#urban art agency | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

visit-new-york · 9 months

Text

The Williamsburg Bridge remains a beloved and functional part of New York City's infrastructure, offering more than just a physical connection between boroughs. It weaves together the social, cultural, and economic fabric of the city while serving as a reminder of the city's enduring spirit and resilience.

Accessibility for Bicyclists: In recent years, the Williamsburg Bridge has become increasingly popular among cyclists. The addition of dedicated bike lanes and paths has made it a key route for those commuting between Brooklyn and Manhattan by bicycle. This has contributed to the city's efforts to promote sustainable transportation options.

Emergency Services: The Williamsburg Bridge, like other major bridges in New York City, is equipped with emergency evacuation plans and protocols. It is considered an essential route for emergency vehicles and personnel during crises or natural disasters.

Cultural Influence: Beyond its practical role, the Williamsburg Bridge has had a profound cultural influence, particularly in the Brooklyn neighborhood it connects to. Williamsburg, with its vibrant arts scene, has become synonymous with the bridge's name, and it has featured prominently in local art, music, and literature.

In Popular Culture: The Williamsburg Bridge has appeared in numerous movies, TV shows, and music videos. Its distinctive architecture and picturesque views have made it a favorite location for filmmakers and artists looking to capture the essence of New York City.

Connecting Diverse Communities: The bridge has played a crucial role in connecting diverse communities in Manhattan and Brooklyn. It has been a conduit for the exchange of cultural influences, economic activity, and social interactions.

Historical Preservation and Restoration: Various organizations and government agencies have been involved in preserving and restoring the bridge to ensure its longevity. Efforts have included repainting the bridge, restoring its architectural features, and maintaining its structural integrity.

Design Features: The Williamsburg Bridge's towers are constructed of steel, and its suspension cables are made of wire rope. The bridge's overall design showcases elements of the Beaux-Arts architectural style, with ornamental details and decorative flourishes.

Maintenance Challenges: Maintaining a bridge of this size and age is an ongoing challenge. The bridge requires regular inspections, repairs, and upgrades to keep up with modern safety standards and the demands of urban transportation.

Future Developments: As New York City continues to evolve, the Williamsburg Bridge remains a vital part of the city's infrastructure. Future developments and improvements may include further enhancements to pedestrian and cyclist facilities, as well as ongoing efforts to reduce environmental impacts.

Centennial Celebrations: The Williamsburg Bridge celebrated its centennial in 2003 with various events and activities to mark its 100th anniversary. This milestone offered an opportunity for New Yorkers to reflect on the bridge's historical importance.

Artistic Expressions: Over the years, the Williamsburg Bridge has been a canvas for artistic expressions. Street art and graffiti have adorned its support structures and pedestrian walkways, contributing to the bridge's cultural identity.

Traffic Congestion and Alternatives: Like many urban bridges, the Williamsburg Bridge experiences traffic congestion during peak hours. This congestion has prompted discussions about transportation alternatives, such as improved public transit options, to ease the burden on the bridge and reduce environmental impacts.

Hurricane Sandy and Resilience: The bridge, like other infrastructure in New York City, faced significant challenges during Hurricane Sandy in 2012. The storm surge resulted in flooding and temporary closures. In response, the city has explored ways to enhance the resilience of critical infrastructure, including the Williamsburg Bridge, to future extreme weather events.

Iconic Landmark: The Williamsburg Bridge is not just a transportation link but also an iconic symbol of New York City's skyline. Its unique silhouette and the way it frames views of the city have made it a subject of admiration for photographers, artists, and tourists alike.

Community Engagement: The Williamsburg Bridge has been the focus of community engagement and activism. Local residents and organizations have advocated for improvements, safety measures, and the preservation of its historical and cultural significance.

Economic Impact: The bridge's role in connecting Manhattan and Brooklyn has had a significant economic impact on both boroughs. It has facilitated the movement of goods and people, supporting businesses and industries on both sides of the East River.

Night Illumination: The Williamsburg Bridge is often illuminated at night, casting a stunning glow over the East River. The changing colors and lighting schemes have been used to mark special occasions and holidays, enhancing the bridge's visual appeal.

Symbol of Progress: Throughout its history, the Williamsburg Bridge has symbolized progress, connectivity, and the spirit of innovation. It reflects the dynamism of New York City as it continues to evolve and adapt to the needs of its residents.

The Williamsburg Bridge stands as a testament to both engineering innovation and the enduring cultural significance of infrastructure in urban life. It has served as a lifeline for generations of New Yorkers, connecting people, neighborhoods, and opportunities across the East River.

230 notes · View notes

bluenpjm · 3 months

Text

CLOUD9 AGENCY ☁ JJK X OC

synopsis. faced with decisions that can change the course of her career, the art director of the cloud9 agency decides it is time to act and reignite the flame she had once lost. and all because of an intern… genre. non-idol au ; slice of life au ; intern!jungkook ◦ fluff ◦ angst ◦ smut pairing. JJK x OC rating. M wordcount. 4.8K warnings. foul words, violent thoughts, sad vibes and life not making sense, drinking, arguing, just a lot of different feelings! a/n. a really really late birthday gift to my #1 supporter of this story. happy late birthday lulu, you're the best! 🥺💛🌻 chapters. 3 — 4 — 5

It hadn’t been the first time someone had disappointed Carolina. It had been, however, the first time she had allowed someone to get too close too quickly. And that was a mistake she wouldn’t be committing again anytime soon. After all, you learn from your mistakes. At least you should.

She storms towards the elevator, her anger seething within her.

Carolina doesn’t care to collect any of her belongings that stay laid in her office—and for the sake of everyone in that entire building, it would be best that her little purple troll with neon green hair would be in the box with her stuff the next day. Horace—the troll—had been her companion throughout the most challenging moments of trite; that, and her camera. Cassandra never bothered to replace the agency’s old one that, for the entire time Carolina had been with Cloud9, had been broken and merely acting as yet another item in her glass office to be left to collect dust.

Already inside the elevator, she faces the crowd for the seconds it takes the doors to close—some people had already started whispering, others dispersed once faced with Cassandra, while the one intern that she cared about didn’t move; her eyes are on him and she doesn’t look away until the doors close. As she begins its descent, she’s met with her reflection in the steel doors. She wants to scream and punch someone. Wholeheartedly, she wouldn’t mind punching both Jungkook and Cassandra straight in the face. “Stupid Jungkook,” she mutters under her breath, hands falling to her hips. “Fuck you and your meaningless empty words.”

Her chest keeps rising and falling as she crouches on the floor, practicing her breathing exercises to calm her racing nerves, as the box keeps on dinging, signaling that she is closer and closer to the ground level.

Stepping out of the tall building that had been her workplace for the last couple of years, Carolina stood on the bustling sidewalk, the busy street teeming with people despite the hour. She hated early meetings. In fact, she hated all sorts of meetings. There was no need to have an entire team stop their days so that they could waste 45 minutes of their busy schedules to speak about something that could easily be an email.

Her work day was managed according to her own will. The team that worked closely with the creative director was used to her being offline in the morning and extremely active during night hours. Her brain became electric after midnight and they had all been able to coordinate a pretty balanced work schedule so they could communicate effectively.

With its modern design, the towering building loomed above her. Car horns, the hurried footsteps, and the chatter of pedestrians created a symphony of urban chaos that served as background noise for the audio message she was recording for her best friends, trying her best to veil her frustration and disappointment as she recounted the situation. She knew she didn’t have to lie; in fact, it only worried her that her friends would jump Cassandra in the street or key her car. It wasn’t like her to openly discuss her feelings. Instead, she made some jokes.

“But yeah—” She pauses briefly, phone momentarily touching her lips. “I’ll be seeing you guys at 8 pm. As usual. Peace out!”

She hits the green button, sending her audio through, before immediately typing a quick message so they don’t rush to listen to her recording. 15 entire minutes of her ranting about her day so early in the morning would definitely alarm them.

Her ride finally arrives and she lets out a sigh of relief as she climbs into the backseat. The added feature of no conversation was a blessing as her mind throbbed with frustration. Leaning back against the comfortable leather seats, Carolina closes her eyes and lets the soothing melodies of the music playing on the radio wash over her. As the car began its journey, the towering buildings of the city gradually faded into the background, replaced by the familiar sights of her own neighborhood. The streets became lined with quaint houses and small local businesses.

From time to time, she would open her eyes, checking that the normal-looking guy who was driving her home didn’t have a little bit of Joe Goldberg in him and took a detour to his secret layer where he would try to murder her. She had been devouring true crime podcasts and it had quickly taken over her mind—whichever situation she found herself in could be the perfect crime scene. Sometimes she even found herself looking for ways to leave clues behind so that the investigative team could find her body.

But as her paranoid mind came to ease, she couldn’t help but appreciate the contrast between the hectic city and the peacefulness of her neighborhood. The cool breeze gently brushed against her face as she peered out of the window, and her home was just around the corner. She longed for a cold shower, a chance to wash away the stress and frustrations that had been weighing on her shoulders.

Successfully arriving home without being kidnapped, Carolina takes the stairs up to the third floor. The elevator in her building had been making weird noises and after getting stuck there twice, she decided not to put her luck to the test any longer. The angels were probably worrying about someone else because she was having one hell of a day.

She feels exhausted and defeated. As she closes the door behind her, one of her shoes is already flying as she swiftly takes it off. The other follows suit. Tossing her keys on top of her bag that had also been thrown to the floor, she moved with automatic precision toward the bathroom.

The soothing sound of running water fills the room as Carolina turns the faucet, letting it pour into the bathtub. The cold shower is replaced by a warm bath that would hopefully serve as a place to unwind and let go of the stress that had accumulated throughout her morning. The day had barely started and she was feeling drained.

Stepping into the warm water, she lets out a sigh of relief as it caresses her skin, the tension in her muscles slowly melting away. But the feeling of betrayal kept lingering in her mind, as she could still vividly picture Jungkook’s doe eyes stuck to the floor, the question of why he hadn’t backed her up as he promised haunting her. Closing her eyes, Carolina submerges herself in the water, wanting nothing more than the world surrounding her to fade away.

By the time Carolina left her bathroom, she was surprised to find her living room dimly lit, washed in tones of orange as the sun had already begun to set. She fetched her phone and wasn't surprised by the thousands of messages her friends had sent her, both on their group but also in the private chat. She was expecting them to explode by the news—that, and that they were going to kill her because of the lack of communication.

Her wrinkly fingers wouldn't allow her to leave a fingerprint behind, making it impossible to unlock her phone. Her attention fell on the time displayed on the screen instead and she knew she had to hurry if she didn't want to be yet again late to their dinner date.

Carolina’s encounter with her friends that evening was based on venting frustrations and only after she had some drinks and shared some laughs, they discussed her situation with Cassandra and Jungkook. As she had expected, the two girls immediately began a plan to make the lives of the two people who were tormenting her friend’s mind a living hell.

As the evening drew to a close, Carolina managed to put her friends in their respective cars, calling one for herself while feeling grateful for them. She knew that with the two she would never be alone in her struggles and that they would always be there for her. But as she arrived home, she couldn’t help but check her phone for any missed messages. Despite still being upset with Jungkook, deep down she craved to have something from him—some sort of explanation for his reaction earlier. Scrolling through her social media, the feelings only grew inside her and she decided it was time to call it a day. Setting her phone down, the silence in her room is deafening and it feels like it’s spinning. She just wanted to close her eyes and forget this day ever happened.

As days turned into weeks, Carolina’s rage faded down.

After quitting her job, her days settled into a monotonous rhythm. Her once bustling schedule was now a simple sequence of actions that played out in the confined space of her house. The path she treaded between her bed, the fridge, and the bathroom would soon start to feel worn, like a well-trodden trail that could be found in the woods.

During the initial days of her newfound routine, Carolina found a peculiar comfort in the limited space, as if the world beyond was too vast and too overwhelming to face. Deep down, she had been craving this alone time; this silence—a relief. The constant ringing of her phone, which had once been a constant reminder of work-related stress, was now replaced by a soothing quietness. For the first time in a while, she was able to breathe in the stillness of her surroundings.

However, a sense of emptiness began to creep into her life. Despite the wanted freedom, an undeniable void had emerged. Her phone became a reminder and creator of chaos in her mind. Whenever it chimed, her heart would skip a beat, anticipation rising in her chest. Her thoughts darted between who could be the culprit behind the sensation of the mini heart attack she suffered with each buzz. Most times, it would be her friends. But those weren’t the calls or messages that she craved; her mind darted to the possibility of it being him.

Jungkook crossed her mind endless times per day. The man who, somehow, had vanished from her life. His absence, although appreciated at first, started to gnaw at her, the frustration and anger that had been her initial response giving way to more complex emotions. She started feeling helpless. The more shows she binged, the more she started to realize that her life, in that moment, was stripped of sense.

Carolina’s thoughts seemed to gravitate towards Jungkook with every passing day. She would catch herself wondering where he was, what he was doing, and whether he was thinking about her as much as she thought of him. And every time, she would end up feeling ridiculous by occupying her mind with someone whom she believed she didn’t mean half as much to.

“So,” At the sound of her friend’s voice, Carolina’s gaze left the blurry images that were displayed on her screen to face the girl sitting on the other end of the couch.

“Oh no…” She sighed, fighting the urge to massage her temples. “what is it this time?”

“How’s that portfolio coming along?” Deo eyed Carolina through her eyebrows as she sipped on the noodles that were fuming from the cup in her hand.

“It’s coming.” The short answer was an easy indicator of the lack of interest regarding the topic. “Ya’ know.”

The friend hummed and Carolina pursed her lips together. Her friends had been bugging her for the past week so that she would get some work done. Deep down, she knew that this was their attempt at making her leave the somewhat depressing state she had allowed her body to grow into. She wasn’t like this—the type to back down; cross her arms while the world revolved and she remained still. She was a force of nature to be reckoned with. And so, it was odd to see her so defeated.

That night, however, after saying goodbye to her friend, she didn’t go to bed. She didn’t slouch on her couch either, as usual, Netflix playing on the screen of the TV with the most recent drama until she either finished it, the sun rose or she fell asleep. Instead, she managed to take all the clothes that laid on her desk’s chair and moved them to her bed, allowing her to sit in front of her laptop for the first time in weeks.

The first couple of times she hit the power button, it wouldn’t turn on, completely drained of power. So, Carolina lost a couple more minutes looking for the charger.

It took some minutes for the machine to reboot and for the screen to make her dark eyes glow. Opening the first drawer of her desk, she fetched an old dotted notebook and started to outline a strategy. In her mind, it wasn’t that clear yet, but Carolina had started to define, step by step, how she was going to get control of her life again and make it incredible.

The visual identity of her very own agency wasn’t done that night. The sun rose and she continued glued to her screen. And after a couple of days, she contacted previous clients, explained her new situation, and offered her services. She planned to start her very own agency, offering her creative mind to those in need. A modern-day superhero, if one could say.

The first couple of months were hard—harder than Carolina had anticipated. Regardless, she was in a good place. After a long day, her mind didn’t wander back to Jungkook; she didn’t think of him at all. He had become a wound that healed—a thought that she managed to wipe completely from her mind.

Someone once said that the most beautiful parts of life were in the small things. Carolina’s small thing lately was the group of people who acted as her employees—some freelancers that she hired to help out on her projects. The group worked weirdly in sync together and they had been a constant in her life in the last weeks.

Lu, a photographer with a keen eye for art and amazing drawing skills, had become a close friend. The other girl in the group was Sarah, a writer who would often pitch in Carolina’s social media strategies. The three girls were walking to the bar after hitting the dance floor of a club for the past thirty minutes.

“Are you official, yet?” Sarah nudged Carolina on her side, head tilting to a table where 5 guys were sitting. The latter’s eyes followed and landed on the one who was trying to vent some air through his black shirt. Jae. Carolina laughed. “Exclusive, then?”

“We’re playing a dangerous game already,” Carolina turned her back to the table, viewing the ludicrous wall of liquor. “Giving it a label will only make it more complicated.”

“Those big round eyes—he looks just like a lost puppy,” Lu’s speech is slurred.

“Getting strays off the streets is more your scene. How’s Lucious?” Carolina joked wittedly, remembering that just last week the girl had sent her a photo of a stray cat that she rescued from the streets. It would be kitty number four now and she was certain that the it’s just temporary—until I find someone to take him talk was a big fat lie.

As the conversation develops between the other two girls, Carolina’s eyes fall on the subject of their previous conversation. If anyone had asked her about him, she would most likely say he's nobody—better yet, a work colleague; someone that she hired now and then to help her out on her gigs. But when her friends asked, it had become quite evident that their little rendezvous after work, which usually resulted in her doing a walk of shame back to her apartment the next morning and ignoring his texts for the next couple of days until work brought them together had become more and more common and Carolina was trying her best so that people wouldn’t notice how he messed with her head and heart. Their eyes meet and Jae gives Carolina a giant smile, which she shyly reciprocates before turning around to face the bar yet again.

People-watching was one of Carolina’s favorite hobbies. Her creative mind would go wild, creating stories according to the faces of the people in her sight, sometimes even roaming into the dialogues they were having. Lucky for her, the area is packed.

A woman, not much older than her—or at least she guessed—playfully twirled her hair between her fingers, a radiant smile on her lips as she talked to a guy next to her. He had the puffiest lips Carolina had seen that night and it was evident by his body language that he hadn’t kissed or been kissed enough that night.

Another man sat not so far away and, in contrast to the people next to him, he was gloomy. Head was swinging up and down as his focus was on catching the attention of the barman to ask him for another drink. That one certainly would have a hard time finding a taxi home. And that is of course if he wouldn’t end up sleeping on one of the benches outside of the club.

The barman that the gloom wanted to attract was busy taking the orders of a young man over the loud noise of the music. The man was leaning his whole body on the counter in a kind of boyish manner, trying his best to speak clearly despite his eyes already appearing somewhat foggy. As he finally finishes, the barman gives him an assertive nod and the man smiles. And suddenly it clicks… that smile. It sends Carolina down a spiral and she has to control the pulsating need that rushes through her body.

“Hey, you’re feeling ok?” Lu rapidly asks but gets no response. “Are you going to throw up?”

Carolina focuses on the man’s movements and sees how he licks his lips as his back hits the counter, attention dispersing to something—or someone—in the crowd. His silhouette was unmistakable amidst the sea of gyrating bodies now that she had found him. Her eyes dart from his profile to the back of his head and it’s like she has laser vision and it’s starting to burn a hole in his head as his hand comes to caress the area. It’s at that moment that their eyes meet for brief seconds.

“I’ll be right back,” Carolina speaks through gritted teeth, not noticing the man taking a double look at her.

“Where are you going?” Sarah’s concern is palpable in her voice as she watches Carolina dart through the crowd.

The pulsating bass of the music reverberated through the dimly lit club, creating a rhythmic throb that seemed to synchronize with Carolina’s racing heartbeat. The air had suddenly become dense with laughter, chatter, and the occasional clink of glasses.

Carolina’s eyes finally meet the man’s surprised ones again. Determination fueled her steps as she pushed through the tightly packed room, navigating the ocean of people that ebbed and flowed around the bar. Each step felt heavy, like a battle against a roaring sea, the tide pushing her back in the shape of warm bodies that added to the suffocating atmosphere. The scent of perfume, sweat, and spilled drinks mingled in the air; it felt nauseating, the surge of emotions of seeing him after so long threatening to spill over.

Her breaths came in shallow gasps as emotions threatened to consume her, and yet, the determination to confront the man she had managed to extinguish from her mind propelled her forward. Carolina stands before him, hands resting on her hips as her eyes lock into his. The world seemed to quiet for a moment, the surrounding chaos fading into the background as she prepared to unleash the torrent of emotions that had simmered within her.

“Carolina, I—” And as her name rolls out of the man’s tongue, she almost crumbles, getting hit by sudden nostalgia. His shaky eyes scan her entirely and she restrains her body from moving. Jungkook is only steps away from her and where she thought hurt would lay, a sense of antipathy is born.

"Cat got your tongue?"

Yet again, they were face to face. Had she been completely honest, Carolina was terrified. Her life was decent—good, even. She was healthy, and happy, and enjoyed what she was doing. She was proud of her projects. She would even wake up some mornings and go for a jog. But encountering Jungkook at the club and being with him in the intoxicating setting such as his car, with all those memories and all those emotions, made her swing back and forth between maintaining her cool and ignoring the feelings that hadn’t been dealt with and, instead, shoved deep down into her core.

“I am sorry.” He paced slightly from the end of the couch he was sitting on to the window. For a few seconds, he stared outside. And then he noticed she hadn’t even blinked. “I am.”

A long sigh escaped Carolina’s puffy lips. She wondered if he was trying to make her believe his words or if he was trying to realize if he meant them. “So you’ve said.”

“I mean it.” Jungkook sat back down on the couch. He stared intensely deep into her eyes, trying to reach the warmth of her soul, sincerity pouring through his, while she gazed at him back, void of emotion. “I really do.”

“Can’t exactly say your word means much.” She reclined back into the armchair. While Jungkook was sitting on her couch, she had decided to take aid in the singleness of her armchair, far enough that he couldn’t reach her. “You say a lot of stuff, but it doesn’t seem to have much meaning.”

Carolina knew that her harsh words and unfiltered sincerity were one of the things that bothered Jungkook. It was probably one of the things that always made him feel like he was walking on eggshells around her. He was the complete opposite. Politically correct, even. His expressions could fail him—although rarely—but he would always say the nice thing, or not say anything at all. Carolina would be truthful if regarding something she was passionate about, even if it meant saying something the other person wouldn’t enjoy.

“I know what I did to you—the way I acted,” Jungkook stopped mid-sentence, almost as if trying to collect his words, afraid that if he said the wrong thing, Carolina would throw him out of the window. She had already pictured that scenario only minutes after he had entered her apartment. “it was wrong, and you deserved better.”

“And yet…” She gesticulates with her hands, emphasizing their position. “here we are.”

He just wasn’t saying the right thing. And if Carolina could be honest, she wasn’t sure there was a right thing to say. Maybe there was nothing that he could say to make up for the heartache she felt. For the humiliation. And seeing him hide his face between his hands as his head hung heavy between his legs, just made her want him gone. And almost as if reading her mind, Jungkook asked “What do you want me to say? I am really really sorry and I haven’t stopped thinking about it and you ever since.”

And that last sentence was like a punch to the gut. “Ya’ know what? I forgive you!” Almost as if Carolina had been suddenly hit with a wave of good spirits, she gets up from her armchair, her tone chipper. “You are forgiven for being an absolute asshole and a liar. I am completely over the fact that you betrayed my confidence.” Her hands fell to her hips and Jungkook’s eyebrows furrowed. “So, please, leave. We don’t have anything else to discuss.”

Grabbing him by the arm, Carolina almost hauls Jungkook from his seat. “Wait,” his manifests are in vain though, because only when he enforces his stance she stops. “I think I loved you,” Jungkook’s eyes are glued to the floor. “and that freaked me out.”

“Oh, give me a fucking break.” Arms in the air, Carolina turns to face her wall. She takes a deep breath. “You loved me so you played me and then never spoke to me again. Can’t imagine what kind of father you’d be!”

He ignores her comeback, “I wanted to be with you every second of my day. I wanted to stay until late in the cloud room with you just noticing how the colors made you look more and more beautiful. You were messing with my mind and I was allowing myself to fall for you, even though it wasn’t appropriate.”

Carolina’s hand doesn’t move from the front door’s handle and she has to strain the laugh that threatens to leave her lips. Jungkook’s stance is incredulous as he doesn’t dare to look her in the eye as he professes what seems to be his undying love for the girl.

“You’re different and you’re weird and you have a funky taste and it scares the living shit out of me. You made me feel. When you smiled at me. When you trusted me with assignments…” Completely ignoring the girl’s wishes for his departure, Jungkook sits back on the couch again, this time on the armrest, his body facing her. “And then I get to the office, late as fuck, already freaking out, and see that scene. I was shocked. And when I finally came to my senses, I felt too embarrassed to reach out to you.” He speaks fast and his lisp is noticeable. Carolina sees how truthful his words are, his tongue poking the inside of his mouth as he faces the empty wall. “I was ashamed that I let you go like that, let you go through that situation with everyone looking at you and I didn’t stand my ground immediately like I should have.”

Jungkook stands up and Carolina’s grip on the handle falls. “So, you have every right to hate me. You can even punch me if you’d like if that would make you less hurt…” he walks closer to her, stopping only a couple of inches away, somewhat afraid that she would take on the offer. He gives her a small smile. “although I would prefer you wouldn’t. You look like you have a mean hook.”

She finally lets out a dry laugh, focusing everywhere but on the man in front of her. She’s trying to remain defensive, fighting the urge from her body to give in to his speech, to believe that he’s saying the truth, that maybe—maybe—this time, things can take a different turn. “So… past tense, huh?”

He ignores her sarcasm completely, as if switching roles and him being the serious one. Jungkook wants to take her hand that hangs mindlessly in the air but restrains himself from doing so. He fights the urge to run his hands through her fluffy hair like he had done so the previous night in his car. His brain can still recall how soft it felt on his fingers and how it smelled of lavender. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I know it’s my fault and I just want you to know that I feel like garbage for hurting someone who meant—means—so much to me.”

Carolina purses her lips together, focusing on the dirt that stained the white of his Converse.

“Can we start over? Friends?” Her eyes land on his extended hand and travel all the way up to his face. He’s hopeful and she can’t wait to touch his skin again, so she shakes it. He smiles radiantly as if a little kid who just won the biggest fluffiest teddy bear at a fair. “I’ll text you tomorrow.” Jungkook wants to sound certain but Carolina senses the shakiness in his voice.

“Just don’t spam me.” Carolina rolls her eyes while they finally let go of each other’s hands. Jungkook gives her one last look, providing her with a silent chance to change her mind and as she doesn’t, he nods, pleased, before leaving.

Carolina’s hands fly to her head, fingers massaging her temples as she is dazed by the event she has just lived. She closes her door, back hitting it for support and her focus relies on outside her window, how the sun had already set and the night had taken over instead, the sky painted dark navy blue while some stars shone in the distance.

There’s a knock on her door and she rushes back to open it, reason completely out of her mind, “Jun—” She stops mid-word. “Jae! I was not expecting you.”

“In my defense, I did text you. Not my fault you don’t look at the thing.” As he makes his way inside, chuckling, he gives her a small peck on the cheek. “Brought food.”

“Great!” Before closing the door, Carolina glanced at the empty corridor, trying to shake the weird feeling that left her stomach turning. It doesn’t go away, not even after she ate the ramen Jae brought. And so she takes this sudden unwell state to send him off. The drawers inside her mind were all messy; she had some organizing to do.

[ chapter 5 ]

☁ want to be tagged in the next part? comment below or send me an ask!

43 notes · View notes

doiefy · 3 months

Text

mad city // nct series

GENRE: sci fi, biopunk, dystopian, thriller PAIRINGS: features both x reader and mxm fics MEMBERS: johnny, doyoung, jaehyun, jungwoo, mark, possibly more to come!

note: if this series looks somewhat familiar, it's because it is! this is a massive rework of my old 'fight or flight' fic for doyoung, which I posted almost two years ago (pls don't read it, like 69% of it isn't canon anymore and I kinda hate it anyways). it's been a real struggle turning it into something I actually want to write for again (which involved changing the original plotline from x reader to dojae, for which I am VERY unapologetic, don't fucking touch me), but after a year or so of on-and-off planning, here it is. I can't guarantee that I’ll get these fics out super speedily, as I also want them to be very visual and will be spending a shit ton of time on graphics; but if you're interested in a tag list for any of these fics, let me know!

WHAT PEOPLE HAVE REFERRED TO AS THE SPLIT: the fracturing of life as it once was, the steady decline of the natural world, all perpetuating political tensions and rampant crime in two rival cities.

To the north lies Iameh, an urban paradise of impressive art and culture, resulting from centuries of mining and exploitation—a pristine exterior built upon the hardship of their southern neighbours. In one of their forgotten limestone quarries lies Siacia: Iameh’s shadow, their forsaken history, but a thriving metropolis nonetheless.

Siacia is all the blinding colours and deafening sound that Iameh is not, boasting citizens with supernatural powers and the most sinister advancements in biotech. From their empty mineshafts and grotesque lifeforms in the quarry lake arises Burner: the Siacians’ fuel, their weaponry, and their only chance against the genetic mutations that plagued them for generations.

But like all things that come out of the ground, Burner is exploited. It is quickly monopolized, used as a drug, turned into a bargaining chip by the Assembly, a loose organization of businessmen and mutants claiming to be Siacia’s ruling government. Those on the streets of the Quarry and its four cardinal faces know very well: what the Assembly demands from them must be given, lest they face their wrath.

So the fissure spreads and opens wider between the two cities, between all people—only a matter of time before one finds themselves dangling off the edge.

VOLUME 1: FIGHT OR FLIGHT

pairing: doyoung x jaehyun dark comedy with a side of angst, gay shenanigans and way too many dirty jokes.

KIM DOYOUNG HAS SPENT THE LAST THREE YEARS surviving the Quarry streets alone: hunting bounties for the Coffee Cow (a ruthless contract killing agency despite their name), making poor decisions at drinking establishments, and searching for his missing brother.

It’s on one trip to the bar that he runs into Jay: a charming, well-mannered businessman from the East Lanes, with a dimpled smile and particular taste for aged whiskey. One occasion turns into two into multiple—the two seeing each other more frequently with slowly-changing intentions, until the truth comes out. Jay, Jung Jaehyun to his close colleagues, is one of the Assembly’s founding members. Which, unfortunately, means he might have something to do with Doyoung’s missing brother, and makes him one hell of an enticing target.

The resultant cat-and-mouse chase across the city is as frustrating as it is exhilarating. But in a shocking turn of events, it reveals a destructive force beyond the both of them, one that needs their immediate attention and collaboration—regardless of who they are to each other.

anticipated release: summer/fall 2024

VOLUME 2: VIOLET CRAZY

pairing: kim jungwoo x f!reader, johnny seo x reader angst wrapped in drama, tumultuous relationships, a slow but sure descent into madness.

In the aftermath of Johnny Seo’s return, the city of Siacia is not as it once was. Tensions with Iameh are on a steady incline, Assembly politics remain a treacherous game, all while a new strain of Burner spreads through the streets like wildfire. You and Kim Jungwoo are most apathetic to the recent chaos—the two of you like two sides of the same coin, both endlessly spiteful, now embroiled in a feud of your own. For as long as you could remember, your relationship with Jungwoo was one purely of grudge and petty revenge.

But when Johnny begins his reign of terror, perhaps the two of you are in no position to be idle bystanders. Tragedy strikes Jungwoo’s family, and he has a reluctant change of heart. On the other hand, you remain by Johnny’s side, simply watching his flames burn hotter and rise higher. Merely overnight, your long-standing rivalry with Jungwoo has turned into a struggle for the future of the undercity. The inevitable resurfacing of your past, your forgotten history with Jungwoo, and Johnny’s inexplicable grip on you—it won’t be long before it all reaches a boiling point in the crucible.

And certainly not long before you’re forced to face the repercussions.

anticipated release: summer 2025

VOLUME 3: RIDE OR DIE

pairing: mark lee x gn!reader from meet-cute to heated romance. ride or die. madly in love to the bittersweet end.

Breakfast tea with magazines and tabloids. Clay-stained aprons and paint-smeared jeans. Afternoon tea with so-and-so, then back to the kiln and canvases. Dinner party with your fellow curators, handling flawless plates and dainty dessert spoons and immaculate champagne glasses—rinse and repeat, again and again, the routine of an Iamehan artist and socialite.

Quickly growing tired of all the glitter and glamour of topside, you take a trip back to your roots: the north faces of Siacia, where you can shed all the silk and cashmere in exchange for the nightlife you grew up with. Dancing wildly to rediscover yourself and inspire your art, that’s when you find your muse: Mark Lee, a VIP at the Obelisk Nightclub, blue-haired and bright-eyed, immersed in the stories you tell him.

You could stay with him forever, seeking thrills and adventure until you reach the ends of the earth. And yet, there is still much more awaiting: the unpleasant and the unideal, and the thwarting of your course by the stars above.

anticipated release: TBD

VOLUME 4: WHEN THE SUN SETS

pairing: johnny seo x gn!reader psychological horror turned body horror. toxic romance and a tragic end. (!!) mature content, including manipulative, toxic relationships and darker themes some readers may find disturbing.

Johnny Seo is a reasonable man. A patient man, certainly, never reckless, never cruel. Johnny is loving, the perfect lover. Devoted, and devoted wholeheartedly to you.

In the days and months after the Assembly’s establishment, he keeps you with him at every turn of the road: arm around your waist, head in the crook of your neck, always whispering and promising you better days. A sovereign Siacia is coming, he says. She will be free from the clutches of your northern neighbours, free to do as she pleases. You believe him—until one night, when he comes home bloody and beat-up, furious and unrecognizable.

Johnny Seo is a meticulous man. A calculated mastermind, certainly, never reckless until he’s perfectly sure, never cruel unless he has to be. Johnny is cunning, the perfect trickster. Obsessive, and obsessed with keeping your memory alive. Obsessed with keeping you with him, an eternal part of him.

anticipated release: TBD

35 notes · View notes

hitlikehammers · 8 months

Text

Do you happen to enjoy:

Soulmate!AUs

Specifically: Soulmates-with-Twist

And with AGENCY/CHOICE

Slow Burns that are ALSO Kinda Love-At-First-Sight

Misunderstandings/Obliviousness that’s ALSO Sorta Tied Up in DEEP EXPRESSIONS OF DEVOTION the WHOLE TIME ANYWAY

Urban Fantasy!Adjacent Themes

Near-Death Experiences that are THWARTED by SOUL DEEP LOVE

The Truest, Most-True TRUE LOVE

Art by the IMMENSELY Talented @becomingfoxes

If you answered ‘YES’, you may be interested in the @steddiebang fic I am so excited to share, starting TUESDAY, 3 OCTOBER, with scheduled regular chapter updates (currently, but possibly more frequently) EVERY WEEK on Ao3:

made of Light ✨

80,000k | Explicit

Soulmate AU | Pre-S1 — Post-S4

“I like to fancy souls as being made of light. And some are all shot through with rosy stains and quivers. . .and some have a soft glitter like moonlight on the sea. . .and some are pale and transparent like mist at dawn."

—Anne Of Avonlea, L. M. Montgomery

💫 Snippets posted during the week on tumblr, twitter and possibly tiktok if the parties involved in the initial suggestion of this very questionable idea can successfully convince me to read

💫 COMPLETE; chapter/word count will only shift if 1) I get bored and add to it, 2) one of my brilliant collaborators want to add something and/or inspire me with their brilliance and the timeline/chapter lengths/scene styles need to change to match

#steddie big bang #steddiebang23 #soulmates #steddie #becomingfoxes

60 notes · View notes

militantinremission · 1 year

Text

The Difference between The Black Agenda & The Reparations Movement

Reparations Commissions are popping up across the Country, but none of them come close to addressing the true spirit of Reparations. There are several reasons for this:

Neither Democrats nor Republicans in Congress have a real interest in discussing Reparations; let alone dispensing anything tangible.

Minorities involved in these Reparations Projects have either tried to include their demographic into the discussion, or they have been against it.

Infighting amongst members of the ADOS, FBA, Freemen, & Indigenous Community have weakened the overall message of Reparations. The Masses don't realize that they are All THE SAME LINEAGE GROUP. This division weakens Our collective argument, but has allowed some to eat well over the past few Yrs.

Organizations like The NAACP, The Urban League, The National Action Network, NCOBRA, & other like minded Groups have promoted a Trans Atlantic Reparations Agenda that ignores CARICOM. In effect, it 'Centers' Black Immigrants (including Afro Latinos) in the Black American Experience. Most arrived @ least 10Yrs after Jim Crow ended- how do they qualify for American Reparations?

The recent kerfuffle over San Francisco NAACP President Rev. Amos Brown's rejection of that City's Reparations Proposal spotlights the problem w/ letting Our (so called) 'Established Leaders' drive the Reparations Bus. They drove the Bus into Our current situation, why should We expect anything different from them? Many of these individuals chose Corporate Donations over Black Community Development. They arent 'Leaders', they're Corporate Lobbyists. These are the Same People that let HR- 40 rot on the 'social action vine' for over 30Yrs; If they REALLY wanted Reparations...

Another issue, are the individuals & Organizations narrating 'The Black Agenda' into the Reparations Argument. They are separate & distinct. The White Noise of their rhetoric has confused The Masses, which weakens the magnitude of Our Fight. For the sake of clarity, I want to point out the difference between The Black Agenda & The Reparations Movement.

The Black Agenda, is an All inclusive Program for Black Americans, regardless of their Country of Origin. This includes Africans, Caribbeans, Afro Latinos, & Afro Asians. All of Us share in the current experience of being Black in America. It is an experience that is unique to Us, & is also what unites Us.

The Black Agenda is about Equity. America loves to promote 'Equality', but equal measure doesn't guarantee that Everyone will somehow end up on equal ground. We have been collectively marginalized in America, so it's only fair that they level the playing field. 'Rising Tide' Programs, like those offered by The Democratic Party are on the right track, but none take into account the fact that Black America needs an extra scoop of whatever they propose.

The Black Agenda deals w/ the issues of Community Development: Residential & Commercial/ Business Property Ownership, Job Development & Employment Opportunities, Health Care & Mental Health Solutions, School Reform, After School Programs, Youth Empowerment, Visual & Performing Arts Programs, Daycare & Pre- K Programs, along w/ the necessary Community Boards needed to present these & other Community related issues to Local & State Agencies. The goal, is to improve the overall Quality of Life in Black Communities- up to the level of Every Other Community.

The Reparations Movement, is a specific call for American Society to pay their long overdue debt to American Descendants of Chattel Slavery. This Movement is about Indemnification. While Black America collectively deserves legislation, American Descendants Of Slavery deserve much more. The problem w/ EVERY Reparations Program offered so far, is they All ignore the fact that Reparations is a debt owed. They All read like Politicians are giving Blackfolk a hand out. These Programs also fall short on what is really owed.

A lot of numbers have been thrown around over the years, but I have consistently said that Final Reparations numbers will depend on WHO is held liable. If the U.S. Government alone is held liable, Reparations will probably be in the $18 Trillion- $22 Trillion range. If Corporations & Individual families are included, that number could reach $64 Trillion. That should give a clue to the extent of Terrorism & Oppression that Black America endured over the last 246Yrs- 400Yrs. American History is a chronicle of Anti- Black sentiment.

The Republican Party's outright refusal of, & The Democratic Party's attempt to graft Feminist & LGBTQ... rhetoric to Critical Race Theory (CRT), are attempts by both Parties to keep Mainstream America away from Our Nation's cruel & bloody past. They obviously fear divulging this history, because it will quell the Argument 'Against', as it strengthens the National Argument 'For' Reparations. The Immigrant Argument of 'I wasnt Here' becomes embarrassing, when We consider 2 facts:

It was Black American Labor that built America up & made it attractive (i.e. The Land of Milk & Honey) to Europeans, Asians, Latinos, Caribbeans, & Afrikans looking to start a New Life.

Black America is responsible for motivating ALL of the Immigration Initatives over the last 150Yrs; especially those since 1965.

It's only fitting for Immigrants living their American Dream (at another's expense) to pay tribute to the people who made that dream possible. I like the analogy of 'Inheriting an Old House'. The New Occupant didn't cause the wear & tear on the house, but that doesn't change the fact that they will have to invest the Time, Work, & Money needed to restore & maintain it. THAT, is the price of Occupancy.

Another thing to consider, is the fact that most Black Americans are descendants of Indigenous Americans or American Indians; not to be confused w/ 'Native Americans', who migrated from Siberia. Our Ancestors were Prisoners Of War, that were forced into Indentured Servitude, & later Chattel Slavery on their Own Land. Census Records reveal the effort to hide Our lineage.

Starting w/ the 1790 Census, Indigenous indentured servants were reclassified as Negro & Colored. By the 1900 Census, Indigenous People were being punished for identifying as 'Indian'. They were forced to identify as Colored or Negro. By the 1970 Census, We were designated 'Black'; & on the 1990 Census, We were 'Afrikan American'... Out Of Afrika Theory, while genealogically true, is not only Culturally false; it now appears to be a ploy to get Us off of Our Land. We're looking to Afrika, while the Blood & Bones of Our Ancestors fertilize This Land. Our success in agriculture isn't an accident- We were Here for millennia!... I guess that adds an extra wrinkle to the Reparations Discussion.

It's Time for Us to link the moving parts of Our Lineage into Black Voltron, so We can get on w/ The Work. -Just Saying

#ADOS #CutTheCheck #NoPolicyNoPeace #AgeOfProphecy #BootlickMarginCall #Indigenous #B1 #DoctrineOfDiscovery #RacialIntegrityAct

180 notes · View notes

sunevial · 5 months

Text

Reasons Why You Should Move To The Torn Veil

It's a night market

It's a giant, sprawling, night market full of people from a million worlds who have come to trade and to live and to rest and to find themselves

There's boats with people on them and the people on the boats in the river can sell you things

GOOD

PUBLIC

TRANSIT

A dragon runs the city

Specifically, an undead dragon, who turned her body into ice and now possesses both a giant dragon-sized suit of armor and a smaller humanoid shaped construct, runs the city guard

She gives paladins sworn to the city cool dragon weapons

And she's very excitable

YOU DON'T NEED A CAR. THE STREETCARS MIGHT BE HAUNTED, BUT YOU DON'T NEED TO PAY FOR CAR INSURANCE

There's good liches

Well, morally complex and slightly scary liches, but good liches

One of them runs a library. My friends think the lich that runs the library is hot (not wrong)

Vampire blood bars

Or blood in juice boxes if you prefer that

And art deco vampire speakeasies

These posts about the wildest oneshot I've ever ran will make more sense because I ran that oneshot in the Torn Veil

(i said more sense, not complete sense, the math my friends did still breaks my brain)

STREETCARS, NARROW ROADS THAT DON'T REALLY FIT HUGE CARS, GONDOLAS, FLYING CARRIAGES DRIVEN BY LICENSED PROFESSIONALS

Corner stores and restaurants from every culture, real or otherwise, serving foods that have existed forever and do not exist anymore

Memory river that lets you travel to a million different afterlives

Fishing in the memory river for memories

Slime Carriage Driver

ACCESSIBLE

DENSE

URBAN

HOUSING

I'm queer and mixed SEAsian and this is what happens when I'm allowed to be incredibly self indulgant

The answer is Haunted Spooky Less Fucked Up Sigil, apparently

The massive park full of nature spirits born from plants left at people's gravesites

Necrodancer rave clubs with ghosts playing EDM and power metal

Specifically made constructs that can house ghosts and other spirits, giving them back a semblance of agency after being violently separated from their bodies

Or cause they want a ghost mech

Pop off

CATACOMBS HOUSING SKELETONS FOR THE SKELETON WAR

THE CITY IS FIRMLY ON THE SIDE OF THE SKELETONS

BY THE WAY

IF THAT WASN'T ABUNDANTLY CLEAR

They're used for the defense of the city and are largely controlled by said necrodancers playing the EDM and power metal

It's always dusk

And a little chilly but in a nice way

Well, sometimes it's warmer, the dragon in charge of the city guard can also control the weather

She does that so the farmers can get rain

The skeletons also pick fruit on the farms btw

There's many uses for a skeleton and sometimes those uses are animating it so the skeleton can pick delicate fruit that has to be harvested by hand

A friend of mine loved this place so much that there was a real timeline where he ran a oneshot in the setting before I was able to run a oneshot in the setting

The oneshot took place in a place called the Dead n' Breakfast

It's run by a skeleton who's also a vampire

Her name is Constance

I love her

NO RENT

WHY IS THERE NO RENT YOU MAY ASK

WELL BECAUSE THE CITY JUST MAKES BUILDINGS AND NEW FLOORS TO APARTMENT BUILDINGS APPEAR OUT OF THIN AIR

(you do need to pay a little bit of tax though)

(because while the city has figured out how to make modern buildings, it has not figured out electricity or plumbing or streetcar rails)

btw the city is alive

kinda

sorta

hard to explain

Street Food

Every Street Food Ever

Like if you want some, it's there, and it's real nice and real cheap and sometimes people will just give you food for free

Sometimes a nice ghost makes it for you

Sometimes it's a skeleton babushka

The knowledge that there's other people caught between life and death, that there is a place for the lost and the wandering, that there is a place where life and death have different meanings and that complicated relationships with life and death can be a little less so, that families can reunite long, long after they were supposed to, that there is a place that calls the lost and calls them home and calls them somewhere that is safe, it is a place you can be finally safe

Ghost Macy's

#my writing #the torn veil #dnd #undead

34 notes · View notes

blueiskewl · 8 months

Text

A 5th-Century BC Bone Scepter Discovered in Bulgaria

A unique bone scepter belonging to a Scythian warlord from the 5th century BC was discovered during excavations in the prehistoric salt production and urban center Provadia-Solnitsata in Northeast Bulgaria.

The Scythians were a steppe and semi-steppe people who arrived on the Danube in the seventh century BC. They entered modern-day Bulgaria, but there is no evidence that they fought the locals. There’s information that they had confrontations with the Thracians after the 5th century BC.

The archaeological team is led by Professor Vassil Nikolov. The scepter was found in a grave examined by Violeta Stoitsova and Kalina Samichkova.

Professor Vassil Nikolov told the Bulgarian News Agency (BTA) that Scythian graves are something very rare in today’s Northeastern Bulgaria are extremely rare, just four or five have been discovered so far.

The excavated pit is different from those found so far, Nikolov explained. The shape of the Scythian warrior’s grave resembles a boot, with a hollowed-out part. It was apparently excavated in later times, but people saw the skull and upper part of the man’s skeleton, which are missing today, and stopped immediately, explained Nikolov.

Respect for ancestral graves was very important for the Scythians. Anyone who damaged one of these tombs would have harmed the Scythians. Perhaps the people who dug the grave realized that the person lying there was an important Scythian and left the grave without looting.

Archaeologists have now found the bone scepter, which the researcher described as “an incredible achievement of the art of that time”. Alongside the human bones, they also found those of a horse, an iron knife, a small dog, and a turtle.

The Scythians had exceptional traditions in the art of bone carving. The sceptre is 39 centimetres long. The handle is made of two pieces of bone glued together. The connection between the head and the handle of the scepter is very precisely crafted. Seen from one side it looks like the beak of an eagle, but on the other, the ancient craftsman has carved an anthropomorphic image on which the beak looks like a hat.

The scepter is proof of the skills of their masters, Nikolov noted and added that it probably belonged to a military commander of a small military unit.

“Those found so far are usually cruciform, with an ornithomorphic (A figure in ancient art resembling a bird) upper part. Most often the craftsmen carved an eagle because this bird is part of the Scythian religious-mythological system,” Nikolov said.

By oguz kayra.

#A 5th-Century BC Bone Scepter Discovered in Bulgaria #Provadia-Solnitsata #ancient grave #ancient tomb #ancient artifacts #archeology #archeolgst #history #history news #ancient history #ancient culture #ancient civilizations #ancient art #scythians history

47 notes · View notes

suchananewsblog · 1 year

Text

Mumbai is taking the museum outdoors — with public art festivals

Last December, St+Art India Foundation returned to Sassoon Docks after a five-year hiatus. Since then, the ongoing Mumbai Urban Art Festival (MUAF) has seen large murals wrap around the facades of old warehouses, abandoned shrimp factories turn into industrial art galleries, and the streets overflow with visitors braving the fishy smell, with kids and the occasional pet in tow. Instead of formal,…

View On WordPress

0 notes

markrosewater · 4 months

Note

Re: fedoras on weirds

MAKM looks conpletely on-brand for Ravnica to me. Ravnica has always had urban elements, and cards like Tin Street Dodger, Frilled Mystic or Ral Zarek all feel "dressed up" in a way that's still "high fantasy" without feeling out of place amongst MAKM art. "High fantasy," whatever that means, has the spaciousness to include detective agencies, and why couldn't they look vaguely like Vincint Price movies? Ravnica, a sprawling metropolis, surely has room for varied easthetics, including tall collared coats, fedoras, and shifty characters.

Bottom line, the vibe and creative of MAKM are amazing so far, it's not out of place on Ravnica, no complaints.

It's possible the neigh-sayers are picking up on the difference in tone. The last ravnican outings have been fairly serious or forboding, being either a planewide invasion of undead supersoldiers, or the unstable political situations leading up to that. In contrast, MAKM is pulpy, fun, and much less dire in scope. Murder is still dark, sure, but unraveling a mystery is very different from stopping a planeswalker genocide. For fans who identify strongly with 'Serious Ravnica,' this set could feel off-brand.

I do think Ravnica has enough breadth to hit multiple tones.

49 notes · View notes

geekthefreakout · 7 months

Note

Thank you for your "we need to combat people's black and white views in media” post. It’s nice to see someone have a reasonable opinion about something. I feel like a lot of DC comic spaces have the most bizarre takes and honestly think it’s why the state of comics is so bad right now and writers are afraid to take chances or write things that are so generic.

Do you have any unpopular opinions about Babs or Jason? Or anything you would like to see in future comics? You said you enjoyed Jason as a character but what’s your ideal Jason and how do you think he should be written?

Wow, what a lovely ask, thank you Nonny!

First, cuz I know I'm gonna ramble on about the other things- yes, DC is a goddamn mess and at least 48% of the reason is that fans feel especially entitled these days, which makes writers either overly cautious or extremely defensive of anything they try. Fandom spaces can get very toxic very quickly cuz of the whole black-and-white morality thing and the aforementioned entitlement that makes people feel like they get to dictate the direction the art they consume takes. You don't get to do that, people! Stop it.

For Babs- idk if I have unpopular opinions. Like most people, I think she was wonderful and *important* as Oracle, and I wish they would do more than pay lip service to her disability. On the other side of that, I understand that DC Editorial is a mess and that if a writer ever DOES decide to follow through on that "chip in her spine won't work forever" thing, they will need to cut through a lot of red tape to get permission to do so, so I don't really get mad when writers have her as Batgirl still, or have her bounce between Batgirl and Oracle. If she ever does become a full time wheelchair user again, I hope it's done in a respectful way that supports her agency, rather than how TKJ did her. The Young Justice show had an interesting take on that which I didn't mind.

My unpopular Jason opinion is probably that I liked the All-Caste stuff from RHATO N52 and I think letting Jason have a niche as a Bat that deals with mystical stuff and with the nitty-gritty of the criminal underground is a good way to set him apart and give him his own stuff to do outside of Bat Events. Also Generation Outlaw was a cool concept and I enjoy the idea of Jason reluctantly inheriting Bruce's tendency towards "Debatably Accidental Child Acquisition."

That said, my ideal Jason functions as a foil to Batman. I don't want them to be enemies, but I do want them to push each other and challenge each other. I want Jason to poke holes in Bruce's crime fighting philosophy, but to also still have a good relationship with his family. I want Jason to struggle with his own philosophy, as he did in Zdarsky's "Cheer" story, because the way he does things IS riskier than how Bruce does things and sometimes the ends don't justify the means.

I think Jason (like Damian, but Jason is more mature) works wonderfully in stories about redemption and self-discovery as well. Task Force Z had appeal for me in that sense, because I also think that Two-Face (who Jason has history with in his first post-crisis story) ALSO works well in story lines like that.

In the future... Well, my opinion is that there are just too many Bat books and Bat Events. I want DC to let their other characters breathe. My ideal set up would be Batman as a solo series and Tec as a team book, like it was when Tynion wrote it. Then Urban Legends for miscellaneous Bat stories. Nightwing of course with his solo (and please, PLEASE, let that boy stay in Bludhaven and take care of business, stop dragging him back to Gotham every time a rogue sneezes, he has his own shit to worry about). The rest of the Batfam can pop up in Tec and Urban Legends and then be with their respective teams. Titans, YJ, Outlaws, Outsiders, etc. (ETA BoP to this potential team book list of course!)

And then pls no huge Bat Events for at least a year and a half. Let them BREATHE, for fuck's sake!!!!

So... Yeah! Thanks Nonny!

#anon ask #this is fun but i talk too much even when im typing lol #batfam #batfam discourse #barbara gordon #jason todd #batman #dc comics #my lukewarm character takes #nightwing

14 notes · View notes

jinxhallows · 11 months

Note

Changbin mafia au, i dont care about the plot but i NEED mafia au changbin 🫣

So hear me out, someone else asked me for a Jisung mafia au that ropes in Changbin and Chan so I did this. It may be a nugget of Changbin, but if you like it, I'll do a little more :). This was really fun and not my usual style. Thank you and the other person for giving me this request! <3

ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ's ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴅᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ [ 𝟹ʀᴀᴄʜᴀ ᴍᴀғɪᴀ ᴀᴜ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ sᴘʀɪɴᴋʟᴇ ��ғ ʜʏᴜɴᴊɪɴ ғᴏʀ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʀᴀᴢᴢʟᴇ ᴅᴀᴢᴢʟᴇ ] ʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ: 𝟷𝟾+ ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴛᴏʀᴛᴜʀᴇ, ʙᴏᴅɪʟʏ ʜᴀʀᴍ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ɪʟʟᴇɢᴀʟ ᴀᴄᴛɪᴠɪᴛɪᴇs ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 𝟹.𝟺ᴋ ━━━━━━━━

The vibrant lights of downtown cast a deceptive glow over the bustling streets. In the heart of this urban neon jungle, an artist management agency stands as the beacon of dreams and stardom. But behind the glittering facade, an intricate web of secrets and shadows awaits those who dare to look closer.

Jisung leans against the expansive window of the agency’s office. His dark hair, styled in an artful tousle, frames his face.

His eyes, once filled with an innocent sparkle, now hold a glint of weariness as they stay fixed on the distant skyline. Draped in the elegance of his impeccably cut suit, Jisung exudes a quiet confidence, a silent testament to the evolution of his dreams. Each stitch and fold emphasize his sleek stature, while the pristine white dress shirt beneath it whispers of refined sophistication. Adorning his wrist, a silver watch tells the tale of time's ceaseless march, its timeless elegance standing in stark contrast to the chaotic world he has become entangled in.

His unwavering determination to uplift talented artists has led him down an unexpected and dangerous path. The clash between his youthful aspirations and the reality of the mafia’s grip, especially now that he had worked his way up to the top of the food chain, weighs heavily upon him, a burden visible in the depths of his expressive eyes.

Amidst the contemplative symphony of the city, Jisung's pocket buzzes with a summons, a siren call that snaps him back to the present. Retrieving his phone, he presses it to his ear,

“Hello?”

“Do you have time for one more?”

Jisung sighs, “That’s pushing it, Hyunjin.”

A few seconds of silence pass by.

“It’s a Yoon Ji-Hoon piece,” Hyunjin says, his eyes gazing up at the eight by twelve foot canvas and its mesmerizing blend of surrealism and symbolism. It’s no wonder it's been known to captivate anyone who gazes upon it. The artist was said to have vanished mysteriously shortly after completing the piece. Hyunjin had been watching the piece closely for years, and now there was a chance to take it. “There’s a rumor going around that it's going to be sent on loan to an exhibition in Rome on Friday night.”

Jisung understands the magnitude of this opportunity, the key that can unlock their ambitions. For months, he has navigated the treacherous waters of the American illegal art trade, seeking that elusive breakthrough. The rare and precious works he has managed to procure thus far have only scratched the surface, teasing the potential that lies just beyond his grasp. If a gallery in Rome was about to have an exhibition, the piece was about to gain even more notoriety, and fast.

“How soon?”

“Give me three days.”

The final three beeps echo in Jisung's ears, signaling the end of the call. He closes his eyes, his jaw clenches, determination and apprehension intertwining within him. The weight of the upcoming heist, just two weeks before the highly anticipated comeback stage for their biggest artist, and a mere month before the start of their first US and European tour, isn't ideal. But deep down, Jisung knows he can't let this opportunity slip through his fingers. He has worked alongside Hyunjin, the esteemed expert, for a long time now, and their shared experiences have forged a bond of trust in each other's judgment.

Restless, his fingers tap against the sleek gray shell of his cellphone, anticipation simmering within him. With a deliberate motion, he opens it again, his eyes focused on the familiar speed dial number. Pressing the button, he raises the device to his ear, waiting for the connection.

A rugged voice crackles on the other end, brimming with a raw edge that mirrors the shadows they dance within.

"Yeah?" comes the gruff response.

Jisung takes a moment to steady his voice before answering, his words carefully chosen. "Gotta pick up a gift from one of our old friends. You in?"

A brief pause fills the line before a low chuckle reverberates through the speaker. He knows exactly what Jisung means. "Depends. Which friend are we talking about?"

"The one that's always late to the party," Jisung replies, a hint of amusement lacing his words.

Changbin's dark laughter rumbles through the line, a tinge of excitement underlying it. "I could use a drink. Count me in."

━━━━━━━━

Chan's elbows rest on the padded rim of the soundboard, his palms pressed together in a silent gesture of restraint. He struggles to hold yet another weary sigh as he hears another crack in the visual of the group’s vocal performance. Despite the countless attempts and even a break, the singer's voice falters, casting a shadow of frustration over the recording session.

"I almost have it—" the struggling voice attempts to reassure.

Chan's gaze shifts from the singer to the time displayed on his phone. With a gentle touch, he presses a button on the soundboard, his voice calmly resonating through the headphones worn by the younger man in the recording booth. Leaning forward, his words carry a mixture of understanding and encouragement, "We should call it for the night, Taeho. Get some rest, and we'll come back to it again tomorrow, yeah?"

Taeho releases a tired sigh, gingerly removing the headphones from his silky, platinum blonde hair. Stepping out of the booth, he enters the studio where Chan is immersed in the digital audio workstation, his nimble fingers deftly navigating the intricate tracks, seeking to finesse the composition as best he can, at least for the time being.

"Where did everyone go?" Taeho's voice echoes through the empty studio, a touch of bewilderment coloring his words.

“Probably to the dorms, its eleven at night.” Chan reclines in the plush black chair. His eyes follow Taeho as the idol picks up his notebook from the couch, the weight of disappointment heavy upon him. Taeho was one of the cherished members of HarmonyX, a Korean pop boy group that had taken the music industry by storm five years ago. With their debut, they swiftly ascended to become one of the top three highest-selling Korean music artists in all of Asia. Now, after four successful albums, their popularity has reached international heights, culminating in a highly anticipated sold-out tour across America and Europe. However, this tour would only commence after their comeback stage, following their much-needed break of six months.

"Taeho, pushing yourself like this will only lead to burnout," Chan speaks, his voice tinged with a mix of concern and wisdom.

"I know, sunbae," Taeho replies, his tone faltering with a hint of self-doubt. "But this is our first American tour. Nobody expects me to do anything except look pretty." A sigh escapes his lips as his voice trails off. "I feel like I've been working so hard, and it's still not enough. The others are so much further ahead of me..."

Chan leans forward, his gaze focused on Taeho. "The others aren't you, Taeho," he emphasizes, his words carrying a weight of truth. "The pressure will only intensify. People will scrutinize every move you make, dissect every note you sing. You will never feel like you're doing enough because that's how this industry operates. But remember, you're not here just to meet expectations. You're here to support your family, your father, and your sister."

Taeho sniffs, nodding in acknowledgement of Chan's words.

"Goodnight, sunbae," Taeho bids farewell, his voice tinged with a mix of gratitude and exhaustion.

"Goodnight, Taeho, no partying tonight, save your voice. Come in at noon tomorrow." Chan responds, watching as the young idol makes his way down the dimly lit hallway, his head bowed in contemplation.

Once Taeho steps into the elevator and the doors slide shut, Chan closes and locks the studio door behind him. He dons a black beanie, pulling the hood of his hoodie over his head, blending into the shadows. With his backpack slung over his shoulder, he squats down in front of the safe beneath the mixer. The code enters with a series of beeps, and the satisfying click of the lock echoes through the room. Chan retrieves a brown money wallet from within, unzipping it to quickly count the contents with a practiced touch. After securing the wallet and his phone inside his backpack, Chan hoists it onto his back. As he switches off the lights, leaving the room shrouded in darkness, he locks the door behind him, silently vanishing into the night.

He strides down the dimly lit hallway, the faint hum of the elevator beckoning him. As the doors glide open, he enters the metal enclosure, his fingers swiftly scrolling through the contacts on his phone, searching for Jisung's number.

"Burning the midnight oil again, are we, Mr. Bang?" the security guard jests, a playful glint in his eye as he hurries to catch up to Chan's brisk pace, unlocking the glass door leading to the lobby of the prestigious entertainment agency.

"Yeah, sorry, in a bit of a rush. Thanks again!" Chan waves his gratitude, stepping out onto the polished marble floor. With purposeful steps, he makes his way to the waiting black luxury car, its sleek exterior gleaming under the soft glow of the streetlights. As he opens the back door, sinking into the plush leather seats, the driver glances up, meeting Chan's determined gaze through the rearview mirror.

Simultaneously frustrated and hopeful, Chan curses softly under his breath as Jisung's voicemail greets his ears. He gazes out the window, his eyes scanning the dwindling crowd of departing staff, searching for any sign of Jisung's familiar figure. Disappointed by the absence, he settles back into his seat, ending the call and slipping the phone into his pocket. Finally, he leans forward and addresses the driver with a sense of purpose.

“The Velvet Note, please.”

━━━━━━━━

Seoul's vibrant cityscape comes alive under the neon glow of the night, casting a mesmerizing spell over the bustling streets. Amidst the dazzling array of clubs and bars, a hidden gem emerges, a sanctuary of sophistication and intrigue known as The Velvet Note. Disguised behind an unassuming facade, this distinguished venue beckons to those in the know, its allure irresistible.

Stepping out of the sleek, black sedan, Chan adjusts his backpack on his shoulders, his eyes fixed upon the grandeur of the building as he strides towards the entrance. A sense of urgency and authority emanates from him, an aura that commands attention. He knows where he’s going and what he’s doing. The doorman, recognizing him, nods respectfully and lifts the velvet rope, granting him passage into the exclusive realm beyond.

Crossing the threshold, Chan is immediately enveloped in a sensory symphony. The vibrant music pulsates through the air, weaving a tapestry of rhythm and melody. Cascading lights dance across the room, reflecting off the opulent furnishings and the glimmering chandeliers above. Wealthy patrons, wrapped in an aura of privilege, engage in animated conversations within their private enclaves. The interior of The Velvet Note exudes an aura of refinement, with its plush velvet drapes adorned by intricate golden patterns, accentuating the venue's exquisite taste.

The club manager, ever discreet, guides Chan towards a set of curtains that conceal the entrance to the exclusive private section. As he navigates through the room, his gaze scans the scene, locking onto Jisung's intense stare and Changbin's stoic composure.

The private section, veiled in an aura of secrecy and power, reveals itself. Luxurious leather couches surround low tables, where crystal glasses clink and whispers of covert affairs fill the air. The dim lighting shrouds the room in an enigmatic haze that hints at the hidden transactions unfolding within these walls.

Approaching Jisung and Changbin, however, Chan senses an unspoken tension, a palpable unease that hangs in the air. Jisung's brow furrows with concern, while Changbin crosses his arms, his demeanor betraying an underlying dissatisfaction. Before them stands a tattoo artist named Minseo, his nervous hands exposing his apprehension. Something is undeniably amiss.

“What’s going on?” Chan strides forward, his steps measured and purposeful, dropping his bag at Changbin's feet before taking a seat beside him. His gaze pierces the man standing before them, who avoids making eye contact, a clear sign of deference.

“Why don’t you tell Chan? Your excuse was so elaborate earlier.” Jisung interjects, reclining on the couch, his arms draped nonchalantly across the backrest. He observes the man through his black, circular frames crossing his leg.

A mischievous half-smirk tugs at the corner of Changbin's lips. "No more words, huh?"

"I... I don't know what to say. Just give me one more day, another day to figure it out—" the man stammers, desperation and panic creeping into his voice.

"Another—another day?” Chan's disbelief is blatant, his incredulity mingling with a touch of anger. He struggles to understand how this man could have the audacity to play games with them for a second time,

“Mate, I was the one that gave you another week.”

As tension thickens in the air, three imposing security guards approach the man from behind, their presence sending a shiver down Minseo's spine. Arms crossed firmly over their chests, they stand in silent readiness, awaiting instructions on whether to intervene.

Realizing the gravity of the situation, the man's face contorts into a frown, his panic intensifying. With a sudden realization of his predicament, he collapses to his knees, clasping his hands together in a desperate plea for mercy, his voice trembling as he begs for his life.

Jisung raises his hand in a dismissive gesture, signaling for the man to be taken away. The air is filled with the man's desperate screams, his pleas echoing through the club as he fights against the strong grip of his captors. Relentlessly, they drag him toward the rear of the club, descending a staircase that leads to the dimly lit basement. This hidden realm serves as his secret tattoo studio, concealed from prying eyes.

The rough brick walls are painted a stark white, casting an eerie glow over the bare room. In the center stands a solitary tattoo chair, accompanied by a stool, while a nearby cart displays an array of inks and a collection of needles. Random sketches are haphazardly taped to the walls, showcasing impressive artistry in a highly questionable environment. Tattooing is deemed illegal in South Korea, making this operation an ideal front for their illicit activities. The profits they earn from Minseo's tattooing services also serve as an added source of income.

Eliminating Minseo would undoubtedly dent their revenue stream.

With a calculated calmness, Jisung takes off his suit jacket and rolls up his sleeves, revealing his forearms. His actions speak of imminent action as he meticulously dons a black latex glove on his right hand, ensuring a snug fit on each finger. He flexes his hand, testing its flexibility, before repeating the process with his left hand.

"Minseo, I'm going to ask you one more time," Jisung declares, his voice dripping with a mixture of authority and a subtle edge of menace. "Where is the rest of my money? You owe me forty million won. How does it simply vanish into thin air?"

Minseo is held firmly in place on the tattoo chair by the brawny men, his movements restricted. His gaze locks onto Jisung, studying the assortment of needles and the tattoo gun laid out before him, his expression an enigmatic blend of calmness and hidden turmoil.

"I-I was robbed," Minseo stammers, the sound of Jisung snapping the latex glove against his wrist causing him to abruptly fall silent. He watches intently as Jisung surveys the tools at his disposal, contemplating his next move. With an unsettling tranquility, Minseo speaks again, his voice holding a glimmer of hope. “But I can get it back I told you, just another day.”

Jisung settles onto the stool, his clenched fist resting on his thigh, while his other forearm finds support on his knee as he leans forward. A mix of amusement and annoyance dances in his eyes as they roam over Minseo's distinct features—the gauges in his ears, the intricate tattoo adorning his skull, and the myriad of ink that covers his entire body, including a few daring ones on his face. After a moment, Jisung glances over his shoulder, directing his attention to Chan and Changbin.

"What do you think?" Jisung's voice carries a hint of mischief. “Should I give him another day?”

Changbin slowly approaches, waits a moment, and then answers,

“No. He blows his money on gambling, and ours probably went down the drain with it.”

Jisung listens attentively, nodding not once, but three times, before turning back to face Minseo, a nonchalant shrug accompanying his movement. "Well—"

“I’ll give you sixty million won!”

Suddenly, Minseo's desperate plea interrupts Jisung's train of thought. The room falls silent, the attention of all three men captured by Minseo's unexpected proposition to offer sixty million won—an increase in the sum owed. Minseo's chest rises and falls rapidly as he awaits their response, aware that his offer has managed to seize their attention.

"Sixty million by midnight," Jisung repeats slowly, laden with skepticism. "You expect us to believe that?"

“Y-You have my word—”

“Minseo, your word isn’t worth shit,” Changbin cuts him off, “We’re wasting our time, let’s cut our losses. Can’t afford the heat on us right now Ji, not with everything coming up.”

“I dunno Changbin, I’m kinda interested.” Jisung turns back to Minseo, “How do you expect to come up with sixty million won in the next twenty four hours?”

Minseo looks between them frantically, “T-Tonight there’s a party at Matrix, lotta celebs, high profile people, lookin to blow their money and have a good time in a place where they can’t be outed. My guys, we usually pass it through there, we-we’ll upcharge, I know I can have it for you, I’ll repay you with interest, just please, give me another day.”

Jisung waits a few moments before he nods, “One. Day” he punctuates, “and I will count it all in front of you, got it? If anything is missing, I’ll have to end our contract.”

Minseo's initial glimmer of hope quickly wanes as Jisung's finger halts the release of his restraints. The tightening grip of the staff sends a surge of anxiety coursing through him, his heart pounding in his chest. A sinking feeling settles in his stomach as he witnesses Jisung preparing the tattooing equipment. With deliberate precision, Jisung rolls the stool closer, while two of the men exert a firm hold on Minseo's squirming body, restricting any chance of escape.

A sinister grin dances on Jisung's lips as he positions the humming tattoo gun above Minseo's quivering abdomen. "Consider this a gentle reminder, in case our due date slips your mind," he taunts, his voice carrying a sadistic amusement. With a swift press of his foot on the pedal, the tattoo gun springs to life, its buzzing filling the room. As the needle touches Minseo's tender skin, a sharp jolt of pain courses through his body, causing him to flinch and tense up involuntarily. Jisung applies more pressure, sinking the needle deeper into the supple flesh, eliciting an agonized cry from Minseo. The two restraining men exert greater force, forcefully subduing Minseo, ensuring he stays captive to the excruciating ordeal.

Jisung tuts and sits back on the stool. “Sorry, do you need something to numb it?” With a flick of his wrist, he grabs the nearby bottle of isopropyl alcohol, tilting it over the open wound etched into Minseo's skin. The liquid seeps into the jagged lines of the number 00, causing Minseo to let out a piercing shriek of agony. His chest heaves as he struggles to maintain consciousness, the pain threatening to overwhelm him.

Jisung, undeterred by Minseo's suffering, hovers over him and continues his work with a relentless determination. Minseo's consciousness flickers in and out, the world around him blending into a hazy blur as he succumbs to the torment.

“All done!”

Finally, Jisung pulls away, satisfied with his handiwork. Minseo lies before him, pale and weak, his limbs dangling limply at his sides. Jisung pushes himself back from the tattoo table, a self-satisfied smirk gracing his features. Disregarding the tattoo gun, he tosses it carelessly to the floor, the metallic clatter echoing in the room. He rips off his gloves, tossing them aside with a flourish.

The botched tattoo on Minseo's abdomen now bears a twisted message, a grim reminder of his impending fate:

18/12 00:00

The inked numbers read, "December 12th, Midnight," a chilling countdown etched permanently onto Minseo's flesh.

53 notes · View notes