saying:

Say: "The Unseen belongs only to Allah...''

This Ayah means that the matter in its entirety is for Allah. He is well aware of the outcome of all matters.

"...so wait you, verily, I am with you among those who wait.''

If you would not believe unless you witness that which you asked for, then wait for Allah's judgement for me, as well as for yourselves.

Nonetheless, they had witnessed some of the signs and miracles of the Prophet, which were even greater than what they had asked for.

In their presence, the Prophet pointed to the moon when it was full and it split into two parts, one part behind the mountain and the other before them.

If they were seeking the guidance and firm knowledge by asking for signs, Allah would have known that and would have granted them what had been requested. But Allah knew that it was their obstinacy that was behind their request. Therefore Allah left them to suffer in their suspicion and doubt. Allah knew that none of them would believe.

This is similar to Allah's statements:

Truly, those, against whom the Word (Wrath) of your Lord has been justified, will not believe. Even if every sign should come to them. (10:96- )97

and;

And even if We had sent down unto them angels, and the dead had spoken unto them, and We had gathered together all things before their very eyes, they would not have believed, unless Allah willed. (6:111)

This was in addition to their arrogance. As Allah said in another Ayah:

And even if We opened to them a gate from the heaven. (15:14)

And He said:

And if they were to see a piece of the heaven falling down. (52:44)

He also said:

And even if We had sent down unto you (O Muhammad) a Message written on paper so that they could touch it with their hands, the disbelievers would have said: `This is nothing but obvious magic!' (6:7)

Such people don't deserve to have their requests answered, for there is no benefit in answering them. These people are obstinate and stubborn as a result of their corruption and immorality. Therefore Allah told His Messenger to say:

So wait you, verily, I am with you among those who wait.

#allah #quran #revert #dua #islam #help #religion #revert help #ayat #hadith #revert help team #god

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existentialmagazine · 2 years

Text

Review: Laken Lambson’s uses her new alternative-pop release ‘Bored’ to lightly delve into her own mental health struggles

Alternative-pop artist Laken Lambson is finally reemerging on the music scene after two years of writing and producing new music in her bedroom. After such time, Lambson has ever so slightly reworked her sound and found her niche between sweetness and edge, vulnerably discussing mental health and urging to not only soothe listeners but give them an escape from the real world every time one of her tracks finds itself playing. Lambson’s first release after this break is titled ‘Bored’, eyeing up fans of Maggie Rogers or Clairo and enticing them to give her a chance because she’s truly something special.

‘Bored’ blends Laken’s slow bedroom pop artistry with groovy indie undertones, creating something that is so whimsically dreamy and euphorically catchy in a soundscape that needn’t plead for your attention when it has it right from the opening moments. Pouring every essence of her being into making this experience transformative for her audience, Laken has so intricately pieced together everything behind ‘Bored’ to cohesively make such a profound impact upon the listener. From the sound to Laken’s vocals to the personal message peeking from within, this track proves itself to be a great feat for such a small artist that no doubt will find herself gaining traction with ease. Encompassing moody synths throughout the three minute entirety, ‘Bored’ wields an electronic edge that aids with keeping the sound light and airy when undertones of melancholia seep through the edges of shimmering harps and steady drum beats. Paired with dreamlike vocals that hauntingly serenade your ears, Laken knows how to form an aura of both bliss and heartache that’s perfect for wearing your heart on your sleeve when you’re alone or happily dancing along with a handful of friends. The echoey bridge even sees Laken’s voice reverberate, mirroring that of an overlapping internal narrative to really push the message behind ‘Bored’ , ensuring you don’t overlook her words aimed at helping you in your journey of healing.

Laken centres the lyrical narrative of ‘Bored’ around her own mental health struggles, exploring her exhaustion from keeping herself busy almost every hour of every day just to avoid ever being alone with her thoughts. Yearning the normality that comes with being bored, rather than the overwhelming barrage of intrusive thoughts that mental illness thrusts upon you if you take even a moment to loose yourself in the silence of everyday life, the perhaps more hidden message behind ‘Bored’ is a simple desire to no longer be mentally unwell. Even from the opening lines, ‘I live in fear of standing still, that I can’t do what I said I will’, it’s made evident that this track bears a heaviness on its sleeve purely with the desires to share Laken’s own experience and reassure others that their numbness is not something they’re alone in. Painful lines like ‘When everybody’s sleeping I stay up all night just staring at the ceiling’ do an exceptional job at painting the harsh realities of mental health struggles, amidst the loneliness of these internal battles despite having an active social life during the days. Amongst all of that torment, ‘Bored’ still aims to share a message of learning to love yourself regardless of your struggles and knowing you can overcome your darkest days - and Laken does a wonderful job at making sure that’s known and resonates with the listener.

If ‘Bored’ sounds like the alternative-pop single you’ve been dreaming of, you can go check it out here and find yourself lost within Laken’s magical soundscape and poignant story!

Written by: Tatiana Whybrow

Photo Credits: Lexie Hymas

#music #singlereview #lakenlambson

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syllvane · 3 years

Text

graphology- kaz brekker x reader

a/n: here it is, my entry to @lxncelot ‘s writing challenge!! i chose to write kaz x reader with the prompt leaving letters/notes in each other’s pockets! hope you guys enjoy!

Kaz’s pockets are almost never empty, but he’s always aware of exactly what he has in his pockets- something as simple as that could mean life or death in the Barrel, whether or not he happens to be carrying a knife or a stone of a particular weight.

That’s where he found your grocery list, in his coat pocket, somewhere between his lockpick and a small stone.

Well, he didn’t know that it was yours, not by the contents of the list alone.

But there was the irrefutable fact that it was written in your handwriting, in the handwriting that Kaz had spent hours memorizing should the need to identify it arise.

He had always imagined that this skill would be used in the unfortunate event of your kidnapping, that he would use it to discern whether or not they were forging any communication or if they were making you write it yourself.

Or maybe he just wanted an excuse to memorize your handwriting.

In any case, there was also the fact that you were the only one at the Slat who would be bold enough to wear his jacket.

Standing in the middle of the street, Kaz Brekker smiled to himself, folding the grocery list neatly and tucking it back into his pocket.

He doesn’t return it to you directly.

You find it neatly folded on your nightstand when you return from your shift at the Crow Club, with no clue to how it got there.

You try to carry nothing valuable in your coat pockets, not as adept as Kaz at detecting when someone is trying to pickpocket you.

You keep a lockpick and a couple of stray knives in your pockets and a small roll of gauze, having nicked yourself on the knives on more than a couple of occasions.

You don’t usually keep stray pieces of paper, so when you feel one in your pocket, you figure that it must be one that you left in there accidentally.

When you pull the neatly folded paper out, it’s not your handwriting on it, but familiar handwriting nonetheless.

The paper is mostly blank, with only ten words written on the entirety of the page.

‘Why do you have so many knives in your pockets?’

You know it’s him by the way he writes the letter ‘k’- the rest of the words could be written by someone else for all you know, but you know that Kaz Brekker wrote that one letter.

You ran your finger gently over the words, feeling the imprints of the letters from the other side of the paper.

You held the paper in your hand and walked back to the Slat and into Kaz’s office.

“You know,” He started without looking up. “Some people have the courtesy to knock.”

He looked up at you, his blue eyes piercing yours before dropping to the piece of paper that you held in your hand.

An amused look flashed in his eyes.

“I could just give you a holster for your knives.”

“I like having the knives in my pockets- they’re easily accessible and-”

“They stab people trying to put notes into your pocket?” He finished, his eyes sparkling.

You smiled at him, your eyes sparkling as well.

“Yeah, something like that,” You said, setting the piece of paper down in front of him before turning towards the door. “Oh, and Kaz?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for giving my grocery list back.”

He fights the urge to say that he didn’t take it from you in the first place, that you left it in his coat pocket. He knows that he should tell you not to use his jacket anymore and that next time you leave something, he won’t be as kind, but he doesn’t.

After all, Kaz Brekker doesn’t make threats if he doesn’t intend to keep them.

He settles for shaking his head, a smile tugging at his lips.

The next time he puts on his coat, he really doesn’t expect another scrap of paper in his pockets.

Once was a mistake, something that could be easily overlooked.

Twice was a pattern.

He opened up the crumpled piece of paper, expecting maybe another errant grocery list.

Scrawled in your handwriting: ‘Stay safe, boss’

His heart skipped a beat as he read the piece of paper and he felt himself blush slightly- thankfully for the cold weather, the note didn’t make his cheeks any more red then they would be otherwise.

He was going to have to address this.

For now though, he tucked the piece of paper in a pocket on the inside of his coat, near his chest, shaking his head at how sentimental he had become.

‘Stop stealing my coat.’

That’s the message you found in Kaz’s own coat pocket and you couldn’t say that it was entirely unwarranted.

And it’s the message that Kaz sees again later when he’s wearing his own coat, though underneath his original message, you had added a single word.

‘No.’

Maybe he should’ve been furious at your defiance, at the very least annoyed that you were going to continue wearing his coat after he explicitly told you not to.

Instead, he looked at the note on his desk with a strange smile appearing on his face, feeling something dangerously close to happiness.

The third piece of paper that you leave in Kaz’s coat, much like the first, is completely by accident.

Only this time, it’s not a grocery list that you’ve left in his coat, but poetry.

And if that wasn’t mortifying enough in itself, of course the words had been written in his name, though it hadn’t been addressed directly to him. It may as well have been though, having been left in his coat pocket.

All of this left only one option- you had to get it back before he could read it.

When you opened the door to his office, you were surprised to see Kaz sitting there, though not as surprised as he was to see you in his doorway.

His expression twisted into something unfamiliar but before you could place it, he coughed and his gaze became steely once again.

“You still haven’t learned to knock,” He said pointedly and you looked around the office sheepishly before stepping back into the hallway, closing the door in front of you.

You knocked.

“No one’s home,” He said, his voice muffled from the other side of the door and you rolled your eyes before opening the door again.

“Liar,” You mumbled, though not loud enough for him to hear. “I need your coat.”

He blinked.

“Last time I checked, you had one.”

“It’s not as warm,” You said and although that was true, it was not the reason you wanted it.

He stared at you, as if sensing that you were withholding information, but he didn’t push you on that.

“Why do you insist on stealing my coat?”

“It’s not stealing. I always give it back.”

“Stealing, borrowing without permission, what is the difference really, when I would never allow it of anyone else.”

You didn’t say anything to that, didn’t know what to say.

It wasn’t new information, but there was an unspoken agreement between the two of you that it wouldn’t be spoken aloud. You would steal his coat and Kaz would be annoyed, as if this was something all the Dregs did. You would give it back at the end of the day or whenever you were done wearing it and he would simply shake his head, a small smile playing on his lips and he would tell you not to do it again.

There was never any threat of reprisal, never any threats at all. It was probably better that way- he was known for making good on his word and he would have never lifted a finger against you.

You trusted him absolutely and it had scared all of your common sense right out of you.

“I am going to go to the Crow Club for business,” He said, interrupting your thoughts. “I am going to leave my coat here. Don’t take it.”

You wanted to ask him Why don’t you just give it to me?, but you stopped yourself- you already knew the answer.

Giving it to you would be crossing a line in his mind, a line that he probably couldn’t come back from. It was one thing to leave it here, knowing that you would probably take it against his direct orders and another to give it to you, to watch you put it on.

You watched as he shrugged the coat off, setting it down on his chair. He walked over to the door, his hand on the doorknob.

“If you leave it here, I’m going to put it on.”

He stopped, lowering his head slightly before turning the doorknob and opening the door.

“I wouldn’t leave it here if I thought you wouldn’t,” He said before walking out, closing the door behind him.

You stood there with his words for a little bit before walking over to where he had set his coat down.

You put it on gingerly, as if Kaz might walk back in at any moment and change his mind.

You slipped your hand into the coat pockets and ran through the list of familiar items: lockpick, a couple of stones, a pocket knife, and a wallet that he had taken from a tourist earlier today.

Also there, a scrap of paper.

You unfolded it to see that part of the poem had been ripped away, leaving the very last lines of the poem in your hand.

‘You are home and there is nowhere I would rather be but in your arms.’

Underneath the last words, in neat handwriting that you had come to know as Kaz’s: ‘I don’t think I could’ve said it better myself.’

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hxseok-honee · 3 years

Text

sundress || part 8

written portion under the cut!

sundress [part 8] || weirdly normal

previous || masterlist || next

a/n : ['cause you're a one in a million // there ain't no man like you] streets x doja cat

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Saturday, 18 September, 4:33pm

“Sex?”

“No sex.”

“Not even a little bit of sex?! Just like, once a week!” Y/n lifts her head to level Yoongi with a glare, one that has him shrinking back and whispering ‘okay, no sex’. With a shake of her head, she’s dipping her head again, focusing in on the roll of parchment in her lap.

They’re sitting face to face on her bed, each holding some parchment and a quill as they try to ‘negotiate fair terms for their arrangement’, as Y/n had put it when Yoongi had complained about not needing rules.

Y/n’s making the final list of rules on her own parchment, Yoongi tearing off scraps of his and submitting suggestions, most of them sexual in nature. There’s a pile of rejects next to him, but he’s yet to lose hope. Ripping off another piece of paper, he scribbles ‘blowjobs?’ quickly and folds it in half, handing it over to her with a smile. She doesn’t even look up or open it, immediately crumpling it and throwing it back at him. It hits him squarely between the eyes.

Blinking once, he tears off another piece, unfazed - this one says ‘so no head?’. Somehow that one also hits him between the eyes.

“Okay — what do you think?” Y/n sits up straight with a smile, offering Yoongi her draft of the Rules List. He looks it over, eyebrows raised.

No sex!!

Romantic affection is to be kept to public situations as much as possible.

Saturday Night Routine is to remain untouched and untainted.

Min Yoongi must keep his scumminess to a minimum in private.

He finishes reading before looking up, eyes deadpan.

“You are so fucking boring.” Y/n scoffs, reaching out to take the parchment back, but he’s holding it above his head, grabbing for his quill. Quickly he scribbles a fifth rule, one that says “MAKE JEON JUNGKOOK SUFFER” in his chicken scratch. And then he looks up at her, another thought on his mind.

“We should have practice sessions.” Y/n furrows a brow, eyeing him with suspicion.

“What does that mean, and why do I already not like it?” He taps a finger on Rule #2, underlining the words ‘public situations’ lightly with his quill.

“We’re gonna be doing most of this stuff in public, so you’re gonna have to get used to getting freaky with me in public spaces. Library, broom closets, empty corridors and classrooms — that’s what I’m known for.” He looks almost proud when he says it, and Y/n can’t help her amused smile even as she shakes her head in disappointment.

“How are you so fundamentally gross as a person?” He grins back because she’s clearly fond of him, so he feels no shame in how he is, only explaining further.

“If the entirety of Hogwarts is gonna believe I’m taken and off the market, you’re gonna have to keep up with me, babe.” Y/n rolls her eyes, knowing he’s right despite not wanting to admit that. If Yoongi’s putting in the work to make it seem like he’s committed to her, she should at least meet him halfway. And Min Yoongi is a lot of things, but being a total sex fiend is what most people know him to be. She is gonna have to keep up.

“You realize it’s obvious you’re just trying to find somewhere to let out all your sexual frustration, right?” He doesn’t respond, only lifting an eyebrow, silently asking if she’s okay with that. After a moment, she’s sighing, pointing down at the list in his lap.

“Alright, fine. But we need rules for that, too.” He groans, throwing himself backwards onto her mattress dramatically.

“Why do you enjoy ruining every good thing in my life?” When she kicks at his thigh, he’s rolling over onto his stomach, flattening the parchment out in front of him so he can write the word ‘Sessions’, underlining it quickly. And then he looks at her.

“What are you comfortable doing?” She purses her lips, a smile dancing there, because she notices that he doesn’t make it about him and what he is and isn’t allowed to do. He makes it about her and respecting her boundaries. And she knows, by the way he’s tilting his head in confusion when she only smiles down at him, that he has no idea that he’s made that distinction. If he were anyone else, she’d be incredibly attracted to him right now.

But he is him. So she’s blinking that thought away, humming as she considers his question.

“Nothing below the belt…” He nods, writing as she speaks.

“Can I touch your butt?” When she lets out a noise of confusion, he’s looking up at her again. “Like, hand in your pocket while we walk, ass grabbing— that stuff.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t thought of that. She nods after a moment, not seeing the harm in him doing that. “Sure? Not my boobs, though.”

Immediately, he’s flopping backwards onto the bed again, whininess coating his voice when he complains.

“But I already felt everything in the shower! What’s the difference—Ow! Okay!” She’s pushed her feet up against his torso, kicking at him aggressively until he’s rolled away to where she can’t reach him. And then he’s pouting, making grabby hands at her for emphasis while he continues, at a distance now where he can complain safely.

“You know I’d pick tits over ass any day! You’re just doing this to hurt me.” Y/n only smiles mockingly, reaching out to tap a finger on the paper.

“Don’t forget to write ‘no boobs’ there, too!” Yoongi grimaces, rolling back toward her and picking up his quill, angrily scratching the words into the parchment.

“Okay, anything else?” He’d made a big fuss about not being able to touch her boobs, but he’s already over it, and — again — Y/n finds herself full of adoration that Yoongi will never push her boundaries, already having accepted them even when he was complaining about them.

You’re just all bark and no bite, aren’t you?

“Actually, I do bite. I like biting. Why do you ask?” Fighting the urge to smack the palm of her hand to her forehead at the realization that she’d said that aloud, Y/n shakes her head at Yoongi, who seems innocently confused. He shrugs when she doesn’t explain, his eyes lighting up when he thinks of something.

“We should do kinks.” Y/n rolls her eyes.

“Absolutely not—"

“Why not?! We’re gonna figure out what we like eventually if we’re doing these practice sessions, so why not talk about it?” He looks childishly enraged, his pout returning. She only laughs at him, shaking her head.

“Because we’re not doing anything sexual, so what’s the point?” He sighs, sitting up and facing her, crossing his legs as he goes.

“Kinks don’t have to be sexual, you big nerd. It’s not about the sex — it’s about the trust.” Y/n blinks, not having expected him to say something so serious.

“Okay… but if it’s about the trust, how are you acting on all your kinks with the other people? You don’t really know them.” He smiles softly, shaking his head.

“I usually don’t, actually. I just do whatever they want.” Y/n gapes at him, unable to believe that Yoongi had been holding back this whole time.

“So, if someone’s into choking—"

“It’s up to them if they want to trust me to do that for them. Obviously, I’d never go too far, but everyone’s trust thresholds are different. Mine’s just really high, so I always made it about them instead.” He shrugs while he says it, as if they’re talking about what he’d had for lunch and not the surprising weight he puts on trust in sexual situations.

“And you wanna explore that stuff now? With me? We’re not even together.” He tilts his head in confusion again.

“Yeah? There’s no one I trust more than you.” Y/n thinks her head might actually start spinning, because Min Yoongi’s brain is just not wired the same as hers. His ability to be both incredibly simple about his life outlook and shockingly nuanced about the inner workings of his mind — he’s more than just confident and sure of himself. He’s completely self-aware. It’s not the first time she’s been stupidly fond of him, but right now, she thinks he’s amazing.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Y/n blinks, realizing she’s just been staring at him that entire time. She shakes her head, slightly dazed, not even noticing that Yoongi’s looking at her with suspicious eyes. Pointing back to the list, she clears her throat awkwardly.

“Yeah, sure, kinks. But — I’m not telling you shit, it’s embarrassing. Figure it out yourself.” Eyebrows flying to his hairline, Yoongi reaches for the quill slowly, uncertainly.

“For real? You’re down?” She nods, trying to move on already, but Yoongi’s not letting it go, even as he writes it down. “Like… a game, then? We just test shit and see how we react? Because I already know you like having your hair pulled—“

“Oh my— Yoongi!” He snickers at her embarrassment, shaking his head. She has no reason to be shy, he thinks to himself. I’m the last person she has to worry about.

“So…” He glances up at her from where he lies, his eyes full of mischief. Y/n eyes him suspiciously, because he’s definitely about to say something stupid.

“Should we start now, then?” Lifting himself up onto all fours, he starts to crawl over to her, a smirk dancing on the edges of his lips — one that’s hidden quickly by the hand Y/n’s planting on his face, stopping him from coming any closer.

“Get out of my room, Yoongi.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Redirecting, Yoongi heads for the edge of the bed, sliding his sneakers on before standing. “I’ll be back in a couple hours—“ Turning, he cuts himself off, leaning down into Y/n’s face and smiling fondly when she backs away, rightfully wary of him.

“Kiss, please.” She’s immediately glaring, and he’s pointing down at the list on her bed, affronted. “You said Saturday Night Routine has to remain untouched — I still have like 2 hours until then. Kiss, please.”

With an irritated sigh, Y/n leans up, cupping Yoongi’s face and pressing her lips gently to his. Even knowing he’s probably got something up his sleeve, she’s unprepared for him to nibble at her bottom lip, trying to deepen the kiss. Pulling away quickly, she’s smacking at his arm indignantly, glaring when he laughs openly, his shoulders shaking as he does. He leans down quickly, pressing one last kiss to her lips before ducking out of the way of her swinging fist, chuckling to himself as he slings his bag over his shoulder and heads for the door.

“Don’t forget to choose something for us to watch while I pick up our food, okay? I’m not tryna let my dinner get cold because you’re indecisive.”

“That only happened once!” He shoots her a grin over his shoulder as he’s pulling her door open, his eyes amused.

“Love you!” Y/n rolls her eyes at the sing-song way he says it, responding with an annoyed ‘yeah, love you too’ as he’s closing the door behind him. She sits on her bed in silence for a few moments, vaguely disgruntled as she looks down at their list of rules and thinks about that entire conversation.

That was… weirdly normal.

#bts au #bts smau #bts social media au #bts texts #bts hogwarts au #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi texts

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jjungkooksthighs · 4 years

Text

Claws of Carnality | jjk (3)

Pairing: alpha jungkook x omega reader

Genre: smut, fluff and angst, abo/werewolf, fantasy

Rating: 18+ / nsfw

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: alpha!jungkook, possessive!jungkook, omega!reader, mentions of breeding/ruts/heats, mentions of a mark, slick and pre-ejaculatory production, scenting

Summary: Denial is a crude adversary in how it battles your want to accept the alpha that has no shadings of doubt that you are, in fact, his mate. He intends to clear things up for you using the one surefire thing that will, however, prove him to truly be yours and you are utterly helpless in denying him.

A/N: So, here we are with part three already. Goodness, I can’t even believe how much attention this has gotten so far. Please keep it up, you guys! It really feeds my creative juices and encourages me when you guys let me know what you think of the stories I put out! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this next part. Things are gradually going to begin to heat up from here on out and I can’t wait to see how you all react!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

You try to swim through the flurry of thoughts, the floundering disbelief heavy as you wade through it in spite of the amused alpha that watches you with interest as a myriad of expressions pull at your features. It’s difficult to keep yourself afloat amidst the frenzy of emotions that cascade over you and your alpha notices this in the way that you fidget where you stand in the intensity with which he regards you, your hand clutching at your skirt as you inhale through your mouth to attempt to replace the air that eludes you.

One side of his lips curl upward in the effect he’s already had on you that only deepens in your silent refusal to acknowledge the final piece of the puzzle that would complete the missing segment of conviction still lost to you.

Unlike you, Jungkook has not an inkling of doubt that you are, without question, his mate. He just hadn’t known up until a few moments ago that you are to become something so much deeper than that to him that will extend into his very being, for even he’d had no idea that you are destined to be his soulmate in which there hasn’t been a pair of wolves like that for many thousands of years.

It all made sense to him in how his eyes had found themselves magnetized to the opposite pole that was you, the constant holder of his attention whenever he’d had the privilege to watch you frolic gleefully with your omegean friends outside your den whenever he passed by through the cover of the trees after a successful hunt, his own scent masked by the carcasses of his prey.

He’d never been able to explain the inexplicable pull toward you that had grasped him unrelentingly until he’d managed to catch sight or smell of you to, nor had it made sense to him why he’d wanted to express himself to you so much so that he’d danced in effort to satisfy the need to bask in the warmth of your intrigued gaze.

Nothing has ever quite compared to the way that his blood races when you so much as glance at him now that he thinks on it and gods, he longs for you to welcome him now as eagerly as you had in the supposed safety of dreams. Even now the inebriating scent of you coils around him insistently as it begs for him to come closer to the source of his desires he’s yearned for years.

It’s not as easy for you to accept this, though, no matter how much you want to. Gods, do you want to.

In light of the bright, flashing signs that your wolf begs for you to heed, there’s a very critical and very crucial element that would immediately clear away the lingering shadow of denial that this creature before you who looks to have been crafted by the gods is meant to be yours. Despite your purebred omegean blood that distinguishes you as the most desirable of candidates for alphas and betas alike in the rarity of such a pedigree amongst your dynamic, Jeon Jungkook could have any bitch in the pack he wished. There were many others who you believed looked better and gave back to the clan more than the likes of you.

And in the self-consciousness that shackles you, you had not breathed through your nose ever since he’d brought himself near to you.

You know that the moment that you do, there will be no question that he is truly the alpha from your dreams who boldly claims to be your mate, for the intoxicating scent of him that had incensed itself within you was deliciously unforgettable in the way it had had the power to have you glistening with slick upon a single whiff. Because of that, there is a reason that you are actively choosing not to use your olfactory sense around him.

Only within the old tales written in the aged tomes of the compound’s archives which are guarded by the elders has there been recollections of the legendary lupi antiquis, who were the progenitors of the werewolf race. These creatures were incarnations of nature manifested into the bodies of wolves that were guided by the moon’s phases in the celestial body’s wish to bring life to the earth in the decay of other mythical creatures who had grown sad and lifeless without a companion in the rarity of which they’d roamed.

To ensure the strongest and most virile of the moon’s creations found a partner that would belong and be designed solely for them, it was said that the celestial body preselected the companion that would remain loyal to them through the entirety of their life by choosing for them a soulmate.

The word has always been held close your heart in the romantic radiance of it, for it had been said that a bond unlike any other in the lupine world burgeoned inside two destined mates of the moon’s selection among the abilities that allow such a pair to share thoughts and feelings with one another telepathically across insurmountable distances in addition to each wolf becoming stronger where the alpha would gain physical strength while the omega would be granted bolstered mental fortitude.

Beyond that, the wolf’s kiss could cure their mate of any ailment or injury in the profound love that the very essences of each kindred spirit were vested with as they longed ardently to remain together forever and always.

As time had passed, the word had begun to become diluted in the diminished occurrences with which it happened as more and more werewolves began to populate and once pure bloodlines became soured by excessive mating between different partners in the uncontrollable ruts and heats that drove them to couple with any wolf in the vicinity under the influence purely of instinct to breed and be bred.

Many lives had been lost during the violent, territorial battles over both alphas and omegas for a partner that often ended in death to one or both participants, the lessons of the past yielding guidance to the future generation in the written accounts left behind so that the fledgling pups that came after would not suffer as the earlier wolves had.

It is why your pack has such defined rules now upon the presentation or period of peak maturity for omegas in particular because they have always been the desired mates of alphas.

It is also how the entire compound knows when the last happening of two soulmates was, which had been a couple thousand years ago when the moon had aligned with the rest of the planetary bodies in the meticulously structured history courses that all maturing wolves are mandated to take and in the stories that are told by the elders over annual bonfires celebrating the bonding between two wolves.

Perhaps it is all of these reasons that have every wolf in your pack still able to discern and recognize the defined series of circumstances that present themselves between two lupine creatures fated to be each other’s soulmate.

The first is the gift of sight, which allows each lupine creature to see the eyes of their mate. The second is the gift of olfaction, which is the amalgamation of scents naturally produced from the scent gland of each wolf that have the ability to draw the undivided attention of their destined other so temptingly that it causes sudden production of either slick for omegas and pre-ejaculative fluid for alphas. In addition, this one is powerful enough that it acts an effluvious vice that impulses each lupine creature in how desirously their mate can waft into and draw out their counterpart’s instincts.

Each are granted only after the moon lights a path for them both to meet, but that hadn’t happened for you, had it? After all, it’s not like the stream of dreams every night after the last eclipse could have-

Your eyes widen bigger than the largest star as your cheeks color themselves redder than a ruby in mortification as the links join together and that has the alpha relishing in the adorable sight of you as he croons, “There it is, pretty. I knew you would come around soon enough,” he fixes his sight on the edge of a reddened petal he’d caused to fall over your skin in your supposed fantasy that peeks out from under the edge of your silken choker that he wishes he could tear off of you and add more of his marks to as he continues, “Did you think I would allow my mate to suffer with how desperately you whined and how loudly you howled for me?”

You fumble for words in the embarrassment that soaks you as you try to speak past a mouth that is dryer than the desert while you shake your head like you’re in a daze and you might as well be in how incapable you are of rationalizing at this point.

“This can’t be… it can’t be possible.” You whisper quietly as if thinking aloud and Jungkook finds that he appreciates the sound of you, that he is pleased in how you’ve finally chosen to use that cute voice of yours and let him into your thoughts.

The alpha coos, “Oh, my pretty omega, but it can,” he takes one calculated step closer, “Come on, little omega, smell me. Do not think that I have not caught on to the fact that you haven’t used your nose in your efforts to deny this, to deny me.” His honeyed voice slathers itself over you, as you melt under its thickness, “You asked your alpha to come find you and I have, pretty. Now, it’s time for you to do the same. Scent me and see that I am the one the moon has promised you to, that I am the alpha you belong to.”

He delivers his words to you in the form of a command as he takes another step toward you only to have your heart beat faster against your ribcage, your wolf lowering its head in submission as you try to make yourself smaller under his searing, prompting gaze and the longer that you dangerously surrender yourself to those golden irises that are still speckled with the silver that mirrors your own, your resistance cracks and folds gradually under his increasingly prominent pressure. It can only be compacted and compressed so much until nothing remains and, unable to disobey his directive, you swallow a thick lump of nervousness down your throat before clearing it as he looks on expectantly.

His avid attention sears into you doggedly and, under its power, your omega blood boils in need to heed him and, purely driven by your body’s desideratum to yield to him without the input of any cognizant thought, your hand finds itself slowly and tentatively lifting toward the exposed neck that he has bared torturously against the obscenely opened shirt. The fluttery wings of anticipation flap animatedly within you as the alpha watches with intrigue, allowing you to slowly near him.

Your fingers do not stall as they ghost over the notch between his collarbones as you dare to allow yourself to touch the skin that tries to reach for you in the waves of heat that roll off of him and when you turn your hand so that the soft underside of your wrist just barely manages to rub against his sensitive scent gland that all but strains and pulses against you, your breath hitches as a deep rumble of a growl tumbles from his throat in response.

It is not a sound born of aggression, but of satisfaction that has your omega preening under its euphoniously low trill and when his fingers close around your forearm to possessively drag your radiocarpal joint back and forth over the intimate area that secretes pheromones wantonly for you, your wolf sings at his hot touch, at the way that his fingers curl deliciously over your delicate skin.

The whole time, his irises flash tellingly in gratification that has you helplessly falling for the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing that exists, the only thing that matters as he greedily drinks in the way your mouth has parted dazedly while he coats himself in your own essence that is produced richly from the glands in your wrist.

The scent glands of the neck were far stronger, far more potent, but right now, he will take from you what you decide to give. There will be time for more later, he is sure.

Your delicious scent is quick to consume him, the sound that drips from his lips deepening in pitch as your aroma drapes itself over him in its entirety before sinking into his very pores until he’s momentarily drunk off you, his pupils enlarging until there is only you.

“Gods,” he utters, “you smell like sin, pretty. You’re like a fucking aphrodisiac in how you tempt me.” Somewhere in his pants, his cock twitches to life at the mere scent of you as your carnal essence awakens something far too primal within him.

“J-Jungkook,” you whimper, your wolf baying in delight at his admission and wantful actions.

In response to him, your own irises dilate as your heart pangs wildly against your chest, breath a hard companion to come by in his overbearingly alluring presence that seeks your own in the warmth of his skin that reaches longingly for you.

You can’t begin to rationalize how long he slides your wrist sinfully against him as he makes a point of trailing your radiocarpal joint over the vast expanse of muscles that line his neck as they all but jump at your touch as the sound that tumbles from his lips darkens impossibly more only to draw out a whine from you. Minutes or hours could have passed since this started, but you have no care in the world because of how caught you are under his simmering stare.

Once he’s secure in the knowledge that succulent scent of you has smeared him to the point of no return, that’s when he pulls your hand back until he holds it under your nostrils while his mouth waters at the delectable waft of you through his own that sets his very blood on fire.

His fingers sink wonderfully into your skin and it is positively unholy in how his heat permeates you until you’re filled gloriously with it he orders, “Go on now, my pretty omega. Breathe me in until every last doubt is torn from you and all you can think about is me,” his breath is hot against your cheek as he inches impossibly closer in the need to be impossibly closer to you as you shakily exhale while he finishes, “Drink me in until this little body of yours is sated in the sweet recognition of the alpha that owns it.”

His words settle viscously over you and in the command of the alpha that you are helpless to resist with your omegean blood, you do. You did not want to fight this, did not want to fight him. It went against your baser instincts and nature to do so. It was all just your self-consciousness that had bound you back and away from him, but under his attention that does not waver in the imposing neediness of it that glints with a savage saturation dripping from his very being, you can’t withstand it. So, you obey.

The change is immediate.

Upon the first whiff of him that drizzles up through your nostrils to trickle fluidly like that of a delicious philter through you, your every cell is flooded with stimulation that is guided by the heady essence that is decidedly and uniquely him. He tastes of newly dewed grasses that are accented by an earthly underlayer and somehow it is all bolstered by the overwhelmingly delicious amalgamation of blooming gardenia, black vanilla and freshly matured pear.

A sudden deposit of slick finds itself between your folds that glisten to life and it earns a sharp growl from him as he brings one lip between his teeth.

He reeks of pungently dangerous desire that beckons your very being and your eyes roll to the back of your head at in its insistent invitation as he fills you with his quintessence and soon your body can no longer bear your weight in the way that his strong incense curls around you to have your limbs grow weak under its inexorable consummation of you.

Your weakly whisper, “Alpha…my alpha,” the concession quick to run through your veins as you yield to him.

Your legs begin to tremble precariously with each breath you take in effort to collect as much of him as you can, the familiar smell exactly alike to that of the one belonging to the wolf from your dreams as understanding and recognition saturate your being.

“Omega,” Jungkook breathes, satisfaction washing over him as he watches your body react so affectedly to him.

And when your body is no longer able to bear your weight in how quickly the alpha has drawn away their strength through his own power, he is there.

At the same time that your head falls back and your sense of equilibrium leaves you through numbed legs, one of his large hands finds its place along your nape while one muscled arm wraps around your back to pull you against the built planes of an aureate chest as he croons, “My beautiful omega. You’ve acknowledged me at long last. Such a good girl for me, you are,” he angles his head low so that his heated breath once more billows against you, “I’m going to take you with me to the forest now, pretty. Once we’re there, you’re going to watch me shift so that I can hunt just for you. When I return,” his pink tongue darts outward to wet his lips as his gaze surges with hunger, “I expect my mate to be waiting for me before I let every wolf in this fucking compound know that you’re mine when I claim you at the ceremony tonight.”

Your breath stutters at that and when his arms dip to collect you like his bride as he tucks you against the muscled chest that you subconsciously lean into you in the safety that pours from him that your wolf relishes in. Through it all, you can only barely utter, “As you wish, alpha.”

As he holds you close, you nuzzle your alpha and there’s a high-pitched, satisfied purr that easily cascades through your throat in the warmth and security that his able body offers. You care not how far your song of satisfaction is carried in the winds that swell against you only to roll tauntingly over all the alphas in the distance that Jungkook is in charge of as the pack alpha’s son who is meant to one day lead the compound.

All that matters is that you’ve found your alpha and that he, in turn, has found you.

High in the sky, the moon hides behind the awakening sun as golden rays begin to filter searchingly through the thick underbrush of the forest lining the horizon as far as the eye can see.

#btsbookclub #bangtanarmynet #werewolf!jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #bts smut #bts abo #bts #jungkook #dom!jungkook #alpha!jungkook #alpha jungkook #alpha omega bts #alpha jungkook x omega reader #werewolf jungkook #jungkook hot #soulmate au

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

LXC is the legal guardian and adopter for LSZ or LJY, and NMJ has questions.

part 2 of the LJY-adopted-by-LQR fic (now also on ao3)

“So, did I knock you up before I went to war or something?” Nie Mingjue asked. “Because I feel like you should’ve mentioned it if that was the case. Possibly in a letter.”

Lan Xichen was so tired that it took him a solid minute to parse what was wrong with that sentence and how to respond, and it was not by following his first instinct to apologize that he should’ve written better letters.

“Stop making fun of me,” he said instead, groping towards some measure of dignity.

Sadly, dignity was in very short supply when you were taking care of babies. Multiple babies. Well, one baby and one toddler, which was somehow worse?

Lan Xichen was pretty sure they’d figured out how to time their crying off each other.

“I would never,” Nie Mingjue said, like a liar, and then he picked up little Jingyi and – Lan Xichen simply cannot find another way to put it – shook him, in a manner not unlike testing a melon for freshness.

For some reason, this made Lan Jingyi stop crying and start making snuffling little giggles instead.

“How did you do that?” Lan Xichen asked, eyes wide.

“Do what?” Nie Mingjue tucked the baby into the crook of his arm and scooped up some food off the table, offering it to him, and Lan Jingy actually ate it. “Xichen, are you feeling all right?”

“Shhh!” Lan Xichen hissed, eyes fixed on the baby, which was neither spitting up everything nor wailing as if his heart was broken. “No unnecessary noise during meals.”

Nie Mingjue snorted in amusement. “Sure,” he said amiably, in the tone Lan Xichen had long ago learned meant ‘nice rules you’ve got there, it’d be an awful shame if someone found a loophole in them’. “This isn’t a meal, though; it’s just a snack.”

Lan Xichen eyed the still-not-crying Lan Jingyi and decided that now was not the time for a spirited debate on the virtues of discipline and fulfilling the merits rather than the word of a rule.

“Where’s monster number one gone?” Nie Mingjue asked abruptly. “He must be very good at hiding, because I looked away for a blink of an eye and he was gone.”

Lan Xichen’s eyes slowly dropped down to where a cloth-covered lump was not-so-sneakily edging towards Nie Mingjue’s foot.

Nie Mingjue was one of the foremost front line fighters of their generation, and possibly the previous one as well. His physical ability was matched only by his incredibly keen senses.

There was no way he was not aware of the lump.

“It’s a real shame, too,” Nie Mingjue continued. “I was planning on doing a test of how far you can throw children, but I think monster two here’s a bit too small to make the test worthwhile. But I guess it just wasn’t meant to be –”

You can’t throw children, Lan Xichen was about to say, except Lan Sizhui was tearing off the tablecloth and jumping up in excitement, shouting, “Here! Here! I’m here! I’m big enough! You can throw me!”

“Why does he want to be thrown,” Lan Xichen murmured, bewildered. He’d never wanted to be thrown around as a child. Had he?

In fairness, he wasn’t sure. No one had ever offered.

Apparently, though, Lan Sizhui did very much want to be thrown around, and Lan Jingyi even condescended to allow Lan Xichen to hold him while he watched.

“Higher! Higher!” Lan Sizhui shouted.

“Really? Is this high enough?” Nie Mingjue held him up at eye level.

“Higher!”

“Like this?” Above his head.

“Higher!”

“You sure?”

“Yes!”

“All right. How about –” Baxia slithered out from her place by the door, zipping over until she was right in front of Nie Mingjue, allowing him to step onto her like a stair, and then zipping upwards to about hip-height, lifting Nie Mingjue and Lan Sizhui with her. They very nearly hit a tree branch with their heads. “– this?”

Lan Sizhui shrieked with laughter.

“It’s too early to introduce them to flying,” Lan Xichen objected, because it was. “Mingjue-xiong…”

Nie Mingjue hopped down with a laugh. “All right, one last toss,” he told Lan Sizhui. “Then you nap. Okay?”

“Okay!” Lan Sizhui, who had never once willingly succumbed to naptime in the entirety of the time that Lan Xichen had known him, promised earnestly.

Back into the pile of soft grass he went, giggling the entire time, and amazingly enough he really did fall asleep afterwards. Lan Jingyi, too, had fallen asleep at some point.

“I’ve decided that your brother needs more experience running a sect,” Lan Xichen told Nie Mingjue, who raised his eyebrows. “Starting immediately. I promise to allow you to leave when Jingyi is, oh, shall we say five years old..?”

You could reason with a five year old.

Nie Mingjue laughed.

It was a type of laugh that suggested that he thought Lan Xichen was making a joke. This was incorrect.

“You’d be amazed at how serious I am,” Lan Xichen told him threateningly, “I’m sect leader here, this is my territory, I can have you arrested any time –” but by that point Nie Mingjue was already bundling him off to bed, too, combing out his hair and plying him with snacks and –

This was not helping his argument that Lan Xichen should be allowing him to leave rather than keep him trapped in the Cloud Recesses as a babysitter-slash-love-slave.

Well, he wouldn’t really do that, of course. He’d let him go. Eventually.

It’d probably be good for Nie Mingjue’s stress levels, honestly.

“Seriously, though, how did you do that?” he asked, his head on Nie Mingjue’s lap. “They didn’t cry once.”

“I’m good with kids,” Nie Mingjue said, his fingers digging into Lan Xichen’s scalp in just the right way. “Now can you explain to me how exactly you ended up with them? Two, no less?”

Lan Xichen groaned and covered his eyes with a hand. “Sizhui’s Wangji’s,” he explained. “Not biologically, but he’s put his name down in the family register under his own. But, you know…”

“I know.”

Lan Xichen appreciated that he didn’t need to go into it. The doctors had estimated that Lan Wangji would regain full mobility within three years, so that was the period the elders had mandated for his so-called ‘seclusion’, but with Lan Wangji being locked away like that – even with visitors, even though he was trying his hardest to care for the child from where he was – meant that someone had to care for the child’s day-to-day life until his brother was ready to resume the role.

“Jingyi is a cousin, I think,” he continued. “His parents are dead, and uncle accepted guardianship for him…I think he’s going to adopt him, actually.”

“Then why is he with you?”

“I volunteered.”

“Xichen, I say this with a full heart of affection and tremendous respect for your capabilities,” Nie Mingjue said. “But why in the world would you go and do a stupid thing like that?”

Lan Xichen sighed. The worst part was, he couldn’t even argue that it wasn’t stupid – he was, quite obviously, terrible with children.

“Uncle’s still injured from the war,” he admitted. In fact, his injury was probably even older than the war, dating as far back as the burning of the Cloud Recesses – his uncle had never been much of a fighter, his impressive cultivation strength stemming almost entirely from gentler arts like music and learning and meditation, but when his home and his family and his students were at risk, he’d fought, while Lan Xichen ran. Not just fought; he’d kept fighting long past the point that his body allowed. It only made sense for the bill to need to be paid. “He had a recurrence of an old complaint, not long ago; he started coughing up blood. The doctors insisted that he try to avoid anything that might cause him stress.”

“Stress. Like, say, a rowdy infant?”

“Exactly like a rowdy infant,” Lan Xichen agreed, glad that Nie Mingjue did not mention that what had happened with Lan Wangji was also likely a source of stress. At least the two of them had slowly started to repair their relationship recently – the heartbreak would kill their uncle sooner than anything else, and Lan Xichen might be weak, but he really couldn’t tolerate the idea of suffering any more loss.

And also, if Lan Wangji could see his way to forgiving their uncle, he might one day agree to forgive Lan Xichen, too.

“I see. So you ended up with the little one, too.”

“Yes. And they hate me.” Nie Mingjue coughed a little. “No, don’t deny it. They clearly hate me. They always cry and spit and yell -”

“They’re children, Xichen,” Nie Mingjue said. “Traumatized children. They do that.”

Lan Xichen didn’t need to open his eyes to know that Nie Mingjue was frowning in memory of pain long past. Lan Xichen remembered, with painful clarity, how young Nie Huaisang had been when Lao Nie had died, how badly he had taken it.

There’d been a lot of crying and vomiting and yelling there as well.

“You’re good with kids,” Lan Xichen said instead of commenting, trading delicacy for delicacy; he would not touch Nie Mingjue’s still-bleeding wounds just as Nie Mingjue avoided his own. “Very good.”

“Well, I like to think so, anyway.”

They remained in blissful, comfortable silence for a while.

“How would it have even worked?” Lan Xichen finally asked. His eyes were still closed, Nie Mingjue’s fingers running through his hair; he never wanted to move again.

“Hmm?”

“If you knocked me up before you went to war. I mean, they’re not even the same age.”

“Well, one of them’s from the affair, obviously.”

“I’m sorry, am I cheating on you now?” Lan Xichen opened an eye and pinned Nie Mingjue with a fierce look that instructed his lover to reconsider.

“Of course not,” Nie Mingjue said, mock-solemnly. His eyes were dancing. “You were so distraught after receiving incorrect news of my untimely demise that you conducted a ghost marriage with my spirit, and then went and had a child to continue my name.”

“…they’re both surnamed Lan.”

“So what? Are you saying I’m not good enough to marry into your sect, is that it?”

Lan Xichen’s cheeks were hurting from trying not to laugh. “I wouldn’t dream of implying such a thing.”

“There you go, then.”

“Can I ask why I felt the need to have a child to continue your name if I had one already?”

“…well, fuck,” Nie Mingjue said. “I’ve got nothing.”

Lan Xichen burst out laughing.

#mdzs #lan xichen #nie mingjue #nielan #lan sizhui #lan jingyi #my fic #my fics #whistling brook #I know this doesn't quite match the prompt #but it ended up fitting in perfectly with the previous ficlet #walburgablack

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